Page 151 of Their Master

For the second time that day a gun went off—this time it sounded like two.

Chapter 36

Smith spun around the instant Charles hit the floor. Moira was crouched over, her eyes squeezed shut, her arms covering her stomach.

“Are you hit, darling?” he asked her, gripping her shoulders. “Moira?”

Her eyes opened a sliver. “Did you get shot?”

“No. You?”

“No.” She sobbed and then flung her arms around him.

Smith held her, keeping his back between her and the rest of the room, but turned his head to see what was happening.

Clayton was slumped in a chair, clutching his shoulder, and moaning loudly and Charles was on the floor, Selkirk staring down at him.

“Stay here,” Smith said.

“No.” She shook her head emphatically and clung to him like a kitten.

“I need to go deal with Charles, sweetheart.”

“Don’t kill him, Smith.” Her fingers clutched at his arm. “Please.”

“Alright, I won’t.”

“He’s not worth it.”

He smiled at her and smoothed her messy curls back from her forehead. “I won’t kill him.”

Smith tried to move away, but she shook her head. “I’m not letting you go.”

He kissed her and said, “Very well, but stay behind me.”

She nodded.

“I hit him in the leg,” Selkirk said when they came near. “I’d prefer not to kill anyone,” he added, as if Smith might have argued.

Smith dropped to his haunches beside Charles, who was weeping, his skin so pale he looked like a corpse.

“I’m so sorry, Smith.” He clutched at Smith’s hand and Smith didn’t pull away, even though the other man’s touch made his flesh creep. “I can’t seem to stop myself. I don’t want to do these things, but—” He sobbed.

Smith forced himself to nod and say. “I know.”

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

Smith tore open the bloody cloth to get a better look at the wound.

He looked up and met Charles’s terrified gaze. “You will be fine as soon as the doctor stitches this up.”

Charles cried. “I didn’t mean any of it. I miss you so much. Do you forgive me, Smith? Please say you forgive me!”

The last words were so garbled Smith could barely make them out. Based on the way Charles was shaking and his physical condition, he was in acute withdrawal from opium.

“I forgive you,” Smith lied, his anger at what Charles had done giving way in the face of this drug-addled wreck. He pulled his hand from Charles’s clutches and stood, turning to Clayton, who was still sniveling and holding his shoulder.

Smith stepped closer and set a hand on Clayton’s shoulder.

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