Page 54 of Beloved Beast

Well, I have news for ye, Vicar. His nibs is alive. Jamie there dug up the grave at the earl’s instruction. There be no body in the coffin. None a’tall. Nothin’ but a hand.

Dead man walkin’. As gray and lifeless as a bleedin’ corpse. Will ’e kill us in our sleep? We’ve got to ’unt the beast down and destroy it for good and all.

With a shake of his head, he dismissed the ghosts crowding his memory. Would his half brother throw the same hurtful words at him? Damn it, his side ached like the devil. And he was losing a fair amount of blood; it trickled down his thigh at a quick pace.

Another complication: when he passed Gillian the knife, he noticed the tip had been broken off. Must be still inside him. It would account for the gut-wrenching pain. The wound should be seen to before they leave for Brighton. Inasmuch as he detested allowing someone else to know his dark secrets, they had no choice. Luke could only hope Marcus did not take after their wretched father.

“Shouldn’t we stay on the drive?” Gillian whispered.

He was thankful to be pulled from his depressing thoughts. “No, we may be seen. I have a way I used before. Stay right behind me.”

After a rough slog through mud and slush at the rear of the estate, he led them to the border of hedgerows. The trees, hedges, and bushes had grown since he was here last, creating more adequate shelter from discovery. He almost expected to see his father standing and leaning against the fireplace mantel of the study. Instead, thanks to the abundance of windows and the French doors, he observed a young man sitting in a large leather chair, staring aimlessly into the fire while clasping a tumbler of amber liquid.

Christ. It could be him sitting there. Marcus had wavy black hair, and from this distance even the profile looked similar. How can that be? They had different mothers and the old earl had sandy-blond hair. His father must have married another dark-haired lady. “Gillian, go to the door and knock.”

Luke followed behind her and stood well back as she tapped at the glass door. A few moments passed. “Yes, who is it?”

“Mr. Madden? I am sorry to disturb you. It’s Miss McKinnon. We spoke in the cemetery…” The door opened.

Luke stepped out of the shadow and pushed past Marcus. Gillian followed on his heels.

“I say, what is this?” Marcus demanded.

Luke dropped the suitcases. “Gillian, draw the curtains. Mr. Madden, if you would be kind enough to close and lock the door?”

“I will not,” Marcus snapped.

Uncanny. His half brother even possessed nearly the same shade of blue eyes Luke used to have as Ravenswood. He pulled the Webley out of his side pocket and pointed it at Marcus. “Do as I say and you will not be hurt.”

Marcus’s eyes narrowed. Leaning heavily on his cane, Luke could see his half brother working out if he could wrestle the gun from him.

Gillian closed all the curtains then stepped between the two men, facing Marcus. “We need your help. I know this sounds completely mad, but we work for the government and need immediate transportation.”

Marcus cocked an eyebrow. “And I am to believe you and hand over my motor with no questions asked? I think not.” He headed toward the desk and the telephone sitting on top.

“Not another step, Marcus Madden,” Luke said, his tone as threatening as he could make it.

His half brother froze and turned to face him. “Who the hell are you?” Marcus’s gaze slid to the side, which Luke favored. “You’re bleeding.”

Gillian stepped between them again and Luke was about to demand she move out of the way when he became dizzy, the room spinning like an unruly top. Damn, he was losing consciousness. How can it be possible? The copper odor of blood filled his nostrils. Luke plopped down in the chair, struggling to stay conscious and hold the pistol upright. Was he going to die from being stabbed? Perhaps, if the Nazi hit a major organ. What about his supposed immortality? His rapid healing abilities?

Marcus raised his cane as if to strike him. Perfect. A concussion would be a brilliant addition to the injuries. Luke didn’t have the strength to fight off the coming blow. A disturbing development.

“Stop!” Gillian cried. “He’s your brother!”

Luke braced himself for the attack that did not come. Closing his eyes, he tried to stop the room from revolving. It was if he were being pulled down a long tunnel. Though he could hear their voices, they sounded hollow and at a distance.

“Brother? Are you completely mad?” Madden yelled.

“Pull the scarf down, remove the glasses and hat, and take a look. No sudden motions, as I have this pistol pointed straight at your heart!” Gillian shouted.

Ah, Gillian, my darling, brave girl. He simply must tell her how proud he was of her, especially after throwing the knife. But no words would form. As he struggled to stay lucid, someone—no doubt his brother—removed the items.

“God, it’s the beast,” Marcus cried. “Are you telling me this is Ravenswood? It can’t be, why, he’d be…”

I am seventy-six years old, and at this moment, I am feeling each and every year.

“Bloody old. I know my father had him when he was in his early twenties. He didn’t have us until well into his sixties. Doing the math, Ravenswood would have to be in his seventies. This is insane.” His brother’s voice was raised, and the tone filled with skepticism.