Read Hoarfrost (Whyborne & Griffin Book 6) for Free Online Page B
Authors: Jordan L. Hawk
unable to do anything
to save him.
“What if
you had died?” My voice cracked on the words. “If Fenton hadn’t come back for
Christine and me, or if Christine hadn’t been there, you would have perished.
And I couldn’t have done anything to prevent it.”
“Oh
darling.” He pulled me close, tossing his leg over my hip and twining his arms
about me. “I didn’t know it weighed on you so.”
I clung
to him, hiding my face in his neck. Breathing his scent of salt and ambergris,
of the ocean wind. “Things have been so much better this last year. Quiet. I
thought perhaps our lives would be normal now, or as normal as they can be in
this town.” I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. “And now this, with
Jack, and Pa, and everything. I’m dragging you back into danger again, and if
anything happened to you…”
I felt
like a raw nerve, like a clam with its shell pried open and its soft body
exposed. His hands stroked my back soothingly, and his lips pressed against my
hair. “Shh. It’s all right. Is that what you’ve been having nightmares about?”
“No.” I
felt wretched putting this on him. “Or yes, occasionally. But most of my
nightmares have been about Egypt, except I’m the daemon chasing us. And
this morning, for a moment I was so sure I recognized the stele fragment, but I
didn’t, I couldn’t. I’m afraid…what if the doctors at the asylum weren’t
completely wrong? What if I do have some seed of madness in me?”
“Griffin,
listen to me.” He propped himself up on his elbow, gripping my shoulder with
his other hand. “You aren’t mad. There was no justice to your confinement.”
I
avoided his gaze. I’d told him how I’d shrieked at the other Pinkertons about
the monster beneath Chicago, but he didn’t really understand. They’d thought me
mad, yes, but I’d felt mad. My mind had been full of screams and pain,
of the sight of Glenn’s bare skull and the gelatinous thing slowly dissolving
him alive.
He
caught my chin and turned my head, so I had to look at him. “As for the stele,
there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. The shards were discovered in 1882.
You would have been, what, thirteen at the time? You probably saw a newspaper
article, then forgot all about it.”
The
explanation was so sensible I was shamed not to have thought of it myself.
“You’re probably right.”
“Of
course I am. And as for the dreams, I’m sure they’re just some trick of the
mind. Strange, but not aberrant.” He ran his thumb tenderly over my jaw.
“You’ve been under a great deal of stress, and this discovery of your brother’s
has only made it worse. But you’ll be all right. You’re a good man, Griffin
Flaherty, and I love you more than I can possibly say.”
I held
him tight. “I love you, too, Ival.” And hoped he was right.
Chapter 8
Whyborne
True to
her word, Christine dragged me into the director’s office first thing the next
morning. She began with demanding funds to make a survey, and ended cataloging
the list of horrors that might be visited on an invaluable archaeological site
should we not arrive quickly enough.
The
director seemed a bit taken aback. On the one hand, he’d dealt with Christine
before and was well prepared for her tendency to simply bully everyone into
submission. On the other, her record spoke for itself. The discovery of the
tomb of Pharaoh Nephren-ka had catapulted the Ladysmith into the international
spotlight, not to mention brought in a great deal of revenue.
When she
finally ran out of steam, I leaned forward in my chair. “I’ve examined the
fragment in question,” I said. “The markings on it match those of the Eltdown
Shards. If some unknown civilization lies buried beneath the permafrost and is
destroyed in a stampede, the loss to science could be incalculable.”
The
implication, that the loss of revenue would be equally incalculable, wasn’t
lost on Dr. Hart. Less than an hour later, we left his office
to save him.
“What if
you had died?” My voice cracked on the words. “If Fenton hadn’t come back for
Christine and me, or if Christine hadn’t been there, you would have perished.
And I couldn’t have done anything to prevent it.”
“Oh
darling.” He pulled me close, tossing his leg over my hip and twining his arms
about me. “I didn’t know it weighed on you so.”
I clung
to him, hiding my face in his neck. Breathing his scent of salt and ambergris,
of the ocean wind. “Things have been so much better this last year. Quiet. I
thought perhaps our lives would be normal now, or as normal as they can be in
this town.” I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. “And now this, with
Jack, and Pa, and everything. I’m dragging you back into danger again, and if
anything happened to you…”
I felt
like a raw nerve, like a clam with its shell pried open and its soft body
exposed. His hands stroked my back soothingly, and his lips pressed against my
hair. “Shh. It’s all right. Is that what you’ve been having nightmares about?”
“No.” I
felt wretched putting this on him. “Or yes, occasionally. But most of my
nightmares have been about Egypt, except I’m the daemon chasing us. And
this morning, for a moment I was so sure I recognized the stele fragment, but I
didn’t, I couldn’t. I’m afraid…what if the doctors at the asylum weren’t
completely wrong? What if I do have some seed of madness in me?”
“Griffin,
listen to me.” He propped himself up on his elbow, gripping my shoulder with
his other hand. “You aren’t mad. There was no justice to your confinement.”
I
avoided his gaze. I’d told him how I’d shrieked at the other Pinkertons about
the monster beneath Chicago, but he didn’t really understand. They’d thought me
mad, yes, but I’d felt mad. My mind had been full of screams and pain,
of the sight of Glenn’s bare skull and the gelatinous thing slowly dissolving
him alive.
He
caught my chin and turned my head, so I had to look at him. “As for the stele,
there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. The shards were discovered in 1882.
You would have been, what, thirteen at the time? You probably saw a newspaper
article, then forgot all about it.”
The
explanation was so sensible I was shamed not to have thought of it myself.
“You’re probably right.”
“Of
course I am. And as for the dreams, I’m sure they’re just some trick of the
mind. Strange, but not aberrant.” He ran his thumb tenderly over my jaw.
“You’ve been under a great deal of stress, and this discovery of your brother’s
has only made it worse. But you’ll be all right. You’re a good man, Griffin
Flaherty, and I love you more than I can possibly say.”
I held
him tight. “I love you, too, Ival.” And hoped he was right.
Chapter 8
Whyborne
True to
her word, Christine dragged me into the director’s office first thing the next
morning. She began with demanding funds to make a survey, and ended cataloging
the list of horrors that might be visited on an invaluable archaeological site
should we not arrive quickly enough.
The
director seemed a bit taken aback. On the one hand, he’d dealt with Christine
before and was well prepared for her tendency to simply bully everyone into
submission. On the other, her record spoke for itself. The discovery of the
tomb of Pharaoh Nephren-ka had catapulted the Ladysmith into the international
spotlight, not to mention brought in a great deal of revenue.
When she
finally ran out of steam, I leaned forward in my chair. “I’ve examined the
fragment in question,” I said. “The markings on it match those of the Eltdown
Shards. If some unknown civilization lies buried beneath the permafrost and is
destroyed in a stampede, the loss to science could be incalculable.”
The
implication, that the loss of revenue would be equally incalculable, wasn’t
lost on Dr. Hart. Less than an hour later, we left his office