The League of Illusion: Prophecy Page 9

Following Rhys through London’s streets seemed like a colossal waste of Darin’s time. The man was doing nothing but what seemed like mundane errands. He wondered where the woman was. The psychic from Salisbury. Maybe Rhys had come to his senses and gotten rid of her. Nothing but trouble, that one. Although Darin wouldn’t mind a few hours of alone time with her. He could just imagine all the delicious things he could do to her.

  This being removed and distant was grating on his nerves. He’d wanted to break into the Davenports’ and grab the map, but he’d sent Bruno instead. Which in hindsight worked out well, as he didn’t end up almost burned to death like Bruno.

  If it hadn’t been the middle of the day in the busy street, Darin might have made his presence known to his old friend. He hadn’t had a chance to use his magic on anyone in over two days now. His fingers were itching to do some damage.

  When Rhys came out of the apothecary’s shop, he jogged across the street. Darin followed him. Not too close as to be discovered, but close enough to see where he was heading. Two blocks later Rhys ducked down a rather dodgy back street. Now, here was something.

  Darin crept down the same lane, keeping his eye on where Rhys went. Looked like he was heading to the telegraph office. Made sense. He was likely sending a message to that imbecile brother of his. Darin had it on good authority, as in council authority, that Jovan and his Druid whore had gone to Avebury. It was obvious they hadn’t found anything there or Rhys would’ve already been on his way there.

  No, Rhys was heading somewhere else. Somewhere that had been on that map.

  As Darin waited for Rhys to come out of the telegraph office, he noticed something else. Something interesting. Darin hadn’t been the only one following Rhys. Across the lane, pretending to be a homeless man in a dark robe, was an elf. There was no mistaking the glimmer of his skin when he adjusted the sword on his belt under his robe.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After Mrs. Chattoway made sure the shop was locked up tight, she spent the next hour showing Corina all the experiments and gadgets she was working on. Half the time Corina had no idea what the woman was talking about, using words she had no concept of. Needless to say, it was an education.

  They had tea and butter tarts that melted in her mouth. She’d have to remember to ask for the recipe before she left.

  “What a lovely ring,” Mrs. Chattoway said as she poured more tea.

  “Thank you. It was my mother’s.”

  “She’s passed then?”

  “Five years now.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” She patted Corina’s hand. “What did she do, your mother?”

  Corina bit into another tart. Most people were shocked when she told them that her mother had been a psychic and that she’d followed in her mystical footsteps. But the elderly seamstress didn’t seem like most people. She obviously knew who and what Rhys was, so she didn’t think a little otherworld mysticism would bother her in the least.

  “She was a psychic.”

  Mrs. Chattoway nodded. “You are too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I knew you couldn’t be ordinary if you caught Mr. Davenport’s eye.” She sipped her tea. “Strong and stubborn and determined, much like his mother. He worshipped her, so I knew he’d have to find a woman much the same.”

  Corina nearly choked on her tart. She patted her mouth with a napkin. “I think you have the wrong idea about me and Mr. Davenport.”

  “Do I now?” Mrs. Chattoway smiled.

  “We have an arrangement. I’m merely helping him locate his brother.” And stealing the map he needs to do this.

  “Oh, my apologies then.” She looked at her over the rim of her teacup. “I must’ve misinterpreted the way he looks at you. Must be my old heart looking for love in the wrong place.” She stood to clear the dishes.

  Corina reached for her hand. “What do you mean? How does he look at me?”

  A string of bells overhead chimed and clanged, echoing through the cave.

  “Oh, speak of the devil, himself.” Mrs. Chattoway gave her a smile and started for the tunnel.

  Corina was off her chair, right on her heels. “Please, I need to know what you meant.”

  Mrs. Chattoway stopped and looked at her with such seriousness it reminded her of her mother. “Do you like this man?”

  Corina didn’t know how to answer. Did she like Rhys? She hadn’t planned to, that was certain.

  “Come on girl, you either do or you don’t. It’s not that difficult a question to answer.”

  “I do. Yes, I like him.”

  “Then you’re going to need to push him. He’s not a man to act on his feelings. You will have to act for him.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean?”

  “You’re going to have to seduce him, my dear. Plain and simple.” And with that she continued on her way.

  Corina didn’t trail after her. She needed a few minutes to consider the woman’s words. It was true that she’d noticed Rhys’s interest. She’d seen it last night in his eyes and in the way his body reacted to her touch. But to seduce a man? That took a certain type of woman. A bold, confident woman with comely attributes. She was none of those things.

  Her mother’s voice sounded in her head.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, girl, you have more backbone than that. I didn’t raise you to be a wallflower.”

  “Mother, I’m not having this conversation with you.” She paced around the room.

  “If you like the man then tell him so. Take the old biddy’s advice and seduce him. Easier to do your business then.”

  “I’m doing this for you, Mother.”

  “Are you certain of that? I didn’t ask you to.”

  “I’ll do as I must.” She walked around the tables, picking up various items, hoping to block her mother’s voice. It didn’t work. Her nagging just increased. Some days she wished she could just turn her off.

  “Remember every action has consequences felt long after the deed. For example, if I hadn’t seduced your father, you wouldn’t be here.”

  Corina put her hands over her ears and shouted. “I’m not listening. I’m not listening.”

  “I didn’t even say anything yet.”

  She spun around to see Rhys and Mrs. Chattoway looking at her, eyes wide. Rhys had a bit of a smirk on his face as he surveyed the room as if looking for something or someone.

  “I was just practicing for your return.”

  He laughed at that, which made her laugh. It filled her with pleasure to hear the sound from him. She’d only known him a few days but she knew he was not a man who laughed easily or often.

  “Did you do what you needed to do?”

  “Yes. I sent a telegram to Jovan and got some supplies we’ll need.”

  “We?” Corina asked, surprised. “Am I to accompany you?”

  Rhys looked taken aback. “I just assumed you would.” He licked his lips nervously. “We need you to help open the portal, just like at Stonehenge.”

  “Oh yes, right.” Although this was exactly what she wanted, his reasons for wanting her to come pinched her heart a little. Not that she’d expected him to declare his undying love for her and his need to h
ave her at his side, but she had to admit she’d fantasized about it.

  “Besides,” he added, “I don’t think you’re safe here. Hawthorne is relentless and ruthless. If he finds you, whether you have what he wants or not, he will hurt you. If only to hurt me. It’s a game for him.”

  “All right. A trip to France won’t be so terrible.” She gave him a small smile, although in her belly a hard ball of guilt was starting to form.

  “I’ll take you to the docks,” Mrs. Chattoway said as she busied herself around her gadgets, looking for something.

  “Is there another way out of here?” Rhys asked. “I was followed by Hawthorne and by an elf.”

  “An elf?” Mrs. Chattoway gaped. “Why on earth would they be following you? The elves usually mind their own affairs.”

  “From what Jovan said when he addressed the council, Amathon was not happy with our search for portals.”

  She waved her hand as if waving away a bad smell. “Oh, pooh on their ridiculous prophecy.”

  “What prophecy?” Corina asked. “What elves? You mean little mischievous sprites are roaming London streets?”

  Mrs. Chattoway patted her arm. “Not little, not mischievous, not sprites. Human-sized religious zealots, is what they are. There are rumors even that they have an army to fight.”

  “To fight what?”

  “The Morrigan,” Rhys said. “A three-headed war goddess who’ll bring about the end of the world if she were to be released.”

  “Released from where?” Corina asked.

  He shrugged. “No one really knows, but the elves believe that opening a portal to another dimension will summon her.”

  Corina shuddered. “That’s not really true, is it? She doesn’t exist.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But it’s not going to stop me from finding Sebastian. I won’t let anyone stand in the way, not Hawthorne and definitely not a bunch of elves hell-bent on a religious war.”

  Mrs. Chattoway gestured to the shadowy corner of the room. “There’s a back way out. It’s a long tunnel. Comes out close to the docks.”

  “Good. Let’s get going then.”

  “One moment.” Mrs. Chattoway took Corina’s arm. “Miss Stratton needs to be outfitted for this little adventure.”

  Corina glanced down at her simple blue dress and ratty boots. She thought what she had on was more than adequate.

  “Certainly,” Rhys said. “Do you have anything new for me, Mrs. Chattoway?” He picked up what looked like a pistol, except with two barrels instead of one.

  “Of course, my dear, of course.” She dragged Corina back down the tunnel.

  Back in the dress shop, Mrs. Chattoway went through the rack of clothing. She hummed and hawed, then with an exclamation of “Perfect!” she pulled off a striking red dress and handed it to Corina.

  “I can’t wear this. It’s too pretty. Too expensive.”

  “Oh yes, you can.” Not waiting for Corina’s response, Mrs. Chattoway was pulling Corina’s frock off.

  Corina stood there in her small clothes while the woman unbuttoned the dress and put it on her. She refastened it and turned Corina toward the mirror. “Almost.”

  She wrapped a brown leather corset around her waist. There were no ties, but small metal hooks on the side. “You fasten it this way.” She showed her how the hooks fit onto hoops. It was simple and easy to do.

  Then she slid a jacket up her arms. Also a dark brown, in a style a militia man would wear. She buttoned that up, looking almost satisfied.

  “Can’t go on an adventure without a proper hat and boots.” She handed Corina a brown-and-red top hat and a pair of knee-high leather boots.

  Once Corina put the hat and boots on, she looked in the mirror. She didn’t look at all like the same person. She looked mysterious and exotic. She smiled as she ran her hands over the satin of the skirt. It was shiny and soft.

  Mrs. Chattoway regarded her with an appreciative smile. “You are radiant.” She tugged at the dress. “This material won’t tear or rip in any way. It’s a new fabric I designed for times just like these.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot. No lady should be out on an adventure without this one thing.” She tapped Corina’s leg. “Lift.”

  Corina lifted her skirt and Mrs. Chattoway strapped a leather holster to her thigh. Sheathed inside was a small brass pistol. She’d never seen one so small before. It could easily fit in the palm of her hand.

  “It’s a single shot. Will do in close quarters in a pinch.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Chattoway. I’m not sure how to repay you.”

  She grabbed Corina’s hands and squeezed. “Make Rhys happy. He needs you more than you can possibly imagine.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rhys couldn’t stop staring at Corina as they made their way through the tunnel to the docks. She’d stopped a few times to ask him if there was anything the matter. He’d say no but continued to stare. He couldn’t help it. She’d transformed into some sort of exotic goddess on a dangerous trek into the unknown. It made his gut clench and his groin twitch. He wanted to grab her and kiss her right there to see if she tasted as exotic as she looked.

  The sun was setting when they reached the docks, and as far as he could tell they hadn’t been followed. Although it was difficult to say, with so many unsavory-looking characters roaming this area of the city.

  Mrs. Chattoway led them down to the end of the docks, which had obviously not been used in years. The worn wooden planks creaked and groaned when they walked on them. A dilapidated shack sat slanted nearby. Music, laughter and raucousness spilled out.

  “Here we are.” Mrs. Chattoway gestured to the broken-down building, which was basically just a hole in the wall.

  Rhys eyed the place suspiciously. “And where would that be precisely?”

  “The Rusty Anchor. This is where we’ll find the captain to take you to France.” She moved toward the entrance. “Be careful in here. Only the most dangerous, unsavory Londoners come to this place.”

  She lifted her ruffled skirts and stepped through the door. Rhys was close behind. He took Corina’s hand and made sure she was stuck safely to his side.

  It was wall to wall bawdy drunk men and even bawdier women. Just about every patron had a pint in his or her hands, and if they didn’t it was because they were passed out on the dirty wooden floor. The music was a lively jig of fiddle and drum but it stopped mid-note when they entered the pub.

  Hard, scowling faces turned toward them. Rhys squeezed Corina’s hand and pulled her even closer. A few men nearby leered openly at her. One even licked his lips as if scenting a buffet.

  Then nearly all the patrons took up the cry. “Marie!”

  Mrs. Chattoway grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Did y’all miss me?”

  The musicians started the music again, and men and women went back to their drinking and debauchery.

  Corina glanced at Rhys. “Marie?”

  He shrugged as Mrs. Chattoway pushed through the crowd, shaking hands with some and sharing words with others. They followed close behind until one large red-faced man stood, effectively blocking Mrs. Chattoway from progressing. He was an imposing sort but the seamstress didn’t appear intimidated one bit.

  “Yes?” she asked. “Is there something you’d like?”

  He stared at her then broke out grinning, revealing two missing front teeth in a row of yellow. “When is yer gonna marry me?”

  She chuckled and slapped his cheek playfully. “Never, Rud
dy. Never.”

  His smile faded and he turned his menacing gaze onto Rhys. “Yous look familiar.”

  “I’m certain I’d remember if we’d met.”

  He just grunted and ambled away, shoving people aside.

  When they were safely across the room and in a corner of their own, Mrs. Chattoway gestured toward a raucous circle of people. “That’s who we’re looking for.”

  The circle parted. A tall man stood in the center speaking with animation. He wore a dark blue turban with gold and jeweled accents. His tunic and pants were the same blue, with a complicated golden pattern. He had a large hawklike nose, and his beard was braided into three strings, beads hung at the ends.

  “Who’s he?” Rhys asked.

  “The Maharaja Ajeet Singh, and the best captain around.”

  “His ship is fast then?”

  She smiled. “Who said anything about a ship?”

  The man in question spied them in the corner and stepped forward with his arms out. “Mrs. Chattoway. It is a pleasure for my eyes to see you again.”

  She actually blushed. “Maharaja, it is my pleasure to be sure.” She curtsied.

  Rhys had known this woman his whole life and he’d never seen her behave in this manner. She was definitely not a typical Englishwoman, preferring to tinker with her inventions and contraptions than sew, although she did both equally well. But he would never expect to see her titter like a schoolgirl.

  The maharaja kissed the back of her hand. His gaze settled hungrily on Corina. “And who are your companions?”

  “May I introduce Mr. Davenport and Miss Stratton.”

  He took Corina’s hand and pressed his lips to it. “You are a vision of loveliness.”

  Corina squirmed under his scrutiny. “Thank you.”

  “I am the Maharaja Ajeet Singh.” He flung his arms out to the side, nearly hitting Rhys in the process. “But you may call me Raja.”

  “Is there somewhere we can speak in private?” Rhys asked, not impressed with the flamboyant prince.