She was so absorbed, in fact, that the male voice, when it came from behind her, nearly startled her out of her skin.
“I’ve come to bring you back.”
She jumped, whirling to see who had invaded their Eden, but she wasn’t as fast as Caliban.
He shoved her to the side—not gently—and charged the stranger. Caliban’s head was down, massive shoulders bunched like a bull’s. He caught the other man about the middle, his momentum sending both men skidding to the ground, the stranger on the bottom. Caliban growled, slamming his fist at the stranger. But the other man was swift, pulling his head to the side and avoiding what surely might’ve been a disabling blow.
The stranger was in his prime, dressed all in black, wearing his own dark hair pulled back into a braided queue. A tricorn hat had been knocked from his head and she saw that a walking stick had also fallen to the side.
“Stop!” she cried, but neither man paid her the least mind. “Stop!”
The stranger wrapped one leg over Caliban’s, heaving to displace him, but the mute must’ve outweighed him by a couple stone or more. Caliban, meanwhile, hit the man repeatedly in the side, each blow earning him a grunt of pain from his adversary.
Metal flashed between them, and Caliban reared back, grabbing for something. Oh, dear God, the other man had a pistol! Both men had a hand on it. They strained in ghastly embrace, each trying to turn the barrel to the other’s face. The stranger’s fist shot out and struck Caliban square in the jaw. His head whipped to the side with the blow, but he didn’t let go of the awful pistol. Lily wavered, afraid to venture nearer, afraid to leave the scene. She wanted to help, but couldn’t think how. If she tried to strike the other man, she’d merely interfere with Caliban—and any distraction could prove fatal.
A flash and a horrific bang.
Lily screamed, half-crouching in reaction, her hands over her ears.
She started forward, afraid she’d see blood—afraid to see Caliban’s dynamic face rendered slack by death—but the men were still struggling. Somehow the shot had missed them both.
“Mama?”
Indio’s voice was high and scared, his eyes fixed on the men wrestling on the ground. Lily thought her heart would beat right out of her breast. She flew to her son, catching him up in her arms even though she hadn’t carried Indio for years. She turned with him clutched to her chest, in time to see the stranger draw a second pistol. Caliban grabbed the other man’s wrist and glanced up, as if searching for her.
Their eyes met, and she didn’t know what he saw in hers, but his face was distorted in a scowl, his visage warlike and grim.
A man like this could kill, she thought, somewhere in the back of her mind where she was still sane. I should be afraid of a man like this.
Then he jerked his chin, sharply, and the message was clear: he wanted her and Indio gone.
A better woman might’ve stayed, might’ve argued or in some way helped him, but evidently she wasn’t that better woman.
Lily turned and fled, stumbling, sobbing, clutching Indio.
And as she did she heard the second shot.
Chapter Six
So the king took the baby and walled him up in an impenetrable labyrinth at the center of the island. There the monster lived and grew, unseen by any human. But on certain nights there could be heard a mournful lowing such as a bull might make, and on those nights the people of the island shivered and shuttered their windows…
He hadn’t meant to scare her. Apollo stepped from behind the tree.
“Oh.” She glanced around, her brows drawn together. “Is this your place? I can move elsewhere. I didn’t mean to disturb your work…”
He’d started shaking his head with her second sentence. She finally seemed to notice, winding down her protests until they trailed away into silence. For a moment they simply stood, staring at each other, alone in this ruined garden. A breeze rattled the thin branches of the bushes and blew a lock of her dark hair across her mouth to catch in the seam of her plush lips. She pushed it behind her ear, her gaze still tangled with his.
He didn’t want her to leave, he knew it suddenly. He talked to Artemis, to Makepeace—and to no one else. There was no one else—save her, now. She’d found his secret, knew he wasn’t just a hulking mute, devoid of brain or soul. And more—she stirred something deep within him, something he’d thought had been beaten out of him in Bedlam.
Carefully he took a step back, hoping she’d understand that he was ceding the ground to her.
“Stop!”
They both started at her voice.
Miss Stump cleared her throat and said in a lower tone, “That is… I mean, if you’d like to stay and continue your work, I… I don’t mind.”
He nodded once and turned.