Moon Flower

“Bellamy, show the constable to a room,” the madam said, waving over her shoulder. “Galen.”

She took off toward the kitchens, and Galen followed, wondering what she had in mind. She began preparing a pot of tea straightaway, her hands visibly shaking—and he didn’t know if it was with fear or rage.

“Perhaps Azriel’s services will not be needed if I go to him now,” Galen said with a measure of courage he didn’t recognize in himself. He would do anything, anything at all, to protect Azriel from this man. He didn’t feel they would ever be rid of him unless he acquiesced—or until they could get away, like they’d discussed the other night. Perhaps he could go to that happy place in his head, when in the room alone with the constable. If he did not follow through, the man would only return again to demand even more.

“I shall handle the constable,” she said, reaching for a serving tray. And that was when he saw it, something there in her eyes. Something dark and forbidding that distorted the very edges of her aura from a murky green to an emboldened red.

“Madam, what are you planning—”

“Wait here while I serve him tea.” Her tone was clipped. “Give it time to take effect.”

His entire body trembled as he watched her leave the room, a determined look in her eye. He didn’t know what to do with himself, so he paced the length of the room as he waited, fretting over what might transpire.

“Send him to me now!” the constable’s voice boomed. “Not one more moment of delay.”

Galen inhaled sharply, then padded into the hall with renewed resolve just as Madam Langley left the room. “The aperture will remain open.”

There was that, at least, a way for others to check on him and intervene if necessary.

“Try to stall,” she murmured in a grave tone as she passed by him.

When Galen stepped inside the room, the constable was hovering over the teapot, pouring himself a heaping cup. Galen watched as he gulped the liquid down and went for more. His face was red, perspiration lined his brow, and he seemed even more agitated than when he’d arrived.

“About time,” he said through a clenched jaw as he turned and spotted Galen just inside the door. The spittle on his bottom lip turned Galen’s stomach, but he pushed on, hoping the nightmare would be over quickly.

“Allow me to undress and get ready for you,” Galen said, his hands shaking as he moved toward the bedside table for the pot of oil. He hoped the constable would smooth the way, if not for Galen, then for himself.

Once he placed it on the bed, his fingers reached for his tunic, and he began unbuttoning it while facing away from the constable, hoping the man wouldn’t recognize the wariness in his eyes. Suddenly he wished he’d worn more clothing, but a waistcoat and neckcloth would only make the time drag on.

He heard the clink of the teacup as the constable placed it on the tray, and then he felt the heat of him behind him. “I will not be made to wait any longer.”

“Perhaps another cup of tea? Certainly such a virile man can handle—”

Galen gasped as the constable gripped his hair and dragged him toward the bed. “Take down your pants and bend over.”

Tears pricked his eyes with how much his scalp stung. He whimpered, which only made the constable dig his nails in as he snarled.

Galen’s fingers fumbled with the placket of his breeches, and he willed his brain to work so he could follow the constable’s commands and not suffer more of his ire.

Then all at once he heard a loud crack, and the constable released his grip and slumped to the floor behind him.

His heart hurtling wildly, Galen turned, and what he saw rendered him speechless. Azriel was standing in the room, holding what was left of the pot of lilies after he’d bashed the constable over the head.

Chapter 27

Azriel was shaking, his aura a churning mix of reds and greens. Galen stepped around the constable and pulled Azriel into his arms.

“I couldn’t allow him… Once I heard you were with him… Is he dead?” Azriel asked with a shudder. “Have I killed him?”

The constable hadn’t moved from his position, but Galen could see a lump forming on the back of his head. “I…don’t know.”

Suddenly Madam Langley was there, bending down to look more closely at the constable’s prone form, her aura deep as the pine needles on evergreens. “He’s still breathing. For now. If he doesn’t survive this, it was because of the sickness ravaging his body, especially since he’d come here to ask for help. He was quite unsteady on his feet,” she said in a stony voice, stonier than he’d ever heard from her. Was that the story she’d rehearsed in her head in case the tea did its damage? Galen felt a cold punch of panic to his chest.