Kaspar reached to tear a couple of grapes off the bunch then popped one into his mouth.
“Do you play chess, Kaspar?” Henry asked.
“I have done,” he said carefully, thinking back to childhood visits to his
oma
Hiske and
opa
Bob. His grandfather had owned a chess-set and encouraged Kaspar to learn the moves. He’d found the game boring but he didn’t want to admit that to Henry. “I’m not very good at it, though.”
“It’s a fascinating game, truly it is.” Henry regarded him with a gaze that seemed to strip Kaspar naked.
How long is Jon going to be? I really need to get out of here.
He said nothing, pretending to be engrossed in the conversation.
“The art is to be able to think two steps ahead,” Henry went on. “To know what your opponent is going to do even before he is aware of it himself…”
A floorboard creaked above them. Henry looked up to where the noise had come from. When he glanced back at Kaspar the expression in his eyes was cold, unreadable. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to see what’s happening up there.”
“Of course.”
* * * *
Jon heard the creak of a floorboard behind him and turned to see Henry standing there.
The Vice-Chancellor’s expression was as affable as ever, but his voice held nothing but quiet menace.
“You shouldn’t be in here, Jon.”
“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…I recognized the illustration of Leweilun from Farthing’s book and I was intrigued.”
“And now you’ve seen things you weren’t supposed to. Things that could get me into a lot of trouble if they ever came to light.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t mention this to anyone.”
“Oh, I know you won’t. I’ll make sure of it.” As Henry spoke, he grabbed the dagger from the altar and thrust it toward Jon’s face.
“Henry, what the fuck are you doing?” Jon put up his arms to ward off the blow and felt the razor-sharp blade slice across his right palm. He took a step back and tripped over the table leg. As he fell, he struck his head on the beveled bedpost and knew no more.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kaspar sat toying with his napkin as he waited for Jon or Henry to return. He heard voices in the room above him, someone crying out as if in pain, then the sound of something hitting the floor with a heavy thud. Hurried footsteps descended the stairs. Henry reappeared, breathing heavily as he pushed a stray lock of hair back from his forehead.
“What’s going on?” Kaspar asked. “Where’s Jon?”
“I don’t have any time to explain.” He sounded unnaturally calm. “I just need you to come with me.”
“Come with you where? Look, until I find out what’s happened to Jon, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh, I rather think you are.”
With that, Henry brought his hand from behind his back. Kaspar saw he held a small dagger. Dark blood stained its blade.
“What the hell have you done?”
“Nothing that wasn’t necessary. Now, come on, Kaspar. People will be getting impatient to meet you.”
The beast in Kaspar wanted to rise from his chair and spring at Henry.
If the bastard’s hurt the man I love, I’ll…
He struggled to complete the thought. His head felt heavy and his vision swam. Too late, he began to fear that he and Jon had been lured into some kind of trap. “What have…?”
“That port really was a thoughtful gift on Jon’s part,” said Henry with a smirk. He had dropped the fey, mannered façade, and Kaspar realized he was being addressed by the real Henry Mortimer.
“Not only does it go excellently with Stilton, it’s also the perfect vehicle for delivering a mild sedative. Don’t worry, Kaspar. It’ll wear off soon enough and there’ll be no lasting ill effects. Though for you, I’m afraid there’ll be no lasting anything…”
His mouth still appeared to be moving but Kaspar could no longer make out the words. He pitched forward in his seat, unconscious.
Chapter Twenty-Four
He woke to find himself in a moving car. Henry Mortimer was beside him, humming along to some operatic aria as he drove. His mouth felt as though it was full of cotton wool and when he spoke, “Where are we going?” the words came out slightly slurred.
“I’m taking you to see some friends of mine, Kaspar. They’re so looking forward to meeting you.”
“What about Jon?”
“You don’t need to worry about him. Though I’m afraid I had to be somewhat rougher than I intended.” Henry gave a little tut. “If only he’d drunk the port like I wanted him to. But no, he had to go poking his nose into things that were none of his concern.”
The car lurched over a pothole in the road and Kaspar’s stomach churned in queasy fashion. “Henry, I need you to stop the car. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Relax. We’re almost there now.”
Kaspar looked out of the window, hoping to get some clue as to their destination. To his horror, they were on the road he’d taken with Jon, heading toward the Foolish Brothers. As they came ever closer, he realized it wasn’t just the drug Henry had added to the port that made him feel so nauseous. The full moon shone down on the stones and to Kaspar it seemed they were absorbing its light, becoming ever more powerful in the process.
Henry brought the car to a halt in front of a small cottage. It occurred to Kaspar this must be the building whose lights he’d seen shining when he’d been running in the woods. The night he’d seen two men taking a body to be buried…
“Out we get,” Henry said. He popped open his own seat belt before turning his attention to Kaspar’s. Even though the effects of the sedative were wearing off, Kaspar was still having difficulties coordinating his limbs.
Henry got out of the car then went round to the driver’s side to open the door for him.
A man stood in the doorway of the cottage, clearly waiting for them. Kaspar took in the familiar sight of his bushy hair and bearded face, and the last pieces of the puzzle slotted into place. Henry was involved with the sacrifices taking place at the stones. That was what Jon had discovered, and he’d been attacked for it. Kaspar tried not to think of the blood on the dagger blade.
But how do I fit into all this?
Kaspar allowed Henry to guide him up the path to the cottage’s front door. With every step he took, he felt more like his usual self, but it would be prudent to let these men believe he was still suffering the after-effects of the drug.
“Well, Bulmer, what did I tell you?” Henry’s tone was smug.
“You’re right. He’s beautiful. The finest one yet.” Bulmer moved forward to envelop Kaspar in a hug. He smelled of sage and chamomile.
“Take care of this one. He’s very special,” Henry informed Bulmer. “I’ll go through and join the others. You bring Kaspar down when he’s ready.”
“Henry, what’s going on? I don’t understand…” Kaspar did his best to sound weak and fearful. It wasn’t too difficult. His unease grew with every moment he spent in the company of this pair.
“It’s all right, Kaspar. Bulmer is going to prepare you to meet my friends.”
“But surely I—?”
“Yes, come with me.” Bulmer cut off Kaspar’s protests by wrapping an arm around his shoulders and steering him toward the stairs.
“Look, is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Kaspar asked as he was led into the bathroom. The tub had already been filled. The steamy water gave off a similar herbal aroma to the one that clung to Bulmer’s clothes and skin.
He recalled something he’d read in the book he’d borrowed from Jon about how those who’d been sacrificed at the Foolish Brothers were prepared before they met their fate. They were anointed with herbs and taken to the stones wearing nothing but a loose robe. It all sounded scarily similar to what was happening now.
“Patience, Kaspar. All your questions will be answered soon enough,” Bulmer replied. “Now undress and we’ll get you clean.”
When Kaspar didn’t immediately start taking his clothes off, Bulmer’s genial smile faded. “Come on. We don’t have all night.”
Realizing the man wasn’t going to leave him to bathe alone, Kaspar hurriedly took off his clothes. Seeing nowhere else to put them, he piled them up on the floor. Then he got into the bathtub.
As he breathed in the scented steam, the last of his muggy-headedness evaporated. His concern for Jon’s wellbeing hadn’t faded but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it at that moment. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make Henry pay at the first opportunity for hurting Jon.
Bulmer reached for a bar of soap. He lathered it up then ran his sudsy hands over Kaspar’s shoulders.
“You’re very tense,” he commented. “Relax, Kaspar. We only want to make you feel good.”
How can I feel good when I don’t know if Jon’s okay?
He tried to rise out of the water but Bulmer’s grip was surprisingly strong. The man had found a knot in Kaspar’s shoulder muscles and was working on it with skillful fingers. Despite his best intentions, Kaspar found his head nodding as Bulmer continued to massage him. He closed his eyes and took slow, deep breaths. His groin felt pleasantly heavy and his cock had begun to stir. If Bulmer had slipped a hand beneath the water, grabbed hold of his erection and started to wank it, he knew he wouldn’t have objected. The drugs in his system had lowered his inhibitions and made him as horny as he could recall, despite everything that had happened to him.
“Well, I think you’re ready,” Bulmer said, breaking Kaspar’s reverie. He helped Kaspar to stand up then wrapped a towel around him and patted him dry.
Kaspar looked round for the jeans and shirt he’d been wearing but they’d disappeared. In their place was a white robe that Bulmer helped him into before tying the belt around his waist. All too aware of the significance of the garment, Kaspar knew he should get the hell out of there before the ritual progressed any further. But his limbs didn’t seem to want to obey him any more.
He shot a glance at Bulmer.
Verdomme,
what was in that water?
They left the bathroom and went downstairs. Henry waited for them in the hall.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Go? Where?” When Henry had mentioned having friends round, Kaspar had assumed he’d be taken into the sitting room to meet them. Instead, he was guided through the kitchen and out of the back door, Henry holding one of his wrists and Bulmer the other. Beyond the hedge at the far end of the garden, he saw the Foolish Brothers and knew without asking any more questions that they were his intended destination.
Jon had claimed those stories had been made up to sell books, but if that was the case, Henry and his friends couldn’t seem to separate fiction and fact.
Jon, wherever you are, I wish I’d told you I love you, because I do—more than you could ever know. And though I’m going to die regretting all the things I haven’t done, all the time we won’t get to spend together, what I’ve had with you has been everything I could have ever hoped for.
Someone had begun to beat a drum. Henry and Bulmer said nothing as they led him toward the sound. When Kaspar glanced from one man to the other, he saw their faces were set in a kind of rapt concentration. He knew he was stronger than either of them. The beast in him growled and stirred, anxious to be free. The only thing that kept him from shifting was the dagger Henry held in his other hand. His lion form might give him teeth and claws that could tear flesh and the strength to overpower any human, but it was still vulnerable to a blade through the heart. It didn’t help that he was picking up the weird vibrations from the stones again, and the closer he came to them, the more his stomach churned.
All I have to do is bide my time. There’ll be a moment when I can catch Henry off guard. He’s the real threat here.
They came to a halt by the fallen stone—the altar, according to that stupid book. Three men had been waiting for them. Kaspar wasn’t in the least bit surprised to note one of them was Bulmer’s colleague with the dark hair and glasses.
Dane. He’s the weak link. He’s the one who thinks they’re going to be punished for what they’ve done. If I can just get at him somehow, make him more nervous than he already is…
The drum had fallen silent. As if on some unspoken command, Dane and his two companions quickly stripped out of their clothes. Bulmer began to undress in a more leisurely fashion.
“Gentlemen, I bring you Kaspar, the one I told you about,” Henry said. “Glorious, isn’t he? So strong, so graceful, so very special. We have prayed, and those prayers have been answered. Tonight, we shall offer the perfect tribute to Leweilun. We shall sacrifice one of the lion people.”
Kaspar shot a panicked glace at Henry. Had he heard right? Had Henry somehow discovered his real identity?
“Oh, yes, Kaspar. I know the secret you’ve been hiding from everyone. And your beloved Jon doesn’t even know I heard it slip from his lips. I’m sure he’d be mortified if he knew what he’d done. But he should be very pleased that he brought you to me, so your destiny could be fulfilled.”
“You don’t know anything about my destiny,” Kaspar snapped. “This is crazy. What do you think you’re going to achieve here tonight?”
“Something I have dreamed of for a long time. Your death will be the act that raises the Lion Father, and he will grant us the kind of power you couldn’t begin to imagine—the power that will let us have whatever we desire, in business and in bed…” Henry ran his hand down Kaspar’s body in a slow caress. His touch lingered on Kaspar’s bare arse cheek.
The drummer had begun to beat a new rhythm, faster and more urgent than before. That seemed to be the cue for Henry to undress. He set the dagger down on the grass before beginning to unbutton the jacket that strained across his paunch. Kaspar looked around, wondering if he could take the opportunity to escape from the little group. But as he tried to take a step forward, Bulmer shot out a hand and picked up the knife. He yanked Kaspar’s head back by the hair so hard tears sprang to his eyes and rested the blade against his exposed throat.
“Don’t even think about it,” Bulmer said.
Kaspar’s hackles rose and his inner lion strained to be set free but he did his best to remain still.
Jon, where are you? Please, hurry. I don’t have much longer…