In the small bedroom, they alternated standing, sitting, and pacing the floor. All the while, avoiding touching one another.
Lillian said, “I have always believed the demons wanted us dead. This says they want us subservient.”
“Does that matter?”
“Of course it does. It is far worse.”
“I agree, Lilly, but it does not change the fact that we need to find a way to close the gates, preferably with the demons on the other side.”
“I suppose that is true.” They had debated a great many points. Dorian listened well and expressed thoughtful and insightful ideas. It was clear why Cullum had made him his assistant. He was methodical, organized, and took notes.
In spite of her best efforts to use his help and nothing more, she enjoyed debating with him.
“It’s getting late. Shall we have supper?”
Her wrinkled day dress was serviceable, but not suited to dinner under the guise of being a lady. “I need to change.”
“I will meet you downstairs.” He bowed and left the room.
After dressing, she descended and the innkeeper met her at the bottom of the steps. His face was bright red, and he worried his hands together. “My dear, madam, I have saved a private room for you and your husband for the evening. Forgive me for all the excitement. You must not fear any harm will come to you. I shall see to your safety.”
Dorian stood over the man’s shoulder. She looked at him for some sort of explanation, but received only a knowing stare.
Trouble.
With only the slightest hesitation, she addressed the fretful man. “My good sir, I am certain my husband will see to my safety. You must not worry yourself. This is not your fault. The roads these days are so dangerous.”
“Thank you for understanding.” The strain eased on the man’s face.
“Lilly, shall we move out of the common area and allow this good man to ease the minds of his other guests.”
She took his arm and allowed herself to be led through the bustling crowd, through a doorway, and into the private dining room.
The innkeeper rushed back out with the promise of a sumptuous meal.
“What’s going on, Dorian?”
His eyes were lighter than one might expect in a man with such dark hair. They turned more gold than brown when amused because she’d stolen Shafton’s book. Dark and stern at the meeting days earlier. Strain tugged at the corners and something else she couldn’t place. “It seems several young people have gone missing. They were headed out for some kind of dancing at the public house in the nearby village and only one arrived of the four.”
Lillian’s heart pounded. “What did the one child who arrived report?”
“Evidently the girl is unable to speak. She was babbling about green skin and slimy flesh.” He spoke in monotone as if repeating the words as described to him.
She tried to put sense to the information. “Did they mention if there have been other disappearances?”
“I asked, but this is the first for many months.”
“I find it difficult to believe it is a coincidence that we arrive here at the same time as demons suddenly attack the village.”
“We are meant to be distracted,” Dorian said.
“Maybe.” His thinking was in line with hers. No arguments. She and Reece had regularly argued over the weather, what to eat, and how to go about a hunt.
“And will we be led into this distraction?” He raised one eyebrow and studied her.
“I will not stand by and allow those children to be sacrificed, or worse, if they can be recovered. I think we must take a look.”
The door opened, revealing a robust woman with a large platter of food. She placed the lamb in the center of the table and left with a bob.
The food was bland but well cooked. Lillian, intrigued by the new development, hardly enjoyed any part of the feast.
“What are you thinking?”
She looked up from her picked at food. “I’m wondering how demons could know where I am going or why? Perhaps it is a coincidence? I told only my closest friends. I have no doubt of their loyalty to me and dedication to the cause.”
“Cullum knew what you were about without being told. Perhaps someone else is equally intuitive and not as loyal. I might have guessed you could not let his lordship’s rant go after the meeting.”
“And did you speak to anyone on the subject?”
Anger flashed in his interesting eyes and was gone an instant later. “I kept my own council. I assure you I would never endanger innocents for any reason.”
“Perhaps it truly is a coincidence.” Lillian stabbed at her food once more before pushing the plate away.
Dorian stood up and offered his hand. She took it. “Let’s go find the girl and see if she will speak to one of us.”
Both of their hands were ungloved, and the touch of skin-to-skin sent a warm sensation rushing through her body. What was it about Dorian Lambert that distracted her so? Whatever it was, she pushed it aside. Neither of them could afford to be preoccupied.
She dropped his hand and clasped hers together.
His expression remained stoic as they left the private dining room.
Dorian sought out the innkeeper’s wife. Mousey brown hair poked out from under her dingy cap. Dark rings smudged under her eyes. All signs pointed toward a hard life for the older woman. He treated her as if she were a queen. “Madam, my wife would like to offer her comfort to the family of the missing young people.”
“You shouldn’t trouble yourself, milady. These are just poor folk.”
Lillian cringed not only from the assumption that she should not or would not care about the fate of people based on their financial situation, but also the title. She was no lady. “I only want to offer some comfort if I can, madam. Please tell us where we can pay our respects?”
Her eyes softened, and she gave the direction to the village. “The Thrushes are good, pious people. I never hear a bad word about them. Even the children are well liked and not a smidge of trouble.”
“I’m sure they are, and this will all turn out right.”
It was close enough to walk. Dorian threaded her hand through the crook of his arm, and they walked along as if they were any married couple out for a stroll. “I assume you are armed, Lilly.”
“Of course. And you?”
“I have a dagger and a pistol, but my hand to hand skills are good as well.”
“Let us hope we shall not have use of those skills tonight.”
“That does not seem likely under the circumstances.”
The house was humble, clean, and bustling with activity. Neighbors ran in and out. Lillian stepped through the door, and the crowd silenced. They looked at her as if she were lost and might realize her mistake at any moment, turn and leave the house. She took several steps inside, allowing room for Dorian to follow her in.
Staring blankly, a girl of perhaps sixteen sat at a wood table. Her dark blond hair stood out from her uncovered head. Dirt smudged her face, and her dress was torn at the arm.
An older woman held the girl around the shoulder.
Lillian looked the older of the two in the eye. “Please forgive the intrusion, Mrs. Thrush. My husband and I are passing through the area and heard of your trouble. We have heard