Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Dinner was festive, even though there was nothing out of the ordinary. Hannah sparkled and Owen entertained them all with stories from his and Hannah's childhood in Scotland and his experiences as the gamekeeper. Owen had yet to grow weary of Simon's ceaseless chatter about fungus and could almost hold his own with facts about different species. Even mother seemed more lucid and happy. The only thing that could have made it better was if Hugh had been there. Constance tried not to think about him overly much, even though she wore the bird pin on her dinner gown.

After supper Gran excused herself, but the rest of them retired to the parlor where Hannah and Owen were playing the pianoforte and singing. Hannah played very well, and Owen had a baritone voice as smooth as velvet. Simon lay on his stomach close to the door sketching his lavender mushrooms and Constance and Beatrice sat together on the settee drinking port from tiny crystal glasses.

The tense feeling Constance had been carrying on her shoulders finally eased. Baines really could have been at Westminster Palace for any number of legitimate reasons and anyway, Owen was here to keep them safe.

Owen started a song from the Highlands. It had that lonesome, beautiful sound that Constance's father had loved. Her eyes felt heavy. The fireplace crackled.

A crash jolted Constance from her reverie and then the doors to the parlor smashed open, the wood trim splintering. Four large men filled the doorway, their arms as thick as tree branches. The air around them was stained a muddy red color that began reaching into the parlor.

"Monsters!" Mother hissed, leaping to her feet.

Simon screamed as one of them scooped him off the floor.

Constance charged toward him.

"Constance, no!" Hannah yelled, as Owen grabbed a fireplace poker.

Constance changed course, grabbing Hannah's hand and pulling her down behind the piano. She watched as a man intercepted Owen before he could get to Simon. Owen swung, hitting the man in the head. He stumbled back, shook his head and then sent Owen flying into a set of bookshelves, glass and paper raining around him. The first monster had Simon almost to the hall as the other three advanced.

"Simon!" Constance screamed, panic clawing its way up her throat.

Beatrice met one man. She grabbed his forearm and flipped him over her shoulder. He landed hard on his back. For a moment, the entire room seemed frozen in shock, but then Constance understood. These were supernaturals, she was seeing her mother as Wolf's-bane. She was incredible. Beatrice's fist hit her opponent in the jaw. And he came back at her hard. Constance flinched as he struck her mother in the face, but it barely seemed to phase her. She bared her teeth and struck back the sounds of her fists pummeling into his flesh, filling Constance's ears.

Simon was kicking and screaming, putting up a good fight, but it was nothing compared to the man's strength. Constance's heart was in her throat, the muddy red color staining everything around her. She had to use her power.

She took a deep breath. You are peaceful, she thought, trying to grasp hold of the contentment she'd felt just moments before.

The pianoforte flew against the other side of the room, sheets of music fluttering in the air. A man towered over her and Hannah. Hannah launched herself into him, pushing him back a few steps, giving Constance a few more seconds.

You will not hurt us, she thought desperately. It wasn't working. She had to direct her will, had to figure out how to reach the man who had her brother. She concentrated on the colors eddying around her. It was a color of malice and it was coming from all the supernaturals, but if she concentrated, she could see there were different ribbons of color for each of them.