Beyond the Distance

Chapter 14

Acton paced the floor of his room, fists clenched, as the house creaked from the wind that strengthened with the approaching storm. This is it. It's already come down to this. If they won't stay away, I'll have to make them stay away. I can't have them interfering with my plans. They've been too many years in the making to be thrown out just because of a little pest...

His eyes met the drawer of the nightstand accented by the warm glow of the lamp on top of it. He inhaled his frustrations and made his way to the drawer, where he cast a sideways glance toward the door behind him and listened for footsteps or opening doors, but there was no sound beyond the wind howling against the window and the static hiss of his own breath. He slid the drawer open and listened once more for any movement outside his bedroom, and then he slipped his hands into the deepest corner of the drawer, where the light couldn't catch its contents, and retrieved the object wrapped tightly in cloth. It was heavy in his hands as he stared down at it uncertainly, turning it over from the nest of one palm to the other and weighing it with the delicate shift in his thoughts that considered the uses for such an object.

He bit his lip and unraveled the cloth in one direction until he reached a second cloth that wrapped it in the opposite direction. The pain in his chest sharpened. The floorboards in the hallway betrayed the otherwise silent footsteps that approached his bedroom door, so with an unsatisfying sigh, he inserted his hand through the gap of the second cloth and planted a firm grip around the object, pulling out the sleek, black steel of one of his father's revolvers. He had already carefully loaded it with seven bullets before leaving home, so he left the blue velvet pouch in its dark corner of the drawer and shoved the gun in the pocket on the inner lining of his coat. Despite the anticipation of footsteps at his door, his body jerked anxiously at the knock upon it that pierced through the wind howling against the windows. He tucked his coat back into place and tossed the limp pieces of fabric into the drawer, slamming it shut just as the doorknob turned. He had only a moment to turn toward the opening door and make sure that he appeared as innocent as he could manage.

"Acton," Keona said, not noticing the queerness that clung to his manner, "is everything alright? You seemed a little upset when you left."

He inhaled deeply to relieve the tension in his chest, but his lungs were tight. "It's been an interesting day."

He sat on the edge of his bed and watched her as the first drops of rain pattered against the windows. With her hands clasped behind her back, she glanced outside. "Everybody decided to clean up and come inside once the black clouds started covering everything. I wonder if Scott got everything in on time..."

"Did he at least send that little pest home?"

"Who?"

"Grosvenor's son."

"Oh." She looked down at the floorboards. "No, I don't think so. He couldn't send him home in this weather. It's a good ten-minute walk to the station, at least. It'll just be easier for him to wait until the storm passes, don't you think?"

He turned his head away and stared at the warm glow of the lamp. His hands gripped his knees. "It's not a good idea to invite this kid in here. He has too much power in the Underground."

"I don't know. He seemed pretty nice to me."

He turned a cold eye toward her innocence. "He's trained to be incredibly manipulative. It's how they get their information."

She shrugged, "Well, what kind of information would he be looking for from us? We have nothing to hide."

Everything. We should be hiding everything. "Even the most innocent details in a person's life can be used against them, especially with the Underground involved. They only send their men to interact with people on the outside when they're looking for something, and in this family, they have reason to be looking."