Curse of the Specter Queen (Volume 1) (Novel) by Jenny Elder Moke

Author:Jenny Elder Moke [Moke, Jenny Elder]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Disney Book Group
Published: 2021-05-31T18:30:00+00:00

It took all of Joana’s charm and a hefty chunk of Phillip’s and Bennett’s wallets to secure lodgings for the five of them, but they managed to book two rooms—one for the girls and one for Bennett, Phillip, and the professor. Sam briefly considered asking the desk manager which room Alistair might be staying in, but she didn’t think Bennett would appreciate it. And it was far too late to make a social call, especially after the evening they’d had.

The desk manager looked askance at the professor, who spent the check-in process circling the lobby and muttering about eyes in the wallpaper and relics hidden under the floorboards. Joana paced the length of the front desk, her adrenaline still high. Sam seemed to be the only one ready to topple over with fatigue. But at least they would have beds to sleep in, even if the brothers had stolen their trunks.

Not that any of them were going to get any real rest.

“Bennett,” Sam said in a low voice as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. “Professor Wallstone, he—”

“I know,” Bennett said grimly. He shook his head. “I don’t…This isn’t like him. The professor I know, he…They’ve done something to him, Sam. Drugged him, or tortured him. He wasn’t like this, I swear. He’s become so obsessed with this passage tomb, and now the bowl…”

Sam chewed one corner of her lip as Phillip helped the man up the stairs, his grip on the professor’s jacket the only thing keeping the man from stumbling. Several times Phillip had to lean down and murmur in his ear to draw his attention back to the present, his head snapping up and his eyes refocusing each time. There wasn’t a mark on him she could see, but she wouldn’t put it past those men at Orlagh to have employed more devious means besides physical torture.

But…none of that explained his obsession with the bowl. Whenever he had discussed the professor on their trip, Bennett had painted the portrait of a consummate academic—intelligent, thorough, a bit eccentric, but dedicated to science. And Sam had read enough of his articles to believe it; his arguments were always well reasoned, a bit chiding, but exuding a love of the field and the progression of its practices. This man was nothing like that. He seemed fully absorbed in finding the bowl, and his singular fixation didn’t seem remotely academic.

“Bennett, Professor Wallstone said he was sure the Augustinians had the bowl.” Sam paused on the third-floor landing, her legs like lead. She dropped her voice to a near whisper so only Bennett could hear her. “Father Jacob’s letter said to follow the Order. What if he meant the Augustinians? This isn’t over.”

“It is for tonight,” Bennett said resolutely. “There’s nothing we can do in the dark without our things.”

Sam could hardly argue with that, considering how she swayed on her feet like a sapling in a strong wind. But they were here in Dublin—finally here, after so many days on trains and ships and cars—as close as they had ever been to solving Father Jacob’s riddle.

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