The Curse of the Brimstone Contract by Corrina Lawson

Author:Corrina Lawson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2014-04-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Joan looked at the seamstresses as Davis led her past them. She focused on Emily, her eyes sending a wordless plea. Of her mother, she saw nothing. Perhaps she had been too afraid to confront Moran. Her mother was running true to form. No confrontation.

Coward.

Gregor. She needed Gregor. He had the connections and, somehow, she knew he would find the authority to trump Moran. But he knew not of her plight, and she had no way to tell him.

Davis led Joan out the side door. Darcy the seamstress said something to her, but Joan could not make out the words. It was all happening as if from far away, as if she were observing herself.

She was being arrested. For illegal magical use. Krieger & Sims was shut down. Her father was suspected to be a murderous mage. She saw a black carriage with an enclosed cage pulling away from the curb. Someone pounded against the walls, like an animal trying to break free. Her father.

She opened her eyes wider, yet the world around her remained exactly the same. The cold air outside hit her like a slap, waking her up. Her father behaved as an animal. She would not. She might not be a lady of the realm, but she was a Cohen, a Krieger and a Sims. She would have dignity for however long she could.

Davis took her to another steam carriage and pushed her into the backseat. Once inside, she saw she was locked in. There were no handles on the doors, or windows to see out onto the street. She assumed Davis was driving, but since she could not see the driver’s seat, she did not know that for certain.

What would happen when Moran discovered Gregor’s case containing the pendant under her clothes? Nothing good, she thought.

Nothing good.

The journey was uneventful, save for her swirling, chaotic thoughts. She wrapped her arms around herself to still her panic. When the vehicle stopped and the door opened, she set her jaw and stiffened.

Davis offered her a hand. “This way, miss.”

She wanted to ignore his hand, but her nerves overcame her will and she stumbled as she stepped down from the vehicle. She gripped Davis’s arm for balance. He steadied her as her feet settled on the cobblestones.

The building before her was new, a boxy structure with a number of steam pipes extruding from the roof, like needles thrust through a tight cloth. Grey and unwelcoming. She hugged herself tight again, wondering if this was how her great-grandmother had felt before she fled Germany. But Joan could not flee. She had to face the unknown menace.

Davis led her into the unremarkable building that appeared as without windows as the carriage in which she had ridden. It was all one dull, square mass of walls and ceilings.

“You’ll not give me trouble, miss? I would hate to use restraints on you.”

She took a deep breath. “And where would I run to, sir?”

“’Tis Inspector, not sir,” he said. “And you would be surprised at the strength that panic lends to some.

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