Necropolis by Jordan L. Hawk

Author:Jordan L. Hawk [Hawk, Jordan L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: detective, fantasy, gay, mystery, paranormal, romance, Sherlock Holmes rivals, victoriana
ISBN: 9781499153521
Amazon: 149915352X
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2014-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Breakfast was predictably awkward. I tried to greet Daphne normally, but ended up stammering the words. As the five of us ate, she turned to Griffin and said, “I thought perhaps I’d like to take another turn on the screens today.”

“Of course,” he said amiably. At least he was too much the gentleman to make a teasing remark about assisting me, although I’m sure a number of them passed through his mind.

For their parts, Iskander and Christine both appeared puzzled. Neither of them said anything at the time, and I hoped the matter might be dropped and put behind us.

The hope proved futile, of course. As we prepared for work, Christine joined Griffin and I in front of the wall. “What on earth is going on, Whyborne?” she demanded. “Have you and Daphne argued over your translation?”

“No, and keep your voice down,” I said, glancing about. Fortunately, only Griffin stood close enough to overhear.

“Well, what’s wrong? Tensions are normal in a situation like this, isolated from civilization as we are, but it’s best to get them out in the open before they have a chance to fester.”

There was no way around it. I explained the situation to Christine as delicately as I could, given Daphne was her sister. When I finished, Christine rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. I’ll just tell her you’re a eunuch.”

“Christine!” I exclaimed.

“Well, I can’t lie and say you’ve a woman waiting back home,” she pointed out. “What if she wants to visit me in Widdershins? Or even move there? When this mysterious other woman failed to appear, she’d know I’d made the whole thing up.”

“Surely you can think of something better than my being a…a…”

“Impotence. It would be more believable, anyway.”

“Christine!”

“Oh honestly, Whyborne, don’t put up such a fuss. I swear, you men have your entire egos tied to the functioning of a few inches of flesh.”

“More than a few,” Griffin said with a smirk. I buried my face in my hands and wished the mummy’s curse were real and might strike me down immediately.

“I don’t want to know, and implore you not to say anything further,” Christine responded.

“I thought nothing shocked you.”

Christine snorted. “Whyborne is my brother, by choice if not by blood. I wish him all happiness, but have no desire to know any details.”

“Would you both please stop talking?” I begged. “Tell Daphne I’m dead. Over here. Killed by apoplexy thanks to the two people closest to me. Perhaps she can speak a phrase from the Coffin Texts over my corpse.”

“Good gad, you’re so melodramatic,” Christine exclaimed. “Have it your way. I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you.”

Christine departed, and I tried to turn my mind to work. Although Griffin’s assistance was useful on occasion, in truth, his complete lack of knowledge of hieroglyphics meant he had little to offer besides working the camera. Perhaps I could apologize to Daphne and convince her to return. If only I’d handled the situation better in the first place. Surely there must have been some way I might have demurred with a kind word or a witty remark, which would have left her at her ease.

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