Chapter Thirty-Six
The world came into focus.
Gabriel’s mind analyzed his situation even as he remained perfectly still.
Windowless room. Lying on a bed, hands and legs manacled. Don’t let him know you’re awake. Marius. My brother—my enemy.
“Welcome back, Gabriel.”
Devil take it. Slowly, he sat up, the chains between his wrists rattling. Marius emerged from the shadows, and Gabriel’s gut twisted as he beheld the face that had haunted him for so many years. Time had been kind to the bastard. A few more lines in the tanned skin, grey sprinkled in with the short brown hair. The keen blue eyes were the same. Sharp as a blade.
The kind one found in one’s back, apparently.
“How?” Gabriel bit out. “Why?”
Marius smiled. “With two words, you open a universe of questions, my friend.”
“I’m not your friend.”
“And I am not your enemy.”
“Prove it,” Gabriel said calmly as he seethed on the inside. “Unchain me and then we’ll have a discussion about friendship.”
“I’m not a fool. In hand to hand battle, I never could best you. Which is why I had to arrange this tête-à-tête.” Marius shook his head. “I won’t free you until you listen to what I have to say. And you will listen carefully, Gabriel. I came back from the grave to convey this message.”
“Devil take your message.” Rage incinerated Gabriel’s composure. “And speaking of the grave—why in damnation aren’t you in one?”
Marius sighed. “I suppose there’s no getting around history. I’ll have to start from the beginning. But I warn you: we may have little time.”
“I don’t need your warning, you backstabbing blighter. You’re the Spectre, aren’t you?” Gabriel was on his feet in a second, forced to shuffle his manacled feet as he advanced toward his former friend. “All along, it was you. For years, I lived with the guilt of your death. But there’s no blood on my hands, is there? It’s all dripping from yours!”
Marius withdrew a pistol from his pocket. Aimed it at Gabriel’s heart. “Come any closer, and I’ll be forced to kill you. I don’t want to, but I’ll do it.”
“Damn you to hell,” Gabriel snarled.
“Sit down. In that chair.” Marius motioned with his gun.
Chest heaving, Gabriel forced himself to comply. Get in control. Find a way out of here.
“One move and I will put a bullet through your heart,” Marius said. “Understand?”
I’m going to rip you from limb to limb. It required all his inner resources, but Gabriel gave a terse nod. He would bide his time.
“Since you brought it up, we’ll start with that last mission. From the start, I tried to talk Octavian out of it, but he wouldn’t listen. Hardheaded bastard, he was.”
“Is that why you slit his throat?” Gabriel said through his teeth.
“I tried to hand Octavian my resignation,” Marius continued as if Gabriel hadn’t spoken. “By that time, I’d had more than enough of espionage and all the ugliness it entailed. But Octavian wouldn’t have it. He reminded me of what I owed him, how he’d plucked me from poverty, the pile of shite I’d sprung from, and made a blooming gentleman of me.” Marius’ lips twisted. “He convinced me to do this one last mission. To put my neck, and those of my fellow agents, on the line because of his obsession with capturing the Almighty Spectre. And I did it—because I could never bloody say no to the man. He was a master of manipulation, our mentor.”
Don’t listen to Marius. He’s a lying bastard. What does he want?
“The night of the mission, everything went wrong. It was a trap. I escaped by the skin of my teeth, and I waited for three days at our agreed upon meeting place in Rouen. When no one showed, I knew you’d all been captured.” Marius’ bronzed features were harsh in the dimness. “I’ll be honest: I was tempted to run. To let Octavian think that he’d lost all of us that night and to start a new life, free of him at last. But I couldn’t.”
“Why should I believe anything you say?” Gabriel bit out.
“Because I came back for you and the others when that was the last bloody thing I wanted to do,” Marius said tightly. “Like a madman, I argued with myself—and was damn pissed with the side of me that won. But I couldn’t leave you in the hands of the Spectre, knowing what the bastard was capable of.”
“Loyal to a fault.” Gabriel’s voice dripped with sarcasm even as his heart thudded.
“Call it loyalty or stupidity—it doesn’t matter. The fact is, I came back, freed you all. And when you and I were fighting our way to freedom and that bugger pushed me over the cliff, I had but one thought in my head: Damn, this is all it’s come to.” Marius’ throat worked. “I was going to die in the middle of bloody nowhere, with no one knowing or caring, and for no purpose whatsoever. This was how it was going to end for me—and it didn’t even come as a bleeding surprise.”
Don’t listen to him. Don’t be fooled again. “That would all be very touching—if you were dead. But you’re not,” Gabriel said acidly. “You’re alive and pointing a gun at me.”
“I wouldn’t need the gun if you weren’t so bullheaded.” Marius expelled a breath. “There was a ledge on the cliff, hidden beneath a larger outcropping. On my way down, I managed to grab hold of it and hoist myself up. I lay there, bleeding from the shot in my arm, and in that moment, I knew that Marius had died. He’d fallen into the ocean to his unmarked grave. But I, John Malcolm, was going to live. The universe had given me a second chance at life, and I was damn well going to make it one worth living.”
Gabriel hated that he heard the truth in Marius’ words. Hated even more that he understood those sentiments all too well.
“I thought you died because of me,” he said, his voice gritty. “For over twelve years, you’ve let me live with that guilt.”
Marius had the gall to look surprised. “Why would you think that my death was your fault? You didn’t push me over the cliff.”
“I was the reason we were slow getting out of that hellhole.” The memory seared through Gabriel like lava. “You kept telling me to run, to go, to get out of there, but I wouldn’t listen because I was out of control, caught up in bloodlust. Instead of running, I stayed and fought and killed. By the time we reached the outside, the enemy surrounded us. If I’d listened to you, we’d have had a good ten minutes start on them. You wouldn’t have been forced to have a stand-off on the cliffs.”
Comprehension shifted over Marius’ worn features. “You thought that the delay you caused led to my death?”
“Not now that you’re standing there as alive as I am,” Gabriel bit out. “But for all the years before—yes, goddamnit, I thought it was my fault. You died because I let my emotions rule instead of my head. Because I lost control. Because I failed to heed Octavian’s teachings—”
“Control was never the problem.” Now Marius’ eyes glowed with anger. “Don’t let our mentor’s so-called lessons blind you to the truth. To block out all emotion is not normal. To kill, to see the things we’ve seen, and pretend that that doesn’t affect one’s soul is bloody wrong. That was why I needed to get out. I didn’t want to become a deadened, soulless soldier. An empty shell of a man.”
A vise clamped around Gabriel’s chest. He couldn’t speak.
“I’m not the Spectre, Gabriel,” Marius said quietly, “and I’ve lived a life of peace—some might say boredom—since I started over again. I’ve no reason to be here today except to pay a debt that’s owed.”
“What debt is that?” Gabriel said hoarsely.
“Loyalty I owed to you—to the comrades I’d left behind. Normandy has continued to niggle at me over the years, like a pebble in my boot. Or, more aptly, like a snake in the grass. How did the Spectre know our group’s inner workings well enough to set such a trap?” Marius’ eyes narrowed. “There was only one answer, of course. When I got word of Octavian’s death followed shortly by your own carriage ‘accident,’ I knew unfinished business had risen. As much as I tried, I couldn’t ignore it. So I came back. As it turns out, my apparent death has given me a great advantage when it comes to spying. I’ve been monitoring events for the past fortnight with no one the wiser. And I was able to step in when needed.”
“The shooter in the alley,” Gabriel said suddenly. “That was… you?”
Marius nodded. “I followed you and Pompeia to the market that day. And when it looked like you could use a hand, I gave it.”
“You always were a crack shot.” Swallowing, Gabriel said, “Why didn’t you reveal yourself to me then?”
“Because at the time I still didn’t know who the Spectre was. I needed the benefit of obscurity to watch things unfold. To see who would finally show themselves as the guilty one.”
“You know who the Spectre is?” Gabriel said.
“Yes.”
He read all he needed to know in the other’s somber expression. What his gut had been trying to tell him all along. “It’s not Heath.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Devil take it.” Anger blazed through him. “Davenport.”
Marius gave a grim nod. “Cicero always had the cunning of a fox, and he’s suspicious by nature too. Several times I followed his carriage from his offices—only to discover later that it had been a decoy. He’d hired another to pose as him, running errands on Bond Street and the like, whilst he was off God knows where making trouble. Only by accident did I catch his true scent. I was also watching Heath, the other viable suspect, and who should show up at Heath’s place but Cicero. Heath wasn’t home, but Cicero let himself right in. I knew he was up to no good; I just didn’t know what exactly. Then three nights later, you ‘discovered’ the Spectre’s plans at Heath’s home, and I deduced that Cicero had framed our mad friend.”
“Why didn’t you come forward then?”
“Because I wanted tangible proof. Not just speculation. And I got it finally. Two nights ago, Cicero, believing that he was in the clear after Heath’s capture, was finally careless. I was able to follow him all the way to a cottage in Camden Town where I found the missing link.” Marius took a key from his pocket. “I’ll show you—if you vow not to waste time trying to kill me.”
The past was done. Gabriel found he no longer gave a damn. What mattered was that Marius’ explanations and revelations made sense and pointed a way to the future: to ending the Spectre’s evil reign once and for all.
“Unlock these damned chains,” he said.
After the manacles fell, Marius said, “Follow me.”
Gabriel trailed him down the hallway to a closed door. Marius unlocked it. “After you.”
A woman sat on a bed, her hands chained, her mouth gagged. Her pretty features were pale, her hair dyed a lighter shade, but Gabriel would recognize her anywhere.
His hands balled at his sides. “Devil take you, Fournier or Fontaine or whoever the hell you are.”
Her words were muffled; she shrank back against the headboard.
“She happens to be Davenport’s mistress as well, but you can hear her confession later. Come, my friend.” Marius ushered him out and locked the door. “We haven’t much time. If Cicero discovers she’s missing, it will send him into a panic. He may strike out.”
Freddy. Thea. An icy hand gripped Gabriel’s insides. “I have to get back.”
“Yes. Do you want to take—”
A loud crash cut through the house. In a flash, Marius drew out a pair of pistols, tossing one to Gabriel. They moved in the old pattern, Gabriel going high, Marius low, both of them aiming at the figures storming down the dim hallway. As the intruders rushed closer, their faces became clear.
Gabriel shouted, “Hold fire. Everyone.”
“Tremont, are you safe?” Kent came forward, his gun aimed at Marius. “Drop your weapon, whoever you are. We have the place surrounded.”
“Everyone put down your guns,” Gabriel said. “This is Marius… a friend.”
Slowly, Marius lowered his firearm.
Kent followed suit, muttering, “You’ve interesting friends, my lord. Do all of them abduct you in broad daylight?”
“Marius found the governess. She’s Davenport’s mistress and his accomplice,” Gabriel said grimly. “I’ll explain everything in the carriage. We need to get back to Strathaven’s immediately.”
***
As they pulled up in front of the duke’s residence, Gabriel knew something was wrong. The door was open; servants and men in uniform were milling about. He hit the ground running before the wheels came to a complete stop. He shouldered his way through the small throng and saw Strathaven and the duchess standing in the foyer.
The duke was giving orders to a circle of men. Runner types. Beside him, the duchess was pale, her face etched with worry.
“Where are Thea and Freddy?” The words left Gabriel in a shout.
“Tremont, you’re back.” Strathaven strode toward him, put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll talk in my study where it’s calmer—”
“Tell me what the hell happened.”
“They were taken.” This came from the duchess. “Sometime this afternoon. They were on their way to Marianne’s, and from what we’ve been able to piece together from witnesses, an unmarked carriage pulled up and shot the two footmen who were accompanying them. Thea and Freddy were grabbed.” Her voice hitched, and the duke’s arm circled her shoulders. “We don’t know who’s behind this or where they’ve been taken.”
“Davenport.” Blood was rushing through Gabriel’s ears. “He’s the Spectre.”
“What?” Strathaven and the duchess said as one.
Images bombarded him of Thea and Freddy, locked away in some hellhole. His beloved fighting for her breath, his son falling... Gabriel shook off his panic.
They’re strong; they’ll manage until you get there. Focus on getting them back.
“Gather everyone in your study. We’re going to rescue Thea and Freddy from the Spectre,” he said in clipped tones, “and every bloody minute counts.”