Dangerous Thoughts

Chapter 25

Charles could feel his heart pounding as Foote drove the carriage down the darkened cobblestone streets.

He could see the coachman's back through the small window at the front of the carriage with James' thin frame nuzzled next to him; his brother had joined him out in the open air. Despite how quickly the horses pulled them down the streets, and the general urgency to the situation, James had his head resting on Foote's shoulder as he drove the carriage.

Charles watched them, studying the back of Andrew's head. This was the man his brother had fallen for, a man Charles had hardly acknowledged for over a year. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before; couldn't believe how he had acted just hours earlier, forbidding his brother from seeing him out of fear of losing his status.

And now we risk losing everything, Charles thought. They were riding into the unknown. Who knew if James would ever see Andrew again after this night?

Charles rubbed his thumb over Cecilia's hand. She had been mostly quiet for the ride, but suddenly she whispered, "I feel like a fool."

Charles turned to her. "What do you mean?"

Cecilia's pale green eyes turned towards the window. "For not noticing the way my father has changed," she said. "Or rather—for trying to convince myself that he hadn't."

She tilted her head against the glass, auburn hair spilling around her face. "After my mother died, he threw himself into his work—mage exhibitions, investment deals, you name it. More and more as if drowning himself in work was the only way he could cope with her loss. For a solid year, he was so angry. And then, a few months ago, he seemed... calmer. It was such a sudden change, but I was so happy to have my father back that I didn't think anything of it. That's when I suggested that he be more involved in the orphanage. I thought he was seeing value in what I had been doing, what my mother and I had built together. But now I realize..." She trailed off, letting the words hang unspoken in the air.

Charles squeezed her hand. "You can't blame yourself."

She frowned. "Children are dead because of me, Charles. Of course I blame myself." She shook her head. "I just hope we can put an end to it."

"Do you feel ready to... do what you have to do?"

Charles saw his fiancée hesitate, but then she nodded. "I don't know if I'll ever feel ready. But I have to try."

The carriage suddenly rounded a bend, and Charles saw that they had reached the river, dark water shimmering under the glare of the gaslights. Foote pulled back on the reins, slowing the horses until the carriage finally settled to a stop outside of a beautiful waterfront property.

They all scrambled out of the carriage as Foote pointed towards the house. "This is where your father had me drop him off, Miss Monroe. He said he was playing Whist with some gentlemen here, and that I should leave and return at one o'clock."

Charles glanced at his pocket watch. It was a little past eleven. He didn't know what the itinerary for a child-sacrificing cult looked like, but he hoped that they weren't too late.

James was staring up at the estate with a small frown. Besides the gaslights that flickered on the side of the road, there wasn't a single light lit on the property; every window was dark. "It doesn't look like there's anyone home."

"Foote, did you see him go inside?" Cecilia asked.

Andrew shook his head. "No. I drove off before then. He told me not to wait."

Lillian stared out at the waterfront; black water was lapping up against the docks. "We're close to where I was staying with my mother. Those abandoned buildings are about a five-minute walk away. Do you think Monroe had Foote drop him off here, as an alibi, but then went the rest of the way by foot?"