Lydia shook her head. “It is too soon for the Chosen One to have found us. We are too well hidden. Madigan even agreed. And he took extra precautions to make certain he wasn’t followed here.”
Madigan. He had risked his life to warn them about the prophecy, to tell Sabine where to find the map, and thus far, she had failed in retrieving it. Sabine set the brush down.
“Perhaps it was nothing more than a robbery,” Calliope offered. “Yes, I’m certain that’s what this was. Stores get robbed all the time.”
“Still, they could have been after the elixir,” Lydia said.
“Something doesn’t fit. Why were there three of them? It’s the Chosen One, not the chosen three.” Sabine shook her head. “I heard them, and they weren’t looking for anything in particular. They were common thugs, nothing more. I cannot believe the Chosen One would send bumblers to do such an important job.”
Atlanteans were warned of the Chosen One, since he was the most powerful enemy of her people—cunning and clever, with ways to detect the presence of elixir. Would a person like that make such a mistake? She didn’t think so.
They were quiet for a moment as if considering her words, then Lydia took a few steps forward. “Was the use of the elixir necessary tonight?”
“I did what I had to do. You saw his wound. It was deep, the bullet was lodged, and I worried about infection,” Sabine said.
“Yes, but he is an Englishman,” Lydia said.
Sabine stood from her bed to create distance between her and her eldest aunt. She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, Agnes spoke. “I am the Healer. It was my choice.”
Lydia took a deep breath and nodded, but said nothing more.
Sabine had to get her hands on the prophecy, sooner rather than later. Tomorrow she would pay Maxwell Barrett a visit.
CHAPTER5
Tonight’s kill would be simple. His plan was so clever he still couldn’t believe how easy it had been to set up. Spencer waited in dense woods, just outside London, perched on a black horse. Luring his prey had taken some creativity. He had to be careful.
No one investigating these murders could link them to him. Not yet. So he hadn’t been able to send notes or invitations. No, he’d made his requests in person. But in the end, his hard work would pay off. Because of his brilliance, he would get two with one clean swipe.
TheTimeshad not printed his last two letters, warning the guardians the time had come and their end was near. Perhaps this would get their attention. Though somehow, he doubted it. The English were ridiculously arrogant, foolishly believing nothing and no one could cause their country significant harm. Hell, he could send a letter detailing his entire plan, and they would never believe anyone could be capable of such a feat.
He didn’t plan on giving these two gentlemen the choice of joining him. Two generals killed at once would guarantee the authorities took notice. After he took care of the men tonight, he would be leaving for Cornwall. It had taken him a while, but he had finally located the next guardian.
For the completion of the prophecy, he required all three amphoras of elixir. As legend had it, the person who had all three amphoras of elixir became immortal.
Horses’ hooves sounded off in the distance, and his own mount stomped in response. He ran his hand down the mare’s neck to calm her. Slowly he slid from the saddle, then tied her loosely to a tree. He retrieved a halved apple from his pack and held it out to her. Her whiskers tickled his palm as she took the treat.
The frigid night breeze bit into the exposed flesh on his ears and face. He would have been far warmer enclosed in his carriage, but he couldn’t afford to have another witness. Already he had the other driver to be concerned about. Now carriage wheels rumbled closer and closer to his hiding place.
He made his way to the middle of the road and withdrew his pistol. Aiming it straight at the approaching carriage, he held his stance. Though the dark of night was beginning to settle, light from the horizon still illuminated enough of the sky for him to see the surprised and fearful expression of the driver. The man made an effort to swerve, but at the last minute, he pulled the reins, and the horses skidded to a stop inches from Spencer. The steeds stomped restlessly.
He’d made a mistake at the last killing with that servant girl. Having extra bodies for the authorities would only sully his message. He could not afford to indulge himself so carelessly again.
With purposeful steps, he made his way to the driver, never lowering his gun. “Run,” he told him. And the driver made no delay in doing precisely that.
“What the devil…” One of the men from the interior opened the door and sputtered when he saw the gun aimed at him. It was Clyde, the adjutant-general, which made him the most senior officer in her majesty’s army, though many remained perplexed by how the man made it that far.
And Spencer knew precisely who would take his place—a fine gentleman already sympathetic to Spencer’s cause. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said calmly.
“Cole,” Clyde said in surprise. Then the man chuckled. “Quite a jest”—he nudged the man next to him— “pretending to rob our coach.” He motioned to the pistol in Spencer’s hand.
Clyde, of course, was the easy prey, always up for a night of drinking and prurient entertainment.
The other man, Mercer, found no humor in the situation. Naturally more suspicious, he had been harder to tempt onto this deserted country road. Clyde had achieved his position through the connections of his powerful family, but Mercer had clawed his way to the top through cunning and ambition. “I thought we were meeting you at the Hog’s Hair Inn.”
Spencer shrugged. “Change of plans.”
“What do you want?” Mercer asked.