Vow of Deception (The Ministry of Curiosities #9)(50)

"He was unarmed," I said in Gawler's defense.

"Not in wolf form." Ballantine kicked the animal's paws. The claws had retracted in death, but the paws themselves were larger than a man's hand. I'd seen the deep wounds werewolf claws inflicted—as deep as a dagger.

"Will you tell the police who it is?" Lincoln asked.

"Of course," Swinburn said. "They already suspected him, thanks to the article in The Star."

"Which you orchestrated," Seth said.

Gawler's spirit swirled violently around Swinburn then whooshed upward before plunging again. A ghostly finger pointed at Swinburn's face. "You bloody done it! You bloody told 'em I killed those men when it was you!"

"Not me," Swinburn answered Seth. "I haven't spoken to any reporters."

"Ballantine then," Seth said. "Or someone else from your pack, either acting alone or under instruction."

"How dare you!" Ballantine pulled himself up to his full height. He was a large man with grizzly whiskers but for some reason, I didn't feel intimidated. He was all bluster and pomp with no substance. It was no wonder he'd lost the pack leadership.

Swinburn, however, was a different matter. There was a coldness to him, a calculated cunning that made him unpredictable. He played games with people's lives and reputations and gave his opponents no choice but to play along with him.

"I cannot control what others do," Swinburn said. "But I can assure you that I did not authorize anyone to speak to reporters from The Star or any other newspaper. That is not my way. But what's done is done. The secret of our kind is out and we must navigate these new, public, waters as best we can." He looked down at Gawler's body and shook his head. "Fool. It shouldn't have come to this. He shouldn't have attacked me."

Gawler's spirit screamed. He whirled around the alley, dashing from one end to the other, up to the roofline and down again, swooping on Swinburn and Ballantine. They didn't notice and Gawler's frustration mounted. I wanted to urge him to calm down, but I didn't want Swinburn to know he was here. The otherworldly screaming filled my head and hurt my ears. It felt as if the ghost himself were inside my brain.

Lincoln must have sensed my discomfort, even though I felt sure I didn't display any signs. He touched my chin and studied my face, a question in his eyes.

"She looks pale," Seth said. "Charlie? Do you need to sit down?"

Ballantine snorted. "She should be used to death."

The screaming suddenly stopped, leaving a profound silence. I glanced around but could no longer see Gawler's spirit. Perhaps he'd gone, too frustrated to listen to Swinburn any longer. I hoped his afterlife proved to be a better existence for him than this life.

I met Lincoln's gaze and offered a small smile. "I'm all right," I said.

He turned back to Swinburn. "You defeated Gawler. His pack will be yours now."

Therein lay the real reason for the murder. I had no doubts.

"No," Swinburn said. "To take over a pack that I don't belong to, I must defeat the leader when we are both in our other forms. I didn't change. In this situation the pack will elect a new leader in whatever way they see fit. I suspect it will be handed to Lady Gillingham."

"Harriet?" I blurted out. "Why? She's not as strong as others in her pack, surely."

"Particularly in her delicate state," Seth added. "She can't run with them at the moment, let alone fight."

"She is the only natural leader within that pack," Swinburn said.

"The rest are a bloody useless lot," Ballantine added. "Sir Ignatius is right. She'll get the leadership by default. No others will want it, and being a countess makes her the perfect choice."

Swinburn narrowed his gaze ever so slightly at his friend. Ballantine swallowed and looked away. It would seem no matter how far Swinburn rose, or how strong a leader he made, Ballantine would always consider him his inferior.

The arrival of Detective Inspector Fullbright with his constables saw us all ousted from the scene. We gathered on the street where another constable questioned the two gentlemen witnesses. The sun rose high in the sky overhead, brightening the row of white houses so that I had to squint until my eyes adjusted. It promised to be a hot, sticky day in the city.

Several minutes later, constables carried the body on a stretcher and slid it into a waiting cart. It drove away and Fullbright joined us. He spoke with the gentlemen then dismissed them.

A two-wheeled hansom sped up the street and stopped alongside Gus and our carriage, blocking the road. Mr. Yallop, the MP, alighted and strode toward us, patting a handkerchief across his shiny forehead.

"We had a meeting," Mr. Yallop snapped at Detective Inspector Fullbright.

"I was called here unexpectedly," Inspector Fullbright said without glancing up from the constable's notebook he now held in his hand.

"Why wasn't I told about…this?" Mr. Yallop signaled toward the alley. "Your superior informed me when I went looking for you."

"There wasn't time."

"I want a full report."

"And you'll get one."

Mr. Yallop's jaw hardened.

"It was self-defense," Lord Ballantine said. "Sir Ignatius was attacked."