Page 11 of Unbroken (Rath & Rune #4)

The man in the window—Rulkowski—managed to make a gurgling sound as he clung to the sill, preparing to dive out.

Ves didn’t waste any time, shoving aside the desk with an inhumanly strong push.

A manuscript on it went flying in a shower of paper.

His arms latched around the man’s waist, and he yanked him back in, eliciting a cry of pain from Rulkowski.

For a moment, Rulkowski’s legs windmilled, trying to find traction to race back to the window.

Ves held him in a grip firm enough to restrain, but hopefully not tight enough to bruise.

Berry ran past and slammed the window shut, before turning to his employer, expression wild with fear. “Danny! What were you doing?”

Rulkowski abruptly went limp. Then he began to scream: short, harsh bursts of terror, his eyes so wide the whites showed all around.

“Mr. Rulkowski!” Mortimer exclaimed. “Stop this noise at once.”

Shocked, Rulkowski did as he was ordered.

Ves carefully lowered him to the floor and let go of him.

He was a bit younger than Siewert had been, though still approaching middle age.

His blond hair was styled fashionably, his linen suit creased from his attempt to hurl himself out the window.

A small plaster clung to one side of his neck.

“Thank you.” Mortimer folded his hands in front of himself. “Are you all right?”

Rulkowski gulped in air as if he’d been drowning. “I-I couldn’t—”

“You couldn’t stop yourself,” Ves finished for him.

Rulkowski took a staggering step, then crumpled into Berry’s arms. Berry held him tightly, stroking his hair and making soothing sounds.

“Good heavens!” Tubbs exclaimed from the doorway. “Is…is that what happened to poor Penny?”

“Yes,” Mortimer said, not trying to soften the blow. “I’ll get him a glass of water. Mr. Tubbs, fetch a chair for Mr. Rulkowski?”

Tubbs quickly righted the desk chair, which had been sent flying when Ves heaved the desk out of the way. Mortimer slipped back through the door, and Ves positioned himself between Rulkowski and the windows, just in case.

Rulkowski slumped in the chair, his hands shaking badly. “Thank God you arrived when you did,” Berry said. “I would have been downstairs when…” He blinked rapidly. “Why? Why would you do such a thing, Danny?”

“It wasn’t his choice,” Ves said. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Rulkowski?”

“Yes. I couldn’t…my body was moving without my will. I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t do anything…” He frowned. “Who…who are you? How did you know?”

“My sister-in-law—something similar happened to her,” Tubbs said, his voice trembling. “Penelope Tubbs—you know her. Knew her.”

Horror washed over Rulkowski’s face. “My God…I was there the night she…are you saying it wasn’t an accident? She was forced to set herself on fire?”

He swayed as if he might faint. Fortunately, Mortimer returned with the glass of water; Rulkowski took it gratefully and drained it. “Thank you.”

“Mr. Siewert’s death wasn’t an accident, either,” Ves said. “Someone seems to be targeting members of the WHS. We’d come to ask you about it, actually. Do you know anyone who would want to kill you?”

Berry took the empty glass from Rulkowski. “He needs rest, not questions.”

“I’d think what he needs is to not be murdered,” Mortimer replied archly.

Rulkowski shook himself, as if emerging from a daze. “The conservatory.” He took a deep breath. “I find it calming. I’ll join you there, once I’ve had a moment to collect myself. Stay with me, Tom?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sure we’ll have no trouble making our way downstairs,” Mortimer said. “Please, take your time—you’ve had quite the scare.”

They retreated downstairs and found their way to the conservatory easily enough.

The air inside was steamy and smelled of damp earth and growing things.

A brick path wound amidst exotic plants, most of which Ves didn’t recognize, though he thought one might be a banana tree.

Massive orchids bloomed everywhere, some overflowing pots, others tucked in the branches of the larger, woodier plants, their epiphytic roots swollen into tentacles.

Benches and seats were scattered throughout the space, including what looked like a more formal sitting area with a table large enough for a tea service. Mortimer sat on a padded bench, Ves beside him. Tubbs took a seat across from them, scowling.

“What did you offer Penelope’s butler for the guest list?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Mortimer said. “We spoke with Mr. Siewert’s widow.”

Tubbs’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “And how did you know Siewert was on the list?”

“Because the party was in his honor, you buffoon,” Mortimer snapped, apparently out of patience. “And, as it turns out, he was a victim as well.”

“How can you know that? I thought he died alone in an accident.”

“We encountered his bloodsucking corpse in an abandoned building,” Ves informed him.

Tubbs’s face flushed dark red with anger. “What an absurd lie. Of course you librarians want to keep your secrets, refusing to let the knowledge you hoard to escape to anyone else, no matter what good it might do—”

Thankfully Ves’s sharp hearing picked up approaching footsteps. “Shh—they’re coming.”

Tubbs subsided, still looking furious. A few moments later, Rulkowski appeared with Berry carrying a tea service after him.

Rulkowski was wrapped in a dressing gown now, still looking pale and shaky as he settled onto one of the chairs.

A plaster showed on the right side of his neck, just above the collar of the dressing gown.

He accepted a cup of tea from Berry, but cradled it in his hands rather than drink, as if needing its warmth despite the hot, humid air.

Ves touched his neck in the same place. “What happened?”

“A bug bite of some kind,” Rulkowski said. “You say I’m not the first…victim?” He tried the word as if unsure it fit. “Penelope was…compelled? Is that it? Like me.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“David Siewert was as well,” Tubbs put in, as though he hadn’t just been arguing about the matter.

“In fact, that’s the very reason we came to speak with you,” Mortimer said. “Mrs. Tubbs lingered long enough to tell us she felt as though some outside force took over her body and made her hold the flame to her skirts, then prevented her from trying to put it out.”

Rulkowski put his hand over his eyes. “Oh God. The way Penelope screamed…and the smell.” His skin took on a greenish tinge.

“It was…a difficult death,” Tubbs said unhappily.

“Yes—I’m so sorry.” Rulkowski leaned over and gripped Tubbs’s hand for a moment. “Please, give my condolences to your family. When is the funeral?”

“Tomorrow,” Tubbs said. “Refreshments will be served—”

“Can you think of anyone who would want to kill the two of you?” Ves broke in.

Rulkowski recoiled in shock. “What? No! Of course not.”

“Are you certain?” Mortimer pressed. “Think carefully, Mr. Rulkowski.”

Berry wrung his hands anxiously. “It couldn’t be anyone from another horticultural society, could it?”

“That must be it,” Rulkowski agreed, a bit too quickly for a man who’d just been protesting no one could possibly want to harm him. “We—the WHS, that is—placed first at the Midwinter Flower Show in every category we entered.”

“Mrs. Siewert mentioned something of the sort,” Mortimer said, looking at the massive orchids. “Your group certainly has stumbled on the secret behind plant growth.”

“A new fertilizer we developed,” Rulkowski said, a touch of ice in his voice. “A proprietary formula.”

Magic had to be involved; Ves couldn’t imagine anything else that would have such an effect on so many species of plants, including epiphytes. The WHS had cheated with sorcery to secure their win.

“But surely no one would kill over such a ridiculous thing,” Tubbs said.

Rulkowski’s expression grew colder, and he drew himself up.

“I assure you, sir, that horticulture is a very serious endeavor. Though we at the WHS undertake it for love, there is monetary gain to be made from cash prizes, sponsorships, and other such things. Perhaps some more venial contestant is angry we walked away with several thousand dollars in prize money. Or perhaps they crave horticultural glory and believe we stand in their way.”

It sounded absurd…but Ves had read enough newspapers to learn humans killed each other for the most trivial of reasons.

“Mr. Rulkowski, you must know sorcery is involved,” Mortimer said impatiently. “Your life is in grave danger. If you have any specific names, or any enemies you haven’t mentioned, I suggest you tell us now.”

“He’s told you everything he knows,” Berry snapped, his back up in the defense of his employer. “If you want to find the culprit, look at the other gardeners who lost to the WHS in the flower show.”

Ves opened his mouth to object, but Rulkowski cut him off. “I’m very sorry, but I’m feeling rather faint from my experience. Tom will show you the way out.”

There was nothing more to be done. Berry showed them to the door, shutting it behind them firmly. Once they reached the sidewalk, Tubbs exclaimed, “What ingratitude, and after saving the man’s life!”

“Yes.” Ves turned to look back at the mansion, surrounded by its prodigious flowers. “He knows more than he’s saying, I think.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Mortimer dusted some pollen off his sleeve. “I’d go so far as to say he knows exactly what’s happening, but for good or ill decided not to share with three strangers, even ones trying to help him.”

“But why?” Tubbs asked.

“Secrets.” Mortimer’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Presumably he believes he can handle the situation himself, without sharing those secrets with us. Considering he didn’t even realize the WHS is being targeted until we told him, I doubt he’ll succeed.

Mark my words, we’ll be reading his obituary in the paper any day now. ”

“Right.” Tubbs scowled back at the closed door. “So what do we do next?”