Page 17 of Unbroken (Rath & Rune #4)

Ves had to admit, the fireworks were beautiful.

Gorgeous streaks of blue, green, and yellow shot into the sky, exploding with a thump he could feel in his bones.

Smoke blew across the water, and far below he thought he caught a glimpse of fins, as though something rose from the deep to watch.

Perhaps the people under the sea Sebastian had mentioned, though what sort of beings they might be Ves wasn’t sure.

Sebastian grabbed his arm, fingers digging in hard and breaking him from his reverie. “The Book is being used!”

Gods of the wood. Ves scanned the crowd, but saw no one he recognized—though given the ghastly masks many of the people were wearing, that didn’t mean much. “Where?”

Sebastian started toward the bonfire, weaving through the assembly, his left arm held out before him as if it were a compass needle pointing the way. He stopped, changed direction, paused—then pointed. “There!”

They weren’t the only ones turning in that direction.

A man capered toward the massive bonfire, hopping and pirouetting, while those gathered began to laugh at his antics.

Unlike the unsettling masks worn by other celebrants, the one covering his features was a true work of art—an elaborate jester’s face, mouth curved up in a grin, real bells hanging from the papier-maché points of his fool’s cap.

Gold paint glittered in the firelight, alongside other bright colors applied with a steady hand.

A fastened cape covered most of his body; it appeared he had something stuffed beneath to make his form even more ludicrous.

Sparklers burned in each hand, drawing streaks of fire through the air as he did an impromptu jig.

He skipped and bounced past the bonfire, closer and closer to the cliff’s edge. Someone called for him to be careful, but everyone else was caught up in his antics, laughing and clapping.

“It’s him,” Sebastian said urgently. “We have to stop him before he goes off the cliff!”

Ves took off at a dead run, shoving other revelers aside, ignoring their shouts of indignation. The jester stopped his frolic, turned to face the crowd, and pulled off his mask.

It was Daniel Rulkowski, and he looked as terrified as he had the day Ves had kept him from leaping out his window.

“Stop him!” he bellowed, but no one made a move.

Rulkowski dropped his sparklers and opened his cape with a flourish. Dozens of fireworks were strapped to his torso, their fuses almost burned down.

Ves reversed course, shoes skidding on the grass. “Get back!” he bellowed. “Everyone, back!”

Rulkowski turned and flung himself off the cliff. The fireworks went off, streamers of red, white, and blue fire shooting in all directions while what remained of Rulkowski hurtled into the sea like a falling star.

Screams filled the air. Tearing his eyes away from the final showers of sparks, Ves hurried to find Sebastian.

Sebastian had started to follow him, then stopped. His face was flour-white, hazel eyes dark with alarm. Ves took his arm and hurried him away from the crowd.

“Oh God,” Sebastian said, when they came to a halt. “The fool…what a way to die. If he’d just come clean…”

“But he didn’t.”

“No. I suppose…” Sebastian trailed off, staring down at his left forearm. “I still feel something. The Book! Or the maniac using it, or both—they must be here.”

Ves’s pulse quickened. “Where? Guide me—this could be our chance to stop them.”

Sebastian did so, hurrying past the bonfire, away from it and toward a copse of wind-twisted trees clinging to the rock. Sebastian’s foot snagged on a stone, and he would have fallen if Ves hadn’t caught him. “I can’t see a damned thing this far from the bonfire.”

“I can—stay here.” Ves released him and started toward the trees.

“It’s fading,” Sebastian called from behind him. “I think they’ve fled.”

Probably—they’d wanted a vantage to observe their handiwork without being seen themselves. As soon as the spectacle was over, they’d hurried off before anyone could spot them. Even so, Ves went to the copse, moving more slowly now, his eyes scanning the area for any clues.

The only footsteps that showed in the thin, sandy soil of the clifftop seemed to belong to a large goat. No doubt the creature had gotten loose from one of the local farms, wandered over here to nibble on the foliage, then ambled off again hours ago. Otherwise, nothing.

When Ves reported his lack of findings, Sebastian raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing out in all directions. “Damn it! We’re always one step behind, running to catch up to whatever maniac has a Book. I’m sick of it.”

“So am I.” Ves took his hand and tugged him in the direction of the road. “Let’s take a cue from our quarry, however, and get out of here before the police arrive.”

* * *

May 1, 1854

Dear Alex,

Excellent news! The ward held through Walpurgisnacht without so much as a whisper from the Book of Blood. I believe our thesis has been proven, as it were, though of course send word if you feel anything through the bond you now have with it.

Of course, I understand why you couldn’t be here with us, but the timing was very unfortunate. Although I suppose the timing was the point, as you had rituals of your own to conduct. Your presence was sorely missed.

In other news, Phoebe has fallen violently in love with a salesman from New York, here to peddle paint, of all things.

I fear this romance is doomed to be a short one, but of course she will hear nothing of it, from either myself or her brother.

And perhaps I am wrong! I certainly never imagined I would find love at my age, so how can I claim to know her fate?

I anxiously await your return, as always. Travel in all safety, my dear.

Yours,

Nathaniel

“Anything new?” Mortimer asked from the doorway to Sebastian’s office. He carried a newspaper tucked under one arm.

Sebastian sat back, then took off his glasses to clean them.

Without the profusion of architectural drawings and Irene’s presence, the office felt more spacious than it had since he’d first taken it over.

“No. Just the mention of a man I presume was my grandfather.” At Mortimer’s confused look, he clarified.

“Traveling salesman. My mother never met him.”

“How scandalous,” Mortimer said, not sounding particularly scandalized. “Vesper told me about your adventures last night. Have you seen the morning paper?”

Sebastian put aside the cup of coffee he’d refilled twice in the last hour. It didn’t seem to be doing much to help with his exhaustion, but at least the warmth was a comfort. “No. It was quite late when we got to bed, and we ended up sleeping late and rushing to the trolley.”

Mortimer offered the newspaper to him. “Take a look.”

The death had garnered a front-page placement and a screaming headline:

TRAGIC DEATH MARS CELEbrATIONS

Financier Daniel Rulkowski dies after fireworks accident.

No others injured.

At approximately nine-thirty last night, Mr. Daniel Rulkowski suffered a terrible accident at the bonfire constructed on the sea cliffs to the north of Cranch Bay.

According to onlookers, Mr. Rulkowski thought to liven up the proceedings by setting off fireworks he brought with him.

The fireworks went off prematurely, and in his panic Mr. Rulkowski leapt from the cliff into the sea, where he perished.

Alcohol is thought to be a factor in the incident.

Mr. Rulkowski was born in Syracuse, NY. After early hardships, he relocated to our fair city, where he quickly rose through the ranks at the Third Bank of Widdershins.

He was also a long-term member of the Widdershins Horticultural Society known for his interest in cultivating orchids, and in March was awarded a Gold Medal in the Midwinter Flower Show held in Boston.

“Damn his stubbornness.” Sebastian handed the newspaper back to Mortimer. “If he’d just spoken to you freely. Or if I could have confronted him myself and compelled him to tell the truth…”

“Rulkowski’s assistant Tom Berry might know something. He seemed…close…to his employer.”

“Sleeping with the help? Talk about scandalous.” Sebastian settled back in his chair, considering. “We’ll try the other members of the WHS first. Hopefully Rulkowski’s death will shake them enough to talk. I assume you never received a reply to the letter you sent Mr. Fuller?”

“Oh, you mean the reply where he outlined everything the WHS has done, who the killer is, and how to find the Book?” Mortimer said. “It completely slipped my mind.”

“Very funny. Is there any other way to reach him?”

Mortimer considered for a long moment. “He can’t hide inside his mansion all the time—he must have business interests and the like. I’ll ask around. We’ll find somewhere to ambush him.”

“Excellent idea.” Hopefully they could do it somewhere private, so he could compel Fuller to tell them the truth.

“Mr. Tubbs might know, or his brother, so we should consider asking him as well.”

“Less excellent idea,” Sebastian muttered.

There came a light knock on the half-open door. One of the fresh-faced junior librarians stood there; surely Sebastian hadn’t looked half so young when he came to work at the Ladysmith, had he? “Letter for Mr. Waite,” the boy said, thrusting out an envelope.

“Thank you.” Mortimer accepted the letter, and the junior librarian hurried off to his next task. “Oh! It’s from Mrs. Norris.”

“Rulkowski’s death must have frightened her.” Sebastian leaned forward eagerly. “What does she have to say?”

Mortimer scanned the letter. “She apologizes for not getting back sooner. She’s been quite ill but is now recovered. She’d like me to come to her house at nine o’clock.”

“You’re not going alone,” Sebastian said flatly.

“Of course I’m not.” Mortimer gave him a caustic look. “Really, what sort of a fool do you think I am? It might not be polite to show up at her door with uninvited persons, but manners be damned when there are leeches and lunatics on the loose.”