France.”
He reached out with his mind, and sensed, in return, the two minds that shared Francis’s body. He could not yet tell which was which.
“This time he shall not fail!” cried Sevigny. “With the Neptune I shall reach St. Helena’s without the Royal Navy ever knowing, and your Dr. McGrigor can restore the emperor to his former health, and we shall return to France and conquer all of Europe.”
Sevigny’s contorted expression was odd on Francis’s normally cheerful, open face, and pure rage roared through Sebastian at the sight.
“McGrigor won’t agree to do it,” said Sebastian, still struggling to rise.
Sevigny sneered. “He doesn’t need to,” he said, sending a huge silver instrument hurtling straight toward Sebastian, who parried it with his cane. “He just needs to be alive. I can possess him easily enough.”
“To what purpose, Sevigny? More war? Have France’s sons not shed enough blood for the usurper?”
“Napoleon is the true emperor of France!” Sevigny shouted, and in his best friend’s eyes an edge of madness gleamed that had never been in Francis’s gaze. “He will return! Vive l’empereur !”
Sevigny raised his pistol. Sebastian, still seeking to untangle the two minds he could feel within Francis’s body, sensed, for one brief second, one mind overpower the other, as, for a single second in time, Francis regained control of himself and forced Sevigny to drop the pistol. In that moment, Sebastian lunged, slashing the cane sword toward Francis’s head once again. The other man went down with a crash and Sebastian leapt, coming down heavily on him, hoping that Sevigny would attempt to escape Francis’s body rather than be captured.
He had just slammed Sevigny’s head against the floor when Tessa’s terrified voice cried out, “Sebastian! ”
He looked up. The second intruder clutched his damaged shoulder with one hand as he sent a fresh stream of fire shooting across the room.
Sebastian leapt out of the way, cutting his knees on broken glass as he fell hard onto the ground. The fire swooped low over Sevigny, singing his hair and clothes without igniting him. But the effort seemed to have exhausted the second intruder, and with a low cry, he sank back to the ground.
Sebastian whirled around, trying to see where Tessa was. For a moment, glancing around the debris and broken furniture that cluttered the room, he thought he must have imagined her cry. Then, in the next chamber, he saw a short, balding man, dragging her out onto the quay.
Without hesitating, without glancing back at Sevigny, he snatched up his cane and limped to the door. He found himself on a jetty beneath three great arches that allowed boats and barges to penetrate the landing places beneath the great house. Panting hard, he raised his pistol and aimed it at the third man, prepared to fire.
In the pale light streaming down from between the arches, Tessa’s soft hair gleamed. She wept as the man dragged her backwards onto one of the boats. Struggling, she lost her balance and fell to her knees.
In that moment, he recognized the third man. He stared at the familiar face, hardly believing what he saw—the balding head, kind face, enormous whiskers. But he was not mistaken.
It was Edward Ryder.
His pistol dipped, Ryder reacted. He shoved Tessa aside. Sebastian flew backwards under a psychic blast more powerful than any he had ever felt before.
“No!” Tessa’s scream rent the air. “No, you mustn’t hurt him! Please, Father, please…”
“Get in the boat, Tessa,” said Ryder quietly. He advanced on Sebastian, his hand outstretched.
Sebastian barely saw him. He was on his knees on the jetty. Cold overwhelmed him; he was drowning, sinking into memories he long ago buried. The years fell away; he was six years old again, standing over the open graves of his entire family, and the handfuls of earth he threw down sounded hollowly against the plain wooden coffins.
You are alone. You have
He reached out with his mind, and sensed, in return, the two minds that shared Francis’s body. He could not yet tell which was which.
“This time he shall not fail!” cried Sevigny. “With the Neptune I shall reach St. Helena’s without the Royal Navy ever knowing, and your Dr. McGrigor can restore the emperor to his former health, and we shall return to France and conquer all of Europe.”
Sevigny’s contorted expression was odd on Francis’s normally cheerful, open face, and pure rage roared through Sebastian at the sight.
“McGrigor won’t agree to do it,” said Sebastian, still struggling to rise.
Sevigny sneered. “He doesn’t need to,” he said, sending a huge silver instrument hurtling straight toward Sebastian, who parried it with his cane. “He just needs to be alive. I can possess him easily enough.”
“To what purpose, Sevigny? More war? Have France’s sons not shed enough blood for the usurper?”
“Napoleon is the true emperor of France!” Sevigny shouted, and in his best friend’s eyes an edge of madness gleamed that had never been in Francis’s gaze. “He will return! Vive l’empereur !”
Sevigny raised his pistol. Sebastian, still seeking to untangle the two minds he could feel within Francis’s body, sensed, for one brief second, one mind overpower the other, as, for a single second in time, Francis regained control of himself and forced Sevigny to drop the pistol. In that moment, Sebastian lunged, slashing the cane sword toward Francis’s head once again. The other man went down with a crash and Sebastian leapt, coming down heavily on him, hoping that Sevigny would attempt to escape Francis’s body rather than be captured.
He had just slammed Sevigny’s head against the floor when Tessa’s terrified voice cried out, “Sebastian! ”
He looked up. The second intruder clutched his damaged shoulder with one hand as he sent a fresh stream of fire shooting across the room.
Sebastian leapt out of the way, cutting his knees on broken glass as he fell hard onto the ground. The fire swooped low over Sevigny, singing his hair and clothes without igniting him. But the effort seemed to have exhausted the second intruder, and with a low cry, he sank back to the ground.
Sebastian whirled around, trying to see where Tessa was. For a moment, glancing around the debris and broken furniture that cluttered the room, he thought he must have imagined her cry. Then, in the next chamber, he saw a short, balding man, dragging her out onto the quay.
Without hesitating, without glancing back at Sevigny, he snatched up his cane and limped to the door. He found himself on a jetty beneath three great arches that allowed boats and barges to penetrate the landing places beneath the great house. Panting hard, he raised his pistol and aimed it at the third man, prepared to fire.
In the pale light streaming down from between the arches, Tessa’s soft hair gleamed. She wept as the man dragged her backwards onto one of the boats. Struggling, she lost her balance and fell to her knees.
In that moment, he recognized the third man. He stared at the familiar face, hardly believing what he saw—the balding head, kind face, enormous whiskers. But he was not mistaken.
It was Edward Ryder.
His pistol dipped, Ryder reacted. He shoved Tessa aside. Sebastian flew backwards under a psychic blast more powerful than any he had ever felt before.
“No!” Tessa’s scream rent the air. “No, you mustn’t hurt him! Please, Father, please…”
“Get in the boat, Tessa,” said Ryder quietly. He advanced on Sebastian, his hand outstretched.
Sebastian barely saw him. He was on his knees on the jetty. Cold overwhelmed him; he was drowning, sinking into memories he long ago buried. The years fell away; he was six years old again, standing over the open graves of his entire family, and the handfuls of earth he threw down sounded hollowly against the plain wooden coffins.
You are alone. You have
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