Page 63 of The Housebreaker's Assistant
Chapter Nineteen
Only one or twice in his life had Penny found himself in a situation where the mark he’d tried to lift a wallet or a pocket watch from turned on him with violent intentions. He’d always tried to target clueless noblemen wandering Whitechapel for unsavory reasons, but now and again, he’d slid his hand into the pocket of a well-dressed gang leader with the capability of murdering him.
That was exactly how he felt when he hurried Lord Fabian onto the beach and started for their boat, which was far closer to the edge of the water now than when they’d left it, and found Dalhurst sprinting toward them from the path that wandered back toward the castle grounds.
“Stay right where you are!” Dalhurst cried out, reaching into his jacket.
“Get away from us!” Penny shouted at the man in return. “You’re evil, you are. You’ve kept this man a prisoner. I will not let you use him any further.”
He was surprised at how strong and noble his words sounded when all he really wanted to do was throw Lord Fabian in the boat and get as far away from Cornwall as possible.
“He’s mine!” Dalhurst shouted. “He’s mine to do with as I please.”
Lord Fabian let out a keening wail that had Penny’s teeth standing on edge. He was still far gone with opium and deeply confused, but his strength was growing. Unfortunately, he used that strength to claw at Penny and to struggle with him, despite the way Penny was trying to help him.
“I won’t let you anywhere near him,” Penny called out, trying to shift Lord Fabian so that he could protect the young man. It wasn’t easy, given the way Lord Fabian flailed in a haunted bid to protect himself. “Just let us go,” Penny finished, half turning to push Lord Fabian toward the boat.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Dalhurst shouted. Penny glanced back to the man, and his eyes went wide as he saw the gun Dalhurst had drawn from his jacket. “I’ll take back what is mine and make you rue the day you tried to cross me.”
Deep fear shot through Penny as if Dalhurst had already fired. Guns weren’t unheard of, but they were a last resort in the rough and tumble world of East London. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually seen one.
Simultaneous to Penny’s burst of fear, Greer came dashing over the sand dune, scrambling across the sand to join the scene.
“Get back! He’s got a gun!” Penny shouted pointlessly. Greer could clearly see as much, but it was all Penny could think to do to warn the man he loved that Death had been waiting for them.
“Give the boy to me and I’ll let the two of you go,” Dalhurst said, panting and sweating in the moonlight. “He’s mine to begin with.”
“No,” Greer said immediately, his firm resolve sending a much-needed jolt of hope through Penny. “You kidnapped this man and have been holding him against his will in the most unforgivable of circumstances. We’re taking him back where he belongs.”
Dalhurst’s mouth spread into a sick, toothy grin, and he laughed. “And just how do you propose to do that?” he demanded. “You’ve nowhere to run, no means of saving yourselves, let alone that worthless piece of trash.”
Lord Fabian groaned against Penny and sagged heavily, like he would sink to his knees if Penny didn’t hold him up.
“We have right on our side,” Greer said, glancing anxiously up at the dunes separating the beach from the grounds of Trebarral Castle.
Dalhurst laughed even louder. “Right? What good will right do when I have?—”
Greer lunged before Dalhurst could finish his threat. He lowered his upper body and charged at Dalhurst.
Penny gasped even before Dalhurst fired his gun. Horrific fear cut through him, and he waited for Greer to drop dead on the sand, shot through.
But Greer didn’t drop. He kept charging and slammed his shoulder into Dalhurst’s gut, sending both of them sprawling. There was just enough light for Penny to see the gun fall to the sand in time for a stretching wave to lap up, wetting the sand around where Greer and Dalhurst grappled.
“Come on,” Penny gasped, twisting so he could get a more secure grip on Lord Fabian. “We have to move. To the boat.”
Lord Fabian was as pale as a ghost in the moonlight. His mouth hung open, and his eyes were as wide as stars as Penny tried to push him back. The situation was already nightmarish, but to Lord Fabian’s drug-addled brain, it must have seemed demonic.
“Please,” Penny urged him, grabbing the young man’s arm and tugging him toward the boat. “We must get to the boat immediately. The rest of them could be coming.”
That was enough to shake Lord Fabian out of his stupor. He dragged his feet and jumped when a cold wave raced up over his feet, but he did move.
Penny had another problem on his hands as they reached the boat. Their cases were still there, but the boat had moved sideways as the incoming tide had shifted it from its original position. He pushed and shoved at the bow in an attempt to get it pointed in the right direction, but that meant letting go of Lord Fabian.
Lord Fabian dropped to his knees, his hands clutching his head as he stared back at the battle raging between Greer and Dalhurst. Penny kept one eye on his beloved grappling with the devil while working with all his strength to get the boat far enough into the incoming surf that they would be able to row it into the deep water. Both things distracted from the other, which made him feel completely ineffectual.
Finally, as Penny’s entire body began to ache with strain, Greer managed to pin Dalhurst on his back in the surf and bring a fist crashing down on the man’s face. Dalhurst went limp, though he didn’t stop moving entirely.
Greer pushed back and stood, then turned to race toward Penny and the boat. “Hurry!” he called out. “He won’t be down for long, and chances are Hammond and the others will come from the castle at any moment.”
