Page 58 of Infamous

Eddie threw the teapot as gently as she could into his path and then darted away, pressing her hands to her face; she heard the bat make contact, heard something break, and then a second later there was a much louder shattering from the far end of the room.

‘Ten points,’ said the blonde man. ‘Although the handle broke off and hit me, which I think should count as a deduction.’

Eddie opened her eyes and saw that the remains of the teapot were now scattered about the portrait, a few chips of porcelain caught in the gilt frame.

‘Nonsense,’ said Nash. ‘Did I at least get a headshot on you?’

‘No,’ said the man, stepping up to take his turn.

Nash leaned over, dipped into the trunk and pulled out a bronze and crystal candlestick.

‘Three .?.?. two .?.?. one .?.?.’

Everybody in the room ducked; he managed fifteen points, and looked exceedingly smug about it. Somebody else stepped forward to take a turn, and things deteriorated rapidly. Kitty, who had been distant and quiet since the seance, managed to get twenty-five points on her very first go, and then curtseyed, put down her bat and left the room. When Eddie stepped up to bat she put all of her might into it, channelling all of the strange, pent-up frustration that had been plaguing her since she had seen Rose disappear with Isabella Cliffe, and as a result accidentally shattered the little porcelain dog that had been thrown for her immediately. Nash put a hand to his cheek, laughing, and when he took it away again she saw that he was bleeding.

‘Oh, God, Nash – I’m so sorry,’ she said, reaching up to dab ineffectually at his face; he reached out to catch her wrist before she could touch him, and then blinked down at her through wine-dark eyes and laughed again, sleepy and off-kilter. It felt strangely intimate, the two of them simply staring at each other and breathing heavily from exertion.

‘Would have been twenty-five points, but you hit the wrong Nicholson,’ he said, releasing her and gently brushing china dust from her shoulder. ‘Right, Valentine, throw me something solid.’

None of them noticed Liza enter until she cleared her throat. Eddie turned to see Mrs Nicholson with her arms crossed, dressed in sunshine yellow, the expression on her face distinctly overcast.

‘Nash,’ she said, just as he obliterated a serving jug. ‘Nash!’

He finally turned, seeming entirely unbothered by the fact that his wife looked murderous with so many blunt weapons to hand.

‘Ah, Liza. Valentine, give Liza your bat. She has a wicked arm on her when she’s in the mood – don’t you, Liza?’

‘Some of this is mine, Nash,’ she said, her tone dangerous. ‘Is that .?.?.?Is that my mother’s Chamberlain vase?’

‘It was,’ said Nash, peering down at some of the shards near his feet. ‘May it rest in peace. As may she, for that matter. I did like that woman – she had such an uncanny nose for sherry, she could smell it being uncorked at two hundred paces.’

Liza looked apoplectic. As she advanced, Eddie had the good sense to put down the bat she was holding and make for the exit; she reached it at the same time as Valentine, who put a hand on her back to help propel her from the room.

‘Very wise. You’re gaining survival instincts at a decent clip, there, Eddie. Keep it up and you may yet last the winter.’

Chapter Twenty-One

Miraculously, there was nobody in the armoury. Somebody had attempted to remove the cannon and had only made it halfway out of the door before giving up; there was an empty bottle of wine sitting next to it, as if whoever had done it had needed to fortify themselves after expending all their efforts in the pursuit of heavy artillery. There were chalk symbols all over the walls, some of which looked like the runes in the entrance hall, and some of which were very clearly modelled after human genitalia. People rushed past the open door, laughing and whispering behind their fingers, heading for the stairs that Eddie and Valentine had just descended.

‘The herd is on the move,’ Valentine said, picking up a hunting knife and pretending to aim it at Eddie, one eye closed, before letting it clatter back onto the table. ‘I imagine the Nicholsons are putting on quite a show.’

‘Do you think they are actually going to watch?’

Valentine shrugged. ‘Watch. Place bets. Take sides, when war breaks out. It’s all ridiculous, really .?.?. no matter how much Liza and Nash snap and growl at each other, they always end up united again in the end. They are strangely well-matched, although Nash would rather perish than admit it.’

‘Oh,’ said Eddie, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the crossbow in front of her as they continued to make a slow lap of the room. ‘I thought .?.?. Well, I don’t know what I thought.’

This was, of course, a lie. Eddie had been entirely convinced that the rift between Nash and his wife was insurmountable. Hearing the opposite spoken aloud with such authority, she had to admit that she felt more than a little disappointed.

Valentine came to a stop and turned, one eyebrow raised.

‘Have you been informed otherwise?’

‘Well, they hardly seem like theyloveeach other, do they? She seems to disagree with absolutely everything he does. She scolds him like she does the dog.’

‘That dog could do with more scolding,’ said Valentine, discovering a mostly-empty decanter of what looked like whisky and raising it aloft in triumph. ‘As could Juno. Liza is actually a great wit and a delight to be around, when Nash isn’t pushing her to her very limits. Care to join me for a snifter?’

‘Why not?’ said Eddie.