Page 74 of Project Duke

With a tremendous growl, the three dogs launched themselves at the nearest man—who had a gun. He screamed as Argos went for his neck, Orion for his arm holding the gun, and Cerberus for his crotch. The man fell, and his pistol went off with an explosion that filled the hallway with smoke. The thug with the crowbar raised his arm, about to hit Argos.

But the crowbar knocked into a thick medieval shelf bearing the Kelford coat of arms, which hung above the servants’ entrance. It was one of the last wall decorations in the house as no one was interested in buying it. As though their ancestors were guarding them, it fell right on the man’s head, dropping him to the floor like a sack of meat and bones.

While the first man continued to scream under the dogs’ assault, the third one stared right at Violet and Poppy, his eyes bulging and teeth bared. He was the one who had fallen on the stairs, and his nose looked purple and swollen like a potato, with blood oozing from his nostrils.

“Run!” she screamed to Poppy, and the two of them set off to the library.

“Oy, where ya think you’re off to?” he shouted. “You’re comin’ with me, ain’t ya?”

They tiptoed around the rotten boards and went farther into the safety of the library, and just as Violet had planned, the man followed them but barged right through the part where the boards were so badly decayed. With every step, they cracked, but he didn’t fall through. Violet grabbed Poppy’s hand, and they both backed away. She didn’t have another plan in mind!

As he reached the last rotten floorboards, they emitted a loud crack, and his leg went through to his knee, but he didn’t fall through all the way. It seemed all it had done was infuriate the man even further. He pulled himself up and barged into the library, a knife in his hand.

“Ya reckon yer little tricks can hold me back?”

He grabbed Poppy’s hand and tugged her after him.

“No!” Violet cried out as she dashed after her sister.

The man jabbed at her, and a sharp pain sliced through her arm. She grasped the arm with her other hand, blood seeping between her fingers.

Suddenly, the thug stopped in the doorway as another form filled it.

Her brother, with Calliope and Hazel peeking from behind him, their eyes huge. The man let go of Poppy and launched at Nathaniel with a snarl, knife raised. Nathaniel’s face distorted, murder written in his expression.

No doubt Nathaniel won money boxing.

The intruder didn’t have a chance. One jab in the face with Nathaniel’s knuckles, and the man hit the door behind him, his head banging against the wood. The knife dropped to the floor with a clank, but before Nathaniel could grab him again, he ducked and darted, maneuvering between Nathaniel, Calliope, and Hazel.

That did it. With a loud crash, he fell through the boards, wailing as he plummeted, then went silent.

Somehow, the three intruders and her cut, which hurt like it was on fire, didn’t frighten Violet nearly as much as the furious and terrified look on her brother’s face.

27

It broke Calliope’s heart to see Violet’s wound, even though it wasn’t serious. It could have been so much worse!

She admired how the girls had managed to defend themselves, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d gone too far lending Violet those books. If, perhaps, Nathaniel was right, and she should stop and make sure the people who were dear to her were safe, too.

Growing up with brothers, she’d never had anyone vulnerable in her life who needed her protection. They’d always been so strong, and she’d needed to be stronger just to catch up with them.

But not everyone was as resilient as the Seaton brothers. And she wasn’t independent anymore, whether she liked it or not.

The two other thugs had managed to run away, while the man who had fallen through into the cellar was dead. So they had no answers.

Later that night, after the Seatons’ physician had treated Violet, Calliope and Nathaniel were talking in their bedroom.

“I died ten deaths when I saw her bleeding,” Nathaniel croaked, staring into the fireplace with the crackling coal grate, his fingers mindlessly chipping at the paint on the mantel.

Calliope’s eyes burned with tears. She’d come to love his sisters in the short time she’d lived with them. “I know. Did it make you think about your mother?”

He tensed, as rigid as a tree. “Yes.”

His voice was strange, swollen, and a tear rolled down his cheek. It made her chest ache to see him like that.

“If anything happened to them, I’d never be able to live with myself.”

The confession was like a boulder that sank into Calliope’s soul. She’d brought this on them, on these beautiful girls. On Nathaniel. The intruders had surely come because of her.