"Derek!" Lucien said into the phone with a cheerfulness he did not feel. "How is life in Canberra treating you?'
For the better part of the morning Lucien had been in the morgue, performing the autopsy on the poor fellow they'd discovered the night before while Nemea paced agitatedly by the door, on high alert, as ever, keen eyes searching for any sign of danger. Of course there was none, in the morgue, just the body of a young man who'd been brutalized and Lucien's scalpel. Matthew had yet to uncover the victim's identity, and Lucien's autopsy only confirmed what he already suspected, that the lad had been mauled by a small, vicious animal. No knife could make such cuts, nor could a man's fingernails; it was teeth, small and neat and sharp and frenzied. Technically, an attack by an animal did not constitute a murder, but the police had a duty to try to find the lad's next of kin, and Lucien rather suspected that this was not the work of wild beast, was instead the work of a clever, cunning creature who wanted to kill him.
Which begged the question of why. Lucien suspected that Lilith and Derek had something to do with this, and he had discussed the matter with Jean, and resolved himself to speak to Derek directly in an attempt to determine whether his old friend was behind this murder. Jean thought such an action was folly, but Lucien had never been a particularly patient man, and Jean had seen Lilith hanging around the house. It would be better, he thought, to make a move now, rather than wait until Derek and his stoat came knocking.
To that end Lucien had rung up an old friend with the army, who had passed him to another, and another, until at long last he reached his target, and Derek Alderton's voice filled his ear.
"Not in Canberra, at the moment," Derek was telling him. "They've got me travelling all over. I'm not too far from you just now, as it happens."
Lucien's heart swooped uncomfortably in his chest, and he looked up from his desk through the open doorway into the reception area, where Jean was seated, Halcyon fluttering happily around her head. The last thing he wanted was for Derek Alderton to come anywhere near him, anywhere near them. Jean was lovely, and precious to him, and his past was far too dangerous. He could not bear the thought of Jean coming to harm for his sake.
"Perhaps we might have a drink together, then," Lucien suggested.
They'd not parted on the best of terms, Lucien and Derek. Though nothing had been said outright, Lucien knew that Derek was behind the murder of Burt Prentiss, the theft of the body of the deserter from the morgue. Oh, Major Alderton had hung all the blame squarely on Sergeant Hannam, had wrung his hands and said all the right words in all the right places, but Lucien had seen straight through him and surely, surely Lucien thought, Derek had seen through him. They had known each other too well, for too long. They could not keep secrets from one another.
"A fine idea," Derek said. "I'd love to hear about your visit to China."
"How on earth do you know about that?" Lucien asked before he could stop himself. It had been months since he'd seen Derek, and he had made no mention, then, of his plans to go and visit Li for he'd had no plans at all, at that time. They'd not spoken since, and yet somehow, Derek knew. Was he keeping tabs on Lucien? Did he have old friends keeping an eye out? Or was it Lilith, snooping round the back garden and reporting back to her master? Whatever the reason, it made Lucien dreadfully uneasy.
"Oh, you know how it is," Derek said lightly. "You can't keep secrets from the army, Lucien, and everyone's interested in the goings on in Asia, just now. It would be good to catch up. How about tonight? That charming pub in Ballarat?"
"The Pig & Whistle," Lucien supplied for him.
"That's the one. Say 5 o'clock?"
"I'll see you then, Derek."
"Yes, you will."
Derek hung up the phone, then, and a cloud of despair settled over Lucien's shoulders. It must have been a trap, he thought. Oh, Derek wouldn't be fool enough to try to attack or harm Lucien inside the crowded pub, but on his way there, or perhaps his way back, Lucien might be vulnerable. There were all sorts of nasty things a man might do in the gathering dusk, and all sorts of reasons why he might want to. When last they'd met Derek had been keen to bring Lucien back into the fold; would he try once more to reason with his old friend, or try instead to bring him in by force? Or worse; Lilith had been hanging round the house. Suppose Derek had designs on Jean, and meant to send one of his underlings to the house while Lucien was occupied in town? Oh, he did not like this, not one bit.
"Jean!" he called out sharply.
She raised her head, soft lips open to rebuke him for shouting at her, but she must have seen, even from that distance, the troubled expression on his face, for no such admonishment left her. Instead she rose gracefully to her feet, came walking into the surgery, her hips swaying mesmerizingly as she went. Oh, but Lucien did not want to spend the evening bandying words and worse, perhaps, with Derek Alderton; he wanted to spend the evening here, with Jean. He wanted to take her in his arms and dance with her once more, as he had done not so very long ago. He wanted to sit at the table with her, and eat a meal she had made with her own two hands, and smile at her softly over their plates. He wanted a gentler world, for her sake if for nothing else.
As Jean approached Nemea fell into step beside her, butting her great head against Jean's thigh until Jean reached down and rubbed her gently behind the ear. Nemea was far too dignified to purr, but her eyes fluttered happily as Jean touched her, as if she drew comfort from the touch, and Halcyon flitted down to settle himself on Nemea's back, just between her shoulders, utterly content to be near her, and she content with him. They were a strange pair, the lioness and the kingfisher, but there was something right, he thought, about the sight of them together.
"What is it, Lucien?" Jean asked him softly.
"I've just spoken with Derek Alderton," he said, and watched Jean's expression draw tight with worry. "I'm going to meet him tonight, in town."
"Oh, Lucien," she sighed, dropping into the chair across from his desk. "Do you think that's...wise?"
"No," he answered grimly. "But what choice do I have? I suspect he's killing people, Jean, but I've no way to prove it. Someone has to speak to him. Someone has to find out what he's about. He'll play the police for fools. It ought to be me."
"You feel responsible for him," she observed shrewdly. Beside her Nemea slowly lowered herself to the ground, and Halcyon moved with her, until she was lying on her belly and he was steady, still perched upon her back.
"That's because he is, Jean," Nemea rumbled at her.
Jean's gaze darted curiously from Nemea to Lucien back again, and he sighed, ran his hand over the back of his head and gathered his thoughts. He owed her some explanation, he thought.
"When we were in Selerang, Derek was stabbed in the gut by a Japanese officer's bayonet. I patched him up myself. It's not my neatest work, but it saved his life. I don't think he wanted to be saved, though. Imprisonment was...difficult, for all of us, but it damn near drove Derek mad. He was baiting that officer. Like he wanted...like he wanted to end it all. And I wouldn't let him."
Horror flickered in the depths of Jean's sea-grey eyes. She had known her fair share of trouble and strife and heartbreak, Lucien knew, but she did not know what it was, to want to die. Derek had wanted it, then. Lucien had wanted it later, when they were travelling the world working in intelligence for the army, and Derek had returned the favor with grim resolve, refused to let Lucien drink himself to death no matter how hard he tried. As if that were fit punishment, as if the penance Lucien deserved for saving Derek's life was to live himself, when he did not want to. Now he thought it a gift, a grace. Now he was glad that he yet lived, that he had survived long enough to see his child again, to meet Jean Beazley and her charming little bird. Was Derek grateful, now, for the way Lucien had intervened on his behalf, snatched him back from the jaws of death? Or was he angry, still, vengeful, still, convinced, still, that life was not worth living? Lucien couldn't say.
"Whatever he's done, he's only survived to do it because of me. I may have unleashed a horror on the world, Jean."
"You are a doctor, Lucien," she told him earnestly, fiercely. "You help people. That's what you do. And he was like a brother to you. You could not let him die. He shouldn't have asked it of you."
No, Lucien thought bleakly. He bloody well shouldn't have.
"Well," he said, clearing his throat. "What's done is done." And cannot be undone. "I'm more concerned with what's happening in the present."
"Do you think he means to hurt you?" Her brow was furrowed with worry at the very prospect, and that warmed his heart, rather more than he'd like to admit.
"I don't know. I don't think so, Jean. Derek wants something from me, and whatever it is, I think I need to be alive in order to give it to him. I can look after myself. It's you I'm worried about."
"Me?" she asked, startled. Halcyon's little head perked up, his tiny eyes shining at Lucien in concern.
"Why would anyone want to hurt Jean?"
That was the question, wasn't it? Lucien was fairly certain he knew the answer, but suddenly he found he didn't want to give it. To reveal the truth would, he thought, be a wounding, the uncovering of a vulnerability, and once those words were spoken, they could not be taken back. This delicate detente he and Jean had come to, this gentle understanding, might well be laid waste by what he was about to say. But he reminded himself of the conversation he had overheard between Nemea and Halcyon, and looked at the pair of them now, lying together, warm and comfortable with one another. Where the daemon goes, the man must follow; their hearts had been made flesh, and showed him the way, now, when his mind was so lost in questions.
"The thing is, Jean, if Lilith has been hanging around, if Derek has been asking questions, he may have learned that I am quite...fond, of you. And he may have realized that if he wants me to bend to his will, you would provide the perfect leverage."
If Derek took Jean, threatened her, Lucien would do most anything to save her. The same was true of Li, of course, but Li was much harder to reach than Jean. Jean was just there. Just there, staring at him, wide-eyed, as if the very earth had just moved beneath her feet. It was too late, he thought, to pretend as if he did not care for her. The words had been said and it was too late now to take it back. Perhaps she had suspected, before now, that he was fond of her, but now he'd gone and told her so, and he didn't know, yet, how she might respond, and so he sat very still, watching her, hardly breathing.
"You…" she started to speak, and then her voice trailed off. The room was very, very quiet. "You really think he might come after me?"
That, he thought, was not the question she intended to ask when she first opened her mouth, and he studied her for a moment, wondering what had caused such a change of course, wondering what she might have said, if her good sense had not intervened.
"I'm not sure. But I want you somewhere safe, Jean. I'm going to ring Cec Drury, and see about arranging for you to spend the evening at the Colonists'. I'd like to get you there sooner rather than later, actually. If we move quickly enough, Derek won't even be in Ballarat yet, and he'll not know where to look for you. You could stay in one of the rooms upstairs tonight. It might be like a little holiday."
His attempt at levity fell flat, and Jean frowned at him. He couldn't blame her for that, not really. Spending an evening alone at the Colonists' wondering whether Lucien was alive or dead would hardly be like a holiday.
"And what about you?" she asked him. "What will you do?"
"I'll go and see Derek," he said. "And then...what will be will be, Jean."
It was all the reassurance he could offer her, for he did not have answers to her questions. He did not know himself what this evening might hold in store, but he was determined to face it like a man, and to keep Jean well away from it.
