Author's Note: Have another chapter, my lovely readers, and by all means, please feel free to review. As always, my beta, ColeandPhoebeForever, rocks.
Also, if you notice an error, kindly point it out to me. I promise I will not get upset. I live to write, and I am always trying to improve.
SAMSON
"Of midnight vapor glide obscure, and pry in every bush and brake, where hap may find the serpent sleeping; in whose mazy folds to hide me, and the dark intent I bring. You saved her from a river, once. Perhaps you can save her again."
Samson felt his heart freeze in his chest as he read the note. His hands were trembling. Thoughts were flying through his mind as he searched frantically through memories, hoping to find an answer to the one, horrible question that kept repeating itself over and over again in his head.
How does he know? How does he know? How?!
It's not possible.
I have never told anyone else.
"Do you know what it means, Samson?" Regina asked gently.
"I'm not sure," he said, his voice rough with the emotions he struggled to control. "But I know that it is a verse from Paradise Lost."
"Milton?" Greg asked with a frown. Samson nodded.
It doesn't make sense, he thought. How could the kidnapper know that I've read Paradise Lost? How could he know how important this work was to me?
It's not possible. It can't be possible.
My father was the only one who knew.
My father is dead.
Victor had died before his very eyes, eight years ago in the middle of the frozen wasteland of the Arctic, aboard a ship…
Perhaps one of the sailors…?
No, that made no sense. He had nearly frightened them into mutiny when he boarded the ship to take his father's body. The captain, though he had recorded Victor's story in letters to his sister, had barely believed it himself, and he'd seen Samson with his own eyes.
Anyone who read his letters might have thought the captain insane.
They would definitely have thought Victor Frankenstein insane.
Think, he commanded of himself. Why would someone place a verse from Paradise Lost on a dead man? Why go through such great lengths just to taunt me?
They wouldn't. At least, not just to taunt me.
It had to mean something. There had to be some instructions hidden within the words. He read them again.
Of midnight vapor glide obscure, and pry in every bush and brake. Midnight. That could be the time limit. They had until midnight to find Helena and Abigail.
Where hap may find the serpent sleeping; in whose mazy folds to hide me, and the dark intent I bring. At best, serpents were widely considered to be symbols of cleverness. At worst, they were considered harbingers of evil.
But… hiding in a serpent? How could someone hide in a snake?
Unless the snake was meant to symbolize something else… Something that was big enough to hide someone, to hide danger, to hide dark intentions. And at the same time allow for a quick escape.
Could it be the Serpentine? No, that wasn't a river so much as it was a lake, and it was completely surrounded by Hyde Park. It would offer no means of escape.
You saved her from a river, once. Perhaps you can save her again.
A river.
There was only one river in London.
The Thames.
"He wants me to meet him at midnight," Samson said. "The serpent is referring to the Thames. He will be somewhere along the river."
"Along the river?" Greg repeated, his tone desperate. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it in a wild tangle of golden curls. "There are hundreds of staires and docks in London. How will we find him?"
Samson frowned down at the note, trying to think. "He'll want to be able to get away quickly if things go wrong," he murmured. "That means he'll probably be in or near a boat. And he wants me to be there when…" he trailed off, unable to complete his thought aloud. He wants me to be there to watch him kill Helena.
His heart cried out at the thought. He fought against the instincts that screamed at him, so full of rage and despair. He fought the urge to tear out of the house and dismantle London brick by brick. He felt impotent, weak, and useless.
Think, he commanded of himself. Think. He wants you to be there. He must have left something to guide you, to point you in the right direction, to help you track her down…
Wait.
Track her…
If this bastard knew everything about Samson, then he would know everything about Helena, as well, for Samson was almost always near her. So he would know Lena's schedule, her habits, her friends…
Tentatively, Samson lifted the piece of vellum to his nose and inhaled.
Instantly, he jerked the note back away from his face. The smell of blood filled his head, and his survival instincts roared back to the surface. He growled softly, forcing his heart beat to slow, forcing his breathing to remain even and calm. He could not lose control. Not now. He had to focus.
He smelled the note again, holding it further away from his face this time.
Beneath the blood he smelled something else, something distinct and strong and terribly familiar.
Lavender.
"Que sale fils de pute," he snarled, crumpling the note in his hand. Greg nodded, in full agreement with Samson's profanity. Even Regina nodded. Margot looked thoughtful, and was most likely memorizing the curse for use at a later date.
"What is it?" Philippe asked. Samson held the crumpled wad of vellum out in his palm. Crushing the paper in his hand, and warming it with his body heat, had released the scent, and it spread like slow poison through the room. Blood and lavender. Death and beauty. Terror and joy.
The viscount wrinkled his nose. "A scent trail?" he murmured. "But how are we supposed to…"
"Zeus!" Margot shouted in sudden comprehension. From somewhere deep inside the house, Lena's mastiff barked in response. They heard someone shout, and the sound of paws scrabbling on slick wood. Margot grinned. Samson nodded, and gave her a small smile.
But inside, he was trembling, filled with fear.
The man who had kidnapped Lena and Abby knew about the lavender that grew wild in Samson's woods, outside the Dubois estate in France. He knew about Samson's affinity for Milton. He knew that Samson had been the one to save Lena.
He knew everything.
That meant he knew what Samson was.
God help them all.
Zeus burst into the room, barking so loudly that everyone in the room winced at the assault on their ears. The big mastiff bounded over to Margot and licked her face happily. Margot giggled, and scratched his ears. He was almost as tall as she was.
"Ici," Samson commanded, voice soft. Here.
Zeus turned and padded over to Samson's side and sat down, staring up at Samson with complete adoration, mouth open, tongue lolling, big tail thumping happily on the carpet.
"Smart dog," Montford said approvingly.
"Indeed," Philippe said. His eyes narrowed. Samson returned his gaze steadily. He would not lie to Helena's father. If the viscount asked, he would speak the truth. The Dubois family deserved nothing less.
Regina cleared her throat, interrupting the staring match before Philippe could verbalize his suspicions.
Samson kneeled beside Zeus and held the crumpled note up for the mastiff to sniff.
The change was instant. One moment, Zeus was happy and playful, eagerly awaiting his master's next command.
The next moment, all the hairs along his spine stood up, and his jowls drew back in a snarl, baring large, sharp teeth. A low growl rumbled from within his chest.
"Suivre," Samson commanded. Follow.
Zeus leapt to his feet and rushed out of the library, disappearing down the hallway, his bark deep and loud and furious.
Samson stood, and glanced around the room. "I can keep up with him," he said, moving his gaze to Lena's father, "with your permission, my lord."
Philippe nodded. "We will follow at a slower pace, and wait for your signal to approach."
"I'll get the carriage," Regina said with a nod.
Four male voices spoke simultaneously: "No."
Regina lifted her eyebrows and met the eyes of each man in turn. She looked like a queen, preparing to do battle with her greatest enemies. Samson could not help but admire her strength and veracity; he would not like to have Regina Dubois as an enemy.
"It is not up for discussion," she said coldly.
"Regina, please," Philippe began, but he was cut off by a wave of her hand.
"You have endangered your life and the life of our son on many occasions, Philippe, and I have not said a word," she said, wrapping her arms around Margot's shoulders and pulling her close. "I will not be left behind to worry about your fate. Not this time. Not when I stand to lose my daughter and niece as well."
Greg and Samson exchanged glances, and looked to the viscount. Philippe's jaw was clenched tightly, and his hands curled into fists.
"Fine," he said sharply. "But you will stay in the carriage until we have Lena back safely."
"No," Regina replied, her voice soft and deadly, "I will not." She turned and moved forward, placing her hand on Samson's arm. Her expression softened, and she smiled. "Go," she said gently. "We will be right behind you."
Samson nodded, and stepped out into the hallway.
He found Zeus howling at the front door. The mastiff glanced over his shoulder at Samson, giving him an impatient look.
"Laisse aller chasser," Samson said with a dark, feral grin.
Let's go hunting.
Zeus barked eagerly.
Samson opened the door.