Lord John and the Hand of Devils by Diana Gabaldon Read Free Book Online Page B

and thrust both feet into Everett’s chest, flinging him backward.
    Everett staggered, flailing back across the room, half-caught himself, then froze abruptly. The expression on his face showed vast surprise. His hand loosened, dropping the knife, and then drew slowly through the air, graceful in gesture as the dancer that he was. His fingers touched the reddened steel protruding from his chest, acknowledging defeat. He slumped slowly to the floor.
    Harry Quarry put a foot on Everett’s back and freed his sword with a vicious yank.
    “Good job I waited, wasn’t it? Saw those buggers with their lanterns and all, and thought best I see what mischief was afoot.”
    “Mischief,” Grey echoed. He stood up, or tried to. His knees had gone to water. “You…did you hear?” His heart was beating very slowly; he wondered in a dreamy way whether it might stop any minute.
    Quarry glanced at him, expression unreadable.
    “I heard.” He wiped his sword, then sheathed it, and came to the bed, bending down to peer at Grey. How much had he heard, Grey wondered—and what had he made of it?
    A rough hand brushed back his hair. He felt the stiffness matting it, and thought of Robert Gerald’s mother.
    “It’s not my blood,” he said.
    “Some of it is,” said Quarry, and traced a line down the side of his neck. In the wake of the touch, he felt the sting of the cut, unnoticed in the moment of infliction.
    “Never fear,” said Quarry, and gave him a hand to get up. “It will make a pretty scar.”

“Lord John and the Succubus”

    In 2003, I was invited to write a novella for an anthology edited by Robert Silverberg, titled
Legends II: New Short Novels by the Modern Masters of Fantasy.
I had slight reservations—as my World of War Craft–playing son asked, seeing the contract, “Since when are you a modern master of fantasy, Mom?”—but(a) was very flattered to be asked to share a volume with George R. R. Martin, Terry Brooks, and Orson Scott Card, and(b) I’m inclined to regard the notion of literary genres in the same light as a Chinese menu, and (c) if I had a family motto, it would probably be “Why not?” (the accompanying coat-of-arms being a stone circle quartered on a field of azure and crimson with rampant hippogriffs). So I did.
    However, I had the same concerns regarding the main characters of the Outlander books that obtained when I wrote “Hellfire.” Reflecting that it had worked once, so why not?, I decided to call Lord John into active duty once more.
    The difficulty being, of course, that Lord John Grey is not a time-traveler, nor yet a telepath, a shape-shifter, nor even an inhabitant of an alternate universe loosely based on the history and culture of Scotland or Turkestan. But, on the other hand, there was no requirement that the main character of this putative novella be himself a creature of fantasy—and a story in which a perfectly normal (well, more or less) hero comes into conflict with supernatural creatures is a solid archetype. Hey, if it was good enough for Homer, it’s good enough for me.
    And so, “Lord John and the Succubus” was published in 2004, as part of the
Legends II
anthology. In terms of Lord John’s chronology, this story follows the novel,
Lord John and the Private Matter,
and in it, we renew our acquaintance with Tom Byrd, Lord John’s valet, and his friend, Stephan von Namtzen. Set in Germany (which didn’t actually exist as a political entity at the time, but was a recognizable geographical region) in the early phases of the Seven Years War, “Succubus” is a supernatural murder mystery, with military flourishes.

Historical note: Between 1756 and 1763, Great Britain joined with her allies, Prussia and Hanover, to fight against the mingled forces of Austria, Saxony—and England’s ancient foe, France. In the autumn of 1757, the Duke of Cumberland was obliged to surrender at Kloster-Zeven, leaving the allied armies temporarily shattered and the forces of