The Inventor (The Legend Chronicles) by Theresa Meyers Read Free Book Online Page B

to come out of the sensual fog that had shrouded them both in the half an hour it had taken to get to Bostwick House.
    Marley opened the door, and she moved to climb out, but his hand wrapped in a no-nonsense fashion about her wrist. “You’d best wait in here until I can determine if it’s safe,” he said.
    Sephie nearly laughed at the absurdity of his comment. She’d been the one raised as the child of a Hunter, and she knew precisely what they were up against and had come prepared, unlike Marley. But she held her urge to laugh in check, realizing from the frown on his face that Marley was deadly serious.
    “If you must. Just be careful,” she said, humoring him. He gave her a curt nod and shut the door.
    Her finger tapped out an impatient tattoo on the leather seat while she waited. It was ridiculous. Of the two of them she’d been more closely associated with the Legion of Hunters far longer. She knew what could stop a demon in its tracks and how to outsmart a vampire. Marley had only learned of the existence of the Darkin a mere hour ago, if not less. Still, it spoke well of him that he considered her safety above his own.
    “How long can a look around possibly take?” she muttered under her breath to no one in particular. She knew they hadn’t been followed. The emergency exit through the cellar had warding spells and seals upon it, not letting any through but those alive and breathing, so she knew no Darkin had followed them across town. But in the event that they had been followed, the small sachet of wolfsbane in the pocket of her skirt would ward off curious vampires who could become paralyzed by the stuff. For demons and werewolves, she had a vial of holy water, and if a ghost came too close, she could swing the nearest iron implement and take care of it temporarily.
    Marley poked his head back in the hackney and a rush of relief filled her. She’d begun to worry about him.
    “It looks safe enough.” He held out his hand to assist her. Sephie was only too glad to have another excuse to slip her hand into his. Thent.nto his smooth, dry whisper of his skin against hers sent a fresh thrill shooting through her, making her tingle in places she’d never considered all that interesting before.
    The waning light of evening cast the entrance to Bostwick House in shadow, making the residence seem far more foreboding than it had when she and her father had driven past to inspect the place during his investigations of Marley a month before.
    Overall her father was a cautious man. He didn’t choose associates indiscriminately. Her Majesty’s Royal Hunter Service wasn’t considered Europe’s top branch of the Legion for nothing, and her father intended to keep hold of that legacy as long as possible.
    “Do you think anyone is home?” she asked as the hackney clattered off into the gathering gloom of the street. The lamplighters were making their way along the streets with their long-poled lighters as people returned home to dress for various elegant events. The Earl of Sedgwick’s ball was tonight, she remembered. Not that she’d wanted to go. She’d rather be here with Marley than swirling about a ballroom with anyone else. Lieutenant William Wallace Frobisher in particular.
    The ivy crawling up the great brick walls of Bostwick House shivered slightly in the warm evening breeze. The muddy scent of the Thames contrasted with the floral freshness of summer roses and lilies in bloom on the grounds. Against the twilight, lights blazed in a few of the windows; the human presence making the house seem welcoming enough at a second glance. “With six aunts and four uncles, there’s always someone home at Bostwick House,” he grumbled.
    “You have a large family, don’t you?”
    “Too large. And far too nosy.”
    “I always thought a large family would be a comforting thing.”
    “Not when you are trying to maintain secrecy.”
    Rather than walking her up the front steps, Marley steered her toward the