Death of an Adept

As he pulled the door shut behind them and bolted it, Philippa setting the shotguns in a corner of the entry hall, they were joined by Ximena, who cast a questioning eye on the now sobbing Julia.

"Is everyone all right?" she inquired anxiously.

"Yes, but Julia's pretty shaken up," Adam said, ushering them both farther inside. "I've suggested a sedative or a tranquillizer, but she isn't keen on the idea - though sleep would be the best medicine, right about now. Could you look after her while Peregrine and I deal with the police?"

"Consider it done," Ximena said. "I assume she and Peregrine will be staying the night?''

"Absolutely. You can put them in the blue room."

Once Ximena had shepherded Julia upstairs, Humphrey retiring to the kitchen with the kitten, Peregrine slumped back against the newel post in the grip of a sudden faintness. Strong hands eased him to a sitting position on the bottommost step.

"Steady on," said Adam's voice in his ear. "Your wife's not the only one to have had a shock tonight."

Peregrine took off his spectacles and knuckled his eyes. "I'm sorry about this," he murmured. "I can't seem to think straight. My head's pounding like a drum."

"The police won't be here for a little while yet," Philippa said. "Why don't I go and get you a couple of extra-strength paracetamol?"

Peregrine nodded numbly, burying his face in one hand while Philippa disappeared upstairs and Adam retreated to stash the biscuit tin in the house safe. It occurred to Adam that McLeod ought to be notified about the gate lodge incident directly, rather than learning about it from a police report, but the inspector and his wife were away overnight for a christening. After considering, Adam rang the number for McLeod's home answering machine and left a terse but informative message. When he returned to the hall, Peregrine was draining a tumbler of water while Philippa massaged the back of his neck.

"Peregrine's just been telling me about what happened," Philippa informed her son. "Just offhand, I'd say that he and Julia had a very narrow escape."

"Just offhand, I'd say you're probably right. Peregrine, how are you feeling?"

Peregrine made a game attempt at a nonchalant smile, but it came out more of a grimace.

"Do you want the truth or a polite fiction?"

"The truth," Philippa said, "is that you've taken quite a hammering - probably worse than you realize. It's a good thing Julia was upstairs when the Hand was introduced into the house. If the fumes hadn't taken that bit longer to reach her, heaven only knows what might be happening to the pair of you just now."

Peregrine had gone several shades paler as she spoke, and turned frightened eyes on Adam.

"Adam, is that true?" he whispered.

Adam nodded soberly. "I'm afraid so. Under the circumstances, I think we'd better agree not to say anything about the Hand to the police, when they get here. I don't want them taking it away as evidence before I've had a chance to examine it."

"Indeed not," Philippa agreed. "When it comes to determining who was behind this attack, that particular piece of evidence is likely to be far more useful to us than it would be to the police."

"I understand, of course," Peregrine murmured. "But what do we tell them?"

"Just that you were working in the kitchen when a hand reached up through the cat-flap and tried to unlock the door. It withdrew when you walloped it with a hockey stick."

The police arrived shortly thereafter. After giving suitably edited statements concerning the attempted break-in, Adam and Peregrine accompanied the investigative team back to the gate lodge to view the crime scene. Philippa waited until they were safely gone, then returned to the safe and removed the tin, carrying it into the library to set on Adam's desk.

Gingerly she eased the lid off. The rank smell from within made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. After sketching a warding sign above the towel-wrapped contents, she picked the wrapping apart with the aid of a couple of pencils and peered inside. A sullen glow and a rising whiff of noxious smoke verified that the candle was extinguished, but the fingertips were still smoldering - and likely to continue doing so unless she took active measures to quench them.

Adam's medical bag lay on a chair beside the library door, where he had set it upon returning home earlier in the day. Thumbing it open, Philippa sought out an alcohol swab and a disposable needle in a sealed plastic sheath and brought them back to the desk. After consideration, she slipped the sterile needle into a vein in the back of her left hand and let blood drip from its nub onto each of the glowing fingertips in turn. The blood sizzled as it hit the smoldering flesh, and the reek of burnt blood briefly overlaid the ranker stench of the Hand itself; but she had the satisfaction of seeing all five grisly brands gutter and go dark.