Free His Lordship Possessed by Lynn Viehl Page B

shuffl ing back a few steps.
    “I banished him back to the netherside.” Dredmore
    turned to face me. “As long as you are with me, he cannot
    manifest or meddle with you.”
    “Harry’s never meddled.” When he would have come
    closer I went round behind the chair. “You, on the other
    hand, have infl icted an excessive amount of damage to my
    reputation, my person, and my life.”
    He didn’t like that. “How have I harmed you,
    Charmian? By wanting you? By taking what you freely
    off ered me? Or by trying to shield you from Walsh and
    dark forces that you cannot even begin to fathom?” He
    extended his arms in a helpless fashion. “Please, enlighten
    me as to which it was.”
    I did. “You abducted me and held me prisoner against
    my will. You raced about assassinating snuff mages, never
    mind that I might be blamed for the murders. Oh, and
    you also agreed to kill me for twenty thousand pounds.”
    “I took that fool’s money to give to you,” he shouted.
    “It was to help you settle into a new life—”
    75
    Viehl_DisenchantedP2_EG.indd 75
    7/15/13 10:25 AM
    LYNN VIEHL
    “After I left Toriana with you for some secluded
    lovers’ nest overseas,” I tacked on. “Where I could nightly
    entertain you until you tired of me? I’d rather work for
    Rina.”
    “You might as well.” He turned away. “I’ve tired of
    you already.”
    Th at stung, more than I cared to admit. “Problem
    solved, then.”
    I came round and sat in the armchair. “Before I’m
    forced to leave the country and fl ee for my life, perhaps
    you should tell me about this thing between you and
    Harry. Start with how you’re able to see his specter,
    and exactly how you sent him off .” I was particularly
    interested in the latter so that I might do the same if
    Harry became troublesome.
    Dredmore went to the overly large secretary and
    opened the upper cabinet, sliding aside a panel. “He’s not
    a specter. He’s a manifesting spirit.”
    “Th ere’s a diff erence?” I frowned as he shifted and
    I saw the rows of switches that the panel had hidden.
    “What’s that for?”
    Dredmore put his thumb beneath one switch and
    glanced back at me. “You.” He fl ipped the switch.
    Two velvet-covered bars shot out from the ends of
    my chair’s arms, bending at hidden joints and locking
    together at the ends. Before I could get to my feet,
    they retracted, shoving me back against the cushions. A
    smaller pair of bars swung out beneath my skirts and did
    the same, trapping my ankles in place. When I pushed at
    76
    Viehl_DisenchantedP2_EG.indd 76
    7/15/13 10:25 AM
    Disench anted & Co., Part 1
    the bars locked across my waist, two cuff s popped out of
    them and snapped round my wrists.
    “Don’t bother struggling,” Dredmore told me. “You
    haven’t the strength.”
    I tried but I couldn’t budge the chair’s automatic
    manacles. I’d never heard of such mech, but Dredmore
    could aff ord things other mortals could only have
    nightmares about.
    I looked up at him. “When you’re fi nished,” I said
    pleasantly, “you’d better plan to sleep with one eye open
    for the rest of your bleeding life.”
    “Th at I do already, Charmian.” He turned his
    attention to the panel, and I heard doors being bolted
    and window latches fastening, and then a white-painted
    board descended from the ceiling.
    I had nothing to do but wait and plot his slow, painful
    death, but still I jumped when the table beside me
    sprouted a complicated pile of gears, pulleys, and lenses.
    “Is it a torture device?” I asked, wondering if he meant
    to feed my hands to it.
    “It is called an illuminator. Let’s hope it lives up to its
    name.” He left the secretary, going round to all the lamps
    and turning them down until the room became shrouded
    in darkness. He pulled the chair to the other side of the
    table machine, and popped a matchit.
    Th e bizarre rituals confused me, but the matchit
    didn’t. Surely he wouldn’t set me on fi re, trapped