Page 106 of A Fearless Heart
“Naturally. A benefit of being close to Arcadia is that one is also close to a vast selection of medicines and other chemicals. I used a strong sedative to knock you out so that I could relocate you.”
His captor was disguising his voice, so Gabe was careful not to hint that he’d guessed his identity. The only thing keeping Gabe alive—for now—was that he was supposedly unaware of who he was speaking to.
“Where are we?” Gabe tried again. “London?”
“We’re far from London. I believe I said I’d be asking the questions, Mr Court. In your interactions with Arcadia, did she mention any other sources of clephobine? Anyone else who knows how to make it?”
“No. She’s the only one in England. There must be someone in America who can, but she had no names.”
“Good. I certainly wouldn’t like others to be dabbling with it. A pleasure speaking with you. You’ve earned a drink. But don’t move a muscle—or I’ll take it with me when I leave.”
Gabe held still, not sure what move to make.
His captor moved closer to push the bottle within range. As he did so, Gabe caught a whiff of a different scent, something so far from the musty dank air of this dark place. Something full and fresh…even voluptuous.
The bottle was tantalizingly close.
“Is this drugged?” Gabe asked suddenly as the figure withdrew a few steps, out of any possible attack range. Not that Gabe was in any state to do something physical.
“Perhaps. You’ll drink it all the same. Men are predictable in the end. They have primal needs: sleep, shelter, food…water. Like any living thing, the body shrivels and dies without water.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“None of this would be happening if you’d simply minded your own business and never come to Arcadia.”
The figure left, and Gabe was alone once more. He told himself that he wouldn’t drink the water. He was stronger than that. He could resist.
He reached for the bottle, just to know that he could get it. His fingers grazed the glass. No. He would outwait this monster. Gabe was a trained agent, a soldier who’d been through far worse. He had to keep his mind clear.
Time passed. An hour? Two hours? Maybe only a few minutes. There was only a sliver of light coming from far above him. Daylight? Fire? He had no idea. God, he was thirsty.
Soon enough the Zodiac would come for him. The Disreputables would figure out what happened, they were all smart, they’d know what to do. Cady would help…
Cady hates me now.Why would she help? Did she even know he was gone? Why would she know? After all, she never wanted to see him again and now she never would.
A drop of condensation ran down the side of the bottle and hit the floor, turning the rough stone a darker, truer shade. Gabe wanted that drop back. He wanted everything back.
“Christ help me.” It wasn’t a prayer, or maybe it was. Gabe was past caring. He seized the bottle and raised it to his lips.
* * * *
“Et in Arcadia ego.” Cady repeated the phrase over and over, looking at the card found in Gabe’s rooms and, as she’d only recently learned, at all the previous murders. “Ugh! What can it mean?”
“Perhaps it’s a code?” Bond asked from where she sat. She, along with the rest of the newly revealed Disreputables, had joined Cady in the parlor after her strange guests left, and it was now very late.
Whatever their background, they appeared eager to help locate Gabriel Courtenay, and Cady would take help from any quarter. It wasn’t about being with him again—she told herself that she didn’t want that—but merely about preventing another death.
“No, no,” Cady replied to Bond. “It’s Latin. It’s a very famous line from a piece of art by Poussin. It meansI am even in Arcadia.”
“Oh, so you do know what it means.”
“I know what it meansusually, when we’re talking about the painting it comes from.”
“What’s the painting? Maybe there’s a clue there.”
“It’s a pastoral scene, with a few shepherds and shepherdesses of Arcadia—which is like an earthly paradise, where everything is lovely and simple and happy. They’re gathered around a tomb, and on the tomb this line is carved, and they’re all marveling at it, because what it means is that even in this wonderful place, this eternal summer land, Death is there. No one can escape death. The whole painting exists to remind the viewer that they are mortal.”
“How does that help us?” Bond asked, frowning at Jem, who just shrugged helplessly.
