The Darkest Days (The Adventures of Xavier & Vic Book 6) Read online

  The Adventures of

  Xavier & Vic

  –

  Book 6

  The Darkest Days

  By Liza O’Connor

  ∞

  Cases to be Solved:

  Blame it on the Pirate

  The Muddled Theft of Masterpieces

  Mrs. Haughton has a Ghost

  Three Bullets to the Chest

  All rights reserved.

  This novel is allowed to be downloaded electronically per Amazon Guidelines. Sharing of the electronic file beyond that parameter is not allowed.

  If you have bought this anywhere other than Amazon, you have purchased a pirated copy. Please don’t support pirates. They often carry viruses. Instead, support authors. We are much nicer and smell better too.

  All characters in this book come from the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names, titles or professions. They are not based on or inspired by any known individual and any resemblance to a person living or dead is purely coincidental except for Queen Victoria. I would never place a false queen on the crown, for it would change the entire Victorian era into something else. However, any actions the Queen takes in this book are totally fabricated, as are her relatives that Vic and Tubs save.

  Table of Content

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Content

  A Note on Punctuation:

  Blurb

  Litchfield England, Spring 1896

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  An Author’s confession

  OTHER BOOKS BY LIZA O’CONNOR

  HISTORICAL

  The Adventures of Xavier & Vic

  Untamed & Unabashed

  CONTEMPORARY

  A Long Road to Love Series

  White Oak Mafia Series

  Requires Rescue Series

  Ghost Lover

  SCIENCE FICTION

  The Multiverse Series

  Artificial Intelligence Series

  A Note on Punctuation:

  I go by the English Logical Punctuation rules when it comes to commas and periods used within dialog. This means when the Queen says, “I declare you a ‘Knight Bachelor’.”

  By U.S. rules, it would be: “I declare you a ‘Knight Bachelor.’” However, that is illogical. The single quote only discusses the Knight Bachelor. Thus, the dialog single tags should surround the word of knighthood, before the punctuation for the sentence.

  How did we come to be illogical? Yes, I’m from the U.S. Long ago we had shoddy printing presses. Thus, fragile, half-block punctuation was always protected by the tall dialog marks when possible, regardless of logic. Since the shoddy presses no longer exist, we need to return to logical punctuation, and I am more than willing to be a forerunner in this matter, because quite frankly, it makes us appear silly.

  Blurb

  When the pot has too many cooks a feast can be ruined, and that’s exactly what happens with Xavier and Vic’s new cases. Each proves more complicated than initially thought with criminals dropping out of the sky, wreaking havoc upon Xavier, Vic, and their excellent employees. By the end, Vic threatens to open a school that teaches criminals how to stay out of each other’s way.

  Worse yet, a treasured member of the staff is shot in the heart while attempting to save Vic and the Queen’s cousin.

  Litchfield England, Spring 1896

  Chapter 1

  A deep growl of hunger emanated from Richard’s stomach. He hung at the edge of the woods, staring across the fields to the barn. The milkmaid always left milk and scraps for the cats. His chance for food would be better if he hid in the shed next to the barn and waited for her to leave. Otherwise, the barn cats would likely consume everything before he arrived.

  He hated going anywhere near ‘civilization’ but feared starvation even more. Slowly he crept across the fields on all fours, low to the ground. If a farmer saw him, he’d be mistaken for a wolf and shot.

  The frost was thick on the unplowed field; grass stems, stiff and needle sharp, jabbed into his hands and knees, despite the fur that protected them. The March wind bit through his fur covered back, reminding Richard winter had not given up its intent to kill him.

  The edges of the east horizon lightened. He needed to hurry and get to the woodshed before it grew lighter.

  He stopped. And then what? After he ate, supposing he got there in time and the cats hadn’t devoured every morsel, how would he escape? The sun was rising. He’d be shot for sure when leaving the place. Nor could he very well hide the entire day inside. People could smell him a mile off, given he hadn’t bathed since he’d escaped Bedlam.

  Fear gripped him as someone wearing a long cloak hurried into the barn. The hunch of their body made him think they didn’t want to be seen.

  Did the pretty young milkmaid have a beau, someone her parents forbid her to see? She was a beauty. He could see why a beau might risk being shot at by her father just to see her. Richard would risk it…only his presence would not be welcomed. She would scream and run upon sight of him.

  A cry of pain pierced the dark grayness, then the shadowy figure burst from the barn, froze for a moment, before running down the road away from the house. Richard wanted to give chase, but he was more concerned about the pretty milkmaid. His safety forgotten, he rose and ran full force across the field, indifferent to the pain his bare feet endured.

  When he reached the barn door, he froze in horror.

  Illuminated by the light of a lantern, the pretty blond milkmaid lay crumbled on the straw next to the cow she had been milking. The flesh of her neck was torn away as if a wild animal had attacked her.

  Richard stumbled to her and touched her pale face, then pressed his ear to her chest, desperately hoping for the thumping of her heart.

  Nothing.

  Why would anyone kill such a beautiful girl, so young and sweet?

  He sat back on his heels and howled in pain and anger.

  The fur around his neck rose.

  Danger…

  He would gladly stay and die for this beauty if doing so would return her life, but she was gone. He needed to fend for himself. Certain leaving through the door would be his death, he searched for another way out. Spotting an opening in the hayloft, he rushed up the ladder and reached the load door, grasping onto a rope that hung from a pulley, just as a man cried below. “Daisy, no! No!”

  As Richard slid down, the rope tore chunks of hair from his hands. When he hit the ground, he ran across the field, dropping to his hands and knees upon the first fire of a rifle. When he reached the edge of the forest, he did not stop and watch. More people were sure to arrive with guns.

  He had to find someplace to hide. The villagers would blame him, the ‘wolfman’, for this senseless murder and they would
hunt him down and tear him apart.

  Chapter 2

  Jacko woke from a sound sleep, uncertain what had roused him. He listened carefully. A howl of a wolf in agonizing pain came from the window. A wolf in Litchfield? Impossible. England had exterminated all wolves over a hundred years ago. It had to be a dog.

  His wife Alice sat up. “That cry sounded almost human?”

  The crack of a rifle followed soon after the eerie sound.

  Jacko pushed himself up and threw on pants and a shirt. Alice also got out of bed and grabbed a skirt and blouse. “Don’t wait for me,” she said. “Go. I fear someone is seriously injured.”

  Jacko kissed her softly on her lips, appreciating his wife’s reasonableness in all matters, and hurried downstairs.

  Their butler, Thomas, entered from the servants’ section just as Jacko reached the foyer. “Has something happened, sir?” he asked, properly dressed, even at five in the morning.

  “Something has, I just don’t know what.”

  “Do you need your horse readied?”

  “No, I’ll do it myself,” he replied. “However, Alice will no doubt require the carriage,” he added before closing the door and hurrying to the horse stables.

  Faster than his groom could manage, he saddled Hellion then headed out in the general direction of the gunshot.

  The sun crested the horizon on a beautiful day, or it would be if not for the lump in Jacko’s stomach. His gut told him something bad had come their way and whatever it was, wasn’t ready to leave.

  A new scream came from Frederick’s farm. He kicked in his heels and Hellion flew like the wind. When he arrived, Frederick was holding his distraught wife up as she wailed at the sky. “Why God? She was just a child!”

  Jacko dismounted Hellion and ordered the horse to stay, then hurried over to the farmer and his wife Greta. “What’s wrong?”

  The question set his wife off into further howls of pain.

  Frederick nodded toward the barn door, unable to put words to his horror.

  Jacko rushed in and pulled to a halt. God Almighty! The straw soaked red with Daisy’s blood from her ravaged throat. Who would do this? She was the sweetest child imaginable. Steeling himself, he moved closer, noting two different boot prints and, inexplicably, barefoot prints.

  In March? With frost still on the ground?

  He could not get close to the source of the blood without stepping into it himself. However, it did appear as though a large animal had ripped away one side of her neck.

  The recollection of hearing a wolflike cry worried him. Having no wish to do further damage to the area before the local constable arrived, he stepped outside and closed the door.

  Jacko could think of nothing to say that could ease their pain, so he didn’t try. “Frederick, Greta…we will find who did this and they will pay.”

  His words set Frederick on fire. “I know what did this. It’s the werewolf.”

  Jacko had no reply to such a ridiculous statement. Fortunately, Alice arrived in her carriage, so he didn’t have to. Instead, he hurried to his wife and helped her down.

  “Daisy’s been murdered. While the injury looks to have been caused by an animal, only human footprints can be seen.”

  “Dear Lord,” she whispered.

  “I’ve not heard promising reports on our new constable. Perhaps you can take Greta to our house, and send back the camera so I can capture the scene before the constable arrives and evidence is lost?”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied. “Will you ask Xavier to assist?”

  “It depends…” He sure as hell wasn’t asking the finest sleuth in London to come to Litchfield to hunt werewolves.

  Alice hurried to Greta and tried to lead her to the carriage. “Come with me, Greta.”

  The distressed woman shook Alice off. “I want to see my precious child.”

  “No, Greta. I won’t allow it,” Frederick barked. “Now go with Miss Alice, so we can catch the creature that did this.”

  “Monster, you mean. Only a monster could harm my sweet Daisy,” the woman cried.

  Alice eased Greta inside the carriage and soon they were off.

  The moment they were gone, Frederick exploded with rage. “I’ll hunt down that creature and rip him apart!” He headed back to the barn, but Jacko stopped him.

  “Fredrick, we have to involve the authorities. Can you send your son to retrieve our new constable?”

  The man’s glazed eyes stared his way but didn’t seem to focus. “I don’t need the damn fool. My son is needed here, to help me hunt the werewolf.”

  Jacko held tight to his arm. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”

  “I saw the beast, running away, blood covering his long snout.”

  “How big was the creature?” Was it possible a bear escaped from the London Zoo?

  “Large, bigger than a dog by far.”

  “Did you see where it ran?” Jacko asked.

  Frederick pointed toward the back woods. “He ran that way…from the barn.”

  “I’ll check for tracks, but you need to send your son for the constable.”

  “I don’t need a damn constable! He’s not going to believe what I saw.”

  Jacko couldn’t argue the point. “Nonetheless, he must be called. Daisy was murdered and if the police are not involved you could be arrested for failing to report the murder of your daughter. He might conclude you murdered her solely on your failure to let him know of the crime.”

  The danger finally broke Frederick’s resistance and he stormed to the farmhouse, hopefully, to wake and send his son for the constable.

  Men from the nearby farms began to arrive. Jacko had no choice but to stand before the barn door to prevent their entry. “No one enters until the constable arrives.”

  While none of the fellows were happy with his declaration, given he was the ‘master at the manor’ and Alice’s husband, they accepted his word as law…at least as long as he blocked the door.

  A young man pushed his way through the growing mob and approached Jacko. “Miss Alice asked me to deliver this,” he said as he handed over the camera box.

  “Thank you, Elwood.” He was about to ask the boy to guard the door while he went inside to take photographs of the scene but realized he’d need the doors open if he was to have any chance of getting enough light for a decent exposure.

  “May I have everyone’s attention?” he called out, and to his surprise, the men quieted down.

  “I need to capture a picture of the scene inside, in case we require Xavier Thorn to solve this crime.”

  Whispers of ‘the real Sherlock Holmes’ could be heard.

  “However, I must insist everyone move over by the tree so you do not block the light from shining in.”

  They remained where they were, staring at him.

  “Everyone, to the tree now,” he insisted, wishing he had Xavier’s ability to boss people around. When he was a pirate, he had no problems getting his crew to do as he asked. If they didn’t, he’d just shoot them and toss their body overboard, but that was a different time in his life and he had different standards. For a pirate, he was considered a great captain to ship with. Now he had an ambiguous position. While he was the ‘master’ of the big house, Alice actually managed the farmers.

  “Now!” he snapped, using his captain’s voice.

  Startled, the men moved to the tree.

  Jacko opened both doors. As he set up the camera, he cursed the dimness still enveloping Daisy’s body. He had very little chance of capturing any details.

  Just as he was about to give up this endeavor, a beam of sunshine came through the doors and pierced the darkness.

  He managed to take three pictures before the farmers rushed inside.

  “God Almighty! What was done to the poor girl?”

  “Looks like something ripped her throat out.”

  “But what could do that?”

  Frederick spoke from the door. “I’ll tell you what it was. It’s t
he werewolf. It killed my Daisy and if we don’t send it back to hell, it’s going to slaughter us all.”

  Not one farmer seemed to think his accusation ridiculous. In fact, they insisted they should go at once and hunt the creature down.

  Jacko knew better than to attempt to reason with an angry mob. Instead, he watched them leave on horseback, headed out across the field where Frederick claimed to have seen the creature. If he really had seen something, there would be no tracks left of it now.

  Jacko sighed heavily, He wished he had Xavier’s power of command. “Elwood, come take the camera back to Alice, please.”

  A gasp came from the boy made Jacko focus on the young servant. Elwood’s eyes rounded in horror, his skin deathly white and his face distorted in a silent cry of agony. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  The boy fought for control. “I…wanted to ask Daisy to marry me, only I was talked into waiting. If I hadn’t listened, she’d be alive and living up at the big house with me now.”

  Jacko gripped his shoulder. Had he known any of this, he would have asked Alice to send someone else. No man should see his loved one’s throat ripped out.

  “I’m sorry, Elwood. Take the camera up to Alice and stay there. Remember the good times with Daisy and don’t let ‘what ifs’ destroy your life. Bad things happen. All you can do is put them behind you and move forward.”

  Elwood hurried off with the camera, running full speed up the road. Jacko stared at the horse the boy had left tied to a tree. He walked over to the worried mare and stroked her neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you home.”

  Having calmed the mare, he returned to the scene of the crime and studied the barefoot tracks. The boot tracks were mostly obliterated with seven other pairs of boots on top of them. He hoped to God the camera shot came out clear and in focus.

  He stared at the bare footprints headed not to the door, but to the hayloft. Bloodstains on the ladder assured him this person retreated to the loft and could possibly be there now.

  He pulled his gun from his shoulder holster beneath his gentleman’s vest. Weapon in hand, he climbed the ladder, trying not to mar the evidence further, all the while worried he might have his own throat torn out by the madman hiding above.