14. Blackburn Makes a Plan

Heart pattering, Cordelia fought against the arm wrapped around her torso. The golem’s grip was not as strong as Notley’s had been, but that didn’t mean he was weak. He had to be at least as strong as the average man, and the longer he stood on the forest floor, the more power he would absorb.

“Don’t move!” Marfleet yelled, drawing his pistol and training it on the two of them.

At the same moment, Mrs. Bellingham called out, “Samuel!” Her light brown eyes were wide and fearful.

Blackburn was the only one who retained his composure, which, in any other situation, would have been quite profound. In this situation, however, it was a bit insensitive. “Good lord, Marfleet. Put that thing away,” he said. From his tone an outsider would’ve thought Marfleet had just pulled out a love letter at a dinner party.

Cordelia was still being dragged backwards, despite her best efforts to wriggle free from the golem’s grasp.

Marfleet made no move to put his pistol away; in fact, he seemed to be trying to line up a shot.

Blackburn marched forward, catching up to Cordelia and what was previously Mr. Bellingham. He held Cordelia’s eye and held his hands up defensively. “Listen to me, Cordelia—”

“No, Mr. Blackburn, help me!” she squawked, twisting in the golem’s grip to try and reach him. She couldn’t.

“Walk with him.” Blackburn’s turquoise eyes glowed with an intensity she’d seen before. He had a plan, and he needed her to follow it. Did she trust him enough to?

“The golem—previously Mr. Bellingham—will lead us to the source of his power. We have to let him get there,” Blackburn explained in a loud enough voice for Marfleet and Mrs. Bellingham to hear.

“You’re using Miss Green as bait?” Marfleet asked. The arms holding Cordelia gripped her shoulders, turning her and pulling her deeper into the forest, so she couldn’t see Marfleet’s face any longer. Nonetheless, she was certain he was glaring at Blackburn and possibly now pointing his pistol at him.

Cordelia took a deep breath. She then shifted and found her footing, so that she was less being dragged and more being… unceremoniously escorted. She was now facing the forest, not her companions, and the golem was directly behind her, his grip ever present. She walked briskly to keep up with him, but she felt slightly more in control than she had previously.

“Do as he says, Mr. Marfleet,” she called backwards, unable to look. She hoped the others were following, and weren’t far behind.

“This is ridiculous!” she heard him say, but he sounded resigned. And, thankfully, close.

“I don’t understand,” came the hiccupping voice of Mrs. Bellingham. “Samuel wouldn’t ever do a thing like this!”

“This isn’t Samuel. Not anymore,” began Blackburn. He sounded the closest, just behind Cordelia. “Your husband, like Lyman Notley, was killed. Afterwards, his body was taken by nymphs, dryads, by my best guess, who will use his body to protect the forest life until it decays beyond usefulness.”

“Decays?!” was Mrs. Bellingham’s only reply. Cordelia was surprised she could even hear it, the sound was so high-pitched.

“Yes, as all bodies do. Mrs. Bellingham, how did you get to Dulwich Wood?” Cordelia would have liked to have seen everyone’s faces when they heard Blackburn’s unsympathetic response. Alas, she was forced to stare at tree after tree after tree.

“My—my carriage,” she stuttered, her voice laced with confusion. She sounded further away, as if she had stopped.

Blackburn also sounded more distant. “Did anyone accompany you?”

“Yes, my maid.”

“Good. Marfleet will walk you back. It may be dangerous deeper in the forest.” Cordelia could barely make out Blackburn’s words; she and the golem were walking too quickly, leaving the others behind. She felt her breath quicken, despite her best efforts to remain calm.

“You’re losing sight of Miss Green! I cannot return now,” Marfleet called back. He sounded much closer, which alleviated some of Cordelia’s fear.

“Give Cordelia your pistol, then escort Mrs. Bellingham back to her carriage,” ordered Blackburn from a distance. She heard branches snap, and movement behind her.

Her progress and the golem’s were stopped abruptly, and the golem’s grip around her tightened. Cordelia twisted to see Marfleet struggling to hold back the golem, his knuckles white as his fingers dug into the golem’s shoulders.

Marfleet looked at her, displeasure written into all his features. “He’s absolutely bonkers!” he said.

“He’s got a plan. Do as he says. I’ll be alright,” Cordelia told him confidently. She wasn’t sure how convincing she was, as she probably looked disheveled and terrified, but she did her best.

His nostrils flared in defiance, but he placed his pistol in one of her gloved hands. “I better get that back.” He let go of the golem, who promptly started walking forwards again, nearly tripping Cordelia in the process.

“And I don’t trust either of you! For the record!” Marfleet called out after her.

Cordelia said nothing, too surprised at what the day had brought: her, kidnapped in the middle of the forest, alone and holding a gun. She desperately hoped Blackburn knew what he was doing.

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