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Back Cardinal Black Save as PDF
Chapters (44)
  1. Title Page
  2. One: Into the Storm
  3. One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Two: London Calling
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Three: The Malignant Seven
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Four: Squirrels and Cats
  29. Twenty-Four
  30. Twenty-Five
  31. Twenty-Six
  32. Twenty-Seven
  33. Twenty-Eight
  34. Twenty-Nine
  35. Thirty
  36. Thirty-One
  37. Thirty-Two
  38. Five: Revelation
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. About the Author

As the drumbeat and the penny whistle played their strange carnivale, the woman slinked in a circle around the chained constable, her rhythms that of the drum. Then upon completion of the circle—as if she had been an animal looking for the right place to strike—she leaped upon her victim with a bound of her gleaming body, her small breasts pressed against his gray-haired chest, and she began to lick his face with her legs wrapped around his hips and the deadly claws at his shoulders. The chains rattled and the man cried out for mercy. Someone in the gallery laughed. Matthew chose not to lay eyes upon whoever it was, for he felt that all of them held sadistic glee in their dark hearts, and none more so than Samson Lash and Cardinal Black.

RakeHell Lizzie climbed up the man and then up the chain, her blades striking sparks against the iron. She stood on his manacled hands and swung his body from one side to the other, again in keeping with the drumbeat. Sliding back down again, she peered into the constable’s face for several seconds, what Matthew thought was a terrible stare of triumph for whatever demons ruled Elizabeth Mulloy. The man moaned “No … please … no,” and then with a dramatic flourish of her boyish arms her blades bit into his shoulders.

Matthew could not close his ears to the cry of pain, but RakeHell Lizzie was only playing with the man for the cuts hardly drew blood. The blades caressed his face, roamed across his forehead and combed through the sparse gray hair of his scalp. Matthew shot a quick glance at Julian and saw that he was completely without expression, but Matthew had to wonder if the bad man was not at least a little intrigued by this danse macabre.

The woman writhed upon the constable in a parody of sexual intimacy. The claws touched here and there, but lightly, drawing not blood but cries from the helpless man. Matthew thought it could be upon him to save the constable’s life … but how? It was impossible! No, he had no recourse but to sit and watch, and squirm on the stone bench as the others seemed to be leaning forward for better views into the pit.