"Let Tommy go," I said. "This is nothing to do with him."
"He shouldn't have been in here," Tate said.
"Why?" Sylvia asked. "It's not like there's anything worth seeing in this burnt wreck."
"Let him go!" I shouted.
Tate moved further into the fuzzy circle of light near Tommy. "Are you getting angry, Miss Smith?" He picked up the lamp and held it high in our direction. "Yes, I believe you are. Very good. I'd like to see what happens. It's been a long time since I've observed the phenomena on another."
I swallowed, and some of my anger disappeared. It wasn't the reaction I wanted. Despite his wish to study me, spitting fire from my fingertips would have come in quite handy at that moment. "Jack's not here, is he?" I said in the hope the answer would rile me again.
"No," said Tommy. "I had a good look around before this beast clobbered me." He pointed at Ham and the chain clanked against the bench.
"Jack's not here," Tate said. "I haven't seen him. What does that mean, do you suppose? Has he left? Is he lost?"
"I doubt it," Sylvia said.
I pinched her again and she flinched.
"Pity. I would have liked to see him after all this time. He was a baby when I last saw him."
He'd known Jack as a baby? Was that because Jack really was Langley's nephew and as his partner, Tate had seen him? Or was there another reason? Something to do with the fire?
Tate returned the lamp to the hook hanging from the ceiling near Tommy and stepped back into the shadows. There was only enough light to outline his silhouette. "He was a good baby on the whole, but when he threw a tantrum, he was far more frightening than any child had a right to be."
I could only imagine. "Were we born with it?" I asked.
"Hannah, now is not the time to question him about yourself," Sylvia whispered. "We must release Tommy and find Jack. Have you got a plan?"
"Yes," I lied. "I'm instigating it as we speak."
I felt her relax a little against me, which I decided was indeed part of my plan. A relaxed Sylvia could think clearer and act faster if necessary.
"Release Tommy!" I ordered Tate.
He began to move toward us through the darkness, his silhouette dimly visible until his pale, glistening face emerged from the darkness like a ghost. Sylvia gave a little squeal, and Tate growled, baring his ugly teeth. He pushed her away. It wasn't a hard shove, but she fell to the floor.
"Sylvia!" I reached for her, but Tate grabbed my arm and pulled me into his side. His breath reeked worse than rancid meat, and heat swamped me. It was like opening an oven door and being blasted by hot air. There were no sparks or flames, but it was almost too hot to bear.
"Miss Langley! Miss Smith!" Tommy tried to free himself, yanking at his chains and twisting himself about on the bench. It achieved nothing except a great deal of frustration if his grunts and curses were any indication. "What's going on, you cur?" he snarled. "If you harm them, I'll kill you!"
Tate didn't seem to hear him, or care what he'd done to Sylvia. "Hannah," he said, voice feather-soft in my ear. "Oh, Hannah. I'm so glad you've come back to me. I've been searching for you for a long time. A very long time. Sweet, little baby Hannah." He touched my hair, my cheek. I turned my face away, but he let go of my arm and grasped my jaw instead, forcing me to look at him. His fingers dug into my skin, crushing the bone. Heat and pain shot from my jaw to my neck and cheeks. I couldn't move my head, couldn't speak. "I've waited years for you. Years. I will not let anyone take you away this time. I need you."
The man had only one arm. Surely I could free myself. I tried pulling away, but he held my jaw too hard. My face hurt. My cheeks mashed into my teeth. I punched him in the chest and to my surprise and sheer relief, he grunted and let go.
"You little monster!" he snarled.
I raced to Sylvia's side and was about to bend down to her when a thick arm circled my waist and pulled me back. Ham. My feet rose off the ground, and the massive arm held me so tightly I felt like I was being sliced in half.
"Let go!" I screamed, clawing at Ham's arm and kicking out at Tate who stood in front of me. I missed and Ham made no sounds of pain as I shredded his shirtsleeve and drew blood.
"Hannah!" Sylvia got to her feet and ran to us. Ham deflected her with a fist to her shoulder and she fell onto the floor once more. She slid into a burnt set of drawers with a missing leg. Somehow it had managed to remain upright throughout the fire that had destroyed the factory, but a bump from Sylvia sent it crashing onto the rubble.
"Sylvia?" I called. "Are you all right?"