FifteenHuldah Wilmington followed the hotel manager up the stairs to Sir John Russell’s Holborne suite at a gallop, her steps thumping on the risers as she stayed right on his heels. She had emphasized to him she had an emergency and needed Sir John’s help this instant. She could feel cold sweat pooling at the base of her throat, running down the gully between her breasts.
A gale of naked fear propelled her forward. She was moving faster than she ever had done before in her fifty years of life. The blast of panic was so real she wanted to turn around and check if anyone was behind her, but a rising superstition prevented her from doing it.
If I look back, the bad thing pursuing me will know I’m terrified.
Keep facing ahead and she could preserve the myth that she was in control; not nee
