A Study in Ashes (32 page)

Evelina paused, the teapot still in her hands. She realized her mind had drifted, and she pulled herself back to the present. She turned back to her guests. “I should start by saying I am terribly sorry for the disturbance the other night.”

“It is hardly your fault,” said Miss Barnes sensibly. “And it is not as if one has a means of barring the riffraff once the aetheric doors are opened. That kind of disembodied ruffian is the plague of these events.”

“Then why does the institute permit séances? After all, isn’t your official mandate to debunk all claims of psychic phenomena?”

Miss Barnes made a derisive sound. “We come across charlatans, that is true, and unmasking them is a particular pleasure. But our real search is for bona fide talent. Danger does not preclude the value of the search, and the opportunity
for scientific inquiry is too great to pass up because a few bits of china fall victim to a poltergeist.”

“But someone might have been hurt.”

“But they were not,” Miss Barnes said calmly.

Evelina set down the teapot, suddenly weary. To be honest, the séance felt as if it were a lifetime ago. Last night divided her existence into before and after Nick’s return. Eventually, they had told each other everything—about Imogen, the battle, and how he’d escaped Manufactory Three. She’d been starving for someone to talk to—and not just anyone, but
Nick
, who understood her as no one else could. Yet the longer they’d talked, the more it was clear there was no quick and simple means to walk away, hand in hand, into the wide, adventure-filled world. Indeed, nothing could happen until she was free and in control of her magic, and he had reclaimed the scattered pieces of his life. When she’d shown him the report about the ruins of the
Red Jack
, they both had wept for his crew. But Nick had rejoiced, too, because it gave him a clue to where, disoriented and running for his life, he had hidden Athena.

And so with reluctance and more kisses, they had parted at the first morning light. Again.

“Miss Cooper?”

Evelina turned, smiled graciously, and deposited one teacup in Miss Barnes’s hands and gave another to Mrs. Smith, who stirred enough to accept the refreshment. Then Evelina took her own seat and sipped the hot brew.

“Have you had any experience like that before?” she finally asked, remembering her role as hostess.

“Rarely,” said Miss Barnes. “It is just too bad so few were there that night to lend their strength. Normally we number closer to fifty than just eight, but as you heard there was a confusion of dates. An intentional one, I might add. We were cautious of allowing the Gold King’s maker into our midst.”

Evelina had wondered if the other forty-two members were elsewhere with Madam Thalassa that night, while she and Tobias had been shunted to a smaller decoy meeting. “I see.”

“We are all too aware that Jasper Keating is, shall we say, on the warpath. We put him there, with your uncle’s help.”

She remembered Tobias mentioning Uncle Sherlock, and suddenly had the feeling she was leaving the road for a twisting, rocky path. “Why attract his attention? That could be deadly.”

“All for a good cause,” Miss Barnes said briskly. “It seems your uncle’s interests and ours coincide. At his request, we provided a reason for Keating to let you out of the college on a regular basis, primarily to pave the way for your eventual escape.”

Adrenaline bolted through Evelina, and her teacup rattled as she sat forward in her chair. Those brief periods of liberty had already formed a cornerstone for her own plans—and her uncle, as always, had seen the possibilities and manifested them. But that he would take the society into his confidence? “Forgive me for asking, but why would my uncle trust you?”

Miss Barnes cocked an eyebrow. “A good question. He enjoys a cordial relationship with Madam Thalassa, and had already approached her on another matter concerning a Miss Imogen Roth. Which takes us back to the séance. That entity knew you.”

Evelina’s stomach filled with bone-deep horror at the memory. “Yes.”

“It claimed it was your friend, the same Imogen that Mr. Holmes mentioned to Madam Thalassa. What can you tell us about your friend? Who was she to you?”

“Is.” For some reason, she cast a glance at Mrs. Smith, but the woman was all but inert. “My friend has been stricken ill. She has been unconscious for some time, and I believe her spirit is wandering.”

“And Imogen is Mr. Roth’s sister?”

“Yes.”

Miss Barnes sipped her tea, clearly thinking. “Is that why you were eager to meet Madam Thalassa when you came to my home?”

“Yes, that was my hope,” Evelina said. At least, that was her reason if not Keating’s. “I understand Madam has some
expertise in this area. I knew my uncle wanted her to consult, and I wanted to warn her about some spells that I already have in place around my friend.”

Mrs. Smith stirred slightly at that, as if that had finally caught her interest.

“Spells to keep your friend alive and healthy?” Miss Barnes asked as casually as if requesting a recipe.

“Yes. They shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“Naturally. I shall make it my business to tell Madam.”

Relief made Evelina sink back in her chair. “I would appreciate that greatly.”

“I shall tell her word for word.”

“There is something else she should know.”

“Oh?” Miss Barnes asked, setting her teacup aside.

“I believe there were two entities that night. One was Imogen, the other not.”

“Do you know who the other might have been?” For the first time, the woman looked worried.

“Imogen had a twin, Anna, who died very young. Her spirit was the pawn of a sorcerer.” Evelina still could barely believe it, and yet what Tobias had told her made perfect sense. “Anna is dangerous, but please understand that I have no proof that entity was her. I want to contact Imogen again, but I’ve tried alone, and it didn’t work. We need to find out the truth, and I don’t have Madam’s skills.”

Miss Barnes looked down at her hands, clearly thinking. “No, you don’t. You are powerful, but you are not a medium. And this case has complexities. You could do more harm than good.”

Evelina already knew that, but she didn’t like the idea of just standing by. “It’s been two days since the séance, and I’m worried. What can I do?”

Miss Barnes swallowed. “Anna worries me. Spirits that wander too long begin to turn.”

Evelina tensed. “What does that mean?”

“For a soul that’s wandered too far, it’s a long, painful, and tragic slide into madness. Some say the soul is well on its way to a demonic state.”

“They turn into a demon?” Evelina asked, a little incredulous.

“A simplistic, inelegant way of putting it, but essentially correct.”

“Miss Barnes, that is utterly …” But she was well and truly lost for words. Imogen was at the mercy of such a creature.
But not for long
, Evelina vowed fiercely. She wasn’t letting her friend down, if she had to march into the netherworld and drag her back by the hair.

Miss Barnes folded her hands in her lap. “I can see the determination on your lovely face, my dear, but it won’t do.”

“No?” Evelina’s stubborn streak rose.

“My advice is to leave the matter with Madam Thalassa. She has experience with wayward spirits. She will make your friend’s case her immediate priority. And this is the point where the society’s concerns and those of your uncle intersect. We will convince Keating to let you out of the college, and we will assist your friend. In return, there is something we want from you.”

Evelina didn’t want to step aside and leave Imogen’s care to anyone else—at least not completely—but if Uncle Sherlock was involved, she had to consider what the woman had to say. “I’m listening.”

Miss Barnes inclined her head, a bit like a schoolmistress. “I saw what kind of power you used. Once a sorcerer, as the saying goes.”

Evelina shook her head. “I am not a sorcerer.”

“If you say so. I make an observation about what I saw of your power, nothing more, and you may need that dark strength before this is done.”

Now Evelina was worried. “Before what is done?”

The woman lifted her chin, her manner growing sly. “Do you recall the actress Nellie Reynolds?”

“I do.” The case had been in the papers about a year and a half ago. The famous actress—the Duchess of Westlake’s illegitimate cousin, as it turned out—had been accused of using magic and sent to Her Majesty’s Laboratories. Many had thought the verdict unjust.

“She escaped.”

“What?” Evelina sat forward. She’d never heard of anyone getting out of the labs. “Really?”

“We’ve never known precisely where the laboratories were,” said Miss Barnes. “Now we do, and we know what’s inside.”

Curiosity flamed through Evelina, but she sat back, suddenly cautious. “I must say, Miss Barnes, that you are opening up some very dangerous topics. You could be punished for spreading such news, as could I for listening to it.”

She wasn’t positive that her statement was completely logical, given their talk of séances and demons and evading Jasper Keating, but the woman’s manner had changed in the last few seconds, becoming even more authoritative. Every instinct was warning Evelina to be careful—and that wasn’t a premonition, just common sense.

But then Mrs. Smith finally came to life and drew back her veil. “Miss Cooper,” she said in a rich contralto voice. “Please hear us out.”

Evelina’s heart lurched. She knew that face. When she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “Mrs. Reynolds!”

She had been a beauty once, but that had all changed. Her hair was still thick, but it had turned white, and deep lines of pain now traced the angles of her face. Evelina’s throat tightened, wondering what other ravages the heavy fabric of the actress’s mourning gown disguised.

“The laboratories are in Dartmoor, all but lost in the desolation of the moors,” she said. “If one escapes, there is nowhere to run and many, many places to be lost forever. I was lucky. I stumbled onto a private estate and found a sympathetic protector in Sir Charles Baskerville. He hid me on the moors until I could be taken to safety. I slept in the stone huts left by the primitive tribesmen of centuries ago, and his serving man brought me food. It was the only way to hide from the Steam Council’s soldiers, who searched every house and barn in the county. I owe him my life, and we all owe him a debt. If he hadn’t intervened, everything I know about the place would have perished with me.”

For all her trials, Nellie Reynolds had lost none of her
presence. Evelina hung on every word. “Tell me, what happens in those laboratories?”

The actress flinched, and it clearly wasn’t for effect. “The scientists employed by the Steam Council are interested in one thing. They want to understand how magic works, and why those of the Blood inherit the ability to use it. And once they find that out, they want to replicate the effect for their own use.”

“Especially with machines,” added Miss Barnes. “Whoever discovers how to control machines with magic will render all other forms of power irrelevant.”

Which was in part why Jasper Keating had Evelina—a magic user with a technological bent—at his beck and call. “So they use the prisoners as experimental subjects?” Evelina asked. “Just like all the old rumors?”

Nellie Reynolds held up a gloved hand, as if warding off the question. “Yes. Dissection, vivisection, augmentation—nothing is beyond them. And it does not matter overmuch if a prisoner has been falsely accused. They found a purpose for me, too.”

She lifted her skirt—mildly shocking from the viewpoint of modesty, but what it revealed was far worse. “They cut off my legs and gave me these instead, just to see if they would take.”

“Oh, dear God,” Evelina blurted out before she could stop herself.

Beginning just above the knees, the woman’s legs were a tangle of open wires, cables, and gears. “They left me my feet,” she said in a carefully neutral voice. “They preserved enough pathways for the nerves and blood to keep the flesh alive. They wished to study the possibilities for mechanical integration with the human body.”

As her stomach rose, Evelina felt herself growing dangerously hot. How many prisoners were there? What happened to the ones who couldn’t get away?

She was relieved when Mrs. Reynolds dropped her hems and hid the ghastly sight. “I see,” Evelina said, knowing it sounded inane. She didn’t understand at all.

“And that was far from all. The scientists at the laboratories
went unchecked by law or common decency, and their researches strayed down whatever path imagination decreed. When the quest for the key to magic stalled, they pursued other projects. Some sought to create the perfect soldier, others wished to defy mortality. Still others created monsters for their own sake, and tortured animals out of pure curiosity. There was a hound,” she said, pausing long enough to gulp back her emotion. “It was a huge, brindled beast. They attempted to build a clockwork creature within its living flesh. It escaped once, but they dragged it back and locked it away. After that it became utterly savage and unmanageable—no doubt in utter agony. But the poor mad thing showed me the weakness in their security, and I used that knowledge to escape. It did not suffer in vain.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Evelina asked, barely able to speak.

“We want to destroy the laboratories,” said Miss Barnes in a down-to-business tone. “Your uncle claims it’s something of a specialty of yours, and we don’t have enough powerful magic users.”

“And Madam Thalassa wishes me to help?”

“Yes,” said Miss Barnes. “News of Mrs. Reynolds’s escape arrived just days before you came to the séance. Madam Thalassa began making plans to follow up the intelligence at once. It seems that the laboratories have magic users as part of their guard. Those who would rather serve than be tortured.”

“Collaborators?”

“Yes. However, you have a kind of magic the scientists have not found a means to completely control. You will be an effective weapon for our side. In fact,” Mrs. Reynolds said, glancing at the bracelets, “those are the only means they have of even dampening dark magic. I’ve seen them at work plenty of times. They had to go far beyond just draping sorcerers in silver.”