Revolutionary Magic (with Bonus Content) (9 page)

"To where?" I asked, impatient for an answer.

"Voltaire calls it the Land of the Obsidian Castle, but I call it Otherland. I found myself in a lightless place, yet I could see as easily as daytime. It reminded me of the sky during an eclipse. I stood in a garden surrounded by castle walls except the stone was like obsidian, smooth and black and reflective. Then I—"

He looked up, remembering his audience, and winked. "Let's just say that I had adventures and brought something back."

"Something that makes the powder," I said.

"Yes, like that," he answered cryptically, then offered a sly smile. "You've heard of the Magnum Opus and the philosopher's stone? Well, maybe those stories came from this."

"You're suggesting that some of our myths are based in reality," I said.

"I'm more than suggesting it," he said. "But we don't know which parts are true and what is fable. I can tell you there are some myths I dearly hope are not true, but my experiences suggest otherwise."

"Do you know what they want?" I asked.

Ben shrugged first with one shoulder then with the other, then he raised his arms and threw his hands out in frustration. "What does anyone want? I wish I knew. I suspect they're much like us, split up into factions like countries, each with their own internal desires. For all we know they want to conquer us or maybe turn us into cattle."

It would have been a lot to believe except that I'd seen the creature myself. Then I thought of my experience with the Russian spymaster.

"Maybe it's here to gather information," I said, the truth firming in my mind. "It's not erasing those memories, but stealing them. So it can take stolen knowledge back to this Otherland."

The two men shared a glance.

"A spy that need not make contacts," said Smith, "but can take the memories directly. Is this possible?"

Ben spoke. "We must assume it so."

There was a piece of it that bothered me, but I couldn't pin it down. Ben spoke further while I was distracted by my self-examination.

"So finding and capturing this creature is imperative. We have to know what its purpose is beyond the theft of memories. It didn't occur to me until now, but the similarities to those Paris murders is hard to shake. The hardest part about solving that mystery was figuring out the pattern so we could stop it," said Ben.

"How did you figure it out?" asked Smith. "You never told me that part."

"We didn't. We got lucky when we were visiting a friend who happened to be the next victim," said Ben, sorrow lacing his words.

My concerns coalesced into the thought I was searching for. "How do you even know it's magic?" I asked. "What's to say that it isn't some higher technology? The gauntlet, the stone, even the powder could be mere chemistry and scientific philosophy. For if it is magic, why don't we already know its secrets?"

I could tell by the look in Franklin's eyes that he'd thought of this and had come to different conclusions, but I had to hear it for myself.

"I'm afraid I cannot explain and will have to show you. We were going to need to see her regardless. I think I know what we need to do next," said Ben.

Before I could ask a question, Adam stood straight up. "You cannot. It's too risky. You know she'll want to get her revenge. How can you trust what she'll say?"

"All courses of action are risky," said Ben, winking playfully in my direction, though the serious line of his lips suggested otherwise. "She'll tell the truth. That's how it works."

"How what works? Who are you talking about?" I asked, worried.

Ben tried to unsuccessfully push his non-existent glasses back up his nose, which let me know he was nervous.

"We need to find out who the next victim is," said Ben. "It's the only way we can stop this. Get ahead of the memory thief."

"It's not worth it," said Smith, wringing his hands. "We can narrow our list, determine through scientific principles who to concentrate our surveillance on. Better logic than this sorcery. Especially with
her
."

"My humblest apologies, my old friend," said Ben, biting his lower lip. "I'm taking Katerina and I'm going to see her."

"Going to see who?" I asked, exasperated.

Ben's brow was hunched with concern, his shoulders rigid beneath some unseen force. It was as if Ben were turning his body to steel in preparation for what was to come.

When he spoke, I heard the finality in his tone. "We're going to see Chloris."

Chapter Eight

When we got into his steam carriage later that day, I expected Ben to point the vehicle in the direction of the countryside. I thought we'd be going deep into the Pennsylvanian wilds, maybe even switch to a steamboat and troll up the river, until we found ourselves at an encampment of witches.

I voiced my surprise when I realized we were headed east, towards the Delaware River. "Where lives this Chloris? And what is she?"

"Don't let the myths of your youth confuse your thinking. These creatures want comfort and companionship as much as we do," he explained.

"Creatures? What do you mean? You've known one of these things and said nothing? How do you know it's not the one behind these incidents?" I asked.

His lips tentatively held the semblance of a smile, the memory of some event nearly turning it to a grimace. "The gauntlet led me to Chloris. She was in a bad way and I helped her. For a while, we had an arrangement." He flattened his lips. "And now we don't."

"If she's one of them, why not ask her who sent the memory thief?" I asked, shading my eyes from the angled sunlight streaming through my side of the carriage.

"It doesn't work like that," he said. "She only knows this world. I can only guess that one of her forbearers came from Otherland. Escape? Exile? For profit or mischief? I cannot say. She barely knew her mother, who died when she was young."

"Then how can she help us?" I asked, both curious and worried, because Ben appeared uneasy, constantly shifting in his seat as he steered the steam carriage through the Philadelphian streets.

Ben mulled his answer over, chewing on his thoughts. He still hadn't answered when we arrived at Ram Cat Alley. My gaze went immediately to the window of the spymaster's apartment that overlooked the street. I wished it was night, so my entrance might be hidden. It would be in a few hours.

We stopped outside of the Magdelen House. The big front window was boarded up where I'd shot it out.

Ben turned to me, his hands still gripping the wheel. "Chloris finds things. Answers, people, whatever you want. She's like a magnet, and whatever you want is the iron."

"Like a magnet, can it not attract over long distances?" I asked, sensing the reason he chose this analogy.

"Yes," he said. "And Otherland is a long way off. If the desired answer or thing was powerful enough, she might be able to pick it up, but otherwise, it is not within her capability."

I nodded, and thinking we were done, I reached for the door handle. Ben put a warm hand on my arm.

"This danger cannot be underestimated," he said.

"You and her were once friends?" I asked.

His cheek twitched. "I wouldn't exactly use that term, but circumstances have changed. We must be on our guard." He glanced at the red velvet curtains around the door of the Magdelen House.

"These are the rules which we must abide by at all times. The first is to never give her anything except a gift that you brought ahead of time. Nothing that she's asked for—no matter how insignificant. Second, the gift cannot have any meaning for you or anyone you know. The more impartial you are to the object, the better," he said.

Ben's eyes were the grey of stones on a windswept frozen plain. "Lastly, and this is the most important and hardest to achieve, for in her is a natural power that is hard to resist. Do not look at her. Under no circumstances, no matter what you hear, what she says, even if you think you're in danger. Do not look at her."

"Is she a medusa that will turn me to stone?" I asked.

"No," he said. "Far worse. You must trust my word in this."

We left the steam carriage and it took my every effort not to glance towards the spymaster's window. I doubted that he would know to look out, unless he made a habit of it, and even if he did, my face would stay hidden if I did not look.

The muted laughter that hummed against the door exploded upon us as we entered the bawdy house. Well-dressed men in tailcoats and wigs sat at tables across from scandalously clad women leaning strategically to showcase their ample flesh as they sipped from porcelain teacups.

Ben raised an eyebrow in my direction. "Not your first time?"

"I'm not an innocent flower," I said, giving him the proper amount of scowl. "Though I've never been in this one."

The silvery-haired madam came sweeping down the wide, carpeted stairs. Her attire contrasted with the clothing of her girls. Buttons climbed up the front of her dress, right to her neck on the stiff fabric. One could almost imagine a well-worn riding crop in her hand. When her gaze fell upon Ben, she flinched, but kept going as if nothing was wrong.

"
Temple
," she said, spearing him with her gaze. This woman knew his real identity, that much was clear. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Her lips twisted the last word into an insult.

"Madam Maria, the place has changed. Your finances seem to have improved. As has your clientele." Ben nodded towards a man in a top hat who might have been a Senator.

"The Magdelen House is quite self-sufficient now," said Madam Maria with her chin tilted upward.

Ben spoke in a low tone. "Be careful, Madam. She brings with her terrible danger."

Maria's lips soured. "Danger only to fools that try to use her. So your warning is unnecessary. Or did you come to visit to proffer this obvious advice?"

"I came to see her," said Ben softly.

A laugh exited Maria's lips that could have split a hunk of wood. It brought glances from the patrons of the establishment, but not her girls.

"You think she would see you after what you've done?"

"I saved her," said Ben.

Madam Maria was about to speak when a young boy, no older than ten, came running up and whispered in her ear. The tendons on the madam's neck tightened as she listened.

She stood tall and stretched her chin upward, looking down upon Ben. "It seems she was expecting you. The lady will see you now," she said, her voice crystalline with frost.

The boy ran up the stairs, motioning for us to follow though it appeared Ben knew the way quite well. Ben pulled me along. The madam's gaze flickered across me as if she'd only just noticed I was standing there. Whatever history they shared, it was a contentious one, that much was clear.

When the boy left us outside the door, Ben turned to me, his face gravely serious. "Remember what I told you and say nothing while we're inside."

Before he put his hand on the door, he pulled an object from an inside pocket and cradled it in his hand against his side. We stepped through the door.

The cavernous room extended into the shadows. My surprise at the vast space was only outmatched by the volume of water in the stone lined pool at the center of the room. The warm, wet air reminded me of time spent in verdant jungles, the richness of the foliage overwhelming and clogging my nose until breathing became difficult.

The water wrinkled with movement. Something moved through the water towards us.

"Greetings, Chloris," said Ben, staring at the floor near his boots. "It has been far too long, my friend."

A woman's voice, musical and soft, filled the room. I kept my gaze on my hands clasped at my waist.

"Benjamin, once again you prove yourself by coming only when you need something. If we'd truly been friends, you would have visited before now," said Chloris.

I sensed the woman in the water, right at the edge of my vision. It was tempting to look, just a glance, to get an idea of what she looked like.

"I can only give you my heartfelt apology at my absence. Things have become more dangerous, which has been keeping me busy," said Ben.

"Busy," she said, laughing, the trill of her voice wrapping vines around my mind, pulling at my neck to lift up so I could see. "Busy swiping at shadows. Busy spinning in circles. The wise Benjamin Franklin is as blind as the stones beneath your feet."

"Yet a stone path can lead a man to his destination," said Ben. "I won't disagree. I have been blind. Do you have news for me? Have you learned something about your old home in my absence? The world moves on strange streets these days."

"Little things. Big things," said Chloris.

"Can you enlighten an old friend?" asked Ben, hopeful.

"Nothing specific, but I can feel things moving in the distance, like mountains grinding inexorably in this direction. Answers appear in my mind though I have not asked a question," said Chloris.

"Then it's as we thought," said Ben. "There is some plot against us."