The Conquering Dark: Crown (22 page)

Breathing heavily, Simon shoved himself to his feet and ran back up to the terrace. Ishwar still worked over Nick's motionless body. The pool of blood around them was wide. Ishwar rocked up and down. He dug two fingers into Nick's mouth and grasped the jaw of the dying man. A rush of aether burst from Ishwar and traveled into Nick.

Nick gagged and tried to sit up. He pushed the strange fingers from his mouth. He glanced around in confusion. Simon gasped out in relief and turned grateful eyes on Ishwar. The old man nodded wearily.

“The Stone …” he urged.

“We're ready to go.” Simon helped Nick to his feet.

The group slowly returned to the entry hall where they approached the new portal swirling above the floor. Then the sound of shattering ice came from outside.

Kate took a heavy breath. “Jesus. He doesn't stop, does he?”

With more pounding steps, Walker soon appeared at the edge of the veranda. His eyes were fierce. Rivulets of blood and slush poured off him. Any damage had been repaired as if it had never been. He stomped across the terrace and kicked one of the columns, smashing the stone pillar into pieces. Huge chunks of stone flew into the entry hall, tumbling past Simon and his group.

The hunter glared at Simon, clutching one remaining javelin. “I see now who is the most powerful. Why didn't I kill you first?”

“Because you're ridiculously stupid.” Simon started toward the metal man. “And we've had just about enough of you. Kate, my sword.”

She tossed the glowing blade, which Simon caught out of the air. Then she dropped her crossbow and drew her sword and pistol. She sprinted toward Walker while Simon and Hogarth ran at him from different directions. The hunter raised the javelin and let it fly at Kate. She ducked to the side and caught the deadly missile with her sword, barely deflecting it away.

Kate raised the gun and fired. The ball penetrated flesh at the hunter's hip and the man grunted. He turned toward her, towering over the woman. He leveled a decapitating blow at her. Kate ducked and plunged the blade up under his massive metal arm. It cut into flesh, but quickly struck steel and turned aside.

With a roar, Walker's arm came down and caught Kate before she could escape. He drew her against his chest in a crushing embrace and laughed. “You're still an insufferable little wretch. All of you Anstruthers think you're nobility, but you're no better than me.”

“God forbid.” Kate gasped for air. She dropped the pistol and scrabbled at the bandolier with thick-gloved fingers.

Hogarth leapt onto Walker's back and wrenched his powerful arm around the hunter's neck. Simon hacked at the hunter's leg with his glowing blue sword, slicing through struts and cables, causing the mechanical man to lurch.

“Damn you! You always did have large dogs around.” Walker twisted violently and Hogarth's legs collided with Simon. The hunter smashed backward into a column, crushing the manservant but unable to dislodge him. He came forward, legs grinding, and drove back again. The column cracked and Hogarth grunted in pain, but kept his tight lock on Walker's neck.

Simon latched onto the metal wrist holding Kate. He could feel her struggling under Walker's grasp. A tattoo flared, and with intense effort, he dragged the steel arm out, giving Kate an inch of space to breathe.

“Too late, Archer!” Walker shrieked. “She's not leaving my embrace alive.”

Kate's hand plunged under Walker's tattered regimental tunic. She quickly drew it back out and smashed her open palm against a small lump under the wool cloth. Glass shattered. Walker hesitated, unsure of what he felt. Then he screamed.

“Hogarth!” Kate shouted. “Get off!”

As the manservant abandoned his grip on the hunter, Simon wrenched the steel arm back and sliced through the wrist with his sword. The clawed hand fell to the temple floor with a heavy clang. Kate pushed free from Walker, and she and Simon ran away from the thrashing hunter as blue fire blossomed from his chest.

Walker stumbled forward, cursing and flailing at his burning metal. The cloth smoldered away. Kate's Greek fire ate into steel and flesh alike, burning faster than the machinery could repair itself. He looked up in agonizing horror and dropped heavily to his knees.

“Nothing clever to say?” Kate glared viciously at him. “I'll give my sister your regards. You may give our regards to Colonel Hibbert in Hell.”

Simon watched Walker's massive frame collapse to the floor. The crackling sound of the eldritch fire accented the melting of failing gears. Walker's scream dissolved into a gurgling silence as the flames licked up at the last bit of remaining flesh. In the midst of the burning morass, he saw a small crystal, glowing green with aether. But then Kate's fire caught it as well and the crystal broke into colorless shards.

Simon walked with Kate, putting a hand against her stiff back. She looked at him with eyes that were cold and distant. Simon's breath locked in his chest. Though he had told the king they weren't assassins for the Crown, their hands were bloodied. And worse, it wasn't his hands alone. The purest of them were now tainted. There were no words of consolation he could offer. He let her alone and returned to the wall where the Stone resided.

The sound of the wind swirling in the smashed foyer could be heard throughout Hartley Hall. It was a breezy evening with a hint of autumn chilling the house. Certainly it was far warmer than the frozen landscape of Nepal where they had left the grateful Ishwar after he refused their kind offer to return with them. Kate sat staring out at the light of the setting sun through the trees. She preferred the Blue Parlor to the library now because some of the landscape in the rear of the house had survived. The vestiges of the old gardens calmed her. She was also warmed by the sound of Imogen's soft breathing. Her sister sat on the sofa next to her with her head on Kate's shoulder. She had drifted off to sleep almost an hour ago. Her little hedgehog curled on her lap, making drowsy snorting sounds. Kate knew she should send Imogen off to bed—tomorrow would be a grueling day—but she couldn't bear to wake her.

Her thoughts strayed to the last blood test she had run on Imogen. She had incorporated elements of the active substance that Penny had discovered in the key. Kate was convinced there had been a transformation in Imogen's inhuman blood; it seemed to have changed color to a deeper red. She knew she was on the right path to grasping the biological mechanism of Imogen's alteration. She was gaining on Dr. White's knowledge of advanced alchemy. Soon, she would catch him and undo his vile work.

Charlotte lay on the floor near the popping coal grate. She hummed happily and drew pictures. Lying beside her was Aethelred, his warm brown eyes watched Charlotte furiously sketching. The girl needed little sleep. Her fire burned hot at all times. Kate watched the small hand grasping a thick pencil; that hand would soon turn huge and violent and deal out death. It was still an incomprehensible thing.

Kate shoved those thoughts from her head. “What are you drawing, dear? Is it a cow?”

Charlotte looked at Kate with indignation. “A cow? No!” She held up the large sheet, tugging it free from under the dog's chin. It was the back of a strip of wallpaper from one of the house's wrecked walls. “It's Mr. Malcolm!”

“Oh?” Kate squinted at the dark shape. “Oh. Yes, of course. I see it clearly. Is that his … 
arm
?”

“It's his gun.” Charlotte raised her pencil toward the window like the barrel of a pistol. “Boom! Boom!”

“Shh, dear.” Kate glanced stiffly at her sister, who hadn't moved. “Imogen is sleeping.”

Charlotte clamped a hand over her mouth, and mumbled, “Sorry.”

Kate smiled and consulted the clock on the mantel. “It's time for your wulfsyl.” She made a mental note to test the latest batch precipitating in the laboratory.

The girl huffed. “Can I wait for few more minutes?” Wulfsyl was usually the sign it was time for bed.

Kate knew it was best to preserve routine, particularly during chaotic times, but again, she wanted to sit in the quiet parlor with her two girls for a while longer. “Very well. Just a few minutes.”

“Thank you. Who should I draw now?”

“
Whom
should I draw now? Why don't you draw yourself?”

Charlotte pursed her lips in doubt. “No. I'm not good at hair.”

“All right. What about Imogen?”

“She doesn't like it.”

Kate tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I drew her once last winter, but she got mad and tore it up.”

“Was it a mean drawing?”

“No!” Charlotte covered her mouth again. “No. It was nice. It looked like her, and she didn't like it.”

Kate felt a sharp pang in her chest at the thought of Imogen confronting a drawing of her mutated appearance. She reached up and laid a gentle hand on her sister's cheek. Imogen stirred restlessly, then settled back against Kate with a sigh.

Charlotte rolled back onto her paper and brandished her pencil. “I'll draw you and Mr. Simon.”

“All right. That sounds nice.”

Charlotte started scribbling. “Miss Kate, are you going to marry Mr. Simon?”

“I don't know, dear.” Kate chuckled as she stroked Imogen's misshapen hand. “Do you think I should?”

“I think you should. He's funny.”

“Yes, he is funny. But he hasn't asked me to marry him.”

“He will.”

“Well, I'll make that decision when he does.”

Charlotte bolted up with sudden alarm. Her face was stricken. “You won't say no, will you?”

“Calm yourself, dear. Are you that worried about it?”

Charlotte's lower lip protruded and began to quiver. “If you say no, he might leave. And then what happens to all of us? Where will Mr. Malcolm live?”

Kate tried to lean forward without disturbing Imogen. “Relax, Charlotte. No one is leaving. All of us will live here at Hartley Hall for as long as we wish. You, me, Mr. Simon, and Mr. Malcolm.”

“And Miss Penny?”

“Yes. Her too.”

“And Imogen!”

“Of course. This is our house. We'll all be together.”

Charlotte let out a great breath and fell back against the wolfhound. “Oh good!”

The door creaked open and Penny appeared. She glanced in but hesitated to enter, as if she was concerned about interrupting a family moment of which she was no part. Kate caught the engineer's eye and motioned her inside. Penny carried the steel-and-crystal heart of the altar from Gaios's island.

“Penny,” Kate said with mild disapproval, “are you still working with that thing? You should take a moment at least to relax.”

“This is relaxing.” Penny waved at Charlotte and pointed at the picture. “Nice one of Malcolm.”

Kate rolled her eyes, and asked, “Were you looking for Simon? I believe he's in the library.”

“No.” Penny seemed a bit awkward and unsure of being with Kate and the girls, which was unusual for the woman who was at ease barging in anywhere. “Well, eventually. I want to tell him about this device.” She stood rooted to the rug.

“Sit and talk with us, if you're not in a hurry.” Kate nodded toward an armchair beside the sofa. “We're just discussing art.”

“And marriage!” Charlotte added gleefully.

“Oh.” Penny hopped into the chair and threw one leg up over the arm. She began to toss the altar heart up and down in one hand. “Those are two topics that are mysteries to me.”

Charlotte looked over at Penny. “Miss Kate is going to marry Mr. Simon.”

“That's nice,” Penny droned calmly, regarding the device as it sparkled in the firelight. Then the words sank in and she froze. “What? When?”

“No, no.” Kate held up her hand and laughed. “We were talking about the possibilities of the future.”

“Oh.” Penny laughed too and nodded knowingly. “Well, a woman could do far worse, Kate. A man who's funny, smart, handsome, and strong.”

“And bullheaded and contrary.”

“He loves you like a hawk loves a clear sky. Have you ever seen him look at you?”

Kate felt herself blush. “I have indeed. Like a duelist over crossed blades sometimes.”

“Exactly. I knew Simon for years in London. Even though he was Mr. Archer to me, he was constantly in my shop. I can see he respects you more than any man. I think he's a little afraid of you.”

“That doesn't sound good.”

“Oh, it's very good. You want a man to be a little afraid, or they take you for granted.” Penny stared again at the device, as if lost in her own thoughts. “Some women live their whole lives without a man looking at them like that.”

Charlotte giggled and started a little singsong, kicking her feet while she drew her picture. “Miss Kate and Mr. Simon.”

Kate was warmed by Penny's matter-of-fact words. They flooded her with memories of the night with Simon, as well as their many conversations and glances and touches. She realized how often he put a gentle hand on her shoulder as he passed, how he simply looked at her when she spoke, nodding and listening with interest to her thoughts.

Charlotte laid her head down on the paper. “I'm going to marry Mr. Malcolm.”

Penny exhaled and shook her head, muttering, “That's just great.”

Kate stared at Penny, and the two women locked eyes. They began to laugh.

Footsteps sounded behind them as Simon, Malcolm, and Nick entered the room. They each carried glasses of whiskey, obviously coming from some sort of boy's chitchat. Malcolm was muttering. “How are we going to keep a tutor? She does read quite well though, but she seems drawn to lurid adventure stories. But she'll need a tutor, and not just for music and art. I want her to learn mathematics and the sciences and geography.”

Simon said, “Well, Malcolm, I suspect we could manage something even without engaging a tutor. I'm rather learned in many areas.”

Malcolm rubbed at his temples. “I don't want Charlotte to know about those areas.”

Charlotte bounded to her feet and rushed the group, eager to show them her art. Simon took the paper from her. “What a lovely sketch of Kate. You captured her arched eyebrow perfectly. And how handsome I look in such a big … hat?”

“That's your hair,” Charlotte told him.

“Of course it is.” He exchanged a bemused look with Kate as he settled on the arm of the sofa next to her. He studied the runes he had inked onto the palm of his left hand. It was brighter and much more complex than the temporary runes he had drawn on the backs of everyone's hands for communication. “Damn, this inscription itches like hell.”

“So,” Nick said, plopping down into an overstuffed chair and propping his feet atop a strange square table covered with a white tablecloth. “You're so powerful now you'll beat Gaios with one hand?”

“Yes.” Simon smiled. “And my other tied behind my back.”

“If we've got him on the run, why do you look worried?” Malcolm groused as he leaned against the wall near the fire.

“Do I? I thought I looked confident and assured.” Simon showed the runes on his palm. “If I've properly deciphered the Bastille containment spell. And properly inscribed the creation phrase on my hand.”

“And if you can get close enough to Gaios to touch the runes to him,” Kate pointed out.

“Well, yes, that too. If so, I should be able to cut him off from the aether.”

“So we expect him to come here?” Penny asked.

“That's my plan. We're choosing the battleground. We've cleared out as many of the tenants from the estate as we could. And he'll be here, sooner or later.”

Nick tapped his whiskey against the strange table and lifted the corner of the tablecloth to reveal the Stone of Scone resting on the floor of the Blue Parlor. “We've got what he wants.”

“Yes indeed. Only I've managed to alter it a bit so it won't be exactly what he hoped.” Simon rose and moved to the sideboard, pouring a measure of whiskey into the glasses gathered there.

Nick asked, “Did you tell your master we had succeeded?”

Simon ignored the jabbing tone. “I wrote to King William that we had recovered the Stone but warned him that the danger had not passed. I instructed them to hold the militia and home guard in preparation for possible attacks on the city. Mrs. North—or Ash—sent back His Majesty's gratitude and to let us know that the king refused to leave the people of London despite the peril of Gaios. However, they are taking the princess Victoria away to safety.”

“Thank God the princess will be safe,” Nick muttered as he raised his glass to be refilled to the rim. “To the millions of poor who cannot flee the city, too bad on you.”

“The millions of poor have us, Nick.” Simon turned to encompass all within the small battered room with the tray in hand, distributing glasses all around, except for Charlotte, who pouted. “We won't fail them.”

Imogen stirred against Kate's side and stretched out her arms. She opened her milky human eye and gave her strange rictus smile up at Kate. “Is it late?”

“Yes,” Kate rubbed her sister's hand. “You should go to bed.”

“Not yet.” Imogen sat up, careful to shift the hedgehog into a better position, and accepted a small dram of whiskey from the tray.

Simon lifted his glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, join me, please.”

Malcolm stepped from the warm fire and took Charlotte's hand. Nick rose from the chair with an inebriated groan. The women followed suit until all their glasses touched in the firelight.

Simon looked each of them in the eye. “There are no people in this world that I love and respect more than all of you. Nick, you trained me in more ways than you know. When I came to London looking for a path, you put me on it and kept me true to it.”

Nick started to interrupt, but Simon knew he was going to qualify it with a guilty admission of his goal of attaining Simon for Ash.

Simon made a silencing sound and gave his friend a confident smile. “Don't. I owe you much. More than I can repay. And Malcolm, you have come into this group in a way that you thought was unnatural for you. You never wanted to be a part of a team of any sort, but you are now the heart of this one. Your honesty steered us when we were lost. Your uncluttered reason has kept us focused. Kate loves you. Penny loves you. The girls love you. Without you, there is no family here.”

Malcolm's cheeks actually colored and Penny grinned, her eyes darting to the ground.

Simon turned to the young engineer. “And to you Penny. You are an absolute genius. You give us that extra edge which enables us to stand toe to toe with madmen and gods alike.” Her face lifted to his with gratitude shining in her smile.

“To Imogen and Charlotte, who bring joy into this house and teach us what is worth fighting for.” He paused a moment, his gaze sweeping over. “And Kate.”

The depth of adoration and tenderness in his eyes brought warmth spreading out from Kate's chest.

“Kate,” he repeated softly. “Your unflagging thirst for knowledge and truth propels us always forward to a place where anything is possible.” His free hand brushed against hers, twining their fingers. He raised his glass, preparing to finish the toast.