The Golden Spider (The Elemental Web Chronicles Book 1) (6 page)

It was indeed. Her approach to nerve repair so closely paralleled his own research it had been unsettling to learn of another mind that traveled the same path. But his work was the property of the Crown, and protocol dictated he offer her no help. “Those of us who work for the Queen are not permitted open exchange of ideas with…‌”

Lady Amanda’s eyes narrowed. “With a woman.”

“Not at all.” Lady Huntley spoke up, saving him from swallowing his foot. “How else do you explain my presence? Communication with anyone outside of Lister Laboratories is not permitted unless sanctioned by Queen Victoria herself. Our research ensures the safety of our shores and our citizens. At the time of your missive, you were not even an applicant to medical school.
Any
medical school.”

In truth, any other person would have been immediately recruited. But her work had been dismissed, not because she was female, but because she was
ton
. As certain as the turning of the tides of the Thames, the daughter of a duke would marry and abandon any academic pursuits, no matter the raw talent she possessed. The Crown refused to invest time or funds educating such women.

That Lady Amanda matriculated at Lister University at all was…‌ extraordinary.

“If not for your current status as student and the strings the Duke of Avesbury tugged on your behalf, you would not be here,” Lady Huntley said bluntly.

Lady Amanda blinked, her expression incredulous.

Lady Huntley opened the supply cabinet doors and withdrew a simple linen apron. “Please examine the interior of the eye socket. You may recognize the work.”

After a brief hesitation, Lady Amanda nodded, taking the apron, tying it about her neck and waist. “I’ll do what I can.” Pushing her sleeves above her elbows, she collected several tools and donned a pair of magnifying goggles before approaching the body. Delicately, she probed the empty sockets. Then she bent, peering closely. “This man was found last night?”

“Hours before my arrival on your doorstep,” Thornton said.

“I see now the reason for your visit. The weave of the gold fibers is exactly what my neurachnid is programmed to accomplish. Except my spider is designed to work with
peripheral
nerves, not
cranial
nerves. There are significant differences between the two in terms of how they originate from the central nervous system. The nerve involved here is the oculomotor nerve, the third cranial nerve. It controls a key muscle for eye movement. It appears the murderer severed the oculomotor nerve in both eyes before attempting to reconnect it to…‌” Lady Amanda straightened, pushing the goggles onto her forehead with a bare forearm. A few dark locks escaped their pins to brush against the side of her face. Concerned eyes met his across the body, and she tipped her head in question. “To what?”

Behind her, Lady Huntley shook her head. Lady Amanda wasn’t cleared for that information.

“That does seem to be the key question here,” he said. “We have our suspicions, but would like to hear yours.”

“Well,” she began. “It certainly isn’t punishment for what the gypsy has seen, as the newspapers speculate. Since someone went through the trouble of stealing my neurachnid, there must be a defined goal.”

“Go on,” he urged.

“Given the third cranial nerve originates in the mesencephalon, the midbrain, could this be an attempt to access its functions? Vision, hearing, temperature regulation?” Her cheeks pinkened but she did not glance away. If anything, her eyes darkened. “Arousal?”

Had her mind slid away from the cadaver? To him?

Yes, it appeared the attraction was mutual. Contrary to Black’s hypothesis, neither the accident nor his former fiancée, Lady Anne, had castrated him. He’d simply needed time. How inconvenient that a student should reawaken such an overwhelming sense of need.

A problem that would have to be handled delicately given she was the daughter of the Duke of Avesbury.

“An impressive analysis,” he said, offering her a rare compliment in his most professorial voice, hoping to dampen her interest, but her flush only deepened.

He was in trouble.

There was no denying her keen mind was part of her attraction. Students in their first year rarely knew anything about cranial nerves. It seemed Lady Amanda had made a considerable effort to self-educate before enrolling at Lister University. If he were a betting man, and he wasn’t, he’d guess medical school to be a mere formality. The poor woman must be terminally bored in lectures.

But fortunately for him, in this case, she was far off the mark. “But no one is certain, Lady Amanda,” he said. Practice made the lie fall easily from his lips.

Without meeting his gaze, she began setting aside the steel tools. “How did he die? These injuries are awful, but given the care taken to cauterize the blood vessels of the eye, not fatal.”

“Violence.” He waved at the sheet. “Go ahead, look.” He’d want to know as well, and it was best she realize the full extent of what they faced.

She lifted it clear of the body. And stared at the gaping hole in the thigh, the massive damage done to the femoral artery. The final‌—‌and fatal‌—‌injury.

“He was found tied to a chair,” Thornton said. “Shot in the leg. He bled out.”

“A horrible way to die.” Only the slightest of tremors shook her voice as she spread the cloth back over the victim and turned to the sink.

He slid the gurney back into the wall. He and Lady Huntley waited silently, giving Lady Amanda a chance to collect herself. Contrary to common belief, scientists were not cold-blooded, emotionless creatures. It took effort and practice to suppress the instinctive reaction to blood, pain and death, to push aside the worry, the fear, and the horror so that one might
do
something to prevent such occurrences. In this particular case, murder, so that they might work to prevent it from happening again.

For a few minutes the only sound in the room was the sound of running water as Lady Amanda scrubbed her hands mercilessly. Finally, she turned around, drying her hands upon a linen towel and removing her apron. “There’s one other feature of my neurachnid I should mention, one I did not divulge in my communications with other scientists.”

“Yes,” he urged.

“The procedure will not work on a fully anesthetized patient. During surgery, the neurachnid must constantly probe and test the nerve remnant to ensure a proper electrical connection is being established. To accomplish this, my spider contains a vial in its abdomen that injects, via a small needle, a mild nerve toxin that quiets, but does not fully numb, the nerve.”

“A nerve agent?” he asked, his ears pricking. “Which one do you use?”

She shook her head. “Not one you are familiar with. My sister, Emily, concocted a novel agent. Unfortunately, the stolen device contained the last of the toxin.”

“Have her make more,” he said.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” She looked pained. “My sister is…‌ traveling.”

“Contact her.” He threw a hand in the air. “Have her send the formula. Our chemists will reproduce it.” Enough dithering. This nerve agent needed to be analyzed. Immediately. It could be the answer to so very many of the issues they faced in his laboratory.

“Thornton.” Lady Huntley’s voice held a note of warning.

“I’ll try,” Lady Amanda said. Her fingers fiddled with one of her buckles as if this request presented an enormous obstacle.

What could possibly be the problem? He wanted to bark that she’d do more than try, but Lady Huntley shot him a pointed look, and so he bit his tongue. His assistant knew all too well why word of a novel nerve agent would spike his interest out of all proportion. He was willing to try anything that might dampen the persistent pain in his leg.

“Then I believe we’re done here.” He moved toward the ascension chamber and jammed his finger on the button.

“Without the neurachnid, the nerve agent is…‌ pointless.” She glanced at his leg.

She’d taken note of his brace the night he appeared at her house. Now she wondered if he had other uses in mind for the nerve agent, personal uses. Of course he did. But he hated that everyone was forever considering the state of his damaged leg. Hated the way they tiptoed around the topic.

He turned to face her. “Yes, it would be nice if somehow your device, your nerve agent could fix my injury, but know that I place the lives of other men, even gypsies, far above my own problem. We must stop this murderer.” He paused. “The stolen spider was unable to accomplish the man’s goal, a goal he will not abandon. At this point, we have no other leads. You will build another neurachnid, one that is better, one that can connect to the cranial nerves, one we will use to lure him out of hiding.”

Her face fell. “Building another will take months.”

“We don’t have months,” he said. “We may only have days before he chooses another victim upon which to experiment.” God forbid the murderer succeed in his efforts before they could locate him.

Lady Amanda’s eyes grew large. “We? I’d…‌ I’d need resources. Assistance.”

“You’ll have them,” Thornton promised, climbing into the ascension chamber, pressing one hand against the doors to hold them open as the women stepped inside. “As the newest member of my laboratory.”

Somehow he’d keep his distance.

Chapter Seven

A
MANDA CLUTCHED HER
leather satchel, her skin pricking with excitement as she stood before the enormous iron door. Mr. Black stood beside her, providing her with detailed instructions as to how she must enter and exit.

Two long days it had taken for this moment to arrive; time they didn’t have. She’d done her best to gather what supplies she could to rebuild her spider, even starting on some of the simpler mechanisms in her laboratory under the watchful eyes of Rufus. She’d befriended a small gypsy boy, promising him unlimited clotted cream and scones in her kitchens if he could find Emily and deliver Amanda’s letter.

“Now, slide your right index finger in that slot.” The sound of Mr. Black’s voice jolted her back to the present.

Amanda lifted her hand hesitantly. “It doesn’t use blood as an identifier?”

Mr. Black said, “No. Only the epidermal ridges of your finger.”

She complied, cringing as a soft, gelatinous substance oozed forth from several small pores in the metal cylinder surrounding her finger. There was a tiny jolt of electricity‌—‌enough to make her inhale sharply‌—‌and it was done.

“Oops.” He smirked, passing her a handkerchief. “And galvanic skin conductance.”

“You nasty man.” She laughed. “You only wanted to see me jump.”

“Caught,” Mr. Black admitted.

She wiped her finger clean and entered the code he’d had her memorize earlier.

The screecher flashed green, and gears the size of dinner plates began to turn. With a click, a hiss and the sound of rushing air, the lock disengaged.

“Shall I set aside my paltry manners and allow you to open it yourself?” Mr. Black asked.

He was suppressing a grin. Laughing silently at her awe. Was her excitement that obvious? She supposed it was. She nodded, reaching for the bold, brass handle. The well-balanced door swung open with her slightest touch. Not a creak or a groan issued forth from its hinges.

The smell of acetic acid and neuroglycerol met her nose as Amanda stepped into the room‌—‌the best-equipped laboratory ever. Yet her eyes were immediately drawn to Thornton himself.

A protective leather apron covered his shirtsleeves. Thick gloves and brass goggles protected his hands and eyes. He stood before a long bench, amid shelves of glassware and tubing, flasks and beakers filled with various liquids. A rack held vials containing an array of powders. His head was bent over the bench as he and another similarly dressed man manipulated an oddly shaped device beneath a high-powered microscope.

She would not gawk at Lord Thornton like a lovesick debutant, no matter that his very presence made her heart beat faster. She pulled her gaze away and examined the rest of the laboratory.

Windowless walls were covered in shelves from floor to ceiling. One wall held a variety of instruments. The usual balances. A tritrometer. A fuge. A large incubator in the corner. But the function of many was a mystery to her.

Two other technicians hurried about, one mixing solutions, and the other bent close over his own work. A scurrying, scratching sound and a distinctive scent drew her forward, and as she stepped about the bend in the L-shaped facility, a wall of wire cages met her eyes.

She estimated fifty-two. Inside each one was a rat.
Rattus norvegicus
. Though with all the wires and tubes and gauges sprouting forth from their heads and bodies, a novice might be forgiven for thinking them an altogether new species. Larger than mice, rats made better medical test subjects, but they were‌—‌thankfully‌—‌harder to find near her chicken coop. Known to hold grudges, they were also known for a tendency to bite. Hard.

Stepping closer, Amanda peered into the nearest cage. The rat lifted its hardware-laden head from its nest and peered back. A twist of fine wire coiled about its left ear. Enhanced hearing?