The Heartless City (18 page)

Iris’s voice rang out like a bell, and everyone turned to her. Her fear was giving way to the rage she’d felt in the music hall, and just as she had then, she masked the feeling with sheer perfection, glancing down and murmuring, “If you would pardon me, sir.”

“My dear,” the Lord Mayor said. “It is you who must pardon us.” He stepped toward her, his fierce delight and fascination swelling. “We’ve been terribly rude, I fear. Won’t you please tell us your name?”

“My name is Iris Faye.”

“And you’re an American it seems.”

“Yes, sir.”

She went on to tell him the same story she’d told Cam and Elliot, how her late mother had come to London to work with English suffragettes, though this time she left out the crack about absolute monarchies. The Lord Mayor listened with interest, but Elliot’s father seemed not to hear her. Instead, he stared at her face with a heavily furrowed brow, feeling a peculiar blend of confusion and recognition.

“Your eyes,” the Lord Mayor said when she finished. “They’re quite remarkable. And I think I’ve seen those dresses on the girls at
La Maison Des Fleurs.
” He turned to Cam with an eyebrow raised. “Is this the waitress I heard you and Charlie Hands discussing the other night?”

Elliot’s blood burned as he remembered Charlie’s words, but Cam’s ran cold with fear, which he hid with a crooked smile. “Yes. She waited on us when we were there a few nights ago.”

“What a coincidence,” the Lord Mayor replied, turning back to Iris, whose rage had only increased at the mention of Charlie’s name. “So you say you weren’t dead, my dear,” he began, looking her over again, and Elliot sank his fingernails into his palms inside his pockets. The Lord Mayor’s sense of power had inflated with the news that she was the “chit” Charlie wanted to “take down a peg,” and now he was intrigued by more than her possible resurrection.

“My friend, Dr. Morrissey, is the most renowned and accomplished physician in London,” the Lord Mayor continued. “And he swears on his life that you were dead when he saw you this morning. And yet, here you sit―alive and claiming you always have been. So, if you please, explain to me why Dr. Morrissey’s wrong.”

Iris looked into his eyes, her demeanor smooth and cool, but Elliot felt the storm of emotion building beneath her skin. It was not only made up of rage and terror, but also exhilaration, as if she’d been handed a gift she both dreaded and desired. After a long pause, something locked into place inside her, and although the fear remained, a quiet confidence took over. She straightened her shoulders and let out a breath.

“Dr. Morrissey believed I was dead because I had
almost
no pulse. I’d slowed my heart and breathing as far as I could without actually dying. My heart was still beating, just too slowly for anyone to detect.”

The Lord Mayor’s mirth dissolved. “What do you mean you
slowed your heart
?” he asked, stepping toward her.

“Exactly what I said. I slowed it the way other people close their fists or open their hands. It’s something I’ve been able to do ever since I can remember. If I tell my body to do something, it does it. I have complete control.”

Silence swelled in the room, and Elliot’s father shook his head. “I don’t understand. Your body does whatever you
tell
it to do?”

“Yes. Well, anything the body is capable of. I couldn’t tell it to fly, for instance. The body doesn’t do that. But hearts speed up and slow down, flesh heals, temperatures rise and fall, so I can make my body do all those things, and do them faster.”

“You’re saying you can change your heart rate and temperature at will?”

“More than that. I can give myself bursts of adrenalin to make myself faster or stronger. I can hold my breath under water longer than most people if I have to. I can stop myself from feeling pain by deadening my nerves, and even though I still need to eat, drink, and sleep to stay alive, I don’t have to feel hungry, thirsty, or tired if I don’t want to. I can make my body fight infection before a virus takes hold, and I can heal a flesh wound within a matter of seconds.”

For a moment, the Lord Mayor simply stared at her, his eyes on fire. Then, abruptly, he turned around and charged toward the desk, leaving Cam and Andrew just enough time to leap out of the way. He rifled through a drawer, closed it, and then returned to Iris, holding out a silver letter opener. “Show me.”

Iris stood, removed the blanket, and took the opener from him. Then, without hesitation, she dragged the blade across her palm, not even flinching as blood erupted along her smooth, white skin. Once she was done, she dropped the hand with the blade and held out the other, and Elliot’s mouth grew dry as he watched the wound instantly close, leaving her palm a little bloodstained but whole and good as new.

He thought of the night in the aviary, how he’d seen a streak of blood on her hand but no injury beneath it. That night she’d also claimed adrenalin helped her to lift the marble wing, and when he’d mentioned how cold it was, she’d shivered as if on cue. Now he understood how she could feel shame without sweating or blushing, how rage could roar inside her while her pulse stayed slow and even. He shook his head, and in spite of the frightful and dire situation, an astonished smile crept across his face.

She
was
like a
fée
.

The room was silent, except for a murmured “Jesus Christ” from Cam, but then Andrew―who never spoke out of turn―said, “It’s like she’s a Hyde.”

Perhaps they’d all been thinking it―even Elliot, in the back of his mind―but his father soon reminded them of why that couldn’t be.

“Hydes only heal in their monstrous state, not in their human form,” he said. “Besides, the drug is fatal to women. She couldn’t be a Hyde.”

“You’re right; I’m not,” Iris said, sitting back down and setting the blade on a stand beside her chair. “I’ve been able to do this my whole life, even back in Kansas.”

The Lord Mayor inclined his head and stared down into her face, no longer bothering to hide his fascination. “What of the rest of your family? Could they do these things as well?”

“No. My mother and my grandparents were perfectly ordinary.”

“What of your father?”

“I don’t know. I never knew who he was.”

She said the words without shame, just as she had at the music hall, which seemed to shock the Lord Mayor as much as anything else.

“You say you slowed your heart rate and breathing on purpose the other night,” Elliot’s father said. “Why would you do such a thing?”

Iris let out a breath and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Adrenalin can make me fast and strong enough to outrun or fight off the average man, but without a gun, I don’t stand a chance against a Hyde. I may be able to heal, but I can’t regrow a heart, so the only way to protect myself from them is to play dead. They hunt by sensing heartbeats―that’s why they don’t attack the dead―so if I slow mine down enough, they miss it and pass me by. Last night, however, I must have gone too far and lost consciousness.”

“How did you manage to finally regain it?” Elliot’s father asked.

Iris glanced at Elliot, and he knew she hadn’t meant to, because her throat began to close and she quickly looked back at her lap. “I don’t know. I’ve never had that happen to me before. But if I hadn’t, or if your people hadn’t found me first…”

A genuine shudder ran through her, and Elliot shook as well, imagining her burned or buried alive, or something worse.

“I think it’s safe to say what happened was fortunate for all of us,” the Lord Mayor said, squatting down before her so the two of them were eye to eye and speaking gently, as if she were a lost and frightened child. “You are a unique and fascinating young woman, Miss Faye, and I’d like for you to stay with us and let Dr. Morrissey study you. Surely, there is much we can learn from you and your special gifts.”

It wasn’t a request, because the Lord Mayor didn’t make them, and once again, Iris was filled with both fear and elation. The Lord Mayor smiled, and everything inside her recoiled from him, but she blinked and parted her lips as if flattered.

“I’d be honored, sir.”

“Excellent,” he said, straightening up. “I’ll send word to
La Maison Des Fleurs
that Iris Faye will not be returning to work for quite some time. While you’re here, everything you need will be taken care of. We’ll even have a formal dinner tonight to introduce you. I’m sure one of the ladies will have a suitable dress you can wear, at least until we’re able to have some new ones made for you.”

“But Harlan,” Elliot’s father interjected. “How will we explain… I mean, surely you don’t want the others to know―”

“I’ve already thought of that, Frank. We’ll tell everyone that Iris is Andrew’s long-lost American cousin. She and her family came here before the quarantine, but her parents have died, and since Andrew’s mother can’t care for her, we’ve taken her under our wing. Everyone knows Lorraine’s been out of her mind since Robert’s death.”

Shame and even a rare burst of anger erupted in Andrew’s chest, but only Cam and Elliot glanced in his direction.

“I’ll have the servants prepare a room,” the Lord Mayor said to Iris. “I hope I can trust you won’t attempt to run from us again.”

Iris blushed, but her blood was cold as ice. “Of course not, sir. I only ran this morning because I was frightened and in a strange place. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t jump at the chance to live in a palace?”

Everything was cream in the room the Lord Mayor gave to Iris. After the footman who’d led her there left and closed the door behind him, she stood in awe, surveying the chamber’s gold and ivory draping. The bed in the center was tall, sturdy, and carved from smooth, pale oak, and when she ran her fingers over the bedspread, she found it was silk. She hadn’t been in the presence of such nice things since Lady Cullum’s death, and for a moment, she felt like a carefree little girl again.

It was only a moment, however, because she wasn’t at Lady Cullum’s. She was at Buckingham Palace, the place her mother had absolutely forbidden her to go, having just told the Lord Mayor of London the secret she’d promised her never to tell.

But it’s all right
, she told herself.
Just as you said, no one here knows who you really are. They never knew Virginia had a daughter; your mother is safe.

She closed her eyes and fought the wave of guilt that rose in her stomach. Her mother might be safe, but she was certainly wild with panic. Knowing what Iris had done would make her livid, but knowing nothing was worse. Somehow, she had to find a way to let her know what happened.

Exhausted, and still not entirely sure she hadn’t lost her mind, Iris sat down on the bed, but then she felt something poking at her thigh through the skirt of her dress. Realization dawned as she reached into her pocket and drew out
An
Anthology of Birds
. With reverence, she started to place the book on a nearby nightstand, but then a knock at the door caused her to jump and nearly drop it. She slowed her breathing, sat the book down, and went to answer the door, but when she pulled it open, her heart leapt into her throat again.

Elliot stood before her, filled with so much emotion it seemed to be coming off him in waves, his wide green eyes so urgent and intense it made her breath hitch. She pushed back the blood that had rushed to her cheeks, but then she remembered that there was no point, which was simultaneously thrilling, liberating, and terrifying.

“I know it’s improper,” he said. “But may I come in?”

“Yes, of course.”

He looked both ways down the hallway and then quickly stepped inside, and Iris closed the door and turned to face him. “I’m so glad you’re here. I wanted to thank you earlier but―”

“Thank me?” He spun around. “For what? For bringing you into the lion’s den? For making you a captive?”

Iris blinked. “Elliot, if anyone else had found me lying unconscious in that alley―”

“Iris, I came here to tell you I can still help you get out. The Lord Mayor doesn’t care about anyone but himself. He’s perfectly willing to hurt other people to get the things he wants. And he wants something from you, badly, though I’m not sure what.”

“I know,” she said. “Trust me, I… I know what kind of man he is. But it’s my choice to stay here―that’s why I chose to tell him the truth. I knew he would be intrigued, that he would want to keep me close.” She exhaled and took a step toward him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth myself before today, especially after you were honest with me about your gift.”

He shook his head and laughed, though she wasn’t exactly sure why. “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” he said. “I told you before, your feelings are yours to do with as you wish.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as if to somehow contain himself. “So you really want to stay here? Even though it might not be safe?”

“Yes. I really do.”

“Why?”

She took a breath and clenched her jaw. “A lot of reasons.”

Elliot bit his lip and lowered his gaze to the ivory carpet, and she couldn’t help but ask, “Do you… not
want
me here?”

He laughed again, removed his hands from his pockets, and shoved them back through his hair. “I want you safe, and I want you free―not some kind of prisoner for the Lord Mayor to dissect. But, of course, the thought of always having you near…” He paused and met her gaze, and the naked longing inside his eyes stole the dwindling breath from her lungs. “Of course I want that.”