The Timeseer's Gambit (The Faraday Files Book 2) (58 page)

There was no room for guilt. Chris shelved it. Maybe what had happened with Fernand had been his fault. And maybe it was just one of those things nobody could have prevented. Right now, he couldn’t let himself take responsibility.

No grief, either. That would only drive her deeper. So Chris made himself… accept. Fernand was gone. Fernand had taken his own life. It had happened. And Chris was making it through, day by day. The world was going on without him.

Instead, he focused on something else.

He thought of Rosemary. He thought of how much he loved her, how he’d do anything to protect her. How many sacrifices he’d made to ensure that she survived. Family. Love of family. And he remembered what Doctor Cartwright had taught him―sharpening the feelings into a knife and just gently… gently slicing through the knot of what was already there.

“You don’t want to do this,” he said again.

Elisa’s eyes slipped up to the ceiling. Up on the second floor, her holy family waited. Were they terrified? Were they fleeing the growing fire? Or did they even know anything was happening, yet? In any case, if Elisa released the undine, they’d all die with her. With them both.

“Christopher!” Olivia’s voice cut through the stillness, and he sensed movement behind him.

“Miss Kingsley, please!” Miss Banks’s voice joined in.

Chris didn’t let himself falter. He focused on Sister Elisabeth. He made himself care, and then he made her care in turn. He regretted the damage to this beautiful church, and then so did she. He worried for the holy family and so did she. And finally, he forced himself to feel disgust for all the priests she’d killed. Even Georgie. Six years, and he’d never heard a word from her.

Sister Elisabeth withdrew the disruptor. “I loved him,” she whimpered.

“You deserved better,” Chris said.

The disruptor clattered to the tile floor.

Immediately, Miss Banks rushed forward, dropping to the ground to gather it into her hands. Sister Elisabeth slumped to the ground, shoulders heaving.

Chris fell to one side. His hold over his emotions fell apart. His mind, his heart, it all scattered and then came back together, a mass of guilt and regret and pain, and he slumped to one side. Olivia caught him. “What the hell did you
do
?” she demanded. She turned to look at Miss Banks. Miss Banks was speaking to Sister Elisa. Sister Elisa was sobbing, howling. There was darkness at the edge of Chris’s vision.

“Mister Buckley,” Olivia said firmly. “Do
not
pass out right now!”

He hated to disappoint her.

he world flew by in blurry flashes. Chris blinked and Olivia was shaking him. “What is
wrong
with you?” she asked. “What’s going on? What did you do?”

He tried to answer her, but his mouth wouldn’t form words. His entire brain seemed to be hibernating. “I…” he said, and time lapsed.

He gasped, cold water on his face, and he was dragging his feet along, Olivia supporting him as they limped out into the pouring rain. He scanned the area.

Two unicorns hooked to a carriage shook their manes miserably as Maris gripped their bridles and shushed them. Miss Banks stood before her. Sister Elisa was crumpled on the ground, shaking in grief.

“I need to make an
arrest
,” Maris said firmly. Her tight copper curls were plastered to her face. Thunder rocked the very world. “She’s a criminal! She’s killed―”

“Yes, but no one can know, Maris,
please.
” Miss Banks reached up to cup Maris’s cheek. Chris felt a stabbing in his heart and a twisting in his stomach. “Please,” Miss Banks repeated. “For me. I never ask a thing from you, love, but I need this. I need you.”

Maris’s face softened. Olivia let go of Chris to stride forward and he slumped onto the ground. “Now, see here!” Olivia snapped, her sparkling skirts slapping wetly against her legs, and Chris was fading again.

He was soaking wet and Olivia was helping him into a carriage. His legs were moving without him. Olivia’s voice was sharp and cutting. “You have some nerve, Grandmother.”

Chris blinked rain from his eyes. The wizened form of Grandmother Eugenia stood drenched in the rain, clutching her shawl around her shoulders against the cold, driving water. “You
can’t
arrest the girl,” the Crone was saying, her voice every bit as sharp as Olivia’s. “This is Church business. It has nothing to do with―”

“I really have to wonder: how do you sleep at night?” Olivia interrupted, pushing Chris up into the carriage with a heave and a gasp. She brushed her hands and turned back to the Crone. “How do you let yourself go on, knowing what you let happen?”

Grandmother Eugenia’s lip curled back. “Now see here, young thing, I wasn’t a part of any of this.”

“You wanted to be queen, Eugenia. And you succeeded. You turned the Church into your kingdom, and perhaps you did it a world of good. It’s not my place to say. But a queen is responsible for everything that happens in her demesne. You knew who was killing. And you could have ended it at any time.”

Grandmother Eugenia’s chin came up. Chris tried to raise a hand to brush his sodding hair out of his eyes, but couldn’t seem to lift his arm.

“What Elisa did was wrong. But she did it for the right reasons, and with good results. Sometimes,” the Crone said, and her voice was flinty, “sick branches must be pruned to make way for healthy fruit to grow.”

“Well,” Olivia said. “I’ll be sure to say that to Missus Theresa Edison. That her daughter was just a sick branch. I may not be able to tell her what happened to her daughter―you may very well have your
wish
, Crone, with no arrests made―but I will certainly tell her who I
believe
was responsible.”

Georgie. Chris tried to say something.
I thought you hated Missus Edison
. Or perhaps,
Do you think she’ll even care about her failed daughter?
But the world wavered again and this time, it didn’t come back.

“
Mister Buckley
.”

And Christopher jerked awake.

His head felt as if he’d been hit by a train. His arm ached with the peculiar biting anger of a burn. He felt as if someone had shoved a hundred cotton balls into his brain. His eyes flew open.

Olivia sat across from him in a carriage. Rain pounded on the roof. Thunder rumbled. “Hello,” she said. “Are you alive for real, this time?”

“Ah… hello,” Chris replied. Had it all been a dream? Had they fallen asleep in traffic outside the courthouse? Elementals wild in Heart Church, Sister Elisabeth sobbing, Miss Banks and Maris, Grandmother Eugenia standing in the rain…

No. No, it had been real. His shoulder was killing him. Then…

“What happened?”

Olivia pursed her lips. “I’m honestly not entirely sure,” she said slowly. “We have the disruptor. I believe that Sister Elisabeth Kingsley would plead guilty in court. Whatever magic you worked on her, it’s nothing short of miraculous. And despite that, Emilia worked some magic of her own. Maris showed up without a single officer in her retinue, she and Em had a little heart to heart, and despite all my protests Maris told me to not ask questions before absconding with our murderous Maiden in the back of her conveyance, nicely chained. Is she arrested, or not? Gods only know.”

Chris forced himself to sit up straight. Dizziness passed through him in a wave. He remembered some of it. Very little. “Miss Banks doesn’t want anyone to know about the disruptor,” he said quietly.

Olivia’s lips became even thinner. “Indeed,” she agreed. “You’re most assuredly correct. But that leaves me in something of a situation, doesn’t it? What am I supposed to do?”

Rain still pounded on the roof of the carriage. Chris looked from side to side, but the curtains were all closed against the rain. Despite that, the temperature was actually livable. The heat had finally broken. “Where are we, then?” he asked, brushing back his hair. “The next stage of your plan?”

“…no,” Olivia said, mouth twisting into a grimace. “No, I’m afraid that my plan is at a complete standstill. Until Maris deigns to inform me what’s going on with this, I’m entirely at a loss.” She gave him a pointed look. “You had your little nap at the appropriate time. Maris screamed at you for a bit, but you were completely unresponsive. She is quite
furious
with you.”

Chris glanced away. “I’m sure she is.” If she or Officer Burke opened their mouths, he may soon have all of law enforcement after him.

“But what I really want to talk about,” Olivia said. “Is how you somehow, with barely a word, convinced that woman to not fry us all, and then went into a stupor before completely blacking out. That is
very
interesting to me.”

She eyed him carefully. His heart skipped a beat. He had to make a decision, and he had to make it now. He trusted Olivia. He genuinely did. But right now… there was still so much he didn’t know, and…

He took a deep breath. He flicked his eyes back to Olivia and shrugged half-heartedly. “I’m good with people,” he said. “That’s why you trusted me to talk to her, isn’t it? And then, I suppose I was overstimulated, and…”

Olivia folded her arms. She stared at him. He stared back. He wasn’t lying, not exactly. He was just…
better
with people than he’d ever imagined. He actually cracked a smile to himself. Was that why people seemed to like him? Because he was constantly wishing that everyone
would
? Oh, how rich. How perfectly…

“Fine,” she said. “Don’t tell me.” And against all logic, she sounded… hurt.

Before he could doubt his choice, she flipped aside the curtain and Chris peered out. Dusk had fallen. They were in a dingy neighborhood, and toughs lounged outside the entrance to a dark alleyway. It looked strangely familiar…

Ah.

Chris focused his eyes on a nearby tenement. “It hardly seems like you to enmesh yourself in my personal life,” he murmured.

“It could be hours or days until Maris lets us know what’s going on with Miss Kingsley,” Olivia said. “Until that time, you are entirely useless, because
I
am entirely useless. We can’t close this case. We can’t open a new one until we do. So. I thought it best that you took a moment to address how you’ve gutted Tarland’s secret weapon.”