A Conspiracy of Alchemists: Book One in the Chronicles of Light and Shadow (11 page)

CHAPTER 17

Many miles away, a soot-blackened train belched steam from its flanks as it wound its way through the valleys that cleaved through the mountains of Carpathia. From beneath the sun-starved cover of pine trees, Shadow creatures watched on in hopeful silence. But the train had no intention of stopping: It was on its way to Constantinople.

The sun-fearers shrank back and bowed their heads in respect as one particular carriage passed. Its finely cut Lalique windows were covered with black sheets of Indian rubber, sealing out all light.

Inside the carriage, Eustace Abercrombie sat in a wingback chair. He moved his face out of the pool of lamplight as a waiter in a white jacket and gloves entered. Careful to not to stare, the waiter placed a little silver tray bearing a telegram before Abercrombie. The waiter bowed and retreated as unobtrusively as he could manage.

Abercrombie opened the telegram, meticulously lifting the sealed edges of the envelope. As he scanned the contents, his face contorted with anger. Uttering a curse, he crumpled the paper and threw it at the wall. It bounced off the wallpaper and hit one of the lampshades, making the crystal teardrops tinkle.

His companion moved silently from the shadows beyond the lamplight. His inky hair was tied with a leather strip at the neck and hung down his back in a simple braid. Pale skin stretched over his aquiline features.

“What news, Eustace?” He spoke with a slight accent. Parisian, if one listened carefully.

“My lord Aleix. You are awake.” Abercrombie took a sip of Arabic tea from a delicate tulip-shaped glass and pulled a face. “Feathers is dead.”

“And the girl?”

“She lives. The Warlock is with her. They are on their way to Venice. They have managed to mobilize one of the professor’s flying machines.” Abercrombie looked at his companion. “They are outrunning us.”

“The Council is in Venice.”

Abercrombie slammed his hand down onto the table, “Damnation! Don’t you think I know that?” His tea-glass toppled over with a little tinkle.

Aleix stepped back and bared his fangs. “There is no need for anger now, Alchemist. Is there?” His stare grew very cold.

Abercrombie glared at him. “I sometimes don’t know why we bother with your kind. I really don’t.”

“You bother because you need us. We are the princes who inherited the night and you are our keepers,” he said, carefully avoiding the word
servant.

“And best you do not you forget who keeps you from turning to dust by the sun, princeling. Don’t you forget.”

Aleix flashed his fangs again. “It is because of our money that your Guild has thrived. So it may be best for
you
not to forget who feeds you, Alchemist.”

Abercrombie picked up his empty glass and set it aside with some irritation. He reached out and pushed the brass service bell.

A man dressed in black hurried into the compartment.

“Mr. Chunk, I regret to inform you that Feathers is dead. The Warlock has killed him. Please make arrangements to have him replaced by someone suitable.”

A look of surprise crossed Mr. Chunk’s broad face but he seemed to know better than to comment. He bowed. “Yes, master.”

“How is the professor?” Abercrombie asked.

“He is fine, master. We checked on him a quarter of an hour ago. Sleeping like a baby. Them draughts you gave him work powerfully well.”

“Good. But I want you to wake him now. See to it that his needs are met. I want him to start working immediately. We have no time to waste.”

Aleix leaned forward. “Do you think that is wise? He may escape.”

“And make sure he remains shackled. At all times,” Abercrombie said through gritted teeth, his eyes not leaving Aleix’s face.

“As you wish, master,” said Mr. Chunk.

“Very well. Dismissed.” Abercrombie waved his hand. “And tell the waiter to bring me another drink. I don’t care what he brings, as long as it is not tea.”

“Yes, master.” Mr. Chunk bowed and left the room.

“I knew it was a bad idea to use the box as bait for the trap,” Abercrombie said as soon as Mr. Chunk was gone.

Aleix shrugged. “Our plan almost worked, you know. If only they hadn’t followed the cab, we would have had ourselves a fresh young Oracle by now.”

“And for our efforts, Feathers is dead,” Abercrombie said.

Aleix leaned over and helped himself to one of the blood-filled chocolate truffles in the box on the table. He bit into it and chewed for a second with his eyes closed. “Feathers was a fool.”

Abercrombie grabbed his wrist. “He was my nephew,” he hissed.

“Let … Go … Of … Me.” Aleix bared his fangs again. They were covered with blood and chocolate.

Abercrombie released the Nightwalker and sat back in his seat. Aleix stood up gracefully and went to stand by the window. He closed his eyes. “Darkness approaches. If you’ll excuse me, it is very late and I need to get some sleep before sunset.” He straightened his smoking jacket and picked up another truffle. “These are very good. I think there is definitely a market for them,” he said as he disappeared into the shadows.

The waiter came in with another glass of tea and set it down on the table.

“Here,” Abercrombie picked up a pencil and started scribbling on the envelope of the telegram. He grabbed the waiter by the lapel, looked into the man’s eyes with his dark stare. “See that this message is dispatched as soon as possible.”

The waiter paled and started shaking. “Yes, sir, we have mobile transmitter on the train.”

It is a matter of life and death,
Abercrombie said into his mind.
And get that tea out of my sight. I said, no more tea!

The waiter bowed and ran from the compartment, tripping over the rug at the door on the way out.

Abercrombie rested his chin on his hands and brooded into the pool of lamplight before him. “Let’s see how you like my next move, Warlock,” he snarled out loud “Your little expedition is about to be blown completely off course.”

CHAPTER 18

The city of Nice came into view shortly before sunset. Elle took in the majestic curve of the
Promenade des Anglais,
which was tinged in shades of pink and lavender in the setting sun.

“See if you can spot a good place to land,” she yelled at Marsh over the din of the ’copter blades.

People out on the promenade were looking up as the copter whizzed over them. Some were holding on to their hats and pointing at the spectacle above.

Elle turned the gyrocopter so she could survey the rooftops. She spotted a lead-gray roof on one of the buildings as they flew over it. It stood out quite starkly in contrast to the red tiles that covered the buildings further into the city, but more importantly, the roof looked new and it was flat. Trelliswork around the edge suggested a roof terrace, now closed up, a signal that summer was at an end.

“Hold on, it’s going to be tight!” She positioned the ’copter over the roof and started easing it down. The gyrocopter set down on the terrace with a slight thud. She opened the steam-release valves and powered down the reactor.

“Now, that’s what I call making an entrance.” Marsh pulled off his goggles. “I’ll see if I can find a way off the roof. We may even have found our lodgings for tonight.” He winked at her. “You hold the fort. This will only take a minute.”

Elle sat back in her seat and listened to the hiss of the steam escaping from the engine. The enormity of what she had achieved today made her tremble. She had flown her father’s machine, but he had missed seeing the moment of fruition of his life’s work. The thought filled her with a sudden sense of sadness. She hoped he was alive and unhurt, wherever he was. Thinking about it made her chest ache.

The view from the roof terrace was magnificent. From where she was sitting, she could see the whole of the escarpment, all the way to the rocky hill that sat to the side of the city. She watched the people on the promenade walk along, taking the air, while lazy seagulls circled through the rose-colored sky. Ladies with parasols and beautiful hats, on the arms of gentlemen in summer suits, walked along the rails and stared out over the sea.

Marsh arrived after a few minutes, with an openmouthed hotel porter in tow. He opened the door and helped Elle out of the cockpit. “We are in luck. It is the end of the season and I have secured lodgings for us.”

“Welcome, madame,” the porter said, while doing his best not to gape at the flying machine.

Marsh opened the storage hatch and pulled out their bags. He handed them to the porter.

Elle pulled the crank handle that started the engine out and unhooked it. “Just in case,” she said to Marsh.

“Good thinking. The hotel has instructions to allow no one onto the roof,” Marsh said with a wry smile.

“Cheat,” Elle mouthed at him as they followed the porter into the hotel. He led them down a few flights of stairs and into one of the corridors until they came to a set of doors. He pulled a key from his pocket and opened the doors for them.

The hotel room was decorated in the prettiest wallpaper of a delicate cornflower blue and gold. Elle breathed in the smell of lavender furniture oil and fresh linen. Outside the French windows was a little balcony fringed by ornate trelliswork.

Marsh gave the porter a coin and he disappeared.

Elle turned to Marsh and raised her eyebrows at him. There was only one bed in the room.

“We are registered as Mr. and Mrs. Mason from London—for the sake of appearances,” he said quickly. “This hotel is quite new, but they still have ladies’ suites.” He pointed at a wallpapered panel. “See, the maid’s room is through there. The bed in there is quite serviceable and I will sleep there in adequate comfort without raising suspicion.”

Elle snorted. “And you think landing on the roof in a flying machine hasn’t attracted enough attention already?”

“The world is full of eccentrics and a hotel such as this one is quite accustomed to catering to the whims of their more colorful clientele. But suspicions aside, I can be here with you in a second, if you need me.” He smiled at her.

Elle felt her heartbeat quicken, but she resisted the urge to respond. She wasn’t going to flirt with him. Not after what had happened earlier.

Marsh, entirely unperturbed by her awkwardness, donned his hat. “Let’s stretch our legs with a walk on the promenade before dinner, shall we? Would you care for some dinner, Mrs. Mason? I know a place that makes a bouillabaisse that is so delicious it will move you to tears.”

Elle felt her stomach rumble at the thought of fresh seafood and she put her hand on his arm. “Thank you, Mr. Mason,” she said, playing along with him. “If you’ll allow me a moment to change into something more suitable before we go.” She pushed him into the maid’s room and shut the door. “You wait in there. I’ll call for you when I am ready.”

CHAPTER 19

That night Elle dreamed of burning men, and huge hands with thick fingers closing around her throat. Gray specters with black eyes searched for her as they passed overhead, spreading an eerie chant around them. Someone was out there. She could feel it. She tried to open her eyes, but darkness folded all around her.

“Who’s there?” she whispered.

“It’s me,” Marsh spoke. She felt his presence next to her.

“What are you doing here?”

“This is a dream.”

“But I am awake. And what are you doing in my bedroom?”

He laughed softly. “You are dreaming that you are awake and you are awake while you are dreaming. It’s complicated. Everything here is a bit complicated.”

She felt them float together in silence. “Where is here?”

“We are in the realm of Shadow,” he said.

“The place mystics talk about? This is where the world of Shadow originates, isn’t it?”

“The very same.”

“I’ve always wondered about other places. Other realities. I always thought they were figments of the mind.” she said.

“This place is as you would imagine it,” he said.

“And why exactly are you here? I can manage to dream my own dreams, you know. I have done so for years. And if you ask me, this dream is rather dull. There doesn’t seem to be anything here. Except those creepy things flying about over in the distance.”

“How wrong you are. Everything is here. Shh. Listen.”

Chanting sifted through the air, leaving luminescent tendrils of sound in the blackness overhead.

“What was that?”

“Alchemists. Those are scry-spells.”

“Scrying? As in the parlor trick performed at séances?” she snorted. “Why can I see those sounds?”

“Everything is different here. We perceive things differently. Now be quiet or they’ll see you.”

Elle felt a shiver of scrutiny wash over her. “What are they doing?” she whispered.

“They’re looking for you. I heard their howling in my dreams too. Which is why I’m here. I thought you might appreciate a little help.”

Elle suddenly felt cold. The dark was turning menacing. She looked up. More silver tendrils unfurled above her. She felt strangely drawn to the patterns and she reached up, to touch the silver lines with her fingers. She felt herself drift away from Marsh.

He grabbed her and dragged her back to him. “Stay close. Time and space work differently here. What looks like a few inches could end up being a universe away.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “But the shapes are so pretty,” she murmured as another wave of luminescence passed over them. This one was purple.

“Pretty, and deadly. Now close your eyes and let it pass over you. Don’t try to fight them. They can see you only if you draw attention to yourself. If you stay still for long enough they will give up and stop searching. You have to trust me. Here they come. Get down!”

The world tilted and moved. Elle felt the gaze of a hundred prying eyes. She covered her face as the howls and cries drained her of all warmth. She felt Marsh tug at her. “This way.”

She felt a slight shift.

“You can open your eyes now.”

She looked about. The scenery had changed. They were drifting on the ice-still water of a pond. The ice was so cold that it was solid and liquid at the same time. It crackled and flickered as they moved over it. Around her everything was frozen and crusted with ice. Black trees clawed at the nothing above them. Their branches were shrouded in lace-fine crystals. She shivered and her teeth started chattering. The only thing alive was Marsh, next to her. Marsh and the shrieks of those searching for her that echoed far in the distance.

“This is what it must feel like to go mad.”

“Some people do go mad from forays into the netherworlds. Some find they can never fully leave, and they never wake up. Some become too afraid to sleep. If the body doesn’t sleep, the mind descends into madness and dies.”

“That’s reassuring. But how did I get here? I definitely don’t remember volunteering for the journey.”

“People like us are drawn here naturally. Often it happens quite spontaneously.”

“People like us?”

She felt him look down at her. “People with gifts.”

“I don’t have any gifts. And I would like to go home now. I don’t like this place. It’s eerie.”

“We are both dreaming, Elle. The only way to find your way back is to take control of things from within you. We go where you take us.”

This is not real. This is not real,
she thought to herself.

They drifted along until the shrieks in the distance died down. The icy pond turned into a stream. The ice melted and trickled down the riverbank and into the stream. Trees and vines in the most extraordinary shades of green, blue and purple burst forth from the sides of the river. Everything was shrouded in golden light and exotic color. Large white orchids wove into being and unfurled their fragrant petals. Bright humming birds fluttered between the blooms. A warm breeze wafted the rich perfume of the flowers over them.

“Oh, look.” A blue butterfly landed on her arm. It flexed its wings and then fluttered off. She felt herself grow warm and she stretched as life returned to her limbs.

Marsh murmured something, but she was too drowsy to hear. She felt his arms tighten around her as the world tilted again and the river disappeared in a burst of luminescent shrieks.

She braced herself and buried her face in Marsh’s shoulder. In contrast with their evanescent surroundings, he felt warm and real. The skin of his neck was deliciously silky. Unable to resist the temptation, she ran the tip of her nose against it, savoring the sandalwood scented closeness of him. “I’m scared,” she said against his throat. “And you shouldn’t be here. I don’t trust you, Mr. Marsh. Not one bit.” She shook her head slowly.

Marsh rested his chin in her hair. “We are safe here. I think they are searching for you in the wrong place. Look.” He pointed off into the distance. The tendrils were squirming around in the black distance beyond. “They are looking for you inside your darkest fears.”

“And where are we right now?”

He chuckled. “You have hidden us inside your deepest desires. And there’s no denying that you are a woman with most ardent desires. Even though you hide it very well under that impervious exterior of yours. You should just let go and allow yourself to be. You’ would be so much happier, you know.”

She leaned back a little to face him. “How dare you poke around my most private thoughts without as much as a care for my honor and virtue? If you are to intrude like this, then you should be made to show me yours. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

It was his turn to look embarrassed. “The inside of my soul is as black as night, Miss Chance. It’s … it’s been many years since I’ve allowed myself to desire anything.” He spoke softly.

“I don’t believe that for one moment,” she said. “We are not progressing one bit further until you show me.”

She felt the balls of his thumbs run across the edge of her jaw, caressing her chin. She could feel her resistance melting … along with all the reasons why she shouldn’t be provoking him.

He smiled a slow smile. “There’s no hiding what I really want in this place,” he said. “I’ve wanted to do this since I laid eyes on you.” With a gentle movement, he lifted her face to his and kissed her.

Oh, blast, he’s right. And I do want him. How annoying.
Those were the last few logical thoughts that fluttered out of her brain as a wave of desire took her.

The touch of his mouth sent a jolt of sensation through her. It was so intense that it struck deep into the marrow of her bones. Around them, the river turned into a copper-colored meadow and golden light washed over them.

She melted into him like flame-softened wax, until they were both no more than an abstract of lips and faces, skin and hands. Bodies touching, intertwined, they drifted weightlessly through the shimmering aether. She felt him trace the outline of her and she arched herself into him in response, aching to be one with him.

Clouds of tiny bright-colored flowers gathered round them. They filled the air with their musky perfume. Light refracted and wrapped around them like rich jeweled cloaks. Inside the pool of light they were all that existed. He moved against her with an urgency that could not be mistaken and she felt herself open up as she surrendered herself to him.

He hesitated. She felt him move away from her slightly, and they parted. The light dimmed to nothing.

“Not like this, not with them watching for us.” His voice was strange, heavy-thick. She reached out for him, her burnt-umber hair draped over her slender-pale limbs. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“If I don’t stop this now, I doubt that I will be able to,” he murmured. His eyes were dark with wanting.

She tried to speak, but he placed his finger gently onto her lips. “Don’t say it. I don’t want you to get hurt. It wouldn’t be right.”

They held one another as they listened for noises in the silence for a while. “It sounds like they’ve gone,” she said.

“I should go too.” She felt herself float away from him in the dark-nothing. Suddenly she was very alone.

“Marsh …” Her whisper echoed in the dark.

“I am here,” he said. “You must go back to your own dreams now. Think about where you came from. Who you are …” His voice echoed in the darkness … and then, only silence.

She drifted for a while, wondering what to do next. The dark-silence seemed very calm around her. She thought about her room and felt herself shift. Her bed appeared below her and she felt herself sink down into her body. The last thing she sensed was the weight of the bed covers before ordinary sleep took her.