A Study in Ashes (27 page)

Mrs. Phillips tugged at her grip, but Evelina just held her more tightly. “No, don’t let go.”

Tobias’s hand was growing clammy, his breath quick. “Im?”

One of the other women was starting to make small, frightened sounds.

“Evelina,” said Wood, the voice his, but not his. There was something too soft about it. “Evelina, I need your help. Something has gone very wrong.”

An eerie sensation filled the room, almost as if they were inside a bubble about to pop. The scent of iris stole past—Imogen’s scent—and for a moment, Evelina believed.

“That has to be her,” muttered Tobias. “She always turned to you.”

That much was true. Evelina had been her friend’s protector, nurse, and confidante. When Imogen had nearly died, it had been Evelina who had literally held body and soul together that long and fearful night. “Imogen? Where are you?”

The iris scent grew stronger. “I’m in—”

The words cut off abruptly, and the sweet perfume turned to the gagging stink of decay.

All at once, it didn’t
feel
like her friend, and Evelina stiffened. “Whoever you are, I don’t believe you.”

Wood gave a short, sharp laugh. “Oh, but it’s true. I’m very, very lost in ways you can’t begin to imagine.”

And then the air began to congeal, stifling with the sweetish stench of rot. One moment, Evelina could breathe normally. The next, it was like trying to inhale jelly. The effect on the company was immediate. Mrs. Phillips gave a shriek, pulling away from the circle. Evelina was too surprised to stop her. Three of the others jumped to their feet, caught in sudden terror. Surprisingly, Tobias was completely steady, his nerve holding up when the danger became real—but it was too late. The circle was shattered, and with it all protection from whatever it was they had summoned.

“That’s quite enough!” Miss Barnes barked sharply. “Get thee gone, spirit!”

The brisk command steadied Evelina. She knew instinctively that she was the most powerful magic user in the room. Revealing her own talent was risky, even in a group sympathetic to magic, but letting the entity run rampant was more dangerous still. She rose to her feet, releasing Tobias’s hand.

“Evelina!” he cried.

“I’ll take care of this,” she said with more confidence than she felt. Then she reached for her power, letting it rise in her like light filling a prism. Her limbs tingled, and suddenly she could inhale freely again. “You heard our hostess. You’ve outstayed your welcome.”

“Is that right?” Wood rose to face her across the table. In the murky light, all she could see was the dim white oval of his face. She could have sworn it wasn’t the man she had met barely an hour ago. The chin was too pointed, the hair too fair.
Don’t let it be her. It can’t be her
.

Power snaked at her, a fast, furious strike. Evelina slapped it back without thinking. She’d dueled with Magnus, once in earnest and many more times as his student. Whatever this thing was, it was hardly on the sorcerer’s level. It struck again, this time with a hot bolt that singed like flame. Her dark hunger leaped for it, craving the ambient energy, and snatched it from the air before it could even land. She felt the light inside her tinge with shadow as her darker power rose, but she couldn’t afford to push that strength aside. Whatever was posing as Imogen was stronger than she’d thought.

“Feeding on scraps?” the thing mocked. “I would have expected more from you, Miss Cooper.”

Evelina cupped her hand, summoning witch fire. A cluster of pale flame danced in the air above her hand, throwing bizarre shadows over the company. Someone gasped, “Sorcery!” Evelina ignored it.

“Show yourself,” she commanded, throwing compulsion into her voice.

As if in obedience, Wood slumped to his knees. “Evelina!”

The voice was Imogen’s. It was so startling, Evelina lost concentration, and the witch fire died abruptly.

“Help me, Evelina!”

“Dear God,” Tobias started forward, lurching a few steps before stumbling to a confused halt, obviously unsure of what to do.

“I don’t know how to get out of here,” Imogen said in a tiny voice.

“Do something!” Tobias roared, his face twisted with fear and disgust.

The air was clearing and the other participants had backed away, though Miss Barnes now stood guardian at the door, making sure no one—and no
thing
—entered or left the room. Evelina circled the table, approaching Wood’s crumpled form. She could feel the entity possessing him, tingling and sparking like the static from a coil. Wood held out a hand—a square, male hand that was simultaneously the slim white fingers of her friend. Evelina drifted closer, still unsure, her power coiled like a spring.

“Evelina, help her,” said Tobias, pleading now.

“Please, Evelina,” whispered the thing that was and was not Imogen.

She only stood a few feet away now, her heart yearning to believe she had finally found her friend. From here, she could get help, find a way to lead Imogen home.

Evelina reached out, inches away from grasping Imogen’s hand.

“Watch out!” Imogen cried.

And Wood sprang at her, launching from the floor to pounce like a spider. The voice that snarled should not have come from any human throat. Evelina released her power, slamming him backward. Wood flew through the air, crashing into the back of the red velvet settee. The long, thin candle flame flared into a ball of fire, roaring and then blooming into a bright, miniature sun suspended over the table. Mrs. Phillips screamed.

Then it was Evelina’s turn to attack, flinging her power again, this time to trap. But the entity was too quick, corkscrewing out of her grasp like an eel. She almost caught it, tightening the whip of her power like a noose, but it slipped out, gone before she could even get a better look. Then something popped, as if a cork had been pulled from a bottle.

And it was gone. All she was left with was a lingering scent of the grave. The hunter in her howled with hunger and fury at the loss of its prey. Evelina staggered, dizzy with a cramping, desperate need to feed. She’d experienced the
hunger before, but never with such ferocity. But then, she’d never starved for lives so long as this.

Evelina grabbed the back of a chair, her mind rendered blank by too many horrific ideas. And then, with a flash of insight, she understood what else the bracelets did. They dulled a sorcerer’s requirement for human life, neutralizing the impulse to gather power. Unless she used her magic, she had been able to forget the desire for days at a time.
What would I be like if they came off altogether?

There wasn’t time to think about it. Wood fell to the floor in a dead faint. The ball of flame above the candle went out with a thunderclap, plunging them in darkness. Evelina cried out, finally, suddenly afraid.

After a heartbeat, and then two, Miss Barnes turned up the lights. They all stared at each other in astonishment. Evelina started to shake, hot tears streaking down her face as the hunger died back to a simmering, constant discomfort. But at least now she could think past it enough to function.

“What the bloody hell was that?” said a gentleman in a tweed suit, thick mustaches quivering. “Was that a ghost or a demon?”

Tobias grabbed Evelina by the arm, spinning her around. “What
are
you?”

She met his eyes. They were bleak, as if what he’d seen her do had stripped him of some last shred of comfort. He’d been told she had magic, but clearly seeing it in action was something far more horrific. Her chin started to tremble, presaging yet more tears. “Damn you, Tobias, you asked me to come here. I did what I had to do.”

His grip on her tightened until it was painful. “Was that Imogen?”

“No,” she said hoarsely. “At least I hope not.” She prayed it wasn’t, but then a whirlpool of doubt tugged at her, doing its best to drag her under.
That was her voice. She knew the right words to say
. “Sometimes it seemed like her, sometimes not. At the end, she tried to warn me.”

“You don’t know.”

“It sounded as if she was fighting to be heard, but something wouldn’t let her speak. Once she called me Miss Cooper.
Imogen would never do that. I was always Evelina to her.”

“But you don’t know anything for certain.”

“No,” she whispered, tears of frustration stinging her eyes. “But Serafina called me Miss Cooper.”

Tobias flinched. “Serafina—Anna—perished on the
Wyvern
.”

“Did she?”

“Damnation.” He dropped his hand, flexing it as if he wanted to wipe it clean of her magic-infested touch. Then he turned away without another word.

Miss Barnes regarded her steadily. “You have some interesting talents, Miss Cooper.”

“But not enough,” Evelina said bitterly. “Not enough to do one bit of good.”

And then she started to weep in earnest.

Unknown

IMOGEN CROUCHED BEHIND A CLUSTER OF GEARS, CLUTCHING
her knees to her chest in a desperate effort to make herself small. The air was filled with the hot, tangy smell of working metal, and the entire space pulsed with the incessant, relentless ticking of the longcase clock. It vibrated through her feet and rang in her skull, shaking every tooth in her head.

She was out of breath, and her hands and forearms were nicked and bruised from climbing through the bizarre landscape of the clock. Crawling through it was frightening, not to mention a challenge for someone more used to the ladylike arts. She’d had to be quick to avoid the swinging pendulum, and the sudden click of a gear could crush a hand or foot if her attention wavered.

But as bad as that was, being chased was worse. It had begun the moment she’d first felt the tug of Evelina’s mind on hers. Her friend’s touch had been just that, like a hand on her shoulder, bidding her to turn around and follow. And then a huge, fierce blast had torn her away, as if a giant had backhanded her into the gear works. Anna, she assumed. Her sister never had liked anyone else having friends.

Imogen had learned to hide after that, keeping to the spaces in between protective fortifications of brass and steel. When the blows came, ducking behind a solid object helped. She glanced up at the hands of the clock face, which was mirrored inside the clock as well as out. The hands always matched the chimes, and yet their movement was utterly
random. Two o’clock might be followed as easily by eleven or six as three. Wherever she was, time obeyed different rules.

And today—or tonight, or this morning, because who could tell?—she’d been able to make at least some contact. Perhaps because Evelina had touched her, she knew at once when the séance had begun. The medium’s invitation to visit had been as clear as the peal of a bell. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been the only one to hear. Again, she had come under fire, but at least now her friends knew she was still trying to get home.

Imogen raised herself up just enough to see over a giant spoked wheel of brass. She pressed a hand to her side, feeling the ache of a bruise. As much as it hurt, the pain was worthwhile because she’d actually witnessed the séance through the eyes of the medium. She’d seen Tobias and Evelina, and the hope and worry on their faces gave her something to clutch like an amulet. And she needed whatever luck and strength she could get.

She stretched up another inch. The view offered a narrow sightline past the thing with the chain and a vial of bubbling green goo. She had no notion what any of these parts were called and didn’t care. If she got out of here, she was going to toss every timepiece in the house—whether or not it was made by a sorcerer—onto a gigantic bonfire. Imogen squinted and waited, the tick of the clock lapping around her like waves.

Then she saw something move, a shadow sliding between the wheeling gears. Her instinct was to catch her breath, but she stopped herself. Despite the racket of the machinery, she didn’t want even a tiny gasp to give her away.

“I can feel you watching,” said the voice from the shadows.

Anna
. Imogen knew the timbre and the pitch, the slight roughness when the words dipped low. She’d heard that voice in her nightmares before—so like her own, but not. The voice was a relief in a way. There had been no way to tell how her sister would appear. She could have shown up as a monster or a mist or an ostrich or nothing at all. The
dead seemed to have different rules. A sister who had been trapped in an automaton and slashed six women to death had none.

Imogen stayed silent as a mouse. Why had Anna chosen to emerge from the woodwork now? The séance, she supposed. Strangers were interfering in her domain.

“I suppose there are a number of things you’re wondering about,” Anna went on. “Why I brought you here, for starters.”

Because I blew your head off with Captain Niccolo’s aether gun and you’re very, very upset?
Fortunately, while Anna had shared her dreams in the past, she could not read her waking mind.

Her sister continued with a lecturing air. “Last time we met, you saw me as Serafina. I was Dr. Magnus’s prize creation. He brought every automaton to life with a piece of his soul, but Serafina got a bigger piece because he wanted to make her—me—something more than the others. And so I learned everything that little nub of soul knew, and that included the secrets of this clock. He made it, you know.”