A Study in Darkness (49 page)

Magnus had given her a key to the workshop door, and she let herself in, running through the list of tasks for the day. They had already decided there would be no lesson, but she had plenty to fill the void. Foremost was taking advantage of her early arrival to have a second look at the upstairs rooms. She’d exhausted every ledger, cupboard, and cranny downstairs, having searched them twice over. If there was anything to learn at the Magnetorium, it was upstairs and probably in Magnus’s private rooms.

She wondered if he was there or—as seemed to happen on Tuesday and Friday nights—he’d gone out after the show and would not return until the early afternoon. It had not been easy to learn the doctor’s schedule from the other employees—not without arousing suspicion. It had taken days of a question here, a comment there, but eventually Evelina had guessed the pattern of his movements. If Magnus had another workshop, these late-night jaunts had to be when he went there. The others assumed he had a mistress—true, she’d seen him flirt with the female patrons often enough—but she was willing to bet his assignations were of a very different kind.

This all passed through Evelina’s mind in the time it took to shed her wrap and chafe her hands against the cold of the workshop. She began mounting the stairs, the old wood creaking as she went. Sunlight shone through the dirty glass of the windows, giving the upstairs an almost cheerful glow. Light made all things seem possible, even finding proof that Magnus was the name Jasper Keating wanted.

But Serafina was there, and the automaton looked up, registering Evelina’s presence the moment she reached the upper floor. Evelina froze, inwardly cursing. Her first thought was that it would be next to impossible to search now, with the doll looking on—and possibly reporting any such activity to Magnus. Her second thought was that Serafina was precisely where she’d found her before, staring into the room where she had awakened after Magnus had worked on her last.

“What are you doing up?” Evelina asked.
And what happened in that room that you keep coming back here?

The doll inclined its head. “Is it wrong for me to be awake?”

“Someone forgot to take out your pin so that you could rest.” She would have a word with Magnus about his Italian puppeteers.

“Do I need to rest?”

“Everyone needs to rest,” Evelina said brightly. As far as she knew, the automatons needed no such thing, but it seemed kinder than saying it was better to have their stars
dead and out of the way when they weren’t actually making money. Serafina’s sentience raised a host of philosophical questions Evelina couldn’t even begin to solve.

“I am glad you are here,” said the automaton. “It is pleasant to have someone else about.” Serafina walked toward the window. She was wearing a simple day dress and from behind looked like a human woman, her fiery hair caught up in ivory combs. “Do you ever watch out the window?”

“Sometimes.” Curious now, Evelina moved to join her. The scene below was unremarkable, with barrowmen and delivery carts drawn by big-boned horses. Some folk hurried to their work and others idled on the corners with nothing to do. “What interests you?”

“The people. I watch what they do. There are a lot of women who come and go, many of them very late at night. Look at that one—the one with fair hair. I’ve seen her often.”

Evelina looked and saw Mary Jane Kelly, looking a bit disheveled this early in the day. She was talking with a man Evelina hadn’t seen before. The two seemed to know each other well, because Mary gave him a familiar bump with her shoulder, half a chastisement, half a caress. “She seems happy,” said Evelina, hearing Mary’s fat laugh all the way to where she stood.

“She was with someone else yesterday. She has many men.”

“That she does,” Evelina agreed.

“That must be why she is so happy,” Serafina said.

Evelina decided to leave that one alone.

“And do you see that man?” Serafina pointed to a fellow in baggy tweeds. “He stops to purchase flowers from the old woman on the corner every day. He says a few words, the woman laughs, and then he walks away.”

Evelina considered the young man, who had heavy side whiskers and the build of a prize fighter in the prime of his career. “I would say that he gives them to a lady, and the flower seller is encouraging him.”

“He wants to kiss someone,” Serafina said, her fingertips
touching the glass. The gesture tugged at Evelina’s insides. There was something wistful in it.

“He wants to make this lady like him.”

Serafina tilted her head. “Men bring me flowers, but I do not like them. But I do like to kiss them.”

“They kiss you?” Evelina asked in surprise.

“Of course. They think I’m beautiful.” Serafina touched her hair in a purely feminine gesture.

Evelina stared, something ruffling the back of her neck. Foolish clients kissing a mechanical dancer was more silly than sinister, but Serafina’s preening disturbed her—just like her sudden fit of temper on the walk. A memory knocked relentlessly at the door of her mind: Tobias had been afraid of the automaton. What had she done?

But all that had happened before Magnus came to Whitechapel, before the locked room, before the doll was born anew in the doctor’s latest experiment. How different was she than before?

“I know you don’t remember much about your past, but do you remember what you did before you danced for Magnus?”

Serafina hesitated before answering. “I went with him places. I did as he asked. I made sure things were done. That is all I remember.”

“And do you do these things for Dr. Magnus now?”

Serafina gave a slow blink. It clicked slightly. “I please the patrons. That is why I was remade. So that they could kiss me. So that they could give me peace.”

And Magnus takes it away again
. A chill crawled over Evelina’s skin. She had to talk to Magnus about this. Or not. She didn’t know what to do. There were too many questions—was Serafina a slave? Was she actually alive? How much responsibility did Evelina have toward someone who was technically a machine and someone else’s property to boot? She had to make her way through this one step at a time—and she still had to search the upstairs for clues as to what Magnus was actually up to.

“Come,” she said with her kindest smile, even though she itched with guilt. Suddenly tricking the doll felt wrong, but
it had to be done. “Come downstairs, Serafina. You need your beauty sleep.”

WITHIN MINUTES, EVELINA
had settled Serafina on her table, removed the pin that activated her logic processor, and covered her with a sheet. She had just finished adjusting the folds of the white shroud, feeling oddly maternal, when she heard the door of the workshop open. She turned to see Nick standing on the threshold.

Alarm made her stiffen. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, her words little more than a hiss. “It’s not safe. You know
he
wants the device.” And Magnus wouldn’t hesitate to hurt them both if that would put Athena in his power.

“I came for you,” Nick said, as if that explained everything.

All of a sudden it felt as if she hadn’t seen him for months. At the sound of his voice, the tight-wound worry she’d been holding let go. In a heartbeat, she was across the room and flinging herself into his arms. He caught her, falling back a step but taking her weight with ease. She breathed in his scent—wool and shaving soap and man—and closed her eyes, grateful that he was there and safe.

“Where were you?” she demanded once her heart stopped racing.

He chuckled. “Taking care of some things. Come with me.”

“Where?” She’d been going to search the upstairs.

His dark eyes held a thread of mischief. “I said I’d help you find your answers. If you want them, come with me now.”

This was even better, and Evelina didn’t need to be asked twice. She grabbed her shawl and left the theater, locking the door behind them. The street was busier than it had been when she’d arrived barely an hour before. She looked over her shoulder, afraid that Magnus would be mere yards away, returning home after a night of evil-doing. Then she looked up, half expecting to see him peering down from some window
above. She could see Nick take note of her apprehension and tried to shake off her unease.

He cast her a sidelong look. “I suppose you are aching to ask what exactly I was taking care of.”

“Perhaps.” She had to trot to keep up with him.

“I had to make arrangements for this morning,” he said. “And I was due to go back to the ship today. I had to explain to my crew that plans had changed. And then there was the Indifference Device. The Blue Boys left the dead where they fell. Something had to be done, and I helped the Schoolmaster do it.”

“The Schoolmaster?” Evelina mused. “How do you know him?”

She’d mentioned the name in connection with the Baker Street bombing, but Nick had given no indication that it was familiar to him. She suddenly realized that he’d been playing at least a few cards close to his chest, waiting until he’d learned a bit more of her story. There had been trust to rebuild between them, but this clear evidence of it brought heat to her face.

He gave her an apologetic half smile. “I’ve had a few dealings with him. As to who he is, I don’t know his real name. No one I know does. The man represents the face of the rebellion, but whether he is the true power behind it—probably not, but who knows. Maybe your uncles have a name, but I certainly don’t.”

“Uncle Sherlock?”
And maybe that’s why there was a bomb on Baker Street? Uncle Sherlock knows something he shouldn’t?
She’d had the same thought herself, but was it true?

“Maybe. And I’ve met Mycroft Holmes in my travels. They both think like knotted balls of string. I could be from now till Christmas untangling their logic and I still wouldn’t be at the end of it.”

She couldn’t disagree, but wondered where Nick would have run into her reclusive Uncle Mycroft. For some reason, an encounter with him never brought good news—but there were other things to worry about at the moment.

They’d come to the side of an old church, and Nick opened
the oak and black iron door for her. “Welcome to Saint Winifred’s. I hope you don’t mind a bit of a climb.”

“Why are we here?”

“Patience. I know you don’t have any, but pretend for a while.”

Evelina looked up, too close to the building to see much more than a lot of old stone and a few pointed arches. She wanted to press Nick further, but the look on his face was firm. Obediently, she stepped inside and blinked in the gloom. The door creaked shut behind them, the sound echoing through the vaulted space, and the place grew even darker.

“A climb?” she asked.

“This way,” he said, leading her toward the right.

As her eyes adjusted, Evelina saw the church itself was a shell of graceful arches, a row of windows high up in the walls admitting shafts of sunlight. A rose window glowed over the main doors, seeming to float in the hushed atmosphere. There was little other ornamentation in the place, but the austerity made what was there that much more potent.

At the far side of the nave there was a small door, and behind that was a winding stone staircase. Evelina paused, tired of following without explanation. “What’s up there?”

“The roof.”

“Why are we climbing all the way to the roof?”

He gave a wicked grin. “You haven’t grown soft lounging about in your silk gowns, have you?”

“But why are we going up there?”

“Trust me.”

She released an exasperated breath. “Nick?”

He sprang lightly past her and took the stairs two at a time. With an irritated noise, she trudged up the worn stairs after him. It wasn’t a particularly interesting task. Rough beige stone hemmed her in on every side and she lost count of the steps after 127. Just when her legs burned with the effort of climbing, Nick opened another door, and they were outside.

They weren’t at the top of the square tower, but at a lower
part of the roof where flying buttresses arched overhead. Gargoyles, so weather-worn it was hard to tell what sort of beast they were meant to be, crouched at the roof’s edge and scowled down at the maze of narrow alleys below. Evelina forgot the fatigue of the climb, distracted by the view. Beyond the tangle of streets was the steel gray of the Thames and its parade of boats, large and small, swarming toward the docks.

Nick moved to her side. She could feel the heat of his body, warm with exertion, even though they did not touch. “If you think this is impressive, you should see the world from the
Red Jack
.” He took her hand, kissing it. His lips were soft and warm and the best advertisement for air travel that Evelina could imagine.

“Can we see your ship from here?” she asked.

“No. She’s safely away right now, out of the reach of the guards that patrol the skies over the city.”

That made no sense to her. “If she’s not here, how would you get away in a hurry?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy expression. “However I could.”

Her stomach fell away, as if a trap door had opened. She reached for him, her fingers gripping the hard muscle of his arm. “Nick.” It was all she could think of to say.

He waved to a stone ledge. “Before we carry on, shall we sit for a moment?”

She wanted to ask why, but didn’t. If they sat, she could keep him right beside her, and time with Nick in that sunny, sheltered spot safe above the city seemed a stolen moment of peace. “Very well.”

Nick settled beside her, his face serious. “We won’t be found here. Dr. Amiel and the others who work here are friendly, and I for one could use a few minutes to think through what we know before we make our next move.”

“What about finding the Blue King’s army?”

A hint of humor crossed his face. “We don’t know so much that this is going to cause much of a delay. Let me talk this through with you.”

“All right.”

Nick nodded. “First, there was the bomb and Elias Jones. Blue King initiated the event, but Gold King turned it to his own purposes. Why? And don’t rely on anything Jasper Keating told you.”

“They all want a war,” Evelina said. “Obviously the Blue King made the first move, but Keating blunted it.”