A Study in Darkness (66 page)

And then she wrote to Keating, answering his questions as per their agreement. She had seen at least part of King Coal’s weaponry, and could tell him as much as she knew. And she’d identified Magnus as the Blue King’s maker, and
had the proof of the sorcerer’s handwriting on the pages they’d taken from Mr. Juniper. Nick had brought her the papers after showing them to the Schoolmaster, but as Evelina thumbed through them, she thought long and hard about giving Keating all the Blue King’s secrets. No steam baron should be allowed to rule the Empire, least of all the man who threatened the people she loved. She chose three pages to enclose with the letter as evidence. They had just enough information to support her claims without giving too much away.

But as she finished the last lines and signed the missive, the rush of energy that had kept her scribbling page after page faded. The foggy sense of guilt and helplessness that had come after Serafina’s attack emerged again, leaving her drained. The doll had torn her open and looked inside, and she hadn’t been able to protect herself. She hadn’t been strong, or smart, or powerful enough. And if that had happened, what else might? Would she ever be truly safe? Who might she let down?
Will I betray Nick, the way Magnus predicted?

Evelina set her pen down, letting the ink dry on the last page. She stared into nothingness, her mind remorselessly flipping through images of knife, darkness, gutter, and the cold lifeless blue of Serafina’s eyes. A profound dejection swamped her, and she buried her face in her hands. She’d been able to escape those feelings as long as Nick had been with her, but now there was no protection.

Slowly, mechanically, Evelina began to fold and seal the letters, her hands taking over from her active will. The pen scratched on the cheap paper, writing out first Keating’s address and then her uncle’s, feeling as if an infinity of time and yet none at all had passed since she had left Paddington Station with a will to outwit the Gold King. She had achieved some of her goals and not others, and nothing had gone as she’d imagined.

She had just finished the last seal when she heard a noise at the window and looked up to see Bird sitting on the sill. With a cry of pleasure, she pulled up the sash. Bird flew in,
Mouse clambering over the sill a moment later. She picked Mouse up, cradling him in her hands. “You’re dirty!”

My existence is complete. I have now clambered through gutters even the most plague-ridden rats fear to tread
.

Bird gave a derisive cheep.
Make him some clockwork fleas with tiny violins
.

“Why aren’t you with Imogen?” she asked. “And how did you find me?”

Trust me
, said Bird,
every deva in London knows where you and the horse boy have been these last few days
.

Evelina flushed to the roots of her hair. But she had noticed devas outside, floating around the trees. If there was a way to call the devas back to this part of the city, perhaps they’d found it—and perhaps they would restore balance to the East End’s unseen powers.
And maybe then I’ll sleep with the lights off again
.

Mouse caught the image of the melty-head shadows in her mind.
You’ve seen the Others?

She hadn’t heard devas ever refer to their loathsome counterparts before, but the name made sense. “Yes.”

Ah
.

She wanted to know what that
ah
meant, but Bird broke in.
We have lots to tell you. Miss Imogen was having nightmares so she ran away to be with the toymaker, but two men took her before she could get there. We got left behind
. Bird flew to her shoulder, its sharp nails gripping through the shoulder of her dress.
They had the sorcerer’s stink all over them
.

Mouse piped up, stretching up on its hind paws.
I was listening the whole time I was at the old house. The sorcerer has the angry old man’s automatons!

The information had come in rapid fire, and Evelina couldn’t take it all in at once. Or perhaps she didn’t want to. The gray fog of her mood obscured the creatures’ chatter, and she could only bear to let one horrible fact reach her at a time. “Magnus said the automatons were destroyed when his house burned down!”

And you believed him?
Bird asked with a ruffle of feathers.

“Good point.”

And then the truth crashed over her, slicing through her defenses. Imogen was gone—snatched away when she had tried to elope with Bucky. Evelina made a despairing sound.
Magnus has her
. The thought of her gentle friend in his power was unbearable—and only part of the equation. Why was Imogen eloping now, when she had said she would not? What had made her change her mind?
How bad had things gotten since Maggor’s Close?
Evelina sank back in her chair, her eyes stinging. If only she had been there.

But you weren’t
, said Bird in a practical tone.
So what do you do now?

“Stop Magnus.” The words came automatically, driven by logic more than by conviction. Since Serafina—who was but the shadow of Magnus—had nearly killed her, Evelina had little faith in her own power to stop him. She’d tried to unmask him as the Blue King’s maker but only ended up seduced by his library and stabbed by his killer doll. A rematch didn’t promise any better results.

But then ideas began to catch hold, and she sat a little straighter. She had one thing Magnus did not. She had friends and, like Hyacinth, she’d learned how very important they were.

Working with Nick had reminded her that she wasn’t alone. With her light and his knowledge, they had escaped the Blue Boys at the Indifference Device. Together, they had cracked the Blue King’s secrets. Last April, she had found Athena’s Casket, and he had given it a home in the air. There was no reason she had to confront Magnus by herself—in fact, she was better with other people by her side.

Clearly, there were others she could call—those with ships, money, and brilliant minds. The trick would be to alert them before it was too late for Imogen. The vision she’d conjured suddenly made more sense. There was a reason the sorcerer had left London—he thought himself hidden, beyond the reach of Lord Bancroft or any others who might bring him to justice.

But you didn’t count on me looking in on you, did you, Doctor?
Evelina turned to Bird. “I need an air deva to carry
a message to the
Red Jack
. I need Nick’s help, if he’s nearby. Magnus has an airship of his own—a black dragon. I’m pretty sure that’s where both Imogen and the automatons will be.”

Done
. Bird fluttered out the window and was gone.

And if he is not nearby?
asked Mouse, flicking its tail.

The creature was right. Since she didn’t know what Nick’s mission was, she had no idea where he might be. She needed more allies. “I need to tell my uncle and Lord Bancroft. And Tobias. They need to know what has happened to Imogen. They can help.” And Tobias had access to Keating’s wealth—if a solution could be bought, he would have it. Then she paused. “I should tell Bucky Penner, but I don’t know where to find him.”

I do
. Mouse scampered across the desk to sit by her inkwell.
I know where he makes his toys
.

“Excellent.” If enough people knew what Magnus really was and the things he had done, he wouldn’t escape so easily this time. Purpose gave her energy again, and she pulled the stack of writing paper toward her. “I have more letters to write. I’ll send them by runner.”

The little steel mouse sat up on its hind legs, twitching its whiskers.
Be careful what you say. Once you send your letters, there will be no going back. Magnus got away with hiding in plain sight because he is a showman, but he won’t after this and he will hold you responsible. And knowing what he is begs the question of how you recognize magic when you see it. Choose your words with care
.

There were times she forgot just how old and wise Mouse was. “You’re right.”

Of course I am
.

A mix of emotions coursed through Evelina—frustration top of the list. She restlessly tapped the pen as she pondered what to say, wishing she could simply insert her knowledge into another’s brain. Language took too long, and time was everything. “We’ll solve this faster if I bring everyone to one place and we make our plans together.”

I agree in principle
, said Mouse.
But if you must do this,
have your escape routes ready. When you throw a party there’s no telling who might decide to attend
.

“
I KNOW YOU
, Miss Imogen Roth,” said the doll in her odd mechanical voice.

At first Imogen had thought the doll was programmed as some sort of tasteless joke, but slowly she’d come to understand that it was thinking on its own. “I’m not sure how,” said Imogen in a voice that quavered shamefully.

“You do not know me?”

“How would I? Where would we have met?”

The doll’s fingers clenched. “I saw you leaning on your man as I walked down the street with Miss Cooper.”

Imogen started.
Evelina!
But what did she have to do with any of this? “Do you know where Miss Cooper is?”

The doll’s face remained expressionless, but her voice swelled with satisfaction. “She pretended to be my friend, but she wanted to take what I had. She was just like the doctor, so I turned the tables and looked inside her instead. With her own knife, too.”

Suddenly the jibe about cutlery made awful sense, even if the rest of the words were a jumble. “You … cut her open?”

The imagery from her nightmares surged forward, foul and macabre. Horror swept in on its wake, crushing her lungs. Imogen tried to speak, but only a strangled noise came out.

The doll was leaning forward, managing to look intense despite her utterly bland face. “The doctor was not pleased by what I did to Miss Cooper. He told me not to do such a thing again. He caught me in my bloody clothes, and if he were not in a hurry to leave, I think he would have taken me apart and put me back in my box. But he didn’t have time for that.”

Evelina
. This creature had killed Evelina, the best friend she would ever have. Imogen stared at the automaton, refusing to let herself believe.

“He locked me in a room beneath the theater where he keeps his money. It was dark and lined with steel not even I
could break. He said he was putting his treasure in a vault.” Serafina lifted her chin. “He left me there for weeks while he made his plans to launch this ship.”

And he should have left you there until the end of days
.

“But I found one more life,” said Serafina. “I got away one last time when all our things were being loaded. This one had a room, nice and private. But I looked and looked and still didn’t find what I was looking for.”

This is the Whitechapel Murderer. A doll
. Imogen knew exactly which event Serafina was talking about, though after the double murder she had begun to take laudanum to help her sleep. At least she hadn’t had to watch her best friend die. She herself would probably die before many more hours passed. Strange, but she felt almost calm—or at least the surface of her mind was. It was like standing on ice with a raging torrent below.

“And what do you do with this life?” she asked.

“I’m hungry for it, just like the doctor and Miss Cooper. It makes me whole and brings me peace.” Serafina’s head tilted. “But you should know that.”

“Why? Why would I know such a thing?”

The doll folded her hands in her lap. Imogen saw the fingers move, beautifully jointed but somehow not right. The motion was insectile, like spider’s legs.

Serafina studied her. “When I knew it was you the doctor wanted, I asked him to tell me how I came to be. He never tells me everything, but this is what I could piece together. Do you want to hear it?”

Imogen gave a mute nod.

“Very well. I was locked away for a long time in a dead place. It could not be anything but a prison, because a human soul needs life to cling to. You must understand this is why I first invaded your dreams. I was desperate for light and air, and even your nightmares were a miracle of relief to me.”

My nightmares?
The automaton’s words sent something through Imogen—a resonance like the breeze over a wind harp, but one that was made of old bones. Knowledge was
rising inside her, familiar and old but far from welcome. “Go on.”

“Dr. Magnus didn’t prepare my vessel well enough the first time. But when he made his new automatons, he put a tiny piece of his own life inside them. That’s why they can move and talk.”

“They can?” Imogen asked in a dull voice, terrified of where this was leading.

“Certainly, but not as well as I can. I am the prima ballerina.”

The way she said it brought a shudder from deep inside Imogen. Despite the thing’s inhuman voice, she recognized that preening, smug lilt to the words.

“So when he took me out of your father’s old automaton and put me into Serafina, I had a good place to go. I could attach myself properly. I—or as much of me as he could salvage by then—could be in the world again. It’s better now, even if I am always hungry.”

“Tobias spoke of a doll named Serafina,” Imogen murmured. “When Magnus came to our house last spring.”

“That was before I joined the ballet. This”—the automaton made a gesture that encompassed her body—“has been walking the world for years, but I was reborn inside it. I made Serafina something special.”

“Oh, God.” The resonance had become a tremor as facts began fitting together.

“Why are you shaking?” Serafina asked. “Are you cold? Are you afraid, Miss Imogen Roth?”

“No.” Her throat started to clog with tears, her eyes brimming and blurry. A shrill whimper escaped before she could cover her mouth. A tremor of hysteria began to bubble up, shuddering through her. She held her eyes open as wide as she could, holding the tears in.

But her eyes filled and Imogen blinked, wetness hot on her cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” the doll asked, leaning even closer to see. Mocking her.

“It was you in my dreams?” She knew it was, but she had
to hear this
thing
say it. A blind anger was stirring—one she thought she’d buried along with childhood memories.