A Study in Darkness (70 page)

One eyebrow raised. “You did say that you wished to continue your education, but how does that help me?”

“It is a regulated environment, secure enough in its way,” she suggested. “And I can use the resources of an educational institution to research whatever task you assign to me.”

“Very good,” Keating mused. “An improved mind is always more useful. And a break from general society would be appropriate, given recent events. After that, a slow introduction back into fashionable company would seem natural. A pretty young woman would be of use to me in drawing rooms as well as laboratories.”

For a young gentlewoman who had gone missing for several months, rejoining the ton would be impossible without a protector like the Gold King. What he was offering her was not, technically speaking, a bad offer. She had wanted college. In time, she could rejoin Society. And she could use her magic, at least in a limited way.

If this future could have come to her any other way, she would have been jubilant. As it was, she felt ill. Was this what Tobias had gone through, surrendering what he loved to buy safety for his family?

Keating rose, clearly feeling that he had won. “But I would have approval over your social contacts. I have standards where my employees are concerned.” He turned his amber gaze on her. “No rebels or pirates.”

Anger crackled through her, leaving her cheeks hot. She’d save Nick, but she’d lose him—at least as long as Keating had her on a leash. But he’d be alive.

One of the Yellowbacks appeared from the workshop. “The
Helios
is ready to fire on your word, sir.”

She buried her face in her hands, trying to drag her thoughts into some kind of useful order. She raised her eyes to encounter Keating’s hard expression. There was no real choice now that Keating knew her secret. He’d get her one way or another, just as he had trapped her at Maggor’s Close.

Keating raised his eyebrows, his question plain. She closed her eyes, shutting out her captor’s face. “Save the ship. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

THE
WYVERN
WAS
ablaze, but so was the
Red Jack
.

“Take her down!” Beadle screamed at Digby, who was doing his best to keep control of a ship steered by a panicking deva. The tail propeller was gone.

Striker and Nick were the only two worrying about defenses, because everyone else was trying to ensure something was left to defend. The stink of burning wood and fuel surrounded them, the sky lit by orange wraiths of flame. Men were fighting the fires, but a chunk had been torn out of the hull, and that chunk had held their stores of water. They’d also lost two of their cannons. Nick could see the forward gun portals of the
Helios
open. While he was staring at those, a hot harpoon arched into the sky, trailing flame with a sound like tearing cloth. It sailed over the
Red Jack
.

“Surrender!” someone shouted from the
Helios
. They were close enough that Nick could hear the faint cry.

Is this it? Is this how it all starts spiraling down to the earth?
Evelina’s face flickered through his mind, and he cursed violently, loss and fear bringing a moment of weakness.

Striker fired his odd gun at the
Helios
. It made a
cra-ch-ch-ack
sound, green and blue lights flaring, and a chunk the size of a dinner plate flew off the enemy’s hull. Nick swore again, but this time it was a good curse.

Then another harpoon flew, and hit smack into the Jack’s remaining patch of deck. Flame gushed from the oily substance released from the harpoon’s head. He heard Athena’s scream of terror.

And just like that, the
Red Jack
was done. As one, he and Striker lowered their weapons.

“Abandon ship! Save yourselves if you can!” Nick yelled, and bolted for Athena, where she was secured at the prow.

He leapt over the fire, feeling his ankle scorch, and shoved his way through the crew, who were scrambling for parachutes. He skidded to a halt right before the panel where
Athena was secured and undid the bolts with shaking fingers. The cover dropped away and he reached inside, his hands gentle despite his haste. She was just a cube of metal, rusted and warped as if in a fire—no wonder she hated flames. He’d sewn her cube into a kind of sling that he’d worn for the first while they were together. Until she had adopted the
Red Jack
for her own.

I don’t like fire
, she said plaintively.

It’s all right. I’m here
. He slipped the handle of the sling across his shoulders, pulling his jacket over her for added protection. Now for a parachute.

Nick turned, and there was Magnus, tall and gaunt, his eyes wild and his clothes scorched and ragged. Surprise would have staggered Nick, but too much had happened for that. They just stared at each other, the flames roaring like the wind in sails. Nick might have asked how the sorcerer had got there, but it didn’t really matter.

“Give it to me,” said Magnus. “Give me the device, and you can save yourself. Resist, and you know what I can do to you.”

Nick remembered the paralyzing pain of their last encounter well enough, but Athena was his to protect. “Bugger off.”

Magnus gave a derisive huff, and lifted his hand. But Nick flung his own power, knocking the sorcerer backward. Then he lifted Striker’s gun.

“That won’t kill me!” Magnus scoffed, scrambling to his feet.

Nick tried anyway, but Magnus was too fast. The gun flew from his hand as Magnus leapt, knocking Nick’s back against the rail. Pain flared as his spine crashed into hard oak. Nick flailed, his feet lifting off the deck. A cry escaped his throat as his legs went numb.

Magnus was taller, and every bit as strong. He shifted his grip, bracing his forearm under Nick’s chin and choking him. Heat flared, searing the inside of his nose and mouth with the few breaths he managed to take. Magnus’s clothes began to smoke.

Nick kicked, but he was blacking out, the pulse in his
head pounding like a drum. The stars above blurred and smeared across his vision, melting to a silver rain. He tried lashing out, jamming his fingers in Magnus’s eyes and throat, but the sorcerer seemed impervious to pain, only choking Nick harder.

He was just about gone when he finally fumbled a knife from his wrist sheath and slid it in the sweet spot between Magnus’s ribs, driving up toward the heart. With a roar of anguish, Magnus released him, staggering back two steps, shock and outrage painting his features in the ungodly orange light of flames. The sorcerer grabbed the knife hilt with both hands, mouth wide in a curse.

And then the powder stores erupted, blowing the
Red Jack
to splinters. Blown forward, Magnus smashed into Nick, knocking the air from his lungs and sweeping him headfirst over the side. Deaf, stunned, Nick dropped in a dead fall through the darkness, slowly wheeling over and over, tossed by the blast. He felt Magnus’s fingers on his arm, the clutch of something dreaded but at least familiar. And then they were gone, too, peeled away by the rushing air.

Well, I always figured a fall would get me
. It didn’t matter if it was from a horse or a high wire or a ship. He just hoped it would be quick.
I wonder if the boys made it away in time
.

And then he thought of Evie, and his heart snagged there like a leaf catching on the bank of a running stream, clinging as long and hard as he could against the force pulling him away.

The wind flattened and pulled at the flesh of his face, clawed at his hair and clothes, made it impossible to see or breathe. Beadle had always told him to grab a parachute before anything else.

Should’ve listened
.

E
VELINA AND HOLMES
followed Keating back to the main group. Bucky rose from where he was slumped against the workbench, his face anxious.

“Tell the
Helios
to stand down,” Keating commanded. “Return to base.”

The operator nodded. “Very good, sir. They’re already on their way.”

“What do you mean?” the Gold King demanded. “I just gave the order.”

The young man blinked. “It was on the orders of young Mr. Roth. The battle was over.”

“What do you mean? No one had authority to fire without my leave!”

“I’m sorry, sir. The captain pursued the attack, sir, as he had a clear advantage.”

Evelina sucked in a breath. “What does that mean?”

“And then young Mr. Roth persuaded him to return to base. It seems Miss Roth fell gravely ill.”

“What happened?” Bucky demanded. Lord Bancroft said nothing, but the same question was clear on his face.

The young operator was beginning to wear the expression of a hunted rabbit. Too many people were staring at him, demanding answers. “It came on her in the midst of the battle, just as the
Wyvern
was destroyed. That ship’s lost sir, all hands gone.”

“Where is the
Red Jack
?” Keating thundered. “Where is my device?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the operator in a small voice. “That ship was utterly destroyed as well. Not a plank remaining.”

In that moment, Evelina was sure that she had died.

AND THE BLOWS WOULD NOT STOP COMING. AFTER LEAVING
the Magnetorium, Evelina had gone to Hilliard House. There, numb with misery, Evelina sat at Imogen’s bedside through the night, sometimes with Tobias or Alice, but often alone. Evelina had always been Imogen’s most capable nurse, and the household was relieved to let her take charge until the morning.

Lord and Lady Bancroft, Alice and Tobias, and especially Poppy were dumbstruck by Imogen’s sudden illness. Bucky Penner was devastated. The only positive note was that Tobias rallied to give and take comfort from his old friend. Tragedy buried whatever tension had grown between them; Imogen would have been glad.

As dawn arrived, she remained beneath the lace-trimmed covers, seemingly asleep and lovely as ever. There was no injury, no visible sign of illness. Imogen’s breathing went on, as did her heartbeat. But Evelina knew, as no one else could, that her friend’s soul had fled. Imogen’s body was there, but she was not.

Mouse and Bird sat on the bedside table, to every eye but Evelina’s just clever ornaments made to amuse. In truth, the devas watched over the still, pale form. They would be Evelina’s eyes and ears after she’d made her good-byes and surrendered herself to the Gold King.

* * *

“
SO WHAT HAVE
you learned from any of this?” Holmes asked her later that afternoon, after she’d had a few fitful hours of sleep.

Evelina’s first instinct was to retreat from the study and go hide downstairs with Mrs. Hudson. She already knew this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation, for anger still showed in the white lines around Holmes’s mouth. She’d explained her reasons for going to Whitechapel, but he was still too furious to accept them. In truth, she couldn’t blame him. She could imagine how wrongheaded her actions appeared from his perspective—but he hadn’t been in that room at Maggor’s Close with Keating weaving his web of threats and coercion.

“Pray tell, niece, what was gained by leaving me in the dark?” Holmes went on in icy tones. “Or do you think I am so utterly incompetent that I require a schoolgirl to take charge of my safety? Is that why you chose to bargain with Keating on your own? Is there no plane of reality in which I might have improved the outcome?”

She flinched at that, her spine rigid as a board as she sat down across from her uncle. Keating hadn’t saved Nick and his men, but he had insisted that his intent was good—so the terms of the bargain held. Keating had might on his side, and he would force Evelina to keep her half of the deal. Whether that was just or logical didn’t matter, and no one tried to dispute it. As a self-proclaimed user of magic, her life was forfeit anyhow.

Evelina looked at the clock. In another quarter hour, Keating’s coach would take her to college—her trunks were still packed from her trip to the shooting party, and the Gold King was anxious to have her under his control. There was barely time to say farewell. She had longed for an education, but not like this. Not like a prison sentence, with her heart breaking for all her losses.

She glanced around the Baker Street study. The window had been replaced, and new china was on the table. The room had been repaired, but she was not. She had just lost two of the people she loved best, and her entire body ached
with spent emotion. When she had arrived home from Hilliard House, she had cried until she felt bruised. Now there was nothing left, as if, like Serafina, she had nothing but sawdust inside.

Holmes must have read her mood, because his face lost some of its ire. “Evelina?”

“I’m sorry,” she said miserably.

“Did you learn anything of use in all this?”

“Did I learn anything?” she repeated with surprise. “Are you talking about my time with Magnus or the dire consequences of trusting anything Jasper Keating has to say?”