Authors: Amanda Quick
Quicksilver (34 page)
She put the pen aside very deliberately and clasped her hands on top of the appointment book. “I told you when I applied to become affiliated with the Institute that what I do is not an act. The reason that the afterimages don’t speak through me is because they are not spirits. I have explained that what I perceive are psychical photographs, not ghosts.”
“I understand. But that is precisely why you have not become the most successful psychical consultant at the Institute. It is why Pamela Egan channeling her ancient Egyptian princess and that old biddy Mrs. Harkins still pull in more clients than you do. People expect action at a séance or a reading. They want theatrics. They want to feel that there is active communication with the departed. I can provide that missing element in your readings.”
“Indeed?” she said evenly. “How would you do that?”
He sat forward. “By working with you at each consultation. You would do what you always do, summon the spirits in their final moments.”
“You mean summon the afterimages, which, I might remind you, only someone with my kind of talent can perceive.”
“Ah, but that is where I come in.” Leybrook smiled. “I can provide a visual element to the readings.”
“I knew it,” Virginia said. “You are an illusion-talent, aren’t you?”
He hesitated, frowning, and then shrugged. “Yes.”
“I suspected as much.”
“For obvious reasons I prefer to keep the exact nature of my ability a secret. People want to believe that they are seeing real ghosts, not stage magic. In our performances I will create the illusion of visual disturbances on the surfaces of the mirrors while you read the afterimages. The clients will be enthralled.”
“You intend to deceive them.”
“Not at all. I will merely enhance the experience for them by providing some drama. You will relay to me what you see in the mirrors. At the same time I will provide the audience with the illusion of fog and images swirling in the glass. But we will add the finishing touch. After you tell me what you have seen, I will channel the voices of the departed for our clients.”
“You will pretend to speak for spirits? But what will you say?”
“Come, now, Virginia, how hard can it be to speak for the dead and the dying? Mediums and séance-givers do it all the time. I will convey last messages to loved ones, perhaps a plea for justice in the event we stumble across a genuine murder victim, that sort of thing.”
“Has it occurred to you that if you claim to speak for someone who is in the process of being murdered the client and very likely the police will expect the victim to name the murderer?”
“There are ways to finesse that angle,” Leybrook said.
“How can you do that?”
“Mysterious clues from the dead will work nicely,” Gilmore said.
“What sort of clues?”
“Search for the blue door,”
Gilmore intoned in a deep, melodramatic voice.
“Listen for the hound at midnight. Read what is written on the stone at the bottom of the pond.”
He waved one hand in a dismissing gesture, and his voice returned to normal. “There are endless possibilities when it comes to clues from beyond the grave.”
Gilmore intoned in a deep, melodramatic voice.
“Listen for the hound at midnight. Read what is written on the stone at the bottom of the pond.”
He waved one hand in a dismissing gesture, and his voice returned to normal. “There are endless possibilities when it comes to clues from beyond the grave.”
“I see.”
“We will split the consulting fees sixty-forty,” Gilmore added smoothly.
“I assume I’m the one who will receive the forty percent?”
“Correct.”
“Under the terms of our current agreement I retain seventy-five percent of the fees that I charge,” Virginia said.
“Any loss in profit to you under the new arrangement will be more than compensated for by an increase in business and in our fees.”
“How very generous of you.”
“Together we will not only make a great deal of money, we will take the reputation and the influence of this Institute to new heights.” Gilmore’s eyes hardened. He was suddenly very intense. “We will attract a greater number of
true
talents to work here, and not just those who would never be welcome in Arcane. I believe we have the potential to draw members from the Society itself.”
true
talents to work here, and not just those who would never be welcome in Arcane. I believe we have the potential to draw members from the Society itself.”
“Do you really believe that?” Virginia asked.
“Yes. There are rumblings within Arcane. Not all of the members are happy with the new direction the organization is taking. Some are chafing under the limits that the Joneses have begun to set on the kind of research that will be condoned by the Society in the future. Furthermore, the establishment of Jones & Jones has created a great deal of resentment both within and outside of Arcane. Many feel that the Society has no right to police the rest of us.”
She had always understood that Gilmore viewed Arcane as competition, but now she realized that his hostility toward the Society involved something more than business, something very personal.
“Mr. Leybrook, rest assured that I wish you well in your efforts to create an alternative to Arcane, but I cannot accept your offer to enhance my readings. I am not interested in going into a consulting partnership of the sort that you are describing.”
“You wish to bargain for a higher percentage of the fees?”
“I am not trying to negotiate with you, sir. I am telling you that I intend to build my business my way. I do not want to deceive my clients, even if it means larger fees.”
“It’s Sweetwater, isn’t it?” Gilmore surged up out of the chair and stalked to the window. He looked down at the street. “He is the reason you are turning down my offer. He has seduced you.”
“The nature of my association with Mr. Sweetwater is none of your business.”
“Do not bother to deny it.” Gilmore shot her a scathing look. “I sensed the energy around the two of you last night. I suspect everyone at the reception did.” His mouth twisted. “Hell, even nontalents can pick up on those sorts of currents.”
Virginia could feel the heat rising in her face. She was very glad that Gilmore was watching the scene outside the window.
“What an extraordinarily ill-mannered and inappropriate thing to say,” she said in her coldest accents. She was careful to keep her voice low, because she knew that Matt, with his hunter-talent hearing, was probably listening. “I have no intention of discussing my personal affairs with you, Mr. Leybrook. I will thank you to leave my office immediately.”
Gilmore turned away from the window to face her. “You surprise me, Virginia. I never thought that you would become a gentleman’s mistress. I was convinced that you had more pride than that.”
“That’s enough.” She leaped to her feet. “Leave this office at once.”
“You seem to forget, this office is the property of the Institute, and I own the Institute. As long as you accept the benefits of affiliation with my organization, you will do as I say.”
The door opened. Matt looked straight at Virginia.
“Is there a problem, Miss Dean?” he said.
“Get out of here,” Gilmore ordered.
Matt ignored him. He waited for Virginia to respond.
She moved around the corner of the desk. “There is no problem, Mr. Kern. We are leaving now.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Gilmore demanded.
“I am hereby severing my affiliation with the Institute. Good-bye, Mr. Leybrook. It will be interesting to see if you can create an organization that rivals Arcane. You have your work cut out for you.”
“You can’t just walk out of here.”
She paused in the doorway.
“Watch me,” she said.
Matt smiled at Gilmore. Virginia had seen Owen smile a very similar smile.
The Sweetwater smile,
she thought. It promised that bad things would happen.
The Sweetwater smile,
she thought. It promised that bad things would happen.
“That’s enough, Matt,” she said quietly. “We’re leaving now.”
Matt looked disappointed, but he followed her obediently down the hall to the staircase.
Virginia looked down and saw Adriana Walters coming up the stairs.
“Walk out of this Institute and you can say farewell to your career, Virginia Dean,” Gilmore roared from the doorway of the office. “I’ll destroy your reputation in London. You’ll be lucky to get clients from the gutters before I’ve finished with you.”
She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Why don’t you go search for the blue door, Mr. Gilmore? Or perhaps listen for the hound at midnight? Better yet, try reading what is written on the stone at the bottom of the pond.”
Gilmore’s face suffused with rage.
Virginia continued down the stairs.
“You know, it would be very easy for Gilmore to break his neck on these stairs,” Matt offered with a hopeful air. “Accidents do happen.”
“That won’t be necessary, thank you,” Virginia said.
“Just a leg, perhaps?” Matt wheedled.
“No, Matt. I do not need the aggravation.”
Adriana swept past, glaring.
“He’s all yours,” Virginia said.
“Bitch,” Adriana hissed.
At the foot of the stairs the porter lurched out of his office to open the door. He handed Virginia her still-dripping umbrella and cloak, and shot a grim look at the top of the staircase.
“Is there a problem, Miss Dean?” he asked.
“No, Mr. Fulton, there is no problem. Not anymore.”
“It’s still raining outside, ma’am,” he said anxiously. “I’ll summon a cab for you.”
“Thank you,” Virginia said.
Outside on the front steps, Matt held the large umbrella for her while Fulton took out a whistle. In response to the piercing sound, a cab materialized out of the driving rain.
“Number Seven Garnet Lane,” Matt said to the driver. He handed Virginia up into the cab and got in behind her. The vehicle rolled forward.
Virginia contemplated the rain through the window and pondered the disastrous turn of events. Her career and the secure, prosperous future that she had been attempting to create for herself now lay in smoking ruins. She was surprised to realize that she felt strangely numb. It would no doubt take a while for the shock to set in, she concluded.
Matt watched her from the opposite seat.
“Uncle Owen won’t like it when he finds out that Leybrook threatened your career, Miss Dean.”
Virginia frowned. “Let me make something very clear. I appreciate your sentiments on my behalf, but what just happened between Mr. Leybrook and me is my problem. I will deal with it. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand. But I’m not sure Uncle Owen will see things that way.”
“To clarify further, if I hear that Gilmore Leybrook has suffered an unfortunate or fatal accident of any kind in the near future, I will be very annoyed.”
“Yes, ma’am. I was merely pointing out that Uncle Owen won’t be happy.”
“I am not particularly thrilled, myself. But I will not allow your uncle to use me as an excuse to do something dreadful to Leybrook. I was told that Sweetwaters only hunt the monsters.”
“That’s true.”
“Heaven knows Gilmore has his faults, but he is not one of the monsters.”
Matt regarded her with a considering expression. “Are you certain of that, Miss Dean? The monsters are usually well disguised. That is what makes them difficult to hunt. It is why J & J asked for our assistance in this matter of the glass-reader murders.”
She could not think of a response to that. He was right. The monsters of antiquity were easy to identify. They had three heads or snakelike tails and a terrifying, demonic aspect. But human monsters all too often were chameleons who blended into society.
Fifteen minutes later the cab halted at her address on Garnet Lane. Matt took the umbrella and escorted Virginia up the front steps. The Sweetwater men might be assassins for hire, she thought, but they were very well mannered. Gentlemen to their lethal fingertips.
“Something amusing, Miss Dean?” Matt asked.
Virginia realized she was smiling. “No, not really.”
She took out her key and gave it to him. He opened the door and ushered her inside. The house felt dark and empty. There were no footsteps coming down the hall from the kitchen.
“It looks like Mrs. Crofton is not yet home,” Matt said. He planted the umbrella into the wrought-iron stand. “Perhaps she has had some luck locating the Hollister housekeeper.”
“That would certainly be helpful.” Virginia undid her cloak. “The hem of my skirts and my walking boots are soaked from the wet streets. I’m going to dash upstairs and change into some dry clothes. Why don’t you go into the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove? There are some biscuits in the pantry. I’ll join you shortly.”
“An excellent plan,” Matt said.
He assisted her with her cloak and then ambled happily down the hall, a young man in search of food.
Well, it was not his future that had just burned to the ground, Virginia told herself. The Sweetwaters enjoyed a very secure profession. There would always be monsters around to hunt, as well as people and organizations such as J & J who would no doubt be willing to pay well for the service.
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