The Perfect Poison (30 page)

“The founder’s formula.” Caleb sounded very certain. “He said Hulsey gave him a new, improved version this afternoon.”

“I can assure you that if you had not killed him, the drug would have. And quite soon, I think.”

He took out a handkerchief and crouched beside Norcross. His hands were protected by his leather gloves but he used the square of heavy linen to remove a small object from the dead man’s coat.

The lantern light gleamed on an elegant gold snuffbox decorated with a triangle fashioned of small green stones.

“He used snuff?” She frowned. “I did not sense any tobacco on him.”

“There is a powder inside this box. I think it is the drug.”

She adjusted her eyeglasses and peered more closely at the lid of the box. “Those look like emeralds.”

“I’m sure they are.” Caleb studied the snuffbox as though it were a tiny explosive device. “The design itself is alchemical, the symbol for fire.”

She heightened her senses again.

“Whatever is inside that snuffbox contains the ingredients in the poison that the dead man was taking,” she said.

“Is it safe to handle the box?”

“Yes. I very much doubt that merely coming into contact with the powder would have any serious or lasting effects. One would have to inhale at least a dose or two before it began to affect the psychical senses in a permanent manner. Initially, at least, the effect would actually be quite stimulating. The victim would no doubt think that the drug was heightening his powers.”

“When, in fact, it was killing him.”

“Yes.” She hesitated, trying to judge the lethal essence of the powder. “A strong young man like Norcross might last as long as three or four days at most. An older or weaker one would succumb more quickly.”

Caleb contemplated the tiny emerald-and-gold object. “How do you suggest we destroy the powder inside that box?”

“Almost anything will render it harmless. I can sense that the composition of the formula is extremely fragile and unstable. An acidic substance such as vinegar will destroy its power. So would alcohol or strong spirits. Heat would also disrupt its harmful properties.”

“What would happen if one ate it?”

“Very little, I should think. The digestive process would destabilize it. But I would not suggest ingesting it.”

“I wasn’t planning to do so.” Caleb wrapped the snuffbox very carefully in the handkerchief and got to his feet. “I will get rid of this as soon as possible.”

She looked at Norcross. “What of him?”

“I will notify Inspector Spellar. He will deal with it.”

“But how will you explain the manner of death?”

“That is Spellar’s problem, not mine.” Caleb scooped up the lantern. “Which is fortunate, under the circumstances.”

She followed him toward the door. “I can understand that you do not wish to be involved in a murder investigation but it was, after all, a matter of self-defense.”

“That is not the problem, Lucinda.”

“What do you mean?”

“The problem is that I do not know how I killed that man.”

They stood together in Caleb’s laboratory, looking at the crystal goblet sitting on a workbench. The goblet was filled with brandy that glowed warmly in the firelight. The snuffbox was at the bottom of the glass, open and empty, an emerald-and-gold jewel trapped in liquid amber.

Caleb had diluted the powdered drug and rendered it harmless by a process that involved dousing the little box in several immersions of the brandy. Lucinda had assured him that the formula had been entirely destroyed by the first round of strong spirits but he had not wanted to take any chances. After each immersion, he had emptied the used brandy into an iron pan and burned it off in the heat of the roaring fire.

“You’re sure it is safe to handle now?” Caleb asked.

“Oh, yes,” Lucinda said. “It was safe after the first dunking. I told you, the drug is extremely unstable. Once it breaks down, it loses the properties that enable it to affect the senses. Even without interference, I doubt that it would retain its potency for more than a few days at most.”

He looked at her across the width of the workbench. “You can sense that?”

“Yes. That powder is like a cut flower. It starts to decay immediately. But why would anyone deliberately take a formula that is so lethal and works so quickly?”

“I told you, Norcross said it was a new version of the drug. Maybe there had been no time to carry out experiments.”

“Or perhaps Norcross was the experiment?” she suggested.

“You may be right. He certainly seemed quite pleased with the effects. He obviously didn’t realize that it was killing him.”

Caleb fell silent for a moment. She watched him sink into his private place.

“Do you think you could create an antidote to the drug?” he asked after a while.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know of no plant or herb that would effectively counteract the strange energy of whatever was in that snuffbox. That does not mean that a remedy could not be created someday, but it is beyond my abilities. I suspect it will require advances in the field of chemistry as well as a great deal of research and experimentation.”

“Do not apologize. Sylvester claimed to have found an effective antidote for the original version of the formula. He went so far as to etch the ingredients on a sheet of gold that covered his strongbox. But he noted that it must be taken simultaneously with the drug. For obvious reasons, there has been no practical way to test its effectiveness.”

Curiosity fizzed through her. “Do you have the recipe for the antidote?”

“The original is at Arcane House but I made a copy.”

He disappeared into the maze of shelving. A moment later she heard the vault door open. When Caleb reappeared he had a notebook in one hand.

“I inscribed the recipe exactly as it was etched into the sheet of gold foil,” he said.

He opened the book, turned a page and then moved aside so that she could see his notes. She adjusted her glasses, leaned down slightly and read swiftly through the Latin names of the various plants and herbs.

“Hmm,” she said.

“What is it?”

“I recognize most of these ingredients and I am familiar with their normal and paranormal properties. I’m quite sure that none of them would have any effect against the powder that we found in the snuffbox or any other poison, for that matter. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“What do you mean?”

She straightened. “A cup of this so-called antidote would kill a person in a matter of minutes.”

He exhaled slowly and nodded once. “I had a feeling that might be the case. It was too damned obvious. The wily old bastard left one last trap for his enemies and rivals.”

“You say he etched that formula on a strongbox?”

Caleb flipped the notebook shut. “Sylvester knew that someday someone might steal his precious formula. So he left the warning that it was a slow-acting poison and ever so helpfully provided the antidote. Inscribed in gold, no less. What alchemist would have been able to resist?”

“I see what you mean.”

He went to stand in front of the hearth and contemplated the flames.

“It is imperative that we discover Norcross’s address and his connections as quickly as possible,” he said. “It is our only hope of finding Hulsey and the other members of the Seventh Circle.”

A chill went through her. “What will you do with them when you find them, Caleb? I doubt that you will discover any proof that they committed murder.”

He did not take his attention off the fire. “I will discuss that issue with Gabe but I think the answer is clear. Hulsey and the people who employed him to brew the drug must be stopped.”

She folded her arms and watched him closely. “You mean killed, do you not?”

Caleb said nothing.

“No.”She uncrossed her arms and hurried to his side. “Listen to me, Caleb. It is one thing to conduct investigations on behalf of the Arcane Society. But you cannot allow the organization to turn you into some sort of executioner for hire. Such work will destroy you as surely as any deadly poison.”

He gripped the mantel. “What the hell am I supposed to do about men like Hulsey and those who hired him? What of the monsters the formula creates?”

“I agree such madmen must be stopped. But given the allure of the formula, I fear there will always be those who will seek its power. You cannot undertake the terrible task of killing them all. I will not allow it.”

He looked at her, his eyes stark. “You won’t allow it?”

She raised her chin. “I realize that you think it is not my place to tell you what to do. But I cannot stand by and say nothing while you talk of transforming yourself into a professional killer.”

“Have you got a better solution?”

She took a deep breath. “I think the answer lies in the very nature of the formula. From what you have told me, those who take any version of it cannot survive long if they are deprived of it.”

“Destroy the drug whenever and wherever I find it and those who use it will also be destroyed. Is that your answer?”

“I accept that the Society has a duty to stop those who are intent on re-creating the drug. I also understand that there may be times when you will be forced to act as you did tonight. But whenever possible, I believe that you must let the drug do its deadly work for you.”

He watched her very steadily. “Do you think that approach will make me any less responsible for the deaths that may result in the years ahead?”

“Yes,” she said, very fierce now. “I do believe that. It is not a perfect solution. No death, regardless of how it is caused, will be easy for you. All will trouble you. But those who concoct the drug are not innocents, Caleb. They are well aware that they are dabbling in dangerous and forbidden research. If they die as a result of their work, so be it. Let the punishment fit the crime.”

“You are a formidable woman, Lucinda Bromley.”

“And you are a formidable man, Mr. Jones.”

He released his death grip on the mantel and captured her face in his hands.

He kissed her with a hot, compelling urgency that caught her by surprise. Energy flared but it felt different than it had on the previous occasions when he had made love to her. There was the sensual power that she had sensed before but also a desperate hunger. The healer in her rose to the surface.

“Caleb, are you ill?”

“I think so. I’m not sure. All I know is that I need you tonight, Lucinda.”

He began to strip the violet gown from her. She heard delicate fastenings pop and fragile silk tear.

Alarmed, she reached up to frame his face with her hands. The heat in him made her gasp. It emanated not just from his body but from his aura.

“You feel feverish,” she whispered.

But even as she said the words, she knew that the fever raging in him had its origins in the metaphysical, not the physical realm. And suddenly she understood.

“That man you believe you killed tonight—”

“I did kill him. What is more, I would do it again without a moment’s hesitation. But I am discovering that there is a price to pay for using my talent in such a manner.”

Shocked, she searched his face. “Caleb, are you telling me that you used your talent to kill that man?”

“Yes.”

She suddenly understood. The psychical fever raging in him was an aftereffect of what he had done tonight. If he had indeed killed Norcross with his talent, he had no doubt been forced to push himself to his very limits. He would likely soon collapse in exhaustion. But in the meantime he was trying to contain and control the unsettling whirlwinds and dissonant energy patterns that would be the result of such an enormous effort.

“It’s all right, Caleb. You are with me.”

“Lucinda.” His eyes were those of a man standing on the edge of endless night. “I need you more than I have ever needed anything in my life.”

She wrapped her arms around him, trying to infuse him with her own light and energy.

“I’m here,” she whispered.

He pushed her down onto the cot and opened his trousers with quick movements. He did not bother to fully undress. The next thing she knew he was falling on her, crushing her into the thin mattress. The cot creaked and groaned beneath his weight.

There were no tender, preliminary caresses this time. Caleb handled her with a ruthless desperation. She knew he was exerting enormous control in an effort not to hurt her. But his hot need generated a new and different kind of excitement.

She clutched his shoulders. “I’m not fragile.”

“I know.” He put his fevered face against her breasts. “I know. You are strong. So strong.”

He slid his hand between her legs, cupping her, making sure that she was damp, and then he entered her in a searing rush of energy that seemed to set their very auras ablaze.

He thrust once, twice, a third time and then he went rigid above her, pulsing his essence into her.

When it was over he collapsed, suddenly, deeply asleep.

She waited several minutes before she wriggled out from beneath his heavy weight. He stirred a little but he did not open his eyes. She touched the pulse at his throat. The strong, steady beat reassured her. He was cooler now, too.

She got to her feet and began to dress. The gray light of dawn lit the windows. She knew she should go home but she dared not leave Caleb until he awoke. She settled down into the chair in front of the fire and waited.

Eventually he opened his eyes. She was relieved to see no sign of the psychical heat.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Nearly five. I’m glad I sent Shute home after he brought us here. I would hate to think of him having spent the night in the carriage waiting for me.”

Caleb sat up and swung his legs to the floor. “No need to be concerned. In the polite world it is nothing to return home at dawn after a ball. Your neighbors will hardly notice.”

“You are obviously unacquainted with my neighbors.”

He got to his feet and looked down, evidently surprised to discover that he was still wearing most of his clothes. He grimaced and fastened his trousers.

“Do you really give a damn about your neighbors?” he asked.