The Spiritglass Charade (35 page)

Although I explained in great detail about our escapades, I declined to tell Grayling about the UnDead element of the case. He struck me as the sort of man who would scoff at the very thought of vampires running about his London.

“And so,” I finished, “as I saw no sign of Miss Kluger during my final search of the hideaway, I suggest you put out an arrest warrant for her. She is driving a Two-Seat Charley.”

“Right then. Admirable work, Miss Holmes. Between your experiences and the evidence we collected at the crime scene, once the Yard apprehends Geraldine Kluger, one can expect her to be incarcerated for a long time.” He handed me a handkerchief.

I took it and raised a brow. “Inspector?”

“You appear to have met with some . . . mishap of your own.” He gestured to my neck.

Oh
. I immediately dabbed at the blood encrusted on my neck, thankful I'd already applied salted holy water to stop the bleeding and encourage healing.

“Let us be thankful there weren't any two-story windows for you to try and tumble from” were Grayling's last words as he turned to his official business. “Or rivers to fall into.”

I might have had a witty response, but at the moment I was much too worried about Miss Adler. Instead, I grabbed Evaline and said, “Pix said Olympia took Miss Adler to
hospital. We must get there immediately, for in the event she
does
awaken . . .” I stopped, for I didn't want to put it into words.

Evaline looked at me with expressionless eyes. “Yes. I'll take care of it.
If
she awakens, I know what must be done.”

“I
was young. And impressionable. I was in Paris! And
La soci
é
t
é
 . . . that's what they do. They prey on impressionable, naive people—especially young ones.”

A very thin and pale Miss Adler was speaking to us in her office one week after the events at the
La soci
é
t
é
hideout. But, miraculously, she was alive—
mortal
and alive.

And it was all thanks to Dylan.

Not even certain where he was or what he'd been doing—though I was terribly relieved
not
to have found him in
La soci
é
t
é
—as we left Smithfield that morning, I sent word to Dylan that Miss Adler was gravely ill, suggesting he come at once.

I was sure he'd want to see her one last time. I sent one message through the Museum and another to Dr. Watson, not knowing whether Dylan had been spending time with
my uncle's partner. I didn't know any other way to reach him so urgently.

When Dylan arrived at the hospital, he rushed up to me. “What's happened to her?”

To my relief, he looked less gray and pasty than he had the last time I saw him. I couldn't help but glance at his shirt sleeve when he took off his coat—and it was pristine and white. No bloodstains.

“Vampire bites. They drained her blood. If she survives, it's because she's been turned UnDead,” Evaline explained.

“She's lost too much blood.” I felt exceedingly weary and lightheaded myself. “She's hardly breathing and her pulse is very weak.”

“I can save her.”

I stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“
I can save her
.” Before I could react, Dylan was shouting for nurses and Dr. Lister and several others for assistance.

“What is going on?” I demanded, trying to quell my rising hope.

“Blood transfusions, Mina,” he said rapidly. “I'm a universal donor. I can give blood to anyone.” He brandished Prince Albert's pin, now on his coat lapel. “This helped—it made them all listen to me, and I've been testing out the procedure for a week now. I've been working with Dr. Lister and Dr. Watson. Mina, I can give Irene
my
blood.”

I shook my head. I was still feeling weakness from my own loss of blood, for I didn't understand at all what he meant.

As it turned out, it didn't matter whether I understood or not. Whatever Dylan did—and he promised to explain it all to me in depth later—it saved Miss Adler's life.

He was a hero again. I looked at him across the office and he caught my eye, giving me a smile that made my stomach flutter. How foolish had I been to think he'd fallen in with
La soci
é
t
é
?

But now that Miss Adler was alive and recovering, she had things to tell us. Things we needed to know, and things perhaps she should have been forthcoming about sooner.

I glanced at Evaline. She seemed almost herself, although I detected some brittleness about her since everything related to the spiritglass case had ended. I could only surmise it had to do with that ugly scene with Willa after Evaline killed Robby.

Incidentally, there'd been an announcement in the
Times
that Miss Willa Ashton and Mr. James Treadwell were to be wed, and her guardian, Herrell Ashton, was giving her away. I suspected neither Evaline nor I would be invited to the nuptials, and although I didn't care at all about the social event, I felt as if Miss Ashton should at least acknowledge the fact that, without Evaline and myself, there wouldn't be any nuptials.

Obviously, with Miss Geraldine Kluger out of the picture, Willa no longer needed to worry about being committed to a lunatic asylum. The whole story was in the papers—at least, the
censored part I'd given to Grayling—and so everyone, including the Nortons, knew poor Willa Ashton had been manipulated by her aunt. Miss Kluger's motive was put out to be greed—she wanted control of her niece and nephew's money, and she forced a group of boys to play pickpocket for her as well.

I returned my attention to Miss Adler with difficulty and apprehension. Although I'd been brimming with questions since learning she bore the mark of
La soci
é
t
é
, I found myself surprisingly reluctant to hear her story.

Whatever else I deduced, it was clear Irene Adler had, at least at one point, been a willing member of
La soci
é
t
é
. What wasn't clear, and what I was strangely reluctant to ask, was how she'd come to be at Gadreau's lair a week ago. Willingly or unwillingly. I wasn't certain I wanted to know.

“There was a
La soci
é
t
é
meeting on the night of the grand opening of New Vauxhall Gardens. And I'm certain I saw you there at the Gardens, Miss Adler. Were you at the meeting?” Evaline let her voice trail off, but she was watching our mentor closely.

For the first time since I'd known her, Miss Adler appeared utterly uncomfortable. “I . . . did attend. For a variety of reasons. I wanted to find out why they were in London. I knew of Gadreau, of course—he's been a powerful vampire for more than two decades. I needed to know what brought him to London from Paris.”

“Presumably it was his mortal lover, Geraldine Kluger, the certified spinster. She came back because her sister, Willa's
mother, died, and she was going to take care of the children. Robby and Willa.”

“Fine job she did taking care of them,” Evaline muttered.

I nodded. “Aunt Geraldine did it all to keep her lover happy, comfortable, and safe. It was all for love—a powerful motivator, if I do say so. And in fact, I did, did I not? Early on in the investigation?”

“As I recall, you were speaking of Miss Norton as a possible suspect, because she was in love with Mr. Treadwell,” Evaline pointed out.

I sniffed and turned to Miss Adler. “Even after all that, you didn't see fit to tell us you were a member of the group?”

“No. And I made a mistake. But . . . it's not something I'm proud of. It was a foolish thing I did, getting involved with
La soci
é
t
é
many years ago when I was living in Paris. I had some friends, and we . . .” Her voice trailed off and her eyes shifted down. “It was a mistake of youth.” Then she looked up at us with a clear gaze. “I hope you can forgive me for not being completely forthcoming. I didn't realize it would become such a dangerous concern.”

“
La soci
é
t
é
and the UnDead are always my concern,” Evaline said flatly. “And always will be.”

“Of course you're right, Evaline. Please accept my apologies, again. Sincerely. I'll be bringing Her Royal Highness Princess Alexandra up to date on everything that's occurred—including that you and Mina have aborted
La soci
é
t
é
'
s return—and I'll highly recommend you to her once more.”

“But what were you doing there that night?” I pressed. “Why were you there with Gadreau and Miss Kluger? And nearly dead? Were they trying to kill you?”

For the first time, I had the disconcerting experience of seeing Miss Adler appear chagrined. “When one is a member of
La soci
é
t
é
, one knows how to communicate with other members. As you may have suspected, the Pickled Nurse was a location where messages could be delivered and received, and one night I managed to gain entrance to the purlieu. I thought I could do my own detective work, and report back to you. But my true purpose was discovered and Gadreau and his boys . . . they took the opportunity to express their displeasure with my infiltration.” She reached over to touch Dylan's hand. “If it hadn't been for you, I'd be dead. For I would never have drunk the blood of an UnDead, and I was nearly dry. And you two, Mina and Evaline. If you hadn't searched thoroughly enough . . . You all saved my life.”

I looked away when I noticed the uncharacteristic glistening in her eyes. Evaline cleared her throat and Dylan shifted in his seat.

“Very well then.” Miss Adler tucked her handkerchief away and turned to me. “As far as Scotland Yard is concerned, the case with Mrs. Yingling is closed?”

I nodded. “Yes. I heard from Inspector Grayling that, thanks to my information—including a description of Miss Kluger's Two-Seat Charley—they were able to apprehend her. She's in custody and will stand trial for kidnapping
and attempted murder. Unfortunately, during the scuffle of removing her from her vehicle—which has tinted gray windows—Gadreau tried to escape. As you might recall, it was a very sunny day, and . . . well, I do not believe he got very far.” I smiled grimly.

“The vampire burned up?” Dylan asked, his eyes lit with humor. “You mean, he doesn't sparkle in the sunlight?”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes with affection. I had no idea why he was under the impression that UnDead glittered in the sunlight, but he was always making jests like that. “I haven't heard from Grayling precisely what the police thought about Gadreau's sudden disappearance, and I'm certainly not about to ask. Let them investigate that mystery if they so choose.”

“And so all of the Para-Natural happenings have been fully explained?” Miss Adler said.

I did not respond.

That was the one thing that niggled at me, the one thing I couldn't accept. There was no physical or rational explanation for the green amorphous visitations of Marta Ashton . . . as well as the odd messages for Evaline.

The only other interpretation was that they had, in fact, been real spiritual manifestations.

I'd mulled over the possibility for days, trying to find a more palatable explanation for those occurrences.

But over and over, I returned to Uncle Sherlock's philosophy: When even the impossible has been eliminated, whatever remains, regardless of how improbable, must be the truth.

And yet the truth was one I could not accept. Or, at least, I did not
wish
to accept it.

Visiting spirits? Ghosts? Speaking through mediums and dreams?

I didn't like the realization that there were things of this world that cannot be explained through logic and deduction. It made me feel unsettled and inadequate.

It made me feel as if I could never be wholly certain of everything I understood about the world, ever again.

After Miss Adler left to rest and Dylan returned to hospital—where he'd been spending a good amount of time—Evaline offered me a ride home in her carriage.

“I've been meaning to speak to you about something for over a week now,” she said once we started off. “But I wanted to think about it first.”

“What is it?” She looked very serious. Maybe she was going to bow out of our partnership in order to hunt vampires full-time. If there were any left in London—we didn't really know. And we wouldn't until one showed up again.

Evaline shifted on the carriage seat, her pretty face serious. “Where did you get the book
The Venator
?”