These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel (33 page)

As we rumbled away, the house slowly blocked our view of the fight. Mr. Kent climbed to his feet, as if to give us one final reassurance and persuade my heart to climb down from my throat. His
words floated back to us on the wind: “Blast it all, you overgrown oaf! What are your weaknesses, besides, of course, the obvious
French
qualities?”

The last we saw was the start of Claude’s answer and Sebastian’s fierce leap at the giant. And the three were out of sight.

“They will be all right, Evelyn,” Miss Grey said weakly. “Mr. Kent’s injuries can wait.”

“I hope so.”

The carriage slowed to a pitiful stop in front of the unimposing house. It took everything within me to remain on our side of it as we held our breath, listening for any sound, any sign from the
fight. There was only dead silence, broken by the heavy huffs of our horses and the distant smacks and clatter of the street traffic.

What now?

I had two choices: wait for Sebastian to handle everything or stupidly charge in and get myself captured or all of us killed. There had to be a better alternative.

Unfortunately, Robert, staggering from around the side of the house, seemed to disagree. Unperturbed by his brush with death, he headed straight for the front door. Miss Grey and I were barely
able to clamber out of the carriage and block his idiotic path in time.

“Robert, stop!” I whispered sharply, grabbing his arm. “We must wait.”

He pulled it away. “I
don’t
need to wait for Mr. Braddock’s help. I can handle this so-called doctor with his cheap tricks myself.”

“Don’t be foolish,” I said to his back. Ignoring me, he grumbled, rattled the locked door, and finally, as if it had made a personal affront upon his character, he resorted to
kicking it in with surprising strength. We watched helplessly as the splintery door cracked open, and Robert disappeared inside.

Miss Grey gave me an anxious look. “He cannot do it alone,” she said.

Most definitely not. I forced my mind to move, plan, solve. If Robert could distract Dr. Beck for long enough, perhaps I could get Rose. Would he see it coming?

“Go with Robert,” I ordered. “Keep him from doing anything stupid. And delay Dr. Beck as much as you can. Perhaps I can retrieve Rose without him noticing.”

Miss Grey hesitated, not wanting to split up. But I was already making my way inside, down a dim, dusty corridor, passing windows that had all been boarded shut and doors into empty parlors
containing the same strange domestic niceties of Dr. Beck’s last house. Eventually, I found myself lingering at a staircase, not knowing whether Rose would be upstairs, downstairs, or around
the bend in the hallway. A crackle and creaking snapped my head upward, but when I was mere inches away from the steps, my legs stalled at the sound of a loud, distressing crash echoing from deeper
within the house.

That decided it. My new course led me farther down the curving hallway to a half-open door at the end. It provided a second entry into the laboratory—the massive space, packed with tables,
shelves, and boxes, seemed to take up half of the house. A path of destruction marked by broken bottles, retorts, jars, and other unidentifiable apparatuses led to the center of the room, where
Robert painfully stood up and wiped his coat free of the debris from a freshly destroyed table. Well, that was a poor job of delaying. In fact, where had Miss Grey gone—

I spotted a foot. I tasted blood as I bit my knuckles, holding back unhelpful yelps of panic. On my knees, peering between the table legs and equipment, I could see just a sliver of her body
lying still by the sink. Instinctively, I was across the room and by her side.

Dear God. Please be all right. Please.

My fingers felt for her pulse and found it—slow but still beating. My stifled sigh of relief came out quivering. Staying low in my crouched position, I struggled to pull her out quietly
while a wild and furious Robert occupied Dr. Beck with his unceasing shouts.

“
Where
is she?” Robert yelled.

“That’s none of your concern,” Dr. Beck coolly replied as he dodged the many flailing attacks. Finally deciding he’d had enough, the scientist plucked Robert’s
swinging fist straight out of the air, and with his other hand he seized a nearby glass rod. He smashed it across Robert’s head and let him drop to the floor.

The glass tinkled to the ground like rain, joining the thunderous thud of Robert’s body. Then complete silence, except for my quiet panting and a startling burst of laughter. Dr. Beck
already knew I was here.

“Miss Wyndham, no need to worry about your friend there. She’s just been sedated.” Smiling and snaking around tables, he wandered toward me. “My congratulations on your
speedy recovery.”

His face showed no surprise at the sight of me, but I better understood Mr. Kent’s theory. Dr. Beck had only recently discovered that I had these powers and that I had survived. It left me
with one last question: How recently?

“And you claim to know everything?” I snapped. He ignored me, but I persisted. “If you knew everything I was going to do—”

“I quite understand your point. There is no need to repeat it. Perhaps there are some things that I did not know. You may call them faults, but I prefer to see them as progress. The entire
basis of science is founded upon making mistakes,” he said, shoving something into his pocket as he approached. He pointed to the ceiling. “Your sister was one such example. There have
been some fascinating developments since you and I last spoke.”

I stood up and drew back from him, but there was only so far I could retreat. I considered running, but no. I could not leave them. For lack of a better plan, I continued to back away from the
short, slim, and terrifying man.

Then my back hit the wall. He stopped directly in front of me. I endeavored to dash to the left, to the right, but he was always blocking the way. His abilities were all too apparent. He
predicted my exact movements and in an instant grasped my face, holding it as tight as a vise. “I’m sure you’ll be as surprised as us to know that your sister was never the healer
we believed her to be.”

I tried to slap him, but his other hand seized my arm before I even raised it. He shoved me down, and my shoulder struck the floor hard. Wincing, I forced the pain away.

“Y-you’re lying,” I managed.

“No. I am not. Miss Rosamund has an entirely different ability. It’s not so obvious, which is why it took so long for anyone to discover, but that makes it no less intriguing. You
see, the girl can charm the breeches right off of you!” He laughed heartily at himself.

“As her sister, you know her far better than me. In the past two years, has there been a single person carrying the slightest bit of ill will toward her?”

He knelt over me, pulling a syringe from his pocket, and I lost my breath. I thrashed my arms to strike him, but he caught one while dodging the other. My legs rose up to kick him and hit only
air as he twisted around my limbs before I could process what happened. The needle pierced my arm, and he pushed the plunger and emptied the contents. He grinned as he stood back up, leaving me
prostrate on the floor.

I staggered back to my feet, trying not to vomit.

“Miss Rosamund’s gift has always been to charm. I gather it was why she was able to earn her reputation for
your
healing. Her voice—even her quiet presence—has a
captivating effect, and anyone around your sister will, in simple terms, love her. How that love manifests itself varies from person to person, but in every case, it compels everyone to act with
her best interests in mind.”

Was that why Mr. Hale helped us? No, no, Dr. Beck was lying. Trying to distract me. There was no way we were all so mistaken.

“You would never have been able to kidnap and hold her if that was true,” I replied.

“Ah, a clever point. But that’s because she did not train and develop her power. It was not as strong as it could potentially be, and we were able to resist. Granted, I’d never
felt more abominable about myself than when I was testing her healing abilities and putting her through all that pain. At the time, I even believed I was growing weak and sentimental, but now I
know that it was actually my strong will and determination that made the difference.

“Even Claude, loyal as he is, tried to convince me to let her go. That’s how I first made the discovery. And then I tested my hypothesis on Mr. Hale by telling him about the surgery
I planned to perform. That very evening, I caught him attempting to help her escape.” He laughed shortly—staccato, mad. “I feel so foolish for thinking she was holding back her
healing out of stubbornness.”

Something felt strange. The room blurred. My legs went limp and gave out, sending me toppling to the floor like a rag doll. Dr. Beck’s voice still resonated in my aching head.

“But we had a new problem this morning: We were left without a healer. Then you arrive here and brighten up my day, Miss Wyndham. If I were a religious man, I would thank someone for
guiding you to me.”

My mind begged my body to move, but my numb limbs refused.

“Don’t worry, you should be feeling tired,” he said. “It’s entirely natural. Just dream of the good you will do.”

Dr. Beck circled me, his boots sweeping inches from my face. The sedative worked on my blood. My eyes closed, and it took everything within me to fight back. I seemed to lift the entire world
with my eyelids.

I had to stay conscious. Keep them open. Otherwise, I would not wake up anywhere pleasant, and Rose might not wake up at all. I twisted my head upward. A prickle passed along my left arm. It had
regained feeling. I strained to move my hand inch by inch across the dusty floor.

“Of course,” Dr. Beck softly muttered. He knelt down and reverently touched my cheek. “Remarkable. Your body can fight it off. We’ll just have to increase the
dosage.” He rose and crossed the room toward his supply cabinet.

Rose. I had to take Rose home. I had to help Robert. Miss Grey. Sebastian. Mr. Kent. Everyone. Pushing my tingling fingers on the ground, I lifted myself up an inch, two, hearing Dr.
Beck’s whistling in one ear, a distant crackle in the other, before falling to the floor again.

“Hel—” My mouth could barely call for help. Useless. The haze was too much. It muddled every thread I tried to grasp, shrouded everything around me.

Except for that damnable whistling.

My right arm returned, and I dragged it up next to my face in an effort to rise. With a desperate push, I managed to slide up onto my knees. My legs struggled to exert control.

Get up. I had to get up. I panted, coughed, strained. Dr. Beck examined his syringe against the light and missed the movement behind him as Robert climbed back to his feet. Clutching a glass
bottle, he noiselessly crept behind the scientist, wound his arm back, and lunged with the weapon.

And Dr. Beck caught it with ease. He thrust the bottle straight into Robert’s teeth and knocked him back. I clambered up, crying out, pushing weight into my calves, my legs wobbling as I
began to rise. Stand, stand, stand.

Somewhere in my clouded head, an answer struck me. Dr. Beck did not foresee even a minute into the future that he would need a higher dosage for me. And he had only reacted seconds before he was
attacked. His foresight was severely limited. I had to tell Robert. But at that very moment, Dr. Beck struck him again with the bottle and then reached out across a counter to pick up a knife.

My mouth felt like a rusted door. “Ro’ert,” I barely moaned. No feeling in my tongue. My body refused to comply. Locking my knees, I stood fully erect, afraid to move lest I
collapse again.

Robert backed away from Dr. Beck, throwing every jar and beaker he could find between them. Dr. Beck yelled at him, “Stop, you’ll—”

Chemicals exploded in flames all along the wooden floors and gas-lit walls. Robert continued throwing in his rage until he ran out of nearby ammunition and found his back against an empty shelf.
His hand desperately searched for more, then gripped something tightly and swung at Dr. Beck’s forehead. Dr. Beck caught the fist yet again. With his other arm, he raised the knife. The blade
sliced into Robert’s jacket, shirt, and stomach.

Dr. Beck jerked the blood-soaked knife out and plunged it back in without hesitation. At that very moment, Robert’s fist, still held by Dr. Beck, loosened above the scientist’s face.
A glass bottle. Red liquid poured out, and as tangled with Robert as he was, even Dr. Beck only had time to partially avoid it. The substance splashed into his eyes, and he screamed, dropping
Robert to the floor as the air filled with an acrid stench.

Robert, that brilliant fool. Step by step, I staggered toward him. Slowly, my vision cleared. The world returned, sharp and ablaze. Robert lay on the floor in front of me, bleeding. I dropped
down and placed my hands over his wound, begging it to close. “Keep breathing. Just a few minutes.”

His short, labored breaths persevered. By the sink, Dr. Beck seethed and washed his eyes with a dirty towel.

Faster. Dammit, heal faster, Robert.

I pushed harder. I only had a minute at best for a severe wound that needed at least ten. Dr. Beck blinked his eyes furiously, reassessed his vision, and dabbed away the last of the
chemical.

“Robert,” I whispered, praying he was still conscious. He groaned in response. “He is too fast for you. We have to overwhelm him at the same time—he can’t
anticipate both of us. Just keep attacking.”

His eyes drifted upward and back. “No, Robert, stay awake,”I pleaded with him, along with my healing.

Dr. Beck, eyes red with irritation, stalked to the knife on the floor while Robert coughed and rose to his knee. I pulled him up and leaned his body over my shoulder.

“We both know how this is going to end, Miss Wyndham,” Dr. Beck said, blade in hand. “Just accept your role. It will be far more comfortable.”

Robert shoved me behind him and swung at Dr. Beck with great pains. Dr. Beck swiped at Robert with the knife after every dodged punch and sent him stumbling back with more shallow cuts.