Seraphina let out a bark of laughter that made the soldiers take another step backward and the ball of sparks flare hotter in her hands. “Ashburton has long had a grudge against Hugh, ever since a cannonball took off his son’s arm and my husband’s attempts to sew it back on failed. The spiteful little man probably leapt at the chance to have Hugh arrested.”
Gently, Sir Hugh broke apart his wife’s hands and the ball of sparks fizzled into nothing. “The man does like to collect grievances. But spite alone does not build a case, Sera. I shall go with these men. I am sure Lord Wycliff will soon have this cleared up.”
Hannah held her position next to her father. “I would rather this were cleared up now. If Viscount Wycliff presented the evidence, he can have it dismissed.” Soldiers were not going to haul him off because some man was silly enough to lose his arm to a cannonball.
“Matters are not that simple, Miss Miles. Once the magistrate has issued a warrant, only he can revoke it.” Wycliff handed the warrant back to the officer in charge.
“We have our orders, miss. Please step aside. We have no wish to harm you.” The officer reached for Hannah.
“No one touches my daughter,” the mage hissed.
The officer froze. Ice crystals formed on his eyelashes and his breath frosted over his lips. His outstretched hand never reached Hannah.
Her father pulled her into a hug. He spoke against her hair as she clung to him. “Let me go, Hannah, before this encounter takes a dark turn and these men are hurt through no fault of their own.”
Hannah swallowed the lump in her throat. She did not want to see the men harmed for following orders. Her father was right—truth would prevail and he would soon be home. “I will fetch your warm overcoat. It is cold outside.”
Sir Hugh smiled and stroked her hair. “There’s my girl.”
By the time she had fetched a heavy wool coat and a warm hat, her mother had removed the freezing spell on the soldier. The man stomped his feet on the porch as though his toes had fallen asleep.
Hannah fussed over her father and tied and retied his scarf several times until the soldiers started grumbling. “I’m sure you’ll be back in time for dinner tomorrow,” she said, hugging him again.
“Take care of your mother,” her father whispered, and then kissed the top of her head.
Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as Hannah watched her father be led away by the soldiers and bundled into a plain black carriage.
Lord Wycliff leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched events he had set in motion. “I’ll not forgive you for this,” Hannah said as she stalked back inside.
Hannah had a troubled night. Her mind played out a nightmare in which her father was tortured on a rack to extract a confession of murder. A mockery of a trial followed and his nemesis, Lord Ashburton, banged his gavel as he shouted, “Guilty!” As a crowd cheered, her father was hanged from the gallows, his lifeless body turning in the breeze. Then the angry mob, not satisfied with one dead body, turned their attention to his wife. Their house was surrounded by people chanting Burn the witch. Up in her turret, Seraphina launched her attack on the people below, just as Hannah awoke with a gasp, the sheet tangled around her body.
Dawn light brushed past her curtains and caressed the floorboards.
“It was only a bad dream,” Hannah whispered as she rubbed her hands up her arms to dispel the chill from the brisk morning air. Despair formed in her stomach. What if her father was not vindicated? Her mother was a powerful mage, but she was still dead and was treated as such by English law.
After she dressed in a dark brown day dress, to reflect her mood, Hannah headed to the dining room. She couldn’t eat, but needed a cup of tea after such a terrible night with so little sleep. She scanned the newspaper and thought of the old saying that good news travels fast, but bad news travels faster.
Sir Hugh Miles Is the Murderous Chelsea Monster!
The article went into gruesome, and entirely fictitious, detail about the mutilated corpses found and speculated that there were far more murder victims that had not yet been discovered. It finished with an outlandish account of how her father conducted experiments out in the open by the light of a full moon.
Hannah snorted. “What complete rubbish. You cannot conduct experiments in an open field. What do they think he uses as a light source?” She threw the paper to the table.
“Nothing will stop people from gossiping, Hannah,” her mother said. “I could arrange a lightning strike to find the writer, but I don’t think your father would approve.”
“It’s not fair. What will we do if Father is not cleared of these charges?” Hannah searched her mother’s veiled face, desperate for some reassurance that everything would be all right.
Seraphina reached out and took her hand. “Whatever happens, we have each other and we will vindicate Hugh.”
Hannah tried to smile. She didn’t want to become an outlaw, seeking justice for her deceased father while she and her mother were hounded from location to location. Their life was quiet and modest and she rather enjoyed it just the way it was. “When might I visit Father?”
“This afternoon, apparently there is paperwork that must be completed before they will admit you. I suspect Ashburton wants wards put around your father to ensure he doesn’t escape.”
“I cannot believe Lord Ashburton issued a warrant, when the charges are so blatantly untrue.” She glared at her tea. Why did nothing work in their favour?
Her mother poured more tea into Hannah’s cup. “What is obvious to you and I escapes the notice of others. Follow the evidence, Hannah, and the truth will prevail.”
A dark presence entered the room, one that had stolen the joy from the house. To think she had almost missed him at dinner last night. That was comparable to missing a cholera outbreak.
Lord Wycliff bowed and then turned to the buffet. Apparently he still had an appetite. “Quite so, Lady Miles. While I understand that you believe me responsible, Miss Miles, I merely presented the evidence to Sir Manly. It is unfortunate that the magistrate drew his conclusions without seeking further clarification on some points.”
“I will see Father released. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have chores to do before I can see Father and must tend to the mice and Mr Barnes’ hand.” Hannah rose from her seat. She couldn’t stomach being in the same room as the man who had kicked the foundation stone out from under their lives.
Seraphina stopped her daughter as she walked around the table to avoid Wycliff. “I have done as you requested. There is an enchantment on the house that will allow the hand to roam freely, but he cannot go beyond any outside door or window.” Then she drew a small object from her pocket, placed it in Hannah’s palm, and curled her fingers around it. “I also made this for him. I am sorry it took so long, but mage silver is tricky to brew and takes its own time to form.”
Hannah tightened her grip on the magical ring. At least one creature would be freed from its prison. “Thank you, Mother.”
“If the appendage is to be let loose, might I suggest you find a better name for it? It seems wrong to refer to the piece by the name for the whole.” Her mother pushed her bath chair away from the table.
Hannah had been pondering that question. It didn’t seem right to give the hand a name better suited to a pet. “Perhaps in this instance we could drop the mister and refer to him simply as Barnes?”
“An excellent compromise.” Her mother followed her from the room and they left the traitor in their midst to dine alone.
As Hannah took the stairs downward, she pondered her plan. The easiest way to clear her father was to identify the true monster. There was one person, or piece of a person, who had seen him. She had established a rudimentary communication method, with the hand able to respond yes or no. Now all she need do was pose a simple series of questions to find the murderer.
In the cool laboratory, Hannah tackled her usual chores first. She cleaned the cages and gave the
living mice fresh straw, food, and water. The Afflicted mice were given their sliver of mouse brain, which they fell upon with ravenous hunger.
Next she took down the cage containing the hand and peered at its resident. “I have excellent news, Barnes—you are to be freed from this cage. However, my mother has placed a ward around the house so that you cannot cross any threshold or windowsill. She also made you a special ring to wear.” Hannah pulled the item from her pocket and held it up.
Light glinted on the silver, which seemed to contain fire within. This ring was fashioned as an oar—a reference to the ship tattooed on his wrist. “I hope these terms are an acceptable compromise.”
The hand tapped twice on the metal bottom of the cage and held his pinkie aloft.
Hannah slid the ring onto the finger and the mage silver changed shape to perfectly fit the digit. The hand waved the finger as though he preened at the jewellery.
With agreement reached, Hannah lifted the hand out and set him on the table. He sat for a moment as though taking his bearings. Then he leapt down to the floor and scuttled out the open door.
“Oh, dear. I should have tried asking my questions first, or at least have warned Mary.” It only now occurred to Hannah that the maid might not appreciate the bodiless hand’s exploring the house. “I shall formulate my questions and then find Barnes, he might be more cooperative after a bit of freedom and I still have a few hours to fill before I leave.”
With the laboratory creatures fed, Hannah wiped down the shelves and surfaces. Her mind wouldn’t settle long enough for her to continue the examination of slides and samples. Instead, she climbed the stairs with heavy feet. A scream from upstairs roused her to move faster.
On emerging into the main hall, Hannah found the hand at one end, Timmy at the other, and Mary trying to climb the wall halfway between the two.
“What is it?” she screamed at Hannah.
“I would have thought that rather obvious, Mary. It’s a hand. Formerly he was attached to a Mr Barnes, but he has lost the rest of his body and is now known simply as Barnes.” Hannah ignored the shaking maid and walked up to the hand.
Timmy stared at it with wide eyes. “Blimey. Never knew they could do that.”
“They don’t usually.” Hannah picked up Barnes and raised him to her eye level. “No more scaring Mary. It is ungentlemanly. Perhaps you should apologise.”
Mary let go of the painting she had pulled over her head, but she kept her distance. “Will it be wandering around the house?”
“Barnes is free to explore the house. I assure you he means no harm. Think of him as a type of spider.” The hand did resemble one, with the fingers acting like legs to carry him along the ground and allowing him to climb.
“I’m scared of spiders.” Mary inched along the wall.
Of course you are. Hannah sighed. Rat wouldn’t work as an analogy, and was insulting to Barnes besides. “What if we referred to him as a Romanian hamster?”
The maid screwed up her face and darted from the safety of the wall to stand behind Hannah. “What do they look like?”
Given Hannah had made up the idea, she felt poetic license was allowed in describing the fictitious animal. “Let us say they look like this hand, although much hairier in colder climates.”
Mary peered at Barnes from over Hannah’s shoulder. “Sounds exotic, miss. I’m going to call it that if anyone asks.”
“Where’s the rest of him, though?” Timmy asked. There was no fear in his face, only open curiosity as he came over to see.
An idea struck Hannah. “Would you like to touch him and see if your gift tells you anything? Father and I are trying to ascertain why Barnes here is so lively. You might be very helpful to us.” She needed to do something to replace the memory of her father being led away by soldiers. What she really needed to do was find the true culprit. This could be another step in that direction.
Timmy screwed up his face. “Would he mind?”
The hand waved a finger back and forth.
“That means no, Barnes does not mind. Why don’t we go into the library? Barnes hasn’t explored in there yet.” Hannah carried the Romanian hamster to the library and let Barnes run around the floor. Today her mother worked in her turret room, so they needn’t worry about Barnes being run over by the bath chair.
They sat on the rug before the fire and Hannah called Barnes over. She created a platform with her outstretched hands and held him out to Timmy.
The lad hovered one hand over the severed limb. “He won’t bite, will he?”
“Barnes does not possess teeth, Timmy. Although I suppose he could pinch if he were so inclined.” She bit back a laugh that drove away a tiny piece of the despair within. If this in any way helped to find the true murderer, it would be worthwhile.
Timmy lowered his hand until his fingers settled over the stump of wrist jutting up. He closed his eyes and hummed a quiet tune under his breath.
“Does the tune help?” Hannah asked.
He opened his eyes. “When I touch someone, the magic starts jumping around inside me and it can be scary. The tune calms me down.”
“Can you discover anything about our new friend?” She wanted this to work, not just for her father but for Timmy. The lad needed to grow his confidence in his gift.
He shrugged. “He’s mostly dead, like y—” He swallowed the rest of the words and his eyes widened, then he muttered, “Sorry, miss.”
Hannah flashed him a reassuring smile. “There is a reason for Barnes feeling mostly dead. Can you discern anything else? I am more interested in whether you sense anything about the rest of him, like a sore head or an aching toe.”
He closed his hands again and this time silence fell. Only quiet breaths filled the space between ticks from the clock. At length, the lad opened his eyes again. “There’s nothing there. Like empty space where his body should be.”
Hannah considered a different approach to the issue. “Hmm… What about concentrating on the hand? Is there anything that feels different from other hands? Apart from his being dead.”
Timmy nodded and his eyes brightened. “It stung. He ran away because it hurt so much.”
That wasn’t what she had expected. “What stung? Did he encounter something while exploring the house?”
“No. It’s old and doesn’t hurt so much now—it’s more like an itch. At first, though, it hurt all over, like when you stick your hand in a patch of nettles. I’m sorry I’m no good at this.” The lad frowned and dropped his hand back into his lap.
Hannah smiled at the lad and patted his shoulder. “Quite the contrary, that is extremely helpful. None of the Afflicted have ever reported a stinging or itchy sensation, which means there is something different about what happened to Mr Barnes.”
“Oh.” His face lit up in a smile. “I hope it helps.”
“You have given me information. Now I need to determine what it means. It could be dark magic, a potion, or another process.” It hurt all over. What if the hand had experienced an electrical charge—could galvanism account for the pain Barnes had felt? If only she could take Timmy to Doctor Husom’s laboratory and have him touch a limb that had endured electricity coursing through it. Then they could compare whether they felt the same.
“Now, Barnes, you are free to explore, but I want you back in the library later today. You and I are going to try to figure out what happened to you.”
The hand nodded a finger yes, then hopped down to the rug and scuttled to the bookshelf.
“I’ll follow him, miss, and make sure he doesn’t scare Mary again.” Timmy leapt to his feet and chased the Romanian hamster.
“Thank you, Timmy,” Hannah called.
While sitting on the floor, an idea came to her: an automatic writing board with its carved letters of the alphabet and numbers. It was perfectly designed for a finger to move the planchette to spell out words. She was sure her mother had one stashed away somewhere in the library. She could ask Barnes to describe his kille
r and finally she would have the evidence to free her father.
19
Hannah’s idea to have Barnes spell out what had happened to his body didn’t quite go as planned. She held in the disappointment and tears that heated behind her eyes. The hand sat on the planchette and used the thumb to spin himself around the wooden board like an ice skater on a frozen lake.
“Whatever are you up to?” Seraphina asked as she wheeled into the library.
“I thought to use the board to have Barnes tell me who did this to him, but it didn’t work.” Hannah threw up her hands as Barnes whirled around the alphabet.
“Does he not recall?” Seraphina conjured a handkerchief that fluttered into Hannah’s lap.
“The issue is rather more fundamental. Mr Barnes was illiterate.” She dabbed at her eyes with the embroidered square of cotton and felt foolish that she had expected Barnes to spell out the name, or at least a description, of the true murderer.
“Oh. That is a rather large impediment to finding the culprit.” Her mother muttered under her breath, and small icicle-covered trees popped up around the edge of the board. Barnes now skated in a tiny winter wonderland.
“I am trying to devise a series of yes and no questions to learn more, but it is frustrating. I even tackled the issue head-on and asked if Papa had done this to him. But he doesn’t know.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as Hannah was consumed by her inability to help her father.
“I have asked Old Jim to hitch up the horses. I need you to visit your father, dearest. I have done what I can, but I am not allowed in the prison. Those in charge think I will magic your father away.” A sigh heaved through Seraphina’s draped body.
Hannah rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around her mother. “We will bring him home and prove him innocent of these charges. Now, I shall fetch a spencer and bonnet.”
In her room she chose the short navy blue spencer and a straw bonnet with matching blue ribbon. Hannah shrugged on the spencer and tucked stray ends of hair under the bonnet as she descended the stairs. She encountered Wycliff in the hall.
Galvanism and Ghouls Page 17