These Ruthless Deeds

by Tarun Shanker

  I slowly regained the ability to walk as the four of us hurried silently through the claustrophobic alleyways, barely lit by moonlight. Oliver slipped us through fences and dead-end walls. He seemed to know exactly where to go.

  After we were some blocks away, I stopped him, thinking about the guard’s warning.

  “Thank you, Oliver,” I said urgently. “We can manage from here.”

  “I’ll get you home,” he insisted, his eyes bright with success.

  I felt sick. What if they punished him for this? “We can do that from here. You must get back to bed before they check on you.”

  He hesitated for a moment, then turned to slip away. I could swear I caught a glimpse of hurt in his eyes. “Fine.”

  “Oliver,” I called, trying to tamp down my fears. “You did wonderfully tonight. I can’t wait to see all the amazing things you do.”

  That got me a quick grin before he slipped through a wall, back toward the Society.

  I turned to Miss Rao. “You are welcome to come with me, if you would like, though I may have to find some story for an unexpected guest.”

  Miss Rao was already backing away, her glare saying not to follow. “I prefer to do things alone.”

  “Well, take my card at least.” I pulled one from the sleeve and handed it to her.

  She reluctantly took it from me, fog curling around us. “I do not see the reason. I am not going to return.”

  “We can help each other. I’m certain there are others who don’t deserve to be there.”

  “I am not fixing your mistakes for you.”

  “I am not asking that, but … your powers are incredible.”

  “I know.”

  I hesitated. “I do not think they will give up.”

  She nodded, looking into the night sky. “Neither will I.”

  She hurried away then, padding through the street in thin slippers, not even seeming to notice the biting cold. She disappeared into the dark.

  “Perhaps I should have asked if she planned to take revenge on the eight-year-old,” Mr. Kent said, breaking the moment of tension that had begun to build.

  I sighed. “I just wish we could have done more.”

  “We’ll figure out who the head is and go back,” Mr. Kent said. “This was the right idea, Miss Wyndham. We know some of their secrets now. And we got the chance to finally go ice skating.”

  And it was true. But as I tried to fall asleep that night, the various warnings and clues from the guard began repeating in my head.

  It was only the next morning, when I awoke to a chilling message, that I realized we should never have entered the prison.

  Chapter 12

  I FLEW UP THE stairs to Catherine’s room, every beat of my heart telling me how stupid, stupid, stupid I had been. Catherine was white as a sheet as she lay in bed, her maid tending to her.

  I rushed over, stripping off my gloves, reaching for her left hand. “Is she conscious?”

  “W-what?” The maid was distraught and close to tears.

  Catherine’s injuries sent an uncontrollable shudder through me. Her limbs had been broken and twisted into unnatural angles. Her right foot was a limp, horribly boneless thing, hanging at the ankle. Her left leg was broken higher up, the cracked bone poking through the skin. Her right arm was broken at the forearm in the same awful way. Dear God, what had happened to her?

  “Evelyn?” Catherine moaned.

  But thank heavens, she was alive. That was all that mattered.

  “I’m here,” I said. She would recover. That was the only thing to hold on to now.

  “Please, go check to see if the doctor has arrived,” I told the maid, taking the cloth from her gently. “I am a nurse. I can stay with her.”

  “I—yes, of course, miss,” she said with a nod, and left the room, taking deep breaths and hurried steps.

  As soon as the door closed, I threw the cloth aside. I put my other hand on Catherine’s head, hoping that would get rid of her pain quicker. Her bones shifted into place slowly, infuriatingly slowly. The silence in the room was overwhelming, pressing against me until the smallest sound of her breathing, which seemed to be slow and steady, was all I could focus on. It took a few minutes for the bones to reknit themselves and her wounds to fade back into her skin, now a healthy pink. I could feel desperate tears ready to fall now that the danger had passed.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “Yes, how dare you save my life,” she said softly, sleepily.

  “Does anything still hurt?”

  She slowly pushed herself up on her bed, looking almost healthy and normal, save for her torn nightgown. “I … don’t think so.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?” I asked.

  She shook her head and two dots of anger warmed her cheeks. “I don’t understand it. One moment I was crossing the room to write a letter and the next I couldn’t move, my body was frozen. Then my bones just … broke. I was on the floor, feeling immediate pain all over. Like my body had been dipped in hot candle wax. It felt deliberate. I thought I saw someone in my balcony window, but it happened so fast.”

  Catherine’s anger and fear bubbled over till a few tears squeezed out. She shook her head resolutely. “And then Mary found me and I begged her to get you. I knew I had some broken bones, but I didn’t know how serious it was.”

  “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt now?” I asked.

  “I’m sure,” she insisted.

  Deciding to risk it then, I hugged her tightly, pulling her back down to the bed. “I’m so sorry,” I said again.

  “If I understood how it was your fault, I could accept your apology,” she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder.

  “I suspect this was the Society’s punishment directed at me.” There could be no question. There was no other reason to hurt my friend. The prison guard had threatened as much last night. “For helping the woman in the prison escape. Or the information we discovered.”

  Catherine straightened back up at that. “What information?”

  “Mr. Kent questioned a bodyguard to the former head of the Society. He told us that the heads don’t have powers and that the last two were the Duke of Fosberry and the Earl of Hartwell. But we don’t know who the current one is or how he is chosen or—why am I telling you this? Catherine. No—do not even ask—stop it—I see your research face.”

  But she was already lost to me, pensively staring out her window. “Fosberry and Hartwell … I know the names. They were political men. I’m certain I can find a connection if there is one to be had.…”

  I held her down in bed as she tried to get up. “Catherine, you must rest. You almost died.”

  “But I didn’t, thanks to your healing,” she said, tentatively stretching her limbs, wiggling her toes. “And now I can help you.”

  “No, what we need to do now is keep you safe from another attack.”

  Catherine patted my arm and leaned her head against mine. “They could have done worse. I think they’ve already made their point.”

  And that was when we heard the commotion from downstairs. A thudding of boots on the stairs and a chorus of shouting voices. Catherine and I sat up and I slid off the bed, ready to stop anyone who attempted to hurt her again.

  But when the door banged open, it was a very irate and very familiar man.

  And Mary, trying to dissuade him. “Miss Harding’s been badly hurt, sir!” she said.

  “So have others!” Mr. Kent said. Then he noticed the grisly scene. And the rips in Catherine’s stockings and dress. “My God! Miss Harding, what happened?”

  “An attack, it seems,” Catherine answered. “I’m fine. It looks worse than it is. Evelyn helped me. Mary, please go downstairs and wait for the doctor. He won’t be needed.” Mary was staring at Catherine and me in utter shock, but she closed the door behind her.

  Mr. Kent strode to the bed and grabbed our friend’s hand.

  “Who else has been hurt?” I asked.

  “Lau
ra,” Mr. Kent answered, out of breath. “Tuffins sent me a message saying there was an accident but I—I don’t know now—”

  I jumped to my feet immediately. “How bad is it?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know,” he said, dazed. He turned and headed for the door. “I shouldn’t have left her alone.”

  I faltered. “Catherine, I—”

  “Go,” she interrupted, climbing out of her bed. “I will be right behind you.”

  As we threaded our way through the streets in the hansom, for once it was me reassuring Mr. Kent. The fact that this was just a warning from the Society, that I could heal Laura and she would be as healthy as before, helped him feel better about his sister. But as calm and optimistic as I forced myself to sound, I couldn’t help the roiling in my stomach, the horror at how badly things could have gone.

  Miss Chen had been right.

  When we finally arrived at the Kents’s house, we were greeted at the door by an exhausted Tuffins. “Miss Wyndham,” he said, with the barest of smiles. “Please, come in. It has been too long.”

  “How is Laura?” I asked cautiously.

  “She is resting in her room,” Tuffins replied gravely. “We gave her some laudanum to help with the wait for the doctor. She was in a great deal of pain. We believe she hurt herself at the top of the stairs and took a tumble.”

  And that was enough for Mr. Kent to bound up two floors in seconds. Tuffins and I tried to keep up, but then we crossed in front of the wrong door on the landing.

  “You!” a sharp voice called out. “Your presence here is unwelcome,” Lady Kent hissed as she emerged from the drawing room. She leaned heavily on the doorframe, wincing as she shifted weight from her bad knees.

  “I came to help your daughter,” I said. I tried to keep a firm voice, but it was hard to forget the humiliation I endured the last time I was here.

  And it seemed Lady Kent had a keen memory of it, too. “Tuffins, please show Miss Wyndham out.”

  But nothing happened. Lady Kent stared at Tuffins, perplexed. I followed her gaze to find him continuing toward the next flight of stairs, pretending not to have heard her. “This way, Miss Wyndham,” he said.

  “Tuffins!” Lady Kent shouted. “Did you not hear me?”

  “I’m afraid I’m having a bit of trouble with that, my lady,” Tuffins replied.

  Lady Kent looked absolutely furious. She did not have to leave the doorway for her threat to be loud and strong: “Well, perhaps another steward might be able to hear!”

  I stopped. I was too sick with worry over my friends, too furious at her pigheaded thinking that I was some kind of deviant sullying her home.

  Enough. I marched back to Lady Kent. She froze, confused, but as soon as I seized her free hand, she shouted, “Miss Wyndham! I insist that you leave!”

  She tried to yank her hand from mine but I held tight.

  “Lady Kent, I know you hate me. I know you delighted in throwing me out of your house last year based on scurrilous rumors and trumped-up scandals. So I am giving you two presents today: The first is a shocking new story to tell about the wicked Evelyn Wyndham. The second is that you are currently being healed by my magical healing power. Yes, I have one. No, I really don’t think that rumor will stick, but please feel free to try it out on the ton.”

  I let go of her hand. She stared at me, uncomprehending for a long moment. I turned and headed back up the stairs to Tuffins. “Be sure to tell them my monstrous final words to you—they will be outraged, I’m sure: I truly hope you feel better.”

  With that, I marched up behind Tuffins, who led the way to Laura’s bedroom.

  Inside, I found Mr. Kent watching over Laura’s sleeping form, already looking as if he’d been there for hours. He was in his shirtsleeves, eyes burning with a dull anger. I hurried over to the bed and found what had seized Mr. Kent’s attention. Among other injuries, a small dagger was lodged in Laura’s leg. This was no simple tumble—it was a deliberate attack.

  Mr. Kent became my shadow, peeking over my shoulder and anxiously raking through his hair as I took Laura’s injured leg and slid the blade out in one quick motion. I wrapped a cloth around the wound, checked her breathing, and smoothed fine strands of hair away from her forehead, too restless myself to wait patiently for even thirty seconds.

  She was so still. Laura was simply not Laura if she was not bouncing around, desperately in love with someone. It was unnatural to see her like this.

  As I watched her bones heal, the bleeding slow, and the bruises fade away, I let out a heavy sigh of relief. Within a minute, she looked like she might on any normal morning before rising from bed.

  I removed my hand, but I felt a warmth envelop it. Mr. Kent guided my hand back to Laura’s. “Please,” he said. “A little while longer. Just to make sure she is completely healed.”

  She already was, but I did it anyway to ease his mind.

  “I’m sorry for this. For asking you to come to the prison,” I said, my voice hoarse.

  “No, it was the right thing to do,” Mr. Kent said. “I just don’t believe I can keep doing the right thing if this is what happens.”

  “So you will just do whatever the Society asks?”

  He looked up at me, his hand still on mine. “I would do terrible things for the ones I love, Miss Wyndham.”

  I felt my body go tense at the thought. “We—we’ll have to ask Laura when she wakes up, to find out what happened,” I said, trying to pretend that I didn’t find our closeness very strange. “But … Where has Emily been?”

  There was a knock at the door and Tuffins entered carrying a tray of supplies. “In case you needed something,” he explained. One day, I’d have to find out if he had some sort of mind-reading power.

  “I actually do…,” I said, letting go of Laura’s and Mr. Kent’s hands. “Do you know where I might find Miss Kane?”

  A strange look crossed Tuffins’s face before he nodded. “She is … on the roof.”

  “The roof,” I echoed slowly.

  “It would probably be best if I … showed you.”

  I glanced back at Mr. Kent, but it didn’t look like he was ready to leave his sister’s side anytime soon.

  “I will be right back,” I told him.

  He barely looked up as I left the room.

  Back in the hallway, Tuffins started to lead me up toward the fourth floor.

  This staircase was a disaster. Paintings were in disarray, shards of wood littered the rug, and half the wall hangings were no longer living up to their name.

  “This is where Miss Kent had her accident,” Tuffins said. “I did not mention it before, but when I found her at the bottom of the stairs, she was … Well, she was floating.”

  “How … strange.”

  “Hmm,” Tuffins replied, completely straight-faced.

  Well, that might explain the destruction. And why her injuries weren’t worse. Emily must have managed to catch her before she hit the bottom.

  We reached the fourth-floor landing. Tuffins knocked on the wall, cleared his throat, and looked upward at a broken skylight. “Miss Kane, Miss Wyndham to see you.”

  “Go away!” came a shout.

  “Thank you, Tuffins,” I said.

  He bowed and proceeded back downstairs, betraying no sense of curiosity as to how young girls were floating or breaking through skylights.

  “Emily?” I called up to her. “Is everything all right?”

  She sniffled. “No.”

  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Hesitation. Then she finally spoke. “They hurt Laura.”

  “I know, but she’s not hurt any longer,” I said. “I healed her.”

  Emily’s head poked out over the skylight, her eyes red and raw. “Good. But they still hurt her.”

  “Did you see who did it?” I asked.

  “It was the ghosts! They made the knife fly!”

  “There are no ghosts. Are you certain you didn’t see a person do it?”

  �
��No, you lied about curing me! There are still ghosts and they are angry! They will hurt her again and next time they won’t catch her!”

  I sighed, my neck beginning to hurt as I strained to look up at her. “Will you come down?”

  “No, they’ll hurt you, too.”

  “There are no ghosts!”

  “Yes there are!”

  “But you must have seen what happened. Laura was floating when Tuffins found her,” I said. “Someone made her fall and you caught her.”

  She looked at me uncertainly. “The ghosts do what they want.”

  “No, you didn’t want her to fall and you made sure she didn’t,” I said firmly.

  My eye caught a hatch door to the roof on the ceiling. I stepped up onto a chair and pulled on the cord. With a squeak, a ladder slid down. I started climbing.

  “No, don’t come up! They will get angry again,” she said.

  “No, Emily. You are going to get angry,” I said. “And you are going to take control of your power.”

  I unlatched the hatch and pushed it up and open. The morning light was bright and the street noises were loud, but the moment I climbed out, the roof tiles seized my attention. They were vibrating and rattling. Emily cowered in fear against the chimney.

  “Please, they don’t want you to come closer,” she said. “I—I don’t think the ghosts want me to have friends. They will hurt all of you.”

  I felt an anger rising inside me, her words reminding me what the Society had done to Catherine and Laura.

  “I won’t come closer,” I reassured her, taking cautious steps toward the back of the house. “But I need to talk to you about ghosts. Do you see them?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed immediately.

  I fixed her with a hard stare. “Do they look like people?”

  She didn’t meet my eye, looking around guiltily. “No.”

  “What do they look like?”

  “But I feel them,” she said softly.

  I nodded, taking a tiny step forward. “I know you do. But do you remember when we first got to London, there were people in a room. People with all kinds of strange abilities. You remember that I can heal people who are hurt, right?”