Tainted (The Soul Chronicles Book 1)

by Morgan L. Busse

  Patrick gave him a quizzical look as he walked by, but Stephen ignored him and passed the crowds of people lined around the edges of the ballroom. The music started up again behind him. He reached the doorway and slowed. Against his better judgment, he looked back.

  Kathryn stood against the opposite wall, her eyes on him, her hands still clasped in front of her.

  For one dance she had made him forget his past and remember what it was like to be a normal man.

  But he wasn’t a normal man.

  Stephen stuffed his hands into his overcoat and hurried down the hall toward the door.

  He was a broken man.

  And what woman would want a man like that?

  12

  Kat watched Stephen leave the room, her mind in turmoil. Did he remember the fire from that first morning two years ago? No, he hadn’t seen it. Had he?

  Someone touched her arm. She jumped and looked over.

  Marianne stood beside her, peering across the room. “What are you looking at?”

  “Nothing.”

  Marianne glanced at her with one brow quirked. “I saw you dancing with Stephen Grey. The Stephen Grey. He hasn’t been seen in society in over a year.”

  Kat looked over at her friend. “The Stephen Grey?”

  “World City bounty hunter.”

  Her jaw dropped. “He’s a bounty hunter now?”

  “The best. He left the police force about two years ago and went into business for himself.”

  “How do you know all of this? Wait—your father.”

  Marianne giggled. “That, and I read about it in the Herald.”

  Kat shook her head. “So why did he leave the force?”

  Marianne fanned her face and shrugged. “I don’t know. But I did hear he broke off his engagement to Vanessa Wutherington shortly after.”

  Kat looked back at the door, thinking of how cold he’d become when she’d mentioned the force. She had a feeling there was a story there.

  The rest of the night passed in a blur. More young men came to claim her hand, but Kat could only think about her first dance. She could not connect the brittle man from the balcony—then the attentive man on the dance floor—with her idea of a bounty hunter. In her mind, bounty hunters were cold and ruthless. Mr. Grey had been a bit abrupt on the balcony, true, but not like that.

  By midnight, Kat was ready to leave. Her feet ached, and she longed to loosen the corset around her waist.

  She sat down in one of the chairs lining the wall and let out her breath. Music played and people twirled around on the floor. Marianne went by with one of the young men from the Tower.

  Kat frowned. Wait. Ash blond hair, straight, narrow nose, high cheekbones, and light blue eyes.

  Blaylock Sterling.

  Kat sat up and watched her friend. What was Marianne doing with Blaylock?

  She did not seem happy. She pulled away from Blaylock and attempted to leave the floor, but Blaylock grabbed her hand and jerked her back, whispering something to her. She flushed and looked around.

  Kat scooted to the edge of her seat. The more she watched them dance, the more she was convinced that Marianne was not a willing partner. She glanced around. No one seemed to notice, and it looked like Marianne’s father had left.

  For a moment she wished Stephen were here. Even bounty hunters helped people, right?

  Marianne flew by with Blaylock, her face a mask of misery.

  Kat clenched her teeth and her fingers began to tingle. She pulled back. I can’t lose it.

  But what about Marianne? I have to help her.

  Kat stood just as the music ended.

  Marianne tore away from Blaylock and walked stiffly across the floor toward the refreshment table. Laughing, Blaylock turned away and headed toward a group of young women on the other side.

  Kat hurried toward her friend. She touched Marianne’s arm, and Marianne flinched. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. No.” Marianne looked away. Her face was even more pale than usual, save for two bright spots along her cheeks. “I . . . I just want to go.” She glanced back at Kat. “Do you think we can leave? Father already left but sent the coachman back for me. He should be here by now. Will you leave with me?”

  Kat nodded. “I was ready to leave a half hour ago. I would be more than happy to escort you down to the carriages.”

  Marianne nodded and Kat caught a glimpse of unshed tears in her friend’s eyes. Kat’s hands tightened into two fists. The monster inside her stirred. Marianne was rarely discomposed. What had Blaylock said to her?

  Kat led the way across the room, her head high, her back stiff. She caught Blaylock looking in her direction, but she ignored him. Instead, she looped her arm through Marianne’s and they walked out the door.

  Down the hall they went, the perfume from the ballroom clinging to their gowns. The walls were covered in crimson wallpaper and the gaslights in the hallway were dim. Kat caught a glimpse of one of the portraits and stopped.

  The man stood beside a white horse with a severe expression on his face. He held a long-barreled musket between both hands. But it was the bottom half of the picture that stopped her. He stood on a pile of dead bodies.

  Kat took a step back and held a hand to her mouth. “Ugh, who would paint such a gruesome portrait?”

  Marianne shook her head. “I don’t know, but I want to get out of here.”

  They continued down the hall, passing more paintings, though none as gruesome as the first one. Finally Kat slowed and looked back. “I don’t think this is the right way.”

  Marianne gave her a hurried nod. “I think you’re right. I don’t remember any of these pictures.”

  Kat looked down the hall, then back again. “Let’s head back.”

  A small group appeared in the doorway to the ballroom. Kat stepped forward and opened her mouth to ask for directions.

  Then her mouth snapped shut and her stomach plummeted.

  Blaylock Sterling and his gang.

  “Cogglesfoot,” Marianne whispered.

  Blaylock looked their way and smiled. Slowly the men started down the hallway while the last young man shut the door to the ballroom.

  Marianne stepped closer to Kat and took her hand. Her palm was sweaty.

  Kat lifted her chin, though inside her heart was hammering like the cogs inside a watch. “Mr. Sterling, would you be so kind as to direct us to the exit?”

  Blaylock stopped a couple of feet away and smirked at her. “You know, I didn’t get a chance to dance with you tonight.”

  Kat let out a small breath. “Yes, I’m afraid that’s true. And seeing as how we are now leaving, I’m afraid it will have to remain that way. Now, could you point us to the correct door?”

  His smile widened and his comrades drew closer, blocking any way back to the ballroom.

  Marianne squeezed Kat’s hand. Kat swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “I don’t think so, Miss Bloodmayne.”

  The blood drained from Kat’s face.

  Blaylock stepped closer. “I always wondered what it would be like to kiss a smart girl.”

  Kat pulled Marianne behind her and let go of her friend’s hand. Her fingers began to tingle and the blood whooshed inside her veins. “I think you’ve had too much to drink, Mr. Sterling. There will be no kissing tonight.”

  He closed the space between them and leaned in. His breath held the sweet scent of wine. “And I think you’re wrong. But”—he leaned back—“if you don’t want to, then I’m sure Miss Fealy will oblige.” Blaylock grabbed Marianne and pulled her away from Kat, shoving her against the wall and blocking her from Kat’s sight.

  Marianne let out a muffled scream, and the young men with Blaylock laughed.

  Time went still. All Kat could see was Blaylock forcing Marianne against the wall
in a haze of red, and hear her friend’s cries.

  Something snapped inside her.

  A wind came rushing from deep within her chest, exploding along her spine and through her hands, whipping her curls around her face.

  The young men looked at Kat and backed away. Their faces paled in the dim light, and their eyes widened.

  “Blaylock . . . ” one of them said.

  Marianne yelled.

  Kat thrust her hands out. She could feel every particle in the room. With a snap of her wrists, she shoved the invisible particles near Blaylock’s cronies to the side. The young men went flying against the walls and hung there, pinned by an unseen force.

  Blaylock straightened and looked around.

  Kat’s hair came completely loose from the comb and flew around her face in a dark cloud. Her gown whipped around her body. Every hair stood on end, every nerve attuned to the rush of her blood and the monster roaring inside her.

  Blaylock stumbled away from Marianne, his hands up to shield his face. “What the blazes?”

  Somewhere Kat heard herself laughing.

  Yes. Blazes. Lots of them.

  She imagined the particles around the hall combusting.

  Tiny sparks appeared along the carpet and up the walls.

  Kat laughed again and raised her hands. For too long she had been waiting to do this, to set the world on fire!

  Every particle burst into flame.

  The men screamed as they struggled against the wall where they were pinned. When the carpet caught on fire beneath them, they brought their legs up and cried out.

  Blaylock backed away down the hall where the flames hadn’t reached, his hands up, his eyes as wide as two coins. “What are you?” he shouted.

  “Kat!”

  Kat turned and saw Marianne cowering against the opposite wall.

  “What—what are you doing?”

  The fire dimmed beneath the men against the wall.

  The cold lump beat inside her chest, the same place the wind had come from moments earlier. No, I shouldn’t be doing this. She lowered her hands. This isn’t me.

  “You monster!”

  Kat turned to find Blaylock rushing her. She raised her hands and the carpet between them caught on fire.

  Blaylock stopped before the wall of flames. His face was livid as he pointed a finger at her. “I always knew there was something wrong with you. Too pretty for a smart girl. There will be nothing left of you once I tell the authorities. They will take you to the Tower and dissect you, you little monst—”

  To Kat his rant seemed like the buzz of a fly: annoying and futile. She snapped her wrists and blasted Blaylock against the wall. His buddies cried and shouted behind her, but she ignored them. Marianne whimpered nearby.

  She never wanted to see Blaylock’s face again.

  The fiery wall between them began to move toward Blaylock like red fingers reaching across the carpet.

  Closer. Closer.

  Black spots filled her vision. Kat slumped against the wall and her hands fell to her side. She couldn’t ... breathe. The cold lump inside her expanded across her entire body, engulfing her in a deep chill.

  A man screamed nearby.

  Kat fell to the ground. The last thing she saw were the flames as the rest of the hallway caught on fire.

  13

  “Wake up, Kat.”

  Someone shook her shoulders.

  “Wake up, now!”

  Kat blinked her eyes.

  Ms. Stuart’s face appeared above her.

  “Ms. Stuart? Where am I? What happened—oh!” She pressed her hand against her heart. Her chest felt like it had turned to lead and then someone had taken a hammer to it. She rubbed the area and breathed faster.

  She couldn’t feel her skin.

  She sat up and rubbed some more. “I can’t—I can’t feel anything!” She reached inside her dress with shaky fingers and felt beneath her collarbone. Her skin was smooth beneath her fingertips, but the entire area around her heart was numb.

  She looked up, her breath coming in short pants. “Ms. Stuart, something is wrong!” Had something happened to her heart? Or her soul? That’s where her soul was located, right?

  Ms. Stuart shook her head. “No time! We need to get you out of here. Can you stand?”

  Kat scrunched up her face. “I think so . . .” She pushed against the bed and stood up. A tingling sensation rushed through her chest, like the way her fingers would prickle after being out in the cold.

  She looked around. She was in her room back home. The same familiar canopy bed covered in an ivory coverlet, a dark wardrobe in the corner, and the painting of a woman by a lake beside the door.

  “What happened? How did I get here?”

  Ms. Stuart paused and looked at her. “You don’t remember?”

  “No.” She brushed her temple with her fingers. “Just flashes. There was the gala . . . Marianne and I were trying to leave . . . but we couldn’t—”

  Blaylock pinning Marianne. Her friend screaming. Throwing the men against the wall. And then fire. Lots of fire.

  Kat’s eyes went wide and her stomach clenched so hard that she thought she was going to retch. “Did I . . .” She took a dizzy step back toward the bed. “Did I . . .” She held one hand to her mouth, the other to her stomach. “Did I lose control?”

  Ms. Stuart said nothing, only pulled out an old carpetbag and hurried over to Kat’s wardrobe.

  Kat collapsed beside her bed and clutched the coverlet. The room spun around and around until she finally closed her eyes and laid her head on the side of the bed.

  Fire. Everywhere.

  Her mouth went dry and her stomach heaved again.

  It had finally happened.

  There was a bang and Kat looked up. Ms. Stuart stuffed clothes into the carpetbag. “We don’t have much time, Kat. You need to get out of here.”

  “Did I hurt anybody?”

  Ms. Stuart’s lip straightened into a thin line.

  “Did I—did I kill someone?” Her voice shrilled.

  Ms. Stuart looked grave, but she shook her head. “Nobody died that I know of. Everyone was rescued from the fire, but a couple of people were burned. One young man in particular was burned severely.”

  Kat closed her eyes. “How can I live with myself? How can I stop this?” She turned away and stared across the bed, the coverlet clutched in two tight fists. “He’s right. I am a monster! I am a horrifying, wicked, vile monster!”

  She felt Ms. Stuart’s arms come around her as the plump woman sank to the floor at her side. Tears filled the older woman’s voice. “Oh, my sweet girl. You didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

  Kat shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It will happen again, and then someone will die.” She covered her face, her voice thick, her face hot and wet. “I don’t deserve to live anymore. I should go to the bridge and end it.”

  “No!” Ms. Stuart shook her so hard her teeth clacked together. “We will find a cure. We will find that doctor and you will be normal again.”

  “But how long will that take? And what if Dr. Latimer can’t cure me? I don’t think we can afford to take the risk.”

  “I won’t lose you!” Pulling her around so they were face to face, Ms. Stuart squeezed her shoulders hard. “Do you hear me, Kathryn? I won’t lose you. We knew something like this might happen, and we had a plan. We are now putting that plan into action. But you will live, and you will find that doctor. No more talk about ending your life, do you understand?”

  Kat swallowed and nodded.

  “Right now we need to get you out of here.” Ms. Stuart hauled herself to her feet and went back to the carpetbag. “I’m going to send you to someone I know, someone who is good at finding people. If anyone can find Dr. Latimer, it’s him.”

  Ka
t wiped her face. “Who?” She couldn’t remember Ms. Stuart ever mentioning someone.

  “My nephew.”

  Her nephew? Wait. She remembered Ms. Stuart mentioning him a couple of times over the years. His parents died when he was sixteen and she paid for him to go to school somewhere.

  Someone pounded on the front door downstairs.

  Ms. Stuart looked up, her eyes wide. She thrust the carpetbag into Kat’s arms. “Take this and go, now!”

  Kat stood on shaky legs. “Are you expecting someone?”

  “The police, the military. Perhaps your father.”

  “My father?”

  Ms. Stuart’s nostrils flared as someone continued to pound on the door. “Of course your father. Once he finds out what you did, he will want to know why and how. And you know what that would mean.”

  Kat nodded and backed away. He would do everything in his power to find out how she had set the hall on fire. Including—she clutched her neck—dissection.

  “I will detain whoever is here, if they are here for you.”

  “But where am I going?”

  “Fifty-Seven Samford Street.”

  “And his name?”

  “Stephen Grey.”

  “Stephen Grey? Wait, I know h—”

  Ms. Stuart pushed her out into the hallway. “You can trust my nephew. He is a good man and will help you.”

  Kat looked back. “Should I tell him?”

  Ms. Stuart shook her head. “No. Tell no one what you can do until you find Dr. Latimer. Especially your father. Your father must never know. Now go!”

  There was a loud crack and men’s voices in the hall downstairs. Ms. Stuart turned. She straightened her gown and headed down the hallway toward the front door.

  “Ms. Stuart!”

  Ms. Stuart ignored her and disappeared down the stairs.

  Kat watched her go, her throat tight. Would she ever see Ms. Stuart again? Would life ever be normal?

  Loud voices below brought her back to the moment. Kat clutched the carpetbag to her chest and hurried down the dark hall to the back of the house. Stephen Grey. The man she had danced with last night. The bounty hunter. He was Ms. Stuart’s nephew? Had Ms. Stuart mentioned his name before? She shook her head. She couldn’t remember.