Briar surveyed her prep-work with the camera. Satisfied that all was in order, she moved closer to the cage of magic.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to make you hold still for a few minutes. The light in here is not ideal for photography.” She shrugged. “But what can you do?” Briar bent forward and touched her still-bleeding palm to a small set of runes that bumped off the main circle. They’d glowed faintly until the introduction of her blood, then flared to life.
“What are you—” Crimson tendrils extruded from the rapidly shrinking cage and tightened around Miss Castel, holding her in place. One snaked under her chin, holding her mouth closed and she glared twin daggers of murderous anger at Briar.
“It will take but a few minutes, I expect.” Briar tucked her head under the hood and lined up the image, making sure to center Miss Castel’s face in the glass. There, the girl’s face was visible and identifiable, as was enough of the library that anyone who knew it would be able to confirm its identity. Unfortunately, the bands of magic she was trapped in were also visible. That would be difficult to explain should she need to show the photograph to anyone, but Miss Castel didn’t know that. Briar removed the glass plate from the back of the camera and poured the contents of one of the bottles into the tray, dipped the plate into it, and finally returned it to the camera.
Miss Castel made a few noises deep in her throat, but without being able to open her mouth, Briar could make out none of the words. The intent was clear however. Miss Castel’s face had flushed an angry red, visible even in the crimson light of the magic bands that wrapped her around. That was fine; the girl was a thief after all. What could drive the daughter of a viscount to such behavior, Briar wondered? It seemed like an odd thing if she were simply on a lark.
Briar ducked under the camera’s hood to check on the progress of the image. It barely existed, ghostly outlines of magic fire were all she could make out.
“This may take longer than I thought.” The Sherard girl didn’t appreciate the update.
Briar ducked back and forth for the next thirty minutes until she judged the plate passable. She removed it from the back of the camera and quickly dunked it in the fixing solution waiting on the table. While the image was fixed, she spat upon her palm and rubbed the tips of two fingers in the spittle. She bent forward and drew those two tips where the small circle protruded from the larger inscription, severing the connection. Immediately, the magical bonds retracted, taking on the form of a cage once again. Miss Castel staggered but managed to keep from falling over.
“Now that we understand each other, we can begin.” Briar displayed the glass negative to her captive. Isabella was easily recognizable.
“What do you want? You went to a lot of trouble to get me here.”
As had been the case the night Miss Castel reclaimed the lens from her, she showed no sign of the flighty debutante. This girl was in full control of her emotions and intelligent. For a moment Briar wished she knew more about this Isabella Castel.
“I am in need of someone with your skills to procure something for me.”
“What could you possibly need so badly you’d trap somebody to get it?”
Briar hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
Isabella stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief. “You lured me here, trapped me using magic, and you don’t even know what it is you need me to get?”
“That’s right.” The girl’s incredulous tone grated on her. “You’re in no position to question me.”
“Then perhaps you could let me out of here so we can discuss the terms of your…request.”
With the gracious nod of her head, Briar rubbed her palm on the focus stone in her pocket. The brilliant red interlocking bars flickered momentarily, then went out. Not even a glowing trace was visible to her eyes, but the smell of brimstone hung heavy in the air. Isabella didn’t seem to notice. She lifted the lid of the box that had been her target. A rueful smile spread across her face when she realized it was empty.
Briar alighted upon a chair and gestured for Isabella to take the one across from her. As the girl crossed the floor toward her, Briar took the opportunity to view her costume more closely.
How no one could tell that Isabella was a woman beneath those clothes, Briar didn’t know. The pants were tight against distinctly feminine hips. The swell of her breasts were evident now that she knew what to look for, though they were somewhat obscured by the harness that held a contraption to her back. The device was what gave her such heavy and powerful-looking shoulders. Briar was intrigued to see the flexible tubes that ran from Isabella’s back down her arms. She had no idea what purpose those might serve. Pockets of all shapes and sizes decorated every spare inch of the costume.
Isabella withstood her scrutiny without a word. A small smile played around one corner of her lips.
Suddenly discomfited by the knowing look, Briar pressed forward. “Mirabilia Carriageworks is doing something untoward. I’m not sure what it is, or how they’re doing it, but I need to know more.”
“Mirabilia? They’ve made some astounding advances in horseless technology. What could they possibly be doing that you’d be willing to capture me to check up on them?”
“I don’t know!” Some of Briar’s frustration bled through in the vehemence of her tone. Isabella leaned back in her chair, and Briar took care to modulate her voice. “I don’t know enough about such devices. I am not a mechanist, but I am…sensitive in other ways. There is something wrong with their storage devices. Something evil.”
* * *
Something evil. Those two words simmered between them. Isabella stared at Miss Riley. She was composed, by all outward appearances, but something about her poised stillness belied her lack of composure. She didn’t know Miss Riley particularly well. The woman lurked around the corners of balls and other gatherings. She was almost too old to be part of the glittering set and seemed to have little interest in being there. An inveterate bluestocking, she never seemed to notice the slights and cutting remarks directed her way. Her unflappability was legend and was one of the reasons Isabella went out of her way to send little barbs at her. Miss Riley was a challenge, a small way to make her evenings pretending to be a shallow-thinking debutante a little more interesting. She’d never shown a crack in her facade, but Isabella could swear she was terrified tonight.
“I haven’t had the opportunity to see one up close. My parents haven’t purchased one of the new carriages.” Something evil seemed overly melodramatic, but if the unflappable Miss Brionie Riley was frightened, there had to be more there. “I’m a fair hand with mechanical devices. Perhaps I can take a look.” At Miss Riley’s look of doubt, Isabella motioned to take in her burgling suit. “I made this, so I think I can hazard a guess at what’s going on.”
“I don’t have one of the devices on hand. But you could come around on the morrow and take a look at what powers our carriage.” The tension bled out of Miss Riley’s shoulders. She nodded decisively. “You will come to call tomorrow. If you don’t, I shall make sure the proper authorities receive copies of the photograph.” Her hesitance overcome, Miss Riley hopped up and started pacing the length of the room. “Then you shall infiltrate the company’s headquarters and return with proof of their deeds.”
“If I may make a suggestion before you send photographs to Scotland Yard?” Isabella knew she had to play this carefully. She couldn’t afford to irritate the woman who held her freedom on a glass plate in her left hand.
Miss Riley glanced over at her.
“I’m certain I have more experience in such clandestine activities than you do,” Isabella said. “Infiltration without observation is almost certainly doomed to failure. I watched this home for three nights before entering. I will need to observe their headquarters for at least that length of time before going in.”
“Very well. But tomorrow we will look at the carriage so we may have some idea what you’ll be looking for.”
“Agreed.” Isabella stood and ca
refully wrapped her hair up before settling the helmet over it. She settled the goggles carefully over her eyes. “Tomorrow then,” she said by way of good-bye.
Miss Riley might have the upper hand, but Isabella saw no reason to act as if she believed that was the case. She crossed the room to the windows and opened one. It was easy enough to see in the library’s gloom now that she had her goggles on again. She hopped up on the windowsill, shook twin levers into her hands, then stepped into open air. The street’s cobbles rose up to meet her, but she activated the thrust device on her back before she smacked into them. Isabella landed hard on the cobbles and bent her knees to absorb the shock, the braces on her legs doing most of the work. She set the device off again and launched into a long arc away from the earl’s towering townhouse.
It was impossible to resist the urge to look back and see if Miss Riley watched her out the windows. A slight wobble overtook her, but she compensated without thinking by sticking out her right arm and activating a secondary thruster.
Brionie’s silhouette was barely visible in the window.
Isabella grinned and continued her arcing way down the avenue, then over hedges and into back alleys. It didn’t take long to get home as the crow flies, but it took a little longer as the crow hopped. She couldn’t contain the little frisson of excitement that churned at the base of her spine. She had been caught, and while that was concerning, this new venture promised stimulation the like of which she hadn’t yet experienced. Even a forced partnership with the frigid Miss Riley couldn’t restrain Isabella’s excitement.
But how frigid was she, really? The inspection Brionie had given her in the library had been intense and thorough. There was definitely more to the reserved bluestocking than met the eye. The prospect of discovering more about the enigmatic Miss Riley was almost as exhilarating as the idea of breaking into Mirabilia’s headquarters.
That line of thought was going to end up with Isabella colliding with the side of a building, so she carefully banished all musings on Brionie Riley from her mind and concentrated on getting home in one piece. A crash would certainly bring questions from her mother, and that was a discussion to be avoided at all costs.
Chapter Six
“Miss Riley?” The earl’s inquiring tone broke the morning silence. There was usually little chatter at the breakfast table. The earl and his daughters sat in silence broken only occasionally by the clinking of cutlery against their plates or by a softly murmured request to one of the footmen. Briar was enjoying her morning cup of tea and some lightly buttered toast; she rarely ate much upon first waking. The food sat heavily in her stomach if she ate too much, and she felt sick for much of the rest of the day. She raised her head to acknowledge her employer.
“Yes, my lord?”
“The footman has a letter for you.” He squinted at the envelope in his hand.
Who would be sending her a note at this hour of the morning? All she could think was that it was from Isabella. She had better not be trying to extricate herself from our meeting. “Thank you. I shall take a look at it.”
Hardwicke placed the letter back on the silver tray next to his elbow. The footman picked it up and carried it over to her. Briar smiled her thanks as she picked up the letter. She carefully broke the seal on the envelope. The paper of the letter inside was heavy; there was no way someone could hold the paper to the light and get some idea of the contents. Briar approved of Isabella’s discretion, if in fact she’d thought of it. Perhaps the paper was so heavy because of Isabella’s handwriting. She had a heavy, looping stroke that wavered occasionally. Briar left off her analysis of Isabella’s handwriting and applied her attention to the contents of the note.
Madam—
Regarding this morning’s agreement to meet: I doubt you have the facilities to properly examine the carriage. Therefore, I propose changing the location. I have the requisite equipment and access to expertise in dismantling the power source that concerns you so. If you are amenable, please send word to Sherard House on Cavendish Square. I shall expect you before noon.
—Isabella Castel
So she wasn’t trying to get out of it. The proposal made sense. They had a coach house on the premises, but with two horselesses and a conventional carriage, it was cramped and Briar suspected it contained the barest essentials for repair work, which likely wouldn’t do for a more robust dissection of the offending machinery. If Isabella thought they’d have a better go of it at a different location, then she could see the wisdom.
The signature on the note was quite informal. What did that mean? Briar had seen her in a somewhat compromising situation, that was for certain. She lifted the paper to her nose and inhaled. Was that…motor oil? There was a dark blot in one corner that Briar had initially taken as an ink spot, but closer examination revealed it as a dark grease spot. When she lowered the letter, Briar met the earl’s bemused gaze across the table. His daughters were no less interested in her behavior.
“Is that a letter from a suitor?” young Imogene asked brightly. She had a couple years before her debut yet and was overly interested in the very slow dance between men and women of high society.
“Imogene.” Her elder sister hissed a quiet reproof. Lillie didn’t always break her fast with them, only when her husband was out of town. The Baron Aveland had considerable business interests upon the Continent and was frequently absent. As an advantageously married woman, she should have had less interest in Briar’s personal affairs, yet her eyes were as bright as her sister’s.
“What? I want to know. Miss Riley never has gentlemen calling.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Briar put the envelope down and picked up her cup again. Perhaps if she acted as if nothing were untoward, they wouldn’t notice the heat in her cheeks. “I will be going out this morning.”
“But you smelled the letter.” Imogene wouldn’t be deterred. “That only happens if it’s from someone you like. The novels all say so.”
“Then you are reading quite the wrong type of novels.”
“And you’re blushing.”
“That’s quite enough, Imogene.” When she opened her mouth to protest, Hardwicke raised an eyebrow at her. That was enough to temper young Imogene’s enthusiasm. She subsided into her chair and prodded sulkily at her eggs. “Don’t forget we have an appointment to keep this afternoon,” he said to Briar. “Selborne is giving us a tour of his collection.”
Of course. How could she have forgotten? Usually the prospect of working with a new set of manuscripts was enough to keep her up the night before. Well, she had been up the night before, but not out of excitement. “Of course. I won’t be late.”
“I know.”
Briar was never late for anything. To be less than ten minutes early for an appointment meant she was running late, at least in her own eyes. But if she was going to be on time to her rendezvous with Isabella, she had to get moving. She signaled to the footman, who brought her a piece of paper and pen. She hesitated, pen hovering over the surface of the paper for a moment before writing one word: Agreed. She signed it formally and addressed the outside of the envelope. After quiet instructions to the footman to have it delivered immediately, Briar took her leave.
“My lord. My lady. Imogene.” She received polite nods of the head from Hardwicke and Lillie. Imogene waited until her father and sister had returned their attention to their breakfasts before sticking her tongue out at Briar. Most days, the impertinent child usually amused her to no end, but today was not one of those days. Briar settled for a dark glare in return, which only prompted a snicker from Imogene.
Dressing took longer than usual, for some reason. She couldn’t seem to settle on a dress. The dithering was uncharacteristic, to say the least. Finally, Briar decided to simply put on the first suitable dress and let it be. She doubted Isabella would be interested in what she wore. Briar wasn’t interested in her own outfit, usually. All sorts of things were off today, it seemed.
The only flaw in Isabella’s pl
an occurred to Briar as she waited for Johnson to bring the carriage around. If Isabella had come to her, Briar wouldn’t be forced to suffer through another interminable ride in that thing. The now-familiar sense of impending doom closed around her as soon as she stepped inside the carriage. She watched out the small window as they made their way slowly through London’s cramped streets. Anxiety mounted to irritation the longer the drive took. When an elderly couple crossed the street slowly in front of them, Briar leaned out the window. A cool breeze caressed her face and she realized she was sweating. And about to shout rudely at someone. When the gentleman looked at her inquiringly, Briar smiled instead.
“Good morning,” she said with a jerky nod, rather than “Get out of the way, you doddering fools.” The urge was still there, but she ground it down.
The sensation was familiar, she realized with a start. This was how she felt when she was on the plane of her birth. Her mother’s domain awakened many of these same feelings within her. Quickness to anger, a rush to violent reaction were both hallmarks of the demonic side of her nature. Compared to her half-brethren, she was physically quite weak and thus had become accustomed to reining in impulses that would be very damaging if she tried to act upon them in infernal company.
By the time they rolled up to the front of a tall townhouse, Briar was mopping at her face with a handkerchief. The strain of keeping herself together had her shaking. She had the door open and was flying out of the cab before Johnson barely had the vehicle stopped. The pavement in front of a house was normally not the place to regain her composure, but she still took her time. This was no condition in which to visit with Isabella. To give herself a little extra time, Briar checked her pocket watch. To her astonishment, the entire trip had been only a hair over twenty minutes. Part of her agitation had been the certainty that they would be late. Instead, they were ten minutes early.
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