The Conquering Dark

by Clay Griffith

  “And Miss Penny?”

  “Yes. Her too.”

  “And Imogen!”

  “Of course. This is our house. We’ll all be together.”

  Charlotte let out a great breath and fell back against the wolfhound. “Oh good!”

  The door creaked open and Penny appeared. She glanced in but hesitated to enter, as if she was concerned about interrupting a family moment of which she was no part. Kate caught the engineer’s eye and motioned her inside. Penny carried the steel-and-crystal heart of the altar from Gaios’s island.

  “Penny,” Kate said with mild disapproval, “are you still working with that thing? You should take a moment at least to relax.”

  “This is relaxing.” Penny waved at Charlotte and pointed at the picture. “Nice one of Malcolm.”

  Kate rolled her eyes, and asked, “Were you looking for Simon? I believe he’s in the library.”

  “No.” Penny seemed a bit awkward and unsure of being with Kate and the girls, which was unusual for the woman who was at ease barging in anywhere. “Well, eventually. I want to tell him about this device.” She stood rooted to the rug.

  “Sit and talk with us, if you’re not in a hurry.” Kate nodded toward an armchair beside the sofa. “We’re just discussing art.”

  “And marriage!” Charlotte added gleefully.

  “Oh.” Penny hopped into the chair and threw one leg up over the arm. She began to toss the altar heart up and down in one hand. “Those are two topics that are mysteries to me.”

  Charlotte looked over at Penny. “Miss Kate is going to marry Mr. Simon.”

  “That’s nice,” Penny droned calmly, regarding the device as it sparkled in the firelight. Then the words sank in and she froze. “What? When?”

  “No, no.” Kate held up her hand and laughed. “We were talking about the possibilities of the future.”

  “Oh.” Penny laughed too and nodded knowingly. “Well, a woman could do far worse, Kate. A man who’s funny, smart, handsome, and strong.”

  “And bullheaded and contrary.”

  “He loves you like a hawk loves a clear sky. Have you ever seen him look at you?”

  Kate felt herself blush. “I have indeed. Like a duelist over crossed blades sometimes.”

  “Exactly. I knew Simon for years in London, although he was Mr. Archer to me then. He was constantly in my shop. I can see he respects you more than any man. I think he’s a little afraid of you.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Oh, it’s very good. You want a man to be a little afraid, or they take you for granted.” Penny stared again at the device, as if lost in her own thoughts. “Some women live their whole lives without a man looking at them like that.”

  Charlotte giggled and started a little singsong, kicking her feet while she drew her picture. “Miss Kate and Mr. Simon.”

  Kate was warmed by Penny’s matter-of-fact words. They flooded her with memories of the night with Simon, as well as their many conversations and glances and touches. She realized how often he put a gentle hand on her shoulder as he passed, how he simply looked at her when she spoke, nodding and listening with interest to her thoughts.

  Charlotte laid her head down on the paper. “I’m going to marry Mr. Malcolm.”

  Penny exhaled and shook her head, muttering, “That’s just great.”

  Kate stared at Penny, and the two women locked eyes. They began to laugh.

  Footsteps sounded behind them as Simon, Malcolm, and Nick entered the room. They each carried glasses of whiskey, obviously coming from some sort of boy’s chitchat. Malcolm was muttering. “How are we going to keep a tutor? She does read quite well though, but she seems drawn to lurid adventure stories. But she’ll need a tutor, and not just for music and art. I want her to learn mathematics and the sciences and geography.”

  Simon said, “Well, Malcolm, I suspect we could manage something even without engaging a tutor. I’m rather learned in many areas.”

  Malcolm rubbed at his temples. “I don’t want Charlotte to know about those areas.”

  Charlotte bounded to her feet and rushed the group, eager to show them her art. Simon took the paper from her. “What a lovely sketch of Kate. You captured her arched eyebrow perfectly. And how handsome I look in such a big…hat?”

  “That’s your hair,” Charlotte told him.

  “Of course it is.” He exchanged a bemused look with Kate as he settled on the arm of the sofa next to her. He studied the runes he had inked onto the palm of his left hand. It was brighter and much more complex than the temporary runes he had drawn on the backs of everyone’s hands for communication. “Damn, this inscription itches like hell.”

  “So,” Nick said, plopping down into an overstuffed chair and propping his feet atop a strange square table covered with a white tablecloth. “You’re so powerful now you’ll beat Gaios with one hand?”

  “Yes.” Simon smiled. “And my other tied behind my back.”

  “If we’ve got him on the run, why do you look worried?” Malcolm groused as he leaned against the wall near the fire.

  “Do I? I thought I looked confident and assured.” Simon showed the runes on his palm. “If I’ve properly deciphered the Bastille containment spell. And properly inscribed the creation phrase on my hand.”

  “And if you can get close enough to Gaios to touch the runes to him,” Kate pointed out.

  “Well, yes, that too. If so, I should be able to cut him off from the aether.”

  “So we expect him to come here?” Penny asked.

  “That’s my plan. We’re choosing the battleground. We’ve cleared out as many of the tenants from the estate as we could. And he’ll be here, sooner or later.”

  Nick tapped his whiskey against the strange table and lifted the corner of the tablecloth to reveal the Stone of Scone resting on the floor of the Blue Parlor. “We’ve got what he wants.”

  “Yes indeed. Only I’ve managed to alter it a bit so it won’t be exactly what he hoped.” Simon rose and moved to the sideboard, pouring a measure of whiskey into the glasses gathered there.

  Nick asked, “Did you tell your master we had succeeded?”

  Simon ignored the jabbing tone. “I wrote to King William that we had recovered the Stone but warned him that the danger had not passed. I instructed them to hold the militia and home guard in preparation for possible attacks on the city. Mrs. North—or Ash—sent back His Majesty’s gratitude and also let us know that the king refused to leave the people of London despite the peril of Gaios. However, they are taking the princess Victoria away to safety.”

  “Thank God the princess will be safe,” Nick muttered as he raised his glass to be refilled to the rim. “To the millions of poor who cannot flee the city, too bad on you.”

  “The millions of poor have us, Nick.” Simon turned to encompass all within the small battered room with the tray in hand, distributing glasses all around, except for Charlotte, who pouted. “We won’t fail them.”

  Imogen stirred against Kate’s side and stretched out her arms. She opened her milky human eye and gave her strange rictus smile up at Kate. “Is it late?”

  “Yes,” Kate rubbed her sister’s hand. “You should go to bed.”

  “Not yet.” Imogen sat up, careful to shift the hedgehog into a better position, and accepted a small dram of whiskey from the tray.

  Simon lifted his glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, join me, please.”

  Malcolm stepped from the warm fire and took Charlotte’s hand. Nick rose from the chair with an inebriated groan. The women followed suit until all their glasses touched in the firelight.

  Simon looked each of them in the eye. “There are no people in this world that I love and respect more than all of you. Nick, you trained me in more ways than you know. When I came to London looking for a path, you put me on it and kept me true to it.”

  Nick started to interrupt, but Simon knew he was going to qualify it with a guilty admission of his goal of attaining Simon for
Ash.

  Simon made a silencing sound and gave his friend a confident smile. “Don’t. I owe you much. More than I can repay. And Malcolm, you have come into this group in a way that you thought was unnatural for you. You never wanted to be a part of a team of any sort, but you are now the heart of this one. Your honesty steered us when we were lost. Your uncluttered reason has kept us focused. Kate loves you. Penny loves you. The girls love you. Without you, there is no family here.”

  Malcolm’s cheeks actually colored and Penny grinned, her eyes darting to the ground.

  Simon turned to the young engineer. “And to you Penny. You are an absolute genius. You give us that extra edge, which enables us to stand toe-to-toe with madmen and gods alike.” Her face lifted to his with gratitude shining in her smile.

  “To Imogen and Charlotte, who bring joy into this house and teach us what is worth fighting for.” He paused a moment, his gaze sweeping over. “And Kate.”

  The depth of adoration and tenderness in his eyes brought warmth spreading out from Kate’s chest.

  “Kate,” he repeated softly. “Your unflagging thirst for knowledge and truth propels us always forward to a place where anything is possible.” His free hand brushed against hers, twining their fingers. He raised his glass, preparing to finish the toast.

  Kate drew in a deep breath, her heart lifting higher. “And to you, dear Simon. In whose fearless footsteps we follow. In darkness from which all of humanity would flee, you remain stalwart.”

  Simon’s face shone in the firelight. His glass pushed toward the others. “I wish us all success and long life. I expect that we shall all gather here again, well and healthy. I thank you.”

  The multitude of glasses clinked and they all drank.

  “What about Mr. Hogarth?” Charlotte asked. “He’s our protector.”

  “And to Hogarth,” Simon agreed.

  “Charlotte and I are relieving Hogarth on the roof.” Imogen reached for the bottle of whiskey. “We’ll tell him.”

  “No, ma’am, you are not.” Kate looked from Imogen to Charlotte as she pulled the bottle from her sister’s hand. “You’re both getting some sleep.”

  “We can’t. It’s our turn.” Imogen was firm but polite. Charlotte bounded over to her, trailing her drawing from her hand, and leaned against Imogen. “You should get some sleep, Kate. You look tired.”

  Kate put on her stern face. “I won’t be disobeyed, Imogen. I want you to go to bed.”

  Imogen shook her head and said in her strange calm voice, “Malcolm will take over from us in a few hours, and we’ll sleep then.”

  Kate could sense stubbornness in her sister that reminded her of the old willful Imogen. Except that it wasn’t selfishness; she was trying to help. In truth, Kate was too exhausted to fight this battle, which she probably shouldn’t.

  “Very well.” Kate rubbed her face and stifled a yawn. “Off you go then, but please be careful on the roof. There are holes everywhere and weak spots that can’t be seen.”

  “I know.” Imogen took Charlotte’s hand. She inclined her head to regard Kate. “Sleep.”

  Kate laughed. “I would love to, but I have several hours of work in the laboratory ahead of me. I’m cooking up a little amber. And there’s another series of your blood to finish tonight.” Kate continued to talk, but more to herself. “I’m beginning to understand the structural changes I’m seeing. I need a much better microscope. I’ll send for a new catalog from Germany.” She tapped her forehead as a reminder. “I’ll do that tomorrow. Oh no, not tomorrow; I have plans. The next day then.”

  “Kate.” Imogen laid her long boneless fingers against her sister’s face. “Stop, please.”

  “Stop what? What am I doing?”

  Imogen stared into Kate’s eyes with the one white human orb. “Stop trying to bring me back.”

  Kate flushed with panic. It seemed they had come so far, but now Imogen was returning to her old morose futile self. Her sister had surrendered again to hopelessness after all the time Kate had labored to reassure her and to show her that she would never rest until Imogen was restored to normal. Kate clenched her fists. Her gaze flew over her sister’s face in despair.

  “Imogen, please, you can’t give up,” Kate whispered in a ragged voice.

  “I’m not giving up,” Imogen replied softly. “But you are killing yourself. Stop.”

  “I can’t!” Kate closed her eyes and pressed Imogen’s hand against her face. She felt the inhuman touch of the tendril fingers. “I won’t.”

  “Kate. Look at me.”

  Kate opened her eyes and gazed on her sister. Her rubbery skin was so white, it was almost blue. Her once-full lips were slits across her face. The delightful nose that once graced her beautiful features was nothing more than two holes. However, when she came this near, Kate could see the remnants of the old Imogen in her face. The line of the chin. The curve of the cheek. The slight tilt of her head. These were vestiges of the original woman that had not, and could not, be changed.

  “You don’t have to bring me back.” Imogen kissed Kate on the cheek. “I’m here.”

  It had been years since Imogen had kissed her in more than a perfunctory or begrudging way. She felt a warmth and kindness that had been gone since they were little girls. Kate threw her arms around Imogen. She kissed her sister and embraced her tightly, feeling strength in Imogen that she had either not seen or denied since they had brought her back from Bedlam on that dreadful night last year. Kate felt her sister’s fingers wiping tears from her cheeks and she pressed her face into the touch.

  Imogen gently pulled away from Kate and took Charlotte’s hand again. The two started for the door.

  Kate covered her mouth to stifle her crying as she watched them through new eyes. After they left the room, Kate called out, “Charlotte! Take your wulfsyl before you go on the roof!”

  “Aw!” came the distressed reply and the girls’ footfalls disappeared down the hall.

  It was a cloudless night of stars. Malcolm picked his way carefully across the rooftop, testing shingles and the exposed rafters before settling his weight on them. At the edge of the roof sat Imogen and Charlotte.

  Charlotte waved enthusiastically as if Malcolm had been away for months rather than just a few hours. It was that eagerness that made Charlotte such a sweet child. It’s what kept the monster in her at bay. He doubted that Kate’s wulfsyl alone would have been enough. The two girls rose to their feet. Imogen was a study of calm reserve, while Charlotte saluted him.

  “Nothing to report!” she declared. “No sign of anyone except a few deer.” Her arm dropped, then she impulsively hugged him.

  Malcolm allowed himself the luxury of returning the girl’s embrace. After a moment, she reluctantly released him and brought her head up from the warmth of his wool coat. She regarded the long rifle across his back, but the smile didn’t leave her face.

  “When that crazy old man shows up here, we’ll be ready,” Charlotte assured him.

  Malcolm wondered if she truly understood what was happening. Their world was on the brink of annihilation, and she behaved like it was a day at the beach. It was that sort of recklessness that made him worry for her safety. She could be strong and quick, but she didn’t understand the ruthless complexity of the world. One day she would.

  That was a day he never wanted to face.

  Charlotte regarded her friend behind her. “Mr. Simon’s ever so clever. He’ll make sure Gaios won’t hurt anyone.” She rocked back on her heels in obvious devotion.

  Malcolm’s heart filled once more with dismay. “Gaios isn’t just some doddering warlock, Charlotte. He’s very dangerous.”

  Charlotte’s bright blue eyes rose to meet his. Those iridescent orbs seemed old beyond years. “I know that. Even Gretta spoke of him only in whispers.”

  That communicated leagues of Gaios’s mythical weight. Gretta Aldfather was a centuries-old lycanthrope and Charlotte’s past brutal mentor, a furious legend in her own right.

/>   Imogen pressed close to Charlotte. “We both know what he’s capable of, Malcolm. But we’ll stand together.”

  He nodded, his throat tight. Simon was right. There would be no sending them away even if it was for the best. When he spoke, it was deeper than usual. “Go down and get something to eat. Then off to bed with you both. We need you fresh and ready when the time comes.”

  Charlotte offered a smile that would melt solid ice and scampered off like an acrobat. Imogen moved slowly and carefully. He stared after them when Charlotte darted back to him. She tugged him down by his lapels, then stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek with an enthusiastic, “Good night!” She ran off again, grabbing Imogen’s hand and helping her along the tricky slope to the ladder sticking up though a gap in the roof.

  Drawing a hand across his cheek, Malcolm settled himself in their little nest of warm blankets and plush pillows, amused at their desire for simple comforts even for this small task. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a picnic basket about somewhere to go along with it. He was tempted to look when his stomach growled. Utilizing Penny’s miraculous long-range scope on the rifle, he made a quick scan of the surrounding area. It appeared serene and still, despite the ravaged grounds. It remained that way for almost two hours.

  The sun was beginning to filter over the distant hillocks when the earth shook. Malcolm grabbed hold of the roof’s trembling edge and lifted the rifle. Gaios came riding atop a chunk of earth the size of a farmer’s cottage, pulled by what Malcolm could only call doglike golems. The creatures drew the chariot faster than a fleet coach, leaving a deep, rough furrow behind. Gaios was dressed in a long white garment with a crimson mantle over one shoulder similar to the toga of an ancient Roman nobleman. His long white hair flowed in the wind like Zeus descending to Earth. Cowering next to him were Jane and her father.

  Malcolm sounded the alarm by slapping the back of his hands together. The temporary tattoos flared, as they would on everyone’s hands below, warning them of an incoming enemy. Malcolm lifted the rifle and took aim at Gaios. When the target rumbled into range, he squeezed the trigger. The shell was on target, but with a flick of his wrist, Gaios brought up a section of his stony chariot and deflected the shot.