“That’s personal but not a question.”
She cleared her throat. “I saw your … those …”
Simon stared at her, shaking his head, playing cheerfully obtuse.
“Your tattoos,” Kate huffed. “You know damn well what I mean. You’re completely covered in tattoos.”
“Well, obviously you preserved a shred of my dignity the other night or you’d know that I’m not completely covered in them. But yes, I have tattoos, and you wish to know why.”
“It’s really none of my concern, I know. It’s just that you said you were a scribe, and they are masters of inscription, of written magic.”
Simon held up his hand. “I am a carver.”
Kate leaned back. “A what?”
“A carver. It’s a vulgar term for a scribe who practices inscription using his own body as the tablet.” As he talked, Simon unfastened his shirt cuff and began to roll up his sleeve. The dark runic lines wrapped around his muscular forearm. “These are spells. They allow me to perform alterations to myself or to the immediate sphere around me. It would be the same as writing the spell, but obviously it’s much faster since here it is already. I merely speak a focusing word or phrase, and the spell comes active.”
Kate gazed at his inscribed arm. “That’s how you perform feats of incredible strength?”
“It is.”
“Does it hurt? The tattoos I mean.”
“Not now. It was painful to receive them.”
“Did you do it yourself?”
“No. That would take more skill and willpower than I possess. I had them done by a couple of mystics who can perform such tasks. Rare fellows indeed. The first was on the Barbary Coast, and the second was in Norway. But it’s been over five years since my last tattoo; they may both be dead by now. I suspect what I have here is what I will always have.” Simon came toward her. “Would you care to examine them?”
“No, I’ve examined them.” Kate jerked with embarrassment. “I mean I had to when I removed your clothes. I mean …”
“Step out into the dark for a moment.” Simon laughed and crooked his finger at her. He opened the French window and went onto the brick terrace. He blew into his cupped hands for warmth. Then he rolled his sleeve up over his biceps and whispered a word.
Against the night, a bright green pinpoint appeared on his forearm. In the blink of an eye, the light moved along his arm as if writing one of the tattoos anew. The entire arcane pattern glowed and Simon waved his arm, creating a weird blur of emerald in the night.
“Amazing,” Kate breathed.
“Shall I show you some demonstration?”
“No need. I’ve seen you do extraordinary things. And I’d rather you not tire yourself needlessly.”
“As you wish.” Simon passed by her into the laboratory. She followed quietly and closed the door. He returned to his place by the warm fire, taking his time rolling down his sleeve and fastening the cuff.
“I’ve never seen anything like you, Mr. Archer.”
“And you likely never will. I am the only one of my kind, after all.”
“Are there limits to your power?”
“Certainly. I’m a human being. Just flesh and blood and bone. These tattoos allow me to funnel aether through my body, but I can’t physically or mentally manage unlimited amounts nor sustain endless forces tearing through me. If you ram too much powder into a cannon, it will blow apart.”
“How much is too much?”
Simon gave her a sly wink. “That’s the whole trick, isn’t it? I don’t know.”
Her voice was hushed with awe, “It’s true magic, isn’t it?”
“Well, it’s not quite pulling a hedgehog out of a hat, but it’s something, yes.” Simon came to the edge of her table and placed his hand down on the surface with a metallic clatter. When he pulled back, the gold key rested before her. “I want you to keep this.”
Kate looked up at him. “But it was your mother’s.”
“In a way, yes, but I’m sure that it was your father’s before that. More than that, you have the skills and the resources to study it.”
“You have no interest?”
“I have an enormous interest and hope to work with you on it. However, there’s no reason you can’t start to work. Your scholarship and intellectual grasp of the subject is far superior to mine. I am jealous of how you studied, while I attended parties and drank.”
Kate was warmed by his consideration for her intelligence and by his willingness to surrender an object that obviously meant a great deal to him. She lifted the key and gripped it in her hand. “Thank you. Why don’t you take the pages with your father’s runes and attempt to decipher those?”
Simon was quiet a moment, then bowed his head graciously to her, his emerald eyes narrowing to points beneath his dark brow. “I shall.”
Kate coughed. “As soon as you can, I’d like you to spend several weeks here at Hartley Hall, and we can work together on this. As our fathers did.”
Simon hesitated. “I feel as if I’m abandoning you going back to London with that intruder still about. I wish Nick hadn’t gone yesterday while I was laid up.”
“He waited until you were out of danger.”
“I suppose the old fellow can only wring his hands for so long.”
“He did a great deal,” Kate said. “But you needn’t worry about me. I have men around including Hogarth. And I’m capable myself.”
“Indeed you are.”
“I will feel better with you following leads in London.”
“And it’s certainly possible they will intersect with yours at some point. We have to assume the thing we saw is part of the situation with Colonel Hibbert, and he is tied in with my werewolves. It’s far too coincidental that we would experience this sudden downpour of the occult.”
“Agreed.” Kate tapped one of the journals on the table with the key. “The thing that poisoned you is a homunculus. Clearly, it had been human once. He was altered either mechanically or alchemically. Or both.”
“I’ve seen homunculi before, but never exactly like that. It moved well, and the poisonous spines were a clever introduction, half muscle and half metal. Whoever forged it is an extraordinary craftsman.” Simon wandered idly about the room, studying the walls and surfaces. “It would be fascinating if we could trap it.”
“I say kill it.” Kate’s eyes sparked with fire.
“If necessary, but it would be preferable to study it.”
“It’s preferable to me that it not be here at all.”
“That’s understandable, but don’t you want to find out why it is here? Isn’t it always better to know than not? You’re a scholar.”
“When something threatens my family, scholarship be damned.” Her steel gaze met his.
There was a knock at the door, causing them both to jump, and Kate called out to enter. Hogarth stepped inside, and said in a quiet voice, “Pardon me, but Miss Imogen is talking to herself.”
Kate could see that the servant was distressed. “She’s had opium. That’s not too unusual.”
“I glanced inside and saw Miss Imogen standing by an open window. I coaxed her back to bed, then lingered outside her door. She was soon talking again.”
“I’ll check on Imogen.” Kate started for the door with a glance at Simon that brought him to her side. Hogarth and Aethelred followed. “And then perhaps we should have a look around outside.”
Simon retrieved his walking stick from beside the door. “Hogarth, would you be good enough to bring a heavy cloak.”
The servant veered off as Kate, Simon, and the wolfhound took the stairs. They hurried down the hallway and Kate took a deep breath, putting her ear to a door. Her eyes tightened. She heard the sound of Imogen’s voice quite plainly although she couldn’t make out the words. Then, in the silence left when Imogen stopped talking came a strange whooshing sound that could have been the wind.
Aethelred whined suddenly and pressed against his mistress with his t
ail drooping behind him.
Simon pulled the sword from his cane. “He senses something.”
“The homunculus?” Kate rose in alarm.
“I hope it is. We can settle it once and for all.”
Kate reached for the doorknob, but Simon seized her wrist. He shook his head and signaled for her to wait. Hogarth jogged toward them carrying an oiled-canvas rain cloak. Simon took it and motioned Kate away from the door. Aethelred hunched low, muscles tensing, hackles stiff on his neck. The dog glared at the door.
Simon mouthed the words, “Keep him out here.”
“You think it’s in there with her?” Kate’s heart pounded in her throat at the intensity in his eyes. She fought the urge to rush inside as Hogarth took Aethelred by the collar, pulling him back lest the dog give them away.
Simon immediately turned the knob and pushed the door open. Shadows in the bedroom all seemed to move on their own accord. The orange glow from the fireplace flickered in the draft. Imogen stood in front of a large wardrobe across the room. She turned at the sound of the door.
Simon inched into the room. His head swiveled from side to side, searching the black corners. Kate slipped behind Simon, who held the canvas cloak up in front of him, with the sword still in one hand and the empty stick in the other. The window was open and Kate could see her breath in the damp air.
“Why are you in my room?” Imogen’s voice was full of familiar haughtiness, but there was something blank in her eyes. She wasn’t truly looking at Simon. She was staring into the distance beyond him.
“Are you alone, Miss Imogen?” he asked.
“Just leave.”
“Would you step away from that wardrobe, please?”
“Imogen,” Kate coaxed anxiously, “come to me.”
Imogen stood rooted in place. The wind blew her nightgown and the pale moonlight from the window illuminated her shape beneath the billowing fabric. Kate started around Simon, inching toward Imogen. The young woman reached up and put her hand on the door of the wardrobe. Simon tensed.
There was the sound of a struggle from the hallway. Kate turned in alarm to see a huge shape rushing in and past her. Simon shouted and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her behind the cloak, which he swung like a bullfighter, particularly since he had his stick sword in his hand. A grey furry hulk pushed through the canvas and loped toward Imogen.
When Aethelred reached the young woman, the dog thrust his body between her and the wardrobe and pushed her back a few steps. Imogen grinned and threw her arms around the great dog’s neck with a childlike laugh.
Kate ran forward and grabbed Imogen’s arm. She reached for Aethelred’s collar but found it gone. She then saw Hogarth standing inside the doorway with the broken leather strap in his hand.
“Come, come,” Kate commanded both her sister and the dog, tugging them away. “Hogarth, take Imogen and Aethelred to my room. And stay there with them.”
“Yes, miss.” The manservant took the hound firmly by the scruff and put an arm around Imogen’s shoulders. He escorted the pair from the chilled room. Their footsteps faded.
When Kate turned back to Simon, her eye caught a shade sliding along the wall. As the shape moved, it went from dark to bright pale white. “Behind you!”
Simon moved so quickly, Kate barely saw him. The stiff cloak snapped like a kite in the wind, and it fell heavily on the homunculus, which appeared suddenly pale in the darkness. Simon spoke in a quiet whisper and seized the draped form in a bear hug. It flailed, fighting to extract itself from the tangled cloak and Simon’s immensely strong grip. It thrashed like a wild animal, slamming him against the heavy wooden bedpost. Simon staggered and the sword cane dropped from his grip. He attempted to regain his footing to prevent the thing from taking him to the floor. The frenzied creature took advantage of its unsteady assailant and wrenched itself free.
“Kate! Get back!” Simon shouted as it darted for the open door.
Quills barely missed her as she launched herself aside. Still tangled in the cloak, the creature scrambled out of the room, seeking escape. Simon lit out after it.
The sword glinted on the floor and Kate snatched it up. She tore out into the corridor to see the homunculus with one arm free from the folds of the cloak. Quills rose along its white skin. Kate hissed a warning. In the shallow light, Simon barreled into it with a broad shoulder and drove it down the hall toward the stairs
The impact sent the creature over the banister into the air. The cloak fluttered free. The homunculus plummeted to the tile floor twenty feet below, where it fell hard on its back. Simon leapt the rail and dropped to the foyer with the sinewy grace of a panther. The thing was already on its feet and pounding away through the wide doors of the library in a desperate attempt to escape. Simon snatched up a large chair, single-handedly, and bolted after it.
Kate bounded down the stairs, hardly touching them, wildly falling forward. She hit the floor and raced for the library in time to see the chair smash into the back of the homunculus, sending it sprawling. It gathered its ungainly legs under it again and rose quickly, angry and confused. It spun to face Simon and Kate.
From beyond the sweep of windows, a vigorous moon illuminated their foe for the first time. Its face was humanesque in proportion, but its eyes were large and bulbous, like a chameleon’s. The nose was nothing but two slits and the mouth was a wide gash with snapping sharp teeth. The body was nearly translucent white and it crouched upon long arms, misshapen and bent twice as if it had multiple elbows. The hunched shoulders bristled with threadlike quills that rippled like a field of grain in the wind. It appeared to be naked; Kate noted the contours of thigh muscles and the bulges of bones at its knees, plus long, splayed toes pressed against the wood floor.
“Dear God,” Kate breathed. The horrible distinction between the thing’s human characteristics and its unnatural anatomy left her ill. She was torn between a fierce curiosity about its unusual nature and a desire to see it destroyed. She reached back and closed the library door, locking it, trapping them inside the moonlit room with the creature.
With a hiss, it twisted to show its back. Simon snatched a heavy table and raised it in front of Kate and him like a knight’s shield. There were multiple, rapid plunking sounds against the wood as thin but deadly quills impacted like crossbow bolts. Simon rushed the creature, slamming it into the wall and pinning it there with the thick table.
Tubular pliant fingers crept around the wood near Simon’s face. A bony arm reached for him. Kate swiped at the arm with Simon’s sword, slicing it deep. The creature shrieked and thrashed, shoving the heavy wooden table aside in its pain.
“Get back!” Simon shouted at Kate as he leapt onto the white creature. His bare hands seized it by the throat. The homunculus thrashed, but Simon held firm.
Something seemed odd. Simon wasn’t moving, but neither was he quivering in near paralysis. He was rigid like a statue with his fingers dug deep into the creature’s flesh. What Kate could see of Simon’s skin appeared pale and lifeless, but perhaps that was the sheen of the moon. The flailing homunculus was dragging Simon awkwardly after him. Spines shot, clicking off the walls and the chair Kate scrambled behind.
The thing crashed through the French windows, sending shards of glass twinkling in the moonlight. It slipped in the wreckage and collapsed to the walkway under Simon’s immobile form. He was grasping the creature with so much strength the thing wriggled like a fish in a vise, but the magician had yet to even flinch, as if frozen in place. The homunculus’s chest was heaving. Pale hands dropped away from Simon’s back to splay out beside it. Like a trapped animal that had exhausted itself and succumbed to debilitating terror at being confined, it fell into stillness. Somehow, Simon was choking it to death.
Kate rose carefully, noting numerous quills sticking out of the chintz fabric of the chair. Foot by foot, she drew closer. The homunculus panted in a hoarse gasp like a baby with the croup. The creature’s bulbous eyes shifted to her and she froze. It didn’t
move further, except to close and open its mouth. Kate reached Simon’s feet. There was something odd about the way his clothes fell over his unmoving frame. It was like cloth draped on stone rather than a man. There was no rise and fall to Simon’s chest. His eyes were open, but glassy. She pointed his stick sword toward the creature.
“Simon?” Kate murmured, and the creature’s eyes slid to her again. She pressed the point of the blade against the thing’s chest, but again, it only moved its gaping mouth. “Are you alive?”
Simon flinched and drew in a gasping breath like a man breaking the water after a long time submerged. The white creature flicked its attention to him and quills rose along the thing’s shoulders.
“Kill it,” Simon wheezed.
Kate instantly plunged the blade deep into the soft white flesh where she knew a human’s heart would be. It was disturbingly easy to stab the thing. The homunculus gave a sharp hiss. Simon whispered a word and the blade of the sword glowed blue and hot. Kate felt a strange vibration through the silver handle and almost let go of it. The creature gurgled and fell still.
Simon gasped in pain and wrenched his fingers from the creature’s neck.
“Were you struck?” Kate placed one hand on his back, which felt stiff and corded, but she maintained an eye on the homunculus.
“No.” His voice was deep and strained. His arm drew back with aching slowness and he put his hand flat against the ground. He began to hoist himself up off the homunculus as if a crane lifted him. He fell over and lay supine, nearly motionless, beside the white creature. Kate shouted in alarm. Simon raised an arm and it sounded like twigs snapping. His eyes caught hers and, impossibly, his mouth curved into a slow smile. “I will be fine in a moment. Would you mind checking to ensure it’s dead?”
Kate looked at the motionless thing. The thin sword, now plain steel, still protruded from its rib cage. Then it fell over with a metallic clang. Kate jumped back, fearful that the creature was stirring. Rather, the thing’s chest was collapsing into a sizzling crater. The tips of its fingers and toes began to bubble into whitish liquid. The eyes popped and its face caved in.
The Shadow Revolution Page 13