“As long as you can make that machine work, you may use anything you can find in this house, Papa,” Elle said.
“So I take it that you have been up to something while the rest of us were in repose,” Loisa said.
“Actually, I went to the Shadow side before bed this morning. I went to find a very recent acquaintance of mine,” Elle said.
Loisa gave her a look. “I think you had better tell us about it,” she said.
“That was a very risky thing to do. Dealing with the old Fey is always tricky business and there are always consequences,” Loisa said when Elle had finished relaying her story.
“Desperate times, Loisa.” Elle said.
Loisa patted her bee-stung lips delicately with the starched table linen. “To be fair, at least we know what we are dealing with now.”
“I will handle Jack if he shows up,” Elle said.
“A real Lady in White,” Loisa mused. “They are very rare creatures, you know. Elemental witches. And judging by the splendid weather we are experiencing at the moment, I’d say her element is storms.”
“So that’s the explanation,” the professor said. “I knew there was something behind all this rain.”
“Exactly my thought,” Loisa replied. “And what better place for an elemental who specialises in the use of thunder and lightning …”
“ … than a spark monastery.” Elle finished Loisa’s sentence for her.
“So what we need to do is plan the offensive,” the professor said.
Elle looked at him in surprise.
“Well you didn”t think I was going to let you go in there all by yourself now, did you?” the professor said.
“And I am coming too,” Mrs. Hinges said from the door. “There is no way I am going to allow that thundering Valkyrie to get away with what she has done to his lordship.” She shook her head. “Not in a million years.”
“And neither will I,” said Caruthers not to be outdone by Mrs. Hinges.
“And me too,” said Neville. Clearly they had all been listening from just outside the dining-room doors.
“That”’s wonderful, but I cannot allow you to place yourself in harm’s way,” she said. “I caused this problem and I need to solve it on my own.”
“Oh, here we go with the it’s-all-my-fault nonsense again. I knew she was going to say that, didn’t I?” Mrs. Hinges said. “No, my dear, this calls for teamwork. United we stand and divided we fall.”
“Hear, hear!” said the professor. “Caruthers, see if you can find us a bit of that nice sherry in the study. I say we all retire to the withdrawing room to toast this endeavor.”
“Splendid idea,” Loisa chimed in.
Caruthers wandered off looking somewhat scandalized at the thought of servants and members of the family drinking together, but he had found the sherry glasses by the time they were all assembled in the drawing room.
“I have been formulating a battle plan,” the professor said as soon as the sherries were poured. “Neville, bring in the drawing board!”
Elle turned around in surprise as Neville wheeled in a wooden drawing board, the kind the professor used for presenting lectures. Pinned to it was a big sheet of paper with a number of diagrams and formulae.
The professor pulled his telescopic lecture cane with the brass tip from his pocket and opened it up with a flourish.
“Right. If everyone could please be seated where they can see the plans, I will begin,” he said in his best lecture voice. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said when everyone had settled down, “before you I have a floor plan of the monastery. And here is what I suggest we do.” And with that, the professor launched into a detailed account of his vision.
Elle listened to the professor outline his plan with a growing sense of enthusiasm. It might just work.
“Very well then, if everyone is agreed and sure of what they know what to do, then I suggest we set about completing our preparations. We move tomorrow night.”
“Yes, sir!” Neville and Caruthers said in unison.
Mrs Hinges nodded slowly as she thought matters over and Elle could see that the housekeeper was working on a few embellishments of her own, but she was wise enough not to get into a debate with the professor about them.
Loisa just sat in silence with the secret little smile of hers on her face and Elle wished she could tell what the Nightwalker was thinking.
“Neville, would you mind driving me into the West End this evening,” Loisa said.
“No problem, Baroness. Just let me know when you wish to go,” Neville said.
Loisa gave Elle an apologetic look. “I still do not have my full strength back quite yet. I need to go out.”
“Think nothing of it, dear Loisa. Just please be careful,” Elle said.
“Of course my dear,” Loisa said. “I always am.”
“Then we are all set,” Elle said. “We will convene here in the dining room tomorrow evening.”
After the meeting dispersed, Elle wandered into the kitchen. She walked over to the meat room and stared through the windows. Marsh was still in the place she had seen him earlier. He stood completely still with his head bowed forward as if he were extremely weary. His slightly too long hair had flopped forward onto his brow.
Elle wanted to pull the door open and hold him in her arms, but she knew she could not. Any agitation would simply make the clock in his chest tick faster.
“We will fix this, my darling,” she whispered. Her warm breath fogged up the glass that separated them and then, just as quickly, it was gone.
Marsh did not respond.
Elle closed her eyes and turned away from the window. As she did, she said a little prayer to anyone who might be listening. It was a prayer that their plan would work and that tomorrow evening would not be too late.
CHAPTER 30
Clothilde stood very still in front of the magneto generator in her laboratory. Somehow, even though they could not see her, she felt she had to stand when she was speaking to her employers.
“You are sure you linked this connection to the telephony line securely?” the chairman’s voice crackled and echoed through the brass speaker horn which stood to the side of the cabinet.
“Our cable is spliced into the transcontinental line, bypassing all the exchanges. I had the electromancers attend to the matter,” Clothilde said. There was a brief pause as her voice carried down the line, for she was speaking long-distance.
“Nonetheless, we will keep this communication short. There is never any way of telling who might be listening in,” the chairman said. Another whizz and crackle on the line ensued. “We are all assembled. You may report,” he said.
“All is going according to plan. I now have a thousand made and ready for shipment.”
“Very good,” said the chairman. “And the quality?”
“The best I could find. Very strong and durable.”
“And your visitor? We are surprised that he has not made contact with us.”
“He is not here at the moment. He said that he had some other business to attend to. He left us the day after he arrived, but he said he would be back soon. Apart from that, I do not know what he is up to.” Clothilde stared at the glass tank that had been erected in the corner of her laboratory as she spoke. Inside the blue spark-infused liquid, Patrice floated silently. A grotesque array of wires and springs sprouted from the cauterized hole in his chest. He was awaiting the insertion procedure, but somehow Clothilde had not quite gotten round to completing the process. The solution he was suspended in would preserve him indefinitely, and his heart floated in one of the jars of the shelf, neatly lined up and numbered, so there was no rush.
She stroked the side of her face that was still slightly tender from where he had struck her. It would do the odious man some good to marinate for a while.
“I am sure we will hear from the good monsieur before long,” the chairman interrupted her thoughts. “In the meantime, I will arrange for transport of the first sh
ipment by dirigible. Choose a hundred of the best specimens and have them ready for collection. The Emperor is willing to allow us to deploy a small batch in the East as a demonstration. He wishes to see how they fare before completing his purchase negotiations.”
“When shall I expect the flight?”
“Tomorrow evening.”
“I will see that they are ready.” Clothilde said.
“Then we are pleased. You have done excellent work so far, Miss de Blanc. Very good work indeed.”
“Thank you, sir,” Clothilde inclined her head even though she knew they could not see her.
And with another crackle and a hiss, the connection was terminated.
“You know that it’s illegal to have one of those without a license,” Emilian said behind her.
Clothilde swung round. He was sitting in a chair, eating an apple that he was slicing with a rather large and dangerous-looking knife.
“How dare you listen in on my private conversations?” she blazed.
“Oh, don’t be so touchy, lady. You called for me, remember?”
“Yes, of course.” Clothilde frowned. Maintaining control over the soldiers was becoming more and more taxing and she was so tired some days that she found herself forgetting things. And making mistakes—mistakes she could ill afford.
“Well, you heard the man. We need to round up a hundred and have them ready for shipment.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Emilian put a slice of apple into his mouth. “I was thinking that batch of prisoners we stole would do nicely. They are also the most bloodthirsty. If they want to do a proper demonstration, those ones should put up the best show.”
Clothilde nodded. “Yes, I think you might be right. Those would be good specimens to send.”
“What are you going to do with Fatty over there?” Emilian pointed to the tank.
Clothilde’s eyes blazed. “Don’t think I have forgiven you for that little faux pas, Emilian. You should be the one floating in that tank at the moment. How dare you speak out of turn like that?”
Emilian met her gaze steadily and started laughing. “I thought the man needed to know that you were running your own little business on the side.”
“Such insolence,” Clothilde grumbled. Emilian’s message was clear, though. He was not going to allow her to treat him like she treated the electromancers. She would have to put up with him for now. And when the time came, sending him into the machine would be so much sweeter.
“So what about Fatty?” he said, pointing the knife at the tank.
“Not that this is any of your business, but he is touched by the Shadow side and so is an interesting subject for research. Once the insertion of the heart device is completed, he will be part of my personal guard. So I would be careful if I were you.”
Emilian held up the hand that held the knife, palm out but with the blade between his fingers. “Understood, dear mistress.” He went back to slicing his apple. “And what do you want me to do with the other special ones? The little lordling and that table-rapping fop that you had Vargo pick up from Soho?” Emilian placed the square apple core on the little ledge beside him and carefully wiped his knife clean. “The fop keeps wailing and whining about wanting to get out of here. Can’t you sort him out for us?”
“He can wait, for the moment. We have other, more important business to attend to.” Clothilde thought for a moment. “Actually, I think we should send the young lord along with the prisoners. They will need a general to herd them and he could do with a little training.”
Emilian nodded and stood. “All righty then, I shall do as you command.” He made a little bow, which had nothing to do with respect or subservience.
“Thank you. You are dismissed.” Clothilde said.
“Oh yes, before I go.” Emilian rose from his chair. “In case you were wondering, Mr. Hunch is dead. He died this morning from the gunshot wound to his stomach.”
“I trust that the search for a replacement is under way?” she said without batting an eyelid.
“Yes, we are looking.”
“Any news on the whereabouts of the woman who shot him?”
Emilian hesitated.
“Speak!” Clothilde barked.
“Vargo says the Nightwalker got a nasty mouthful of silver when she sank her little teeth into Tom.” He paused for effect. “We don’t think she should be long for this world.”
“And the other, the one with the red hair?”
“We don’t know.”
Clothilde went very silent. Was this the same woman who chased her in the opera house? The one who sensed her using Shadow magic? It was too much of a coincidence for it not to be.
“Also, Georgie from the Stag said that the warlock’s wife came looking for him last night.”
“No!” Clothilde shouted. She could tell that Emilian was not being entirely forthright in his reporting. Lightning crackled and struck the conductor chimney high above them.
“Did she find your sister?”
Emilian shook his head. “She did not. And besides, even if she did, Florica would not betray you.”
“I very much hope for both your sakes that this is true, Emilian. You and your sister have tried my patience for the longest of time with your insolence. Don’t make me regret my decision to hire you more than I already am.”
Emilian stepped back a few paces at the sight of her wrath. “Just the messenger, remember. I’ll go see to your hundred.” He turned on his heel and made his way out of the room, ostensibly ignoring her anger, but she saw the little shadow of worry pass over his face. This pleased her immensely.
Clothilde sank into a chair and rested her head in her hands. Patrice had been right. There was a powerful Oracle hunting her now. And if she knew anything about the world it was this: neither the seven hells nor the darkest recesses of the Shadow hath as much fury as an Oracle scorned.
She looked up at the tank. Patrice still floated motionlessly before her.
She turned to the long gallery of glass jars that were lined up on shelves on the one side of the room. Each jar was filled with the same liquid as the solution in the tank. In turn, each jar was connected to a network of copper tubes and cables that fed the spark current into them.
She liked seeing the hearts beat gently in unison with one another. Watching them brought a rare sense of tranquillity over her, but she had no time heart-gazing right now.
She walked along the gallery until she came to a specific heart. “It seems, Monsieur Chevalier, that today might just be your lucky day. For I need you more alive and with all your faculties at your disposal than I had initially realized.”
Carefully she lifted the jar off the shelf and carried it over to her operating table. There was work to do.
CHAPTER 31
Patrice gasped like a goldfish hovering just below the surface of a pond as the world came into focus. It took him a full few seconds to work out that the metal beams before his eyes were roof trusses.
He groaned and tried to sit up, but a terrible pain shot through his chest.
“Be still or you will reopen the wounds,” a woman’s voice said with measured calmness.
“You!” Patrice croaked as the sight of Clothilde swam into view. “What have you done to me, you harlot of Shadow?”
“Now, is that really necessary?” she said.
Patrice ran his hand over the thick padded bandages that were strapped tightly around his torso. “What is this?” he mumbled. “Why can’t I feel my legs?”
“The wound has been cauterised and sealed up, but I have taken the liberty of numbing your body from the waist down so you won’t accidentally hurt yourself by trying to run away too soon. You should be able to move in a few hours—as soon as your insides settle.” She was busy with her equipment and packing things away on the shelves and in cupboards.
“My heart,” Patrice said. “You cut out my heart!” Patrice felt a fresh wave of horror and outrage wash over him, temporarily numbing the pain.
>
“And I must thank you for that. It was a most useful experiment with surprising results. I have, for the most part, managed to reverse the effects of the organ removal. Apart from a scar on your chest, I expect you will fully recover.”
“Why?” he said. This woman baffled him utterly.
“Well, when the charming Emilian blurted out my secret, I needed to make sure that you would keep your mouth shut. And with the warlock missing, I thought you might make a passable replacement.”
“Then why bring me back?” Even in his current state, Patrice was a pragmatist. Nothing in this world came without its price.
“Well, you are more useful to me fully alive than undead. So here you are.”
“It’s the Oracle,” he said. Of course it would be.
Clothilde’s expression remained impassive.
“She’s hunting you and you need me to tell you how to stop her.” Patrice started laughing at the irony, but the laugh ended up in a painful cough.
“A bit of advice would be gladly received,” Clothilde said with an air of feigned nonchalance.
Patrice started chuckling again, this time with a little more caution. “And what makes you think I would be inclined to help you?”
“I had a little look at your legs while you were unconscious,” she said sweetly.
Patrice tensed. He hated the hideous half-shadow mess the lower half of his body had become. The anguish and embarrassment of being only half a man—a man who was absolutely no use to any woman—burned and he looked away.
“That’s quite an injury you have there. I could not neutralize it completely, but I did manage to turn it to your advantage.”
“What do you mean?” he said.
“Only if you tell me how to stop the Oracle.”
Patrice started laughing again. “Oh you poor simple creature. It was the Oracle who did this to me.” He tried to wiggle his feet, but they were completely numb. “Unless you kill her where she stands, there is no stopping her.” He coughed. “A hapless monstrosity like yourself does not stand a chance. All she’ll do is make you obliterate yourself with your own power.”
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