The Curse of the Silver Pharaoh

by Pip Ballantine

  “Good morning, Henry,” the Scots girl said, waving her fingers lightly. Her eyes were radiant.

  “Morning, Julia.”

  “Breakfast will pick ya up in no time!” and she was on her feet and off to the kitchens.

  “I pride on being observant, Henry, but I think—”

  “The headmistress,” he slurred. “She wants to see you.”

  “What?”

  “She’s waitin’ for you.”

  Verity eased him into her seat. “Get some breakfast and have Julia get you to your room. You’re about to fall asleep standing up.”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, “that sounds nice.” His head bobbled up and he forced a grin. “Be careful.”

  “I will,” she reassured him.

  “You’re strongest of all of us, Verity. Jus’ remember that.”

  She looked into his eyes, not sure what to say. He was tired, but he was sincere in that moment. Once Julia returned to their table with fresh porridge and immediately started sharing her thoughts and theories with the near-asleep Henry, Verity slipped away.

  Just shy of the cafeteria door she heard Suzanne holding court with her gaggle of like-minded friends.

  “I hear you found another body,” Suzanne sneered, “but this time, you were wandering the hallways with that charity boy.”

  So she was much better informed than Julia. Verity wasn’t terribly impressed. “Lovely to know you care so much about Mrs Pyke’s death.”

  “She was of a terribly low class,” Suzanne said, with an evil little grin across her smug face. “A rather tragic excuse for a life. Then again, without the lower classes, we would have no one tending upon their betters, so my father says.”

  “Even more tragic that her betters could not wipe their own arses without help. At least Mrs Pyke could take care of herself, but heaven forbid if your shoelaces snapped.”

  Stella’s dark eyes narrowed on Verity. “This is what happens when you let gutter children into this academy. Sullies the whole place.”

  “No more than your own behaviour, Miss Masters.” She motioned with her head out the door. “I have a meeting with the headmistress. I’ll make sure to put in your request.”

  “My request?”

  “From what I’ve heard in my Literature class from the older boys, you and Suzanne are in need of a revolving door.”

  The girl was on her feet in seconds. So, the prissy bitch fancied herself a brawler, did she?

  “Stella,” Suzanne snapped, freezing the girl in her tracks, “Sit. ‘Charity Verity’ is not worth the trouble.”

  Verity furrowed her brow. Suzanne knew it didn’t quite rhyme. Didn’t she?

  If Miss Delancy had not summoned her, Verity might have taken a bit more time to punch Suzanne’s smirk off her face and enjoy a good tousle with Stella. Though she had not cared for Mrs Pyke, the poor woman deserved better than to be maligned the day after her death. It was highly unlikely she had any love interest, but instead been caught up in the strange goings on in the school. She hadn’t deserved what she got, regardless of her standing in society.

  Suzanne and Stella would have to wait though. As she stalked from the cafeteria, Emma was just coming in. The younger girl’s curly chestnut hair was a spectacular mess this morning. Dragged backwards through a blackberry bush, Verity’s mother would have said.

  Emma looked like she was about to speak to her fellow Ministry Seven member, but one dark glance from her and she shut her mouth with an audible snap. Later, Verity mouthed to her friend, and moved quickly on.

  She hadn’t really been at the school for that long, but even so, standing outside the oak door with the words “Miss Delancy” on it made her heart beat faster. This is just foolish, Verity told herself, this woman’s got nothing on me. We can leave anytime.

  Still, she adjusted her collar one more time and knocked.

  “Enter.” The voice coming from the other side sounded calm enough.

  Opening the door and stepping through, Verity was immediately hit by the smell of violets. Bright winter sun shone through the window illuminating a room entirely unlike anything she might have expected from a headmistress’ study. Periwinkle blue curtains lined the windows, while framed water colours of seascapes lined the walls. A pair of chairs and a love seat, both bright green, centred around a fireplace. Between the chairs was set a small table, with a tall grey coffeepot and a matching mug next to it.

  Seated in the farthest chair was Miss Delancy, hands folded neatly on her lap. Today she wore a deep purple dress which showed off a considerable amount of pale flesh, especially for a school-marm. Her skin was incredibly smooth despite her age, and from how she was displaying her somewhat ample bosom, she seemed not only aware of this but proud of it. Perhaps, Verity thought, this was why Henry was so tired. He must have been using every ounce of concentration not to stare at this certain display of femininity.

  Miss Delancy, with her sleek blonde hair accented with strands of white, and daring gothic dress, looked so out of place in the somewhat frivolous setting, Verity stopped just inside the door way. It took her a moment to notice Mrs Seddon was seated opposite of her with a large, fluffy tabby cat taking up all of her lap. Verity had just interrupted a rather animated conversation, between the headmistress and her chemistry teacher.

  Seddon peered at her through those thick glasses while she petted the cat absent-mindedly. Her little round body was wedged into the chair, but after a moment, she scooped up the cat, and cradling it awkwardly in one arm, managed to lever herself out. “Well now, Miss Simmons, my star pupil.”

  Verity blushed a bit. Thanks to what had become a disciplinary ritual in response to Seddon’s slow pace in class, Verity had become quite familiar with the Periodic Table. Her eyebrows shot up as Seddon, patted the headmistress on the knee. “I’ll leave it to you, Lobelia. I’ll see you for dinner at the usual time. I’m looking forward to seeing that Lee-Metford Mark III you’ve acquired.”

  “Play nice with me, and I may even let you fire off a round or two.” Miss Delancy said with a smile which deepened into a frown as she gestured to the tabby. “Take that thing with you will you? I have no idea how it got in here and he really is a menace with all his fawning. The academy needs to do something about all the damn cats.”

  Seddon cradled the tabby closer. “Now Lobelia, you know they keep the mice away, and liven up the place a bit.” Then she left, cat in hand, and giving Verity a pleasant smile as she walked by.

  Verity had to hold in a gasp as she heard the office door shut firmly behind her. She thought Miss Delancy loved the cats.

  The headmistress nodded. “Miss Simmons,” she said, gesturing to spot on the vacant love seat. “Come, sit down. I would like to talk about last night.”

  While Miss Delancy poured a mug of coffee, Verity reminded herself while she was here, she was not street-wise Verity Fitzroy of the Ministry Seven. Her cover was that of a middle-class orphan, but murder should be distressing to one of those. Swallowing hard, Verity took the offered seat, and tried to look as upset as possible. Maybe she could even pluck up a tear. Confidence tricks sometimes demanded a child to weep on demand, so it was in her repertoire.

  Keeping her head dropped, so as not to make eye contact, Verity screwed up her face and thought of her dead parents.

  As usual, it worked. When she raised her gaze to Miss Delancy’s, her eyes were glazed with wetness.

  “Oh, my dear, sweet child,” her headmistress said, shaking her head, “how shocking it must have been.” She took a deep breath, and offered her a handkerchief she fished out from her décolletage. “And what a terrible headmistress I have been, making this so difficult for you.”

  Verity took it and dabbed at the corner of her eyes. From what she saw, Headmistress Lobelia Delancy was beside herself. Quite the transformation from the woman employing fear in order to keep the student body quiet.

  “The Academy has been more than a legacy for my family. It has been a standing testament to
excellence. We pride ourselves in cultivating and nurturing the brightest and best,” she said pausing only to take a restorative sip of her coffee, “and sometimes that dedication tends to get the better of me. My first concern when Miss von St James was discovered should have been to the students, not to the school’s reputation.” Miss Delancy set aside the cup and placed her hands in her lap as she turned her full attention to Verity. “Bringing Doctor Hood from that dreadful place here was very foolish, and quite inappropriate. Would you not agree?”

  Verity swallowed, and took in a deep, measured breath before answering. “Miss Delancy, the academy is your priority, and it is not my place—”

  “Rubbish, girl!” Delancy said pointedly. “I’ve seen your scores. Most commendable. You have a keen intellect, and I daresay are destined for great things. Please, do not pander to me.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I would say, it was wrong to bring Doctor Hood from Quinne Asylum. It only made an awful matter worse.”

  “More so for you, having found the second body, I am sure.”

  “It was terrible,” she stammered, clenching her throat as if she was choking. “However she died, it was much like Miss von St James. This horrified expression on her face...”

  “Yes, yes, I am sure it was quite awful.” Miss Delancy patted Verity’s hand and eventually took hold of it. “Professor Vidmar told me all the details, including how you and Henry Talbot were out of your dormitories...”

  “I..I was working on something,” Verity choked out. “I wanted to show you it wasn’t a mistake you bringing me here.” She squeezed the headmistress’ hand very hard suddenly. “I like it here! Please don’t send me back!”

  “Of course I won’t.” Miss Delancy assured her. “Come here, Verity,” and she pulled her into a warm embrace. “I meant what I said. You strike me as a strong girl, and I should nurture such strength.”

  Verity was not a child. She did not need to be soothed, but it had been so long since she felt such a caring embrace. She could feel tears coming in earnest now, especially when the headmistress’ hand stroked her hair. Her mother had done the same once.

  “A talented girl such as yourself?” she asked. “Why would I turn you away?”

  Verity had to gather her wits. She was on a mission. “You think I’m talented?” she managed. It was rather pleasant being complimented for your work, as opposed to constantly justifying it before others. Like Henry.

  “Professor Vidmar told me,” Miss Delancy said pulling her a fraction closer. “He told me of your gift.”

  The headmistress’ words were very sobering. She knew. She knew about Il Suono, as Vidmar had called it. Was her secret to be shared with others? Obviously, the headmistress believed the Sound was ‘not insanity’ as they were having a conversation together, and not within the walls of the local asylum.

  “This gift of yours is precious,” Delancy said, “and I wish to protect and nurture it, just as I wish to protect and nurture every student of this academy. Obviously, I cannot show such preferential treatment, all gifts aside…” She pushed her back gently, and looked at Verity directly. “…but you have been present at the discovery of two bodies. I recognise your strength, but I do not wish to test it.”

  Verity stared at her mutely, tears still streaming down her face, but her heart was a chill stone. Her headmistress was willing to use the asylum as a means to protect the academy’s reputation. Now, she wanted to protect the students first and foremost, especially Verity and her gift. Why this change of heart? What did Miss Delancy want?

  “I need you to be strong, my dear,” the headmistress said, her tone resembling the sting of a whip. “When the time comes, you will need that fire in you, that incredible gift of yours. It may, indeed save us all.”

  Her conviction, touched with hints of compassion and steel will, made Verity shudder. People who wore that expression often came to the slums, usually looking for trouble or to deal pain upon anyone in their path. She was fairly certain if need be, Miss Delancy could also summon up tears of her own.

  The headmistress’ fingers tightened on Verity’s shoulders before releasing her. “Very well then,” she said, standing abruptly, “return to your classes. Do not fail me, Verity Simmons. Remember, I believe in you.”

  Verity was given what she wanted. She had the headmistress’ leave, but she longed to feel the woman’s embrace again. Instead, she gave a little curtsy and darted from the office. Only when she was out in the corridor did she let out a slow breath.

  “Did she send you packing?” a sweet voice asked just in front of her. “I do hope so. Sadly, the best way to deal with a wild dog is to put it down, so my father says.”

  Verity spun around, but managed to keep her fist by her side as Suzanne Celestene stood at the base of Lord Delancy’s statue. It was a bit surprising to find her there, obviously waiting for her to leave the headmistress’ office. Not so surprising was Stella Masters at Suzanne’s side, the girl’s dark features seeming to harden the longer she stared at her.

  Verity fixed her gaze with Suzanne. She was done with this tart. “I’m sure when it comes to dealing with bitches, your father is incredibly knowledgeable.” Stella let out a soft growl but Verity kept her eyes on Suzanne. “Go on. Attack me. Just down the hall from the headmistress. I may walk away with a black eye. Possibly a broken nose. But you? You’ll just walk away…” She now looked to Stella, and the other girl stepped back a pace. “All the way back to London.”

  “The headmistress is not omnipotent,” Suzanne warned. “She can’t protect you everywhere here.”

  “No, she can’t,” Verity returned, just as sweetly, “and when that time comes, I will be unprotected. Just like you.”

  With that she flounced off and didn’t look back. Once she got around the corner, out of sight, she leaned against the wall, and let out another long sigh. Who knew the pursuits of higher learning could be so bloody dangerous?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Keeping Watch over the Watchmen

  The moors spread out for miles all around them, the only outstanding detail the silver shape of the Illuminati sniper far ahead of them. When he stopped, they stopped. Liam would usually complain about casing a mark, and who could blame him? Following was not exciting work. The actual job, though? Worth the wait, to Christopher.

  Still, it was getting to the job itself which was dull as ditch water. Liam welcomed shadowing the sniper. Life on the farm with the animals may have been the finest of nanty narking but that didn’t mean he wasn’t wanting a change.

  The sniper stopped in his tracks again, so he and Liam had to follow suit.

  “This bloke ever get tired?” Liam said with a groan.

  “Maybe there’s somethin’ in the Illuminati, ya’ know?” panted Christopher, “To join, you got to run across the country before getting that fancy pin.”

  “Them Illuminatis mus’ save a good amount of coin on hypersteam. Who needs it when you can just hoof it, right?”

  Christopher pulled himself up on his knees, and caught sight of the sniper standing up and resuming his trek back towards St Austell.

  “Good news,” Christopher said, pulling up Liam by his arm. “He’s moving slower.”

  “Lucky us,” he replied before trudging into the darkness.

  The sniper led Christopher and Liam through the hillocks until they crested a low hill. From this height, they could see the sniper running towards St Austell tucked down the valley. The boys followed the ghostly figure of the sniper, who had slowed himself down to a walk, as they reached the main street of the town.

  “Shouldn’t we get closer?” Liam asked under his breath.

  “Nah, remember—he’s got Starlights too. Probably better quality than the ones we’re wearing. We got ta’ be all careful like.”

  “At least we’re in a town,” Liam said, patting the side of the church they were hiding alongside. “Not as crowded as London Town, but we got places to hide.”

  “Jus’ don’ g
et too lofty, eh?” Christopher warned. “Remember what Agent Thorne done told us ‘bout these Illuminati lot.”

  From their corner, they could see the sniper walking slowly down the deserted street, his imposing form pausing to check alleyways between shops. Christopher waited for him to take a few steps before he motioned for Liam to follow. He could just see him checking door after door until finally he paused at an inn or tavern of some description. Christopher grabbed Liam by the collar to drag him into an empty alleyway as the sniper dug into his pockets.

  Christopher tried to listen for any activity from the sniper. Unlocking a door. Closing a door. Anything involving that bloody door, but his heart was thrumming hard in his ears.

  Then, a door shut. It did not slam, but it did close firmly enough for both Liam and he to hear. They both leaned their heads out from their hiding place, and after a few moments of nothing apart from silence and darkness, light from a second floor window shone down on the road ahead of them.

  Christopher removed his Starlights and tucked them into his coat pocket. “Looks like our Illuminati found the rest of his gang.”

  “So how do ya’ reckon we get in there?”

  “St Austell’s ain’t no London,” Christopher said over his shoulder as he crept towards the building. “There might be a window unlocked somewhere.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  On reaching the door, Christopher and Liam looked up and down the street. It must have been late into the night as the country town they had trundled through on their way to Mrs Summerson farm was eerily quiet, practically dead. The patch of light against the street flickered. People were passing in front of the window.

  This was a conversation they needed to hear.

  “Check the windows,” Christopher whispered, motioning to the far end of the building.

  Liam slipped into the shadows, quietly looking for any sort of purchase against the panes of glass. Christopher again glanced up and down the street, not daring to step out into the middle of it. They had to hug the building lest those friends of the sniper caught sight of them from that window.