The Curse of the Silver Pharaoh

by Pip Ballantine

  “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” Henry, still on bended knee, refused to let go of Verity’s hand. His next words, when they came out, sounded almost adult in their brazenness. “A girl of your nature, you wouldn’t understand.”

  The sensation of Henry’s warm hand around her own was quite distracting. She wanted to yank it away from him, but she also wanted to squeeze it.

  “Well, I need to get back to class.” Suzanne stared at them as if they should flee before her and her emergency of cloth. “It would be a shame to keep Miss Rathbone waiting.”

  “Then go,” Henry said, adjusting the larger of the oculars with his right hand while his left remained firmly locked around Verity’s. “We have more important matters to tend to.”

  For a moment no one moved, until Suzanne let out a low groan and proceeded to pass them in a rustle of skirts. Verity was rather stunned; Henry seldom was able to contend with peers like Suzanne.

  The pale girl stopped only a few steps clear of the two of them and stated, “School yard romances never last. They serve as a kind distraction from studies, but surmount to naught. So my father says.” With that she disappeared out of sight.

  Once they were alone, Verity pulled her hand back and rubbed it. “Was that the best you could come up with?”

  Henry shrugged as he returned to his feet. “I didn’t see you offering anything else.”

  Verity glared at him. She didn’t know which lens to focus on. “You want her to think we’re indulging into some sort of romantic interlude?”

  “I was on one knee, holding your hand.”

  “We’re not courting!”

  “No, we’re not,” he insisted. “Of course we’re not.”

  “Of course not!”

  “Verity, hush,” Henry snapped, “and come look at this.”

  Henry took her hand—gently, this time—to rest against the banister near the final step. Under her fingers she could feel indentations in the wood.

  “Now then,” Henry said, removing the ocular and handing them to Verity with a grin, “if you please?”

  With a narrow glare, Verity slipped the clumsy goggles over her own eyes and then looked at the spot where she felt the indentation. She gave a gasp at the multi-coloured mist that floated around what were, unquestionably, indentations made by fingers.

  “Ætheric resonance,” Henry whispered in her ear.

  “But what could do that?” she muttered. “No normal person could crush solid oak like that.”

  “That’s right,” Henry said, removing the goggles from her face. “No normal person.”

  They shared a look. London was full of plenty murderers, but none of them were that strong. Trying to imagine someone who might be did not conjure a pleasant image.

  They both jumped as the doors burst open. Verity glanced at the longcase clock. It was changeover period, and in the time it took Henry to return his curious goggles back to his satchel, students filled the hallways, either heading to their next class or adjourning to a common room for additional studies.

  “Is it time for us to call in Thorne and his mates?” Henry asked, wiggling the ring on his finger. He didn’t sound like he wanted to do it, but for a change he was willing to hand the responsibility and final decision over to Verity.

  She shook her head. “No, of course not.”

  “But you saw the ætheric resonance,” he insisted.

  “That is hardly what I call solid evidence. That is ridiculous pseudo-science nonsense.”

  “Well, if you read Miss Delancy’s Through the Looking Glass and Beyond you would know there are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of.” He sniffed. “That’s Hamlet, that is. Learnt that in the Master Class, I did.”

  Verity could not believe what she was hearing. From Henry? “You said you were not fond of books.”

  “No, I said I’m not always fond of books. There’s a difference.”

  Henry, it seemed, had found a teacher worth his attention; it was making him act irrationally. “Regardless of your æthereal hocus pocus, we haven’t learned anything solid yet about the death of Mrs Pyke.”

  “What you need,” a soft voice sounded from behind and made them both jump, “is to talk to the dead.”

  Julia McTighe was standing behind them, her expression as serious as Verity had ever seen her. Just how long she had been standing there was impossible to tell, but it was a credit to the eccentric girl that she could hear the two of them over the commotion in the hallway. Her roommate, apparently, possessed a skill at sneaking around as apt as any of the Ministry Seven.

  Verity cleared her throat. “This isn’t what—”

  Julia gave a little laugh and shook her head. “You don’t have to make excuses. Everyone wants to find out what happened to Mrs Pyke. As I have been sayin’ fa’ days, they should just ask the woman herself.”

  Verity and Henry stared at her for a moment, both waiting for the follow up joke which had to be coming.

  None did.

  “You’re serious?” Henry scoffed. “Talk to the dead?”

  Now Julia was the annoyed one. “Me uncle has been working on a number of devices to do this very thing.”

  Henry looked as if something rotten had been placed under his nose. “You’re not one of those spiritualists are you? All they do is steal money from people who have lost loved ones. They’re worse than damn crows.”

  Julia’s stern expression hardened as a single eyebrow arched slightly. “Watch yer tongue, laddie. I am a scientist!” She advanced on Henry, her eyes gleaming. “If’n ya knew the works of our headmistress, then ya’ know her papers on the aetheric-paranormal communication have proved—”

  “We’re not much for reading science fiction, Julia,” Verity interjected. She was in no mood to indulge her roommate, let alone her and Henry.

  Unfortunately, he was intrigued. “Just a moment. Julia obviously respects our headmistress’ work. I say, let her tell us more.

  Verity fixed him with a cold stare. Fine then, she seethed, let’s tumble down this rabbit hole to its unsatisfying, somewhat pointless end. She turned back to Julia. “I am presuming you think there is a way to chat to Mrs Pyke about her death?”

  “There certainly is.” Julia glanced over her shoulder, then grabbed Verity and Henry by their arms and dragged them away from the stairs. Finding a quiet corner of the hallway, she pressed them into the wall. “An æthermodulator, according to Miss Delancy’s Crossing Over, can be modified for this very purpose.”

  “That’s an expensive piece of kit,” Henry said, staring down at Julia who was already alight with excitement. “True, this school has everything but I doubt—”

  “Julia wouldn’t mention an æthermodulator unless she knew there was one on the campus.” Verity hated fighting a losing battle like this. “Isn’t that right, Julia?”

  “Aye,” she beamed.

  “And let me guess where this æthermodulator resides...”

  “Nah, ya’ dunna have ta’ guess, you got a key to it!” Julia bounced on the balls of her toes. “The device will need a little modification naturally, but I remember my uncle’s diagrams very well.” She tapped the side of her head. “Locked away in here.”

  Her time in sharing a room with Julia had taught her the girl was eccentric and harmless. She had also learned though, once Julia got the bit between her teeth, she was surprisingly tenacious. Whether the Seven wanted Julia McTighe as an ally or not was not open for debate. This was happening. Exactly why Henry and Verity were examining the staircase, and were interested in talking to the dead Mrs Pyke, would not matter to Julia as much as the scientific endeavour of pursuing this mystery. Her grin was a little off centre, but genuinely meant.

  And it was absolutely irresistible.

  “So,” Henry began, “when are we going to do this? Night time ain’t exactly safe.”

  “I still have the music box Professor Vidmar gave me,” Verity said. “We can get past the Guardsmen.”

&
nbsp; Julia’s gaze flicked to Henry so quickly, he gave a slight start. Verity smiled just a little. She could tell her roommate fancied Henry a bit. “A séance must happen at night, less æther interference, you see.”

  Verity felt a sudden surge of hope in ending this nonsense. “But there’s a problem. Vidmar’s lodging is connected to the workshop. He’ll be on us for certain if we show up to collect the æthermodulator.”

  “Not if we help ourselves to the workshop at five o’clock, tonight. Then we meet later on where ya’ found Mrs Pyke. At eight minutes before midnight.” Julia leaned in to the two of them and emphasised, “Precisely eight minutes before midnight.”

  Verity’s brow furrowed. “Where are you getting all these precise times from?”

  “Since your little adventure with Henry,” and from her other pocket, she pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Verity, “I undertook a wee project of me own.”

  Verity looked down at the paper in her hands, and her eyes went wide as she scanned it. Not only had Julia written down every room and study period for every teacher, she had even drawn a map of the school level of the house. She had marked the locations where the bodies were found. She also documented Delancy’s schedule. Master Classes. Daily rounds.

  The map sported its own colour code pertaining to teachers, classes, and the Guardsmen’s rounds.

  “Why would you do this?” Verity blurted out.

  Now Julia’s face grew very serious. “So many of me Uncle’s inventions have been stolen. Some he thought were good folks, but all of ‘em rotten to the core. Before sendin’ me off to the Academy, he insisted I know everything about everyone and where they were, and ta’ know me surroundin’s intimately. Julia, he said, make sure to not leave anything about for the wee devils.” She pressed her lips together. “Though I’m not sure if he meant actual devils or jus’ bad people.”

  Verity and Henry exchanged another look. “So, at five o’clock?” Henry asked.

  “At five o’clock, tonight,” Julia said, and the twinkle in the Scot’s eyes sent a chill through Verity, “our wee mad caper begins. Tonight, we make time for science!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  A Touch of the Grave

  Verity was assigned by Julia the role of carrying the bits and pieces they would need, while the Scottish girl held tight to the ætheroscillator. It was hard to balance all the wires, tools, a pillowcase of assorted bits and bobbles salvaged in haste between the acquisition of the oscillator and the ‘Lights Out’ call, and oddly a long listening horn a deaf person might use, but for once Verity was content to be lab assistant. With Emma helping, what would have been a lot to manage became a bit easier.

  The hallway was quiet, and just a little more frightening than it had been in her previous adventure. At least with the times Julia had been so insistent for everyone to follow, they had set aside enough time to get dressed. If they were going to be murdered, either by automatons or some creature from the other side of the æther, then at least they’d be properly attired.

  Reaching the bottom of the staircase leading to the dormitories, they found Henry waiting for them, lurking in the shadows and right on time.

  Henry’s gaze ran over the collection of technology Julia and Verity had between them and his eyebrow lifted. “I thought what we needed was the ætheroscillator. What on earth do you plan to do with all that?”

  Julia waved at him as if he were merely a servant. “Don’t worry your pretty wee head, I have it all under control. This way, everyone. The automatons won’t be this way for at least two more minutes.”

  The startled look on Henry’s face was most satisfying. With a grin, Verity followed Julia up the third hallway. This was the direction very familiar to Verity. Miss Delancy’s school had one of the most wonderful libraries she had ever seen, and even as they approached the door to the top floor of it, she grew a little warmer.

  The library was a full three stories tall. The top floor was for students, the middle floor on level with the classrooms and laboratories was accessible during school hours, and watched over by an eagle-eyed librarian, while the ground floor was only for teachers and the headmistress.

  Even so, the student door was locked every night.

  “Julia, I love the library just as much as you do, but you are aware—”

  Julia slipped a small disk over the keyhole. Verity could hear a low thrumming. Magnetism. Then came a rapid crackling in her head. Whatever this electromagnetic creation was of Julia’s, it was working similarly to a skeleton key.

  “Reckon you could make one of those, Verity?” Emma whispered.

  The door’s lock disengaged, and Julia ushered them both in. Securing the latches behind them, she carefully set the ætheroscillator on a reading desk. “You see,” she said, turning up one of the gas-lamps in a nearby sconce, “the library is almost completely soundproof. Apparently Lord Delancy did not like to be disturbed, so it is perfect for a séance.”

  Verity frowned at the use of such a paranormal word. “So, you mentioned there would be science, yes?”

  “Tonight,” Julia began gleefully as she attached hoses to the oscillator, “we will be performing a grand experiment at the intersection of science and supernatural. To communicate with the other side of the veil, we will be employing the cutting edge of technology.” She snapped her fingers and pointed to the pillowcase. “Henry, be a dear an’ fetch me the toilet plunger.”

  Considering the complexity of whatever Julia was constructing, Verity decided not to get in the way since her friend seemed set on a real mission. Knowing how annoying it could be to have someone interrupt when in the middle of fabrication, she chose instead to circle the bookshelves which filled the walls, floor to ceiling. Her fingers lightly touched here and there, even as Henry—ever the inquisitive sort with not much social awareness—leaned over Julia, watching as she worked. Verity smiled crookedly in seeing him standing there with what looked to be a baffle of some description. Julia was most definitely upholding her family name.

  A little sigh escaped her. Truly, the Academy Library was such a treasure, a reminder she had missed having such easy and bountiful access to books. Her father packed one room of their little country house with many volumes, mostly history and archaeology, but there were also engineering volumes for her mother, and curiously enough plays and poetry. She could still remember being curled up at her father’s feet in front of a roaring fire as he read to her mother.

  “Verity?” she heard Emma whisper.

  Hastily brushing away any moistness that might have escaped her eyes, Verity turned around. An eerie green glow lit her friend’s faces. Julia was wearing a huge grin, while Henry looked a little more concerned than excited. The æthergraph was hooked up to the oscillator, the baffle slowly moving up and down, and a few lights along the outside of Julia’s makeshift control panel twinkling on and off. The hearing horn was now screwed into the hodge-podge apparatus. The join was haphazard, and the entire creation not strong enough to hold if it was lifted from the table, but the machination seemed to be built firmly enough to remain intact.

  Now would the whole contraption work? That was another question entirely.

  Julia gestured her to take a place to the right of them, on the other side of her creation.

  “Now, the connection,” she said, holding out her hands to either side of her. “Go on. Let’s join hands.”

  Emma glanced across at Verity with a frown, but she gave a little shrug. At this point, they had nothing to lose. Despite her inherent pessimism, Verity took Emma’s hand, Emma reached over to Henry, and together the four of them made a small circle around the communicator. The Sound thrummed and surged in Verity’s head, keeping time behind the formless, somewhat comforting aural tapestry the communicator wove for her.

  Verity leaned in closer to watch the green lights flicker. “So what have you put together here for us?”

  “This, my dear, is something like a talking board; only this talking
board actually talks to you.”

  “Wait, hold on,” Henry said, “are you sayin’ we are actually going to talk to the dead?”

  Julia blinked. “What did you expect?”

  “You said a séance, so I was picturing one of us, namely you, letting a spirit talk through you…”

  “Ach, you’ve really been readin’ too many of them penny dreadfuls from tha’ streets.” Julia bobbed her head towards the communicator. “This design would allow for one short burst of æthercommunication. Now, theoretically allowing for a verbal message rather than simply an alert like, say, a C.Q.D., the surge of energy required to carry voice would burn out the device after a few minutes.”

  Emma gave a little gasp. “That’s why you are needin’ the oscillator. It’s going to give you more power so if you make contact with Mrs Pyke…”

  “We can actually talk to her an’ get in more than one word or two.” Julia looked over to Henry, then to Verity. “Right then, we ready?”

  Julia let go of Henry, and threw the final switch connected to the oscillator. The heart of the communicator hummed a bit louder as it rocked back and forwards. Julia’s eyes were fixed on it, but now even she looked a little nervous.

  A smell of something burning, something foul like scorched flesh, emanated from the cobbled-together device. The four of them struggled to breathe for a moment, but then the contraption’s lights stopped flickering. The lights blazed bright green as a low-pitched whine filled the room. Verity’s grip tightened on Emma and Julia’s hands as The Sound assaulted her. This was a technology that was not clockwork, not steam, not electricity.

  The Sound felt as if it were taking a solid form and trying to burst out of her skull. That coupled with the burning flesh smell threatened to wrench her dinner from the bottom of her stomach. She was about to break the circle, but Julia’s hand tightened like a vice.

  “Do not break the chain,” Julia hissed through clenched teeth. Her eyes went to all of them as she said, “To contact the other side, the communicator needs not only technology but mana.”