“Because it doesn’t.”
“What?”
“The way that Cam and Andrew feel. I don’t think it goes against nature.”
“You don’t?”
Bizarrely, a wry smile crept across her face. “Do you remember the ornithologist’s journal about Antarctica? The one that made me embarrassed when you asked why it was in Latin?”
Elliot blinked, entirely lost. “Yes, of course I do.”
“I don’t know if you know this,” she said. “But penguins are one of only a handful of species that mate for life. They form a pair bond with one bird and stay with them until death. The scientist who wrote that journal confirmed it in his findings, but he also observed that some of the bonds were not between males and females. Sometimes, the males would mate with other males, the females with other females.” She paused and shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her throat. “In his journal, he actually called the penguins’ behavior ‘depraved.’ That’s the reason it’s written in Latin. He thought the findings were too obscene to reveal to the general public. Can you imagine calling a group of penguins obscene and depraved? They’re natural creatures doing what comes naturally. It’s ridiculous.”
“So, you don’t think any less of Andrew and Cam?”
“Of course I don’t. They’re good, kind, and loyal people. There’s nothing wrong with who they want, and it’s not as though they can help it.”
“How do you know they can’t?”
She looked at him, and his temperature rose, not only because of the sudden ache that pulsed inside her chest, but also because of the fierce, magnetic longing in her eyes. “I can’t help wanting you,” she finally said, the slightest catch in her voice. “The whole world calling it wrong and unnatural wouldn’t change a thing.”
Elliot’s cheeks burned, and he glanced down at his lap, but Iris reached out and guided his chin back up with her fingertips. He shuddered at her touch but forced himself to look into her eyes.
“Do you…” she began, and then, “I mean, I know how you felt when we kissed, but is it… the same for you? Do you want me, not only in moments like that, but―”
She stopped, because he placed his hand on her cheek and shared his feelings with her. Longing, respect, awe, and admiration flowed between them, as well as the only feeling he had yet to name out loud.
Love.
Her breath hitched, and she covered his hand with her own and closed her eyes, and when she opened them up again, her lashes were wet with tears.
“Elliot,” she murmured, leaning closer to his face, but then she froze. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is it… all right if I kiss you?”
He laughed, loudly, and after a moment, Iris laughed as well. Then, with laughter still on her lips, she pressed her mouth to his.
A warm tide rose inside them both as he kissed her back. Unlike the raging fire that consumed them the first time they kissed, this feeling was slow and sweet, like the Weeping Willow Rag. Iris melted against him, slid her hands to his coat lapels, and pulled him down with her as she laid back against the carpet. He raised himself up, pressing his palms on either side of her body, but she ran her hands through his hair and drew his body back down to hers, deepening the kiss and arching her back against the floor. The slow heat became much more urgent then, and Elliot trembled, his muscles going rigid against the softness of her body. He lowered his mouth to her throat, parting his lips to taste her skin, and she rewarded the gesture with a ragged, breathless cry.
“Iris,” he murmured, dragging his lips down to the edge of her bodice, causing her heart to explode and hammer wildly beneath his mouth. He shuddered and gripped her waist. “Maybe… maybe we should stop.”
Her fingers found his hair again, and she pulled him back up to her face, responding with a kiss that scorched his veins and seared his brain. He kissed her back, parting her lips and tasting the tip of her tongue, and the power of their combined desire obliterated the world. She seized his coat and shoved it back over his shoulders. He shrugged it off and tossed the heavy fabric aside without any hesitation. Once he was free, he bent back down and kissed her mouth again, and she moaned against him, raised her hands, and pulled the pins from her hair, causing her charcoal curls to spill out over the velvet carpet. Elliot reached beneath her skirt and slid his hand up the side of her leg, past her silken stocking, all the way to her naked thigh. She tightened her legs around him, and he groaned and buried his face in her neck.
“Iris,” he murmured, his voice raw and low in his throat. “I love you.”
He knew she already knew, that he’d shown her just moments ago, but the words felt important and sacred somehow, and saying them suddenly seemed as vital and necessary as air. Her heart swelled, and she clung to him, returning the glorious feeling, but then she froze as a bolt of pain and fear cracked through her chest. The sting spread, joined by a wave of guilt that turned Elliot’s stomach, and he pried himself off of her and sat back against the floor.
“Iris, what is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, attempting to catch his breath.
After a moment, she raised herself up, and he saw the well of pain and guilt reflected in her eyes. “I love you, too,” she said. “I think I have from the first night we met.”
“Then what’s the matter? Why did you suddenly feel―?”
“This morning I told you I couldn’t answer your questions because of your safety. That was true, but there was another reason I didn’t tell you. I haven’t been completely honest because… I don’t want to lose you.”
“What? Why would you think―?”
“It was wrong of me,” she continued. “And I understand that now. You deserve the truth, and because I love you, I’m going to tell it to you. Even if it hurts or changes the way that you feel about me.”
“Iris,” he said, edging closer. “There is nothing you could tell me that would change my feelings for you.”
Doubt rose in her throat, but she swallowed it back and nodded. “When you stopped me in the State Dining Room, I was headed to the Throne Room.”
Elliot furrowed his brow. “The Throne Room? It hasn’t been in use since before the quarantine. From what I’ve heard, the Lord Mayor used the place for storage space.”
“Jennie told me the same thing. That’s why I was going there.” She took a breath and lowered her gaze to her lap. “This morning you asked me why I really decided to stay at the palace. One of the reasons was to find proof―proof of something terrible the Lord Mayor has been doing.”
“What?”
She set her jaw and raised her head. “Purposely infecting London’s people with the Hyde drug.”
The blood drained from Elliot’s face. “That’s―that’s mad.”
“It’s true. The only reason the drug still exists is because he’s continued to make it. He found out how from the man who first synthesized and sold the tablets, before both he and Dr. Jekyll were killed by an angry mob. Go to Limehouse or Whitechapel, and you’ll hear stories of people waking up in the streets infected, people with no memory of ever taking the drug.”
“Of course I’ve heard those stories. But they’re rumors―fairy tales.”
“The Hydes were only a fairy tale until the epidemic. I can’t tell you how I know, but I promise you it’s true.”
He shook his head. “But why? Why would he do such a thing?”
“Because of the reasons I told you that first night in the aviary. If the Hydes are ever cured or the infected all die out, the quarantine will be lifted and the government will come back, and the Lord Mayor will no longer be king of an absolute monarchy.”
Elliot’s lungs stilled, because he knew that she was right. The Lord Mayor worshiped power and control above all else.
“But why did you think that telling me this would change my feelings for you?”
She shut her eyes for a moment, fear closing around her throat. “Because your father not only knows what he’s doing, he’s helping him.”
Elliot’s mou
th went dry. “No. You’re wrong. He wouldn’t do that. My father’s entire life consists of looking for a cure.”
“He’s not,” she insisted. “He can’t be. The Lord Mayor would never allow him to live if he really were.”
“How do you know?”
“Because when Lady Cullum found out the truth, he murdered her.”
Ice slid through Elliot’s veins. “Lady Cullum was killed by a Hyde.”
She shook her head. “The Lord Mayor staged it to look that way. He already hated her, because her shelters were helping the city, and then when she discovered he was making the drug and infecting the public, he killed two birds with one stone by killing her and blaming the Hydes.”
Once again, Elliot couldn’t deny that the Lord Mayor would do it. But his father?
“I believe you,” he said. “But not about my father. You don’t know him like I do. After my mother’s death… I simply can’t believe he’d be content with making more monsters.”
Iris glanced at her lap, her skepticism thick, and Elliot knit his brow again.
“What were you planning to do,” he asked. “If you found proof tonight?”
“Make it public knowledge somehow,” she said, raising her head. “Show the people of London what the Lord Mayor really is. If they knew, they’d rise up against him, and all of this would be over.”
“But what if you can’t find proof? Or if you do and no one believes you?”
Fear chilled her blood, but at the same time, courage warmed it. “I’ll do what I have to do.”
“Do what you have to do?” he asked, his own blood going cold. “What do you mean… kill him? You would assassinate the Lord Mayor?”
“He’s a murderer. He not only killed Lady Cullum, and God knows who else, he’s responsible for every Hyde and victim in this city. Think of what he’s done to Cam, what he’d do if he knew his secret. Look me in the eye and tell me he doesn’t deserve to die.”
Elliot clenched his jaw, fighting the panic in his throat. “Maybe he does, but Iris, to plot such a thing is utter madness. If anyone even heard what you just said, you’d be executed.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take. Nothing in the world is more important than stopping him.”
A sharp pain pierced his heart as he stared at her hardened face. Perhaps it was the height of selfishness and even cowardice, but the most important thing to him was sitting right before him.
“Wait,” he said as an idea formed. “What if I remade the serum that gave me my empathy? If I could somehow inject the Lord Mayor and make him an empath as well, then he would no longer be able to do such terrible things to people. It would hurt too much to cause such pain, and maybe it would even help with Cam―”
“Elliot, the answer is not experiments and drugs!” She let out a breath, rose to her feet, and crossed away from him. “That was Jekyll’s mistake, what caused this misery in the first place. No concoction of chemicals can right the world’s wrongs. Evil and injustice can only be conquered by human action, by people strong and courageous enough to fight for what is right.”
“But why does it have to be you?” he demanded, rising to his feet as well. “Who decided that saving the world is your responsibility―that you must be the one to risk your life for everyone else?”
The disappointment that broke across her chest was like a physical blow. “You haven’t been listening,” she said, walking to the door. “If I know the truth and do nothing, I’m as guilty as the Lord Mayor.”
She opened the door and stepped out into the darkness of the hallway, and Elliot bit back a curse and collapsed on a nearby sofa. He wasn’t sure how long he sat with his elbows against his knees, staring down at the golden constellation of pins on the floor.
Harlan Branch raised his cigar to his lips in the dim corridor, peering through the door to the ballroom and scanning the crowd for Iris. Somehow, he’d lost track of her, and loss of control―no matter how slight―always set his teeth on edge.
Not that there were many things in the world he didn’t control. In fact, there were only two, and tonight he would remedy both.
Just thinking about the first one turned his stomach and chilled his bones. He’d been trying to stamp it out for years, and recently, he thought he’d started to see a bit of success. But then, only minutes ago, he’d watched his son creep out of the State Dining Room, his lips and cheeks flushed, followed only moments later by Andrew, his hair askew. The lit cigar crumbled in his fist as he recalled the scene. No more, he thought, attempting to calm himself. Tonight you fix it.
The second thing that eluded his control would also be remedied soon―at least it would if that little bitch would ever reappear. Gritting his teeth, he tossed the ruined cigar down onto the floor, ground it into the carpet with his foot, and wiped his hands.
Then, finally, he spotted the gleam of her golden dress. She wasn’t in the ballroom, however; instead, she was hurrying through the darkened hallway to his right, heading toward the stairs that led to the palace’s northern wing. She was going back to her room already? He grinned and let out a satisfied breath.
It couldn’t be more perfect.
First, however, he needed to set his other plan in motion, so he straightened his tie and slid back into the ballroom, looking for Andrew.
Tears were pricking Iris’s eyes when she finally reached her room, but she fought them back and dried out her tear ducts before they could emerge. She should have continued on to the Throne Room after leaving Elliot, but the only thing she wanted was the solitude of her room. After closing the door, she lit her lamp and laid on her bed, wishing she were able to remove her gown herself. Because of the corset and the design, she’d need a chambermaid’s help, but they would all be occupied for at least a few more hours, so she closed her eyes and tried to disappear into the silence.
Moments later, however, the sound of a turning doorknob broke the silence in the room, and she bolted upright and forced her hammering heart to beat evenly. Elliot wouldn’t just open her door; he’d knock and ask to come in. No one would simply walk into her room, except―
The Lord Mayor appeared in the doorway, his pale blue eyes alight and his lips curled into a smile. Iris rose from the bed, fear erupting in her chest.
“Sorry to barge in, my dear,” he said, closing the door behind him. “I hope I didn’t frighten you.”
She slowed her breathing, hiding her terror and rage. “Of course not, sir.”
“Good,” he replied, walking toward her. “I had a question―a theory really―that I’ve been meaning to pose to you.”
His manner was even calmer and more pleasant than usual, as if he weren’t bursting into her room in the dead of night. He strolled closer, so near she smelled the tobacco on his clothes.
“First, let me ask you this,” he said. “You’re a virgin, are you not?”
Her blood froze, and she didn’t reply, which he seemed to find amusing.
“You see,” he said, stepping closer, and her lungs closed against her will. “I was wondering, if you were, and if a man did take your virtue―if you could not then heal yourself and become a virgin again. If so, then, theoretically, a man could take your maidenhead every time he took you to bed.” He paused and looked her over, curling his smile into a leer. “And what man wouldn’t want a girl he could endlessly deflower?”
Her stomach lurched into her throat, and she glanced around the room. This could be it. If she had to kill him now, she’d find a way.
“I have to admit,” he continued as he slowly looked her over. “I wouldn’t mind performing the experiment myself. Unfortunately, I have something much more important I need from you first. Maybe, however, in time…” He glanced at the nightstand beside her bed, which held the lamp she’d lit as well as the book from Elliot.
The lamp! she thought. Yes, I could break it and use the glass.
“An Anthology of Birds,” the Lord Mayor murmured. Iris started. He turned to her, a knowing and lascivi
ous glint in his eye. “Perhaps our young Mr. Morrissey has tested my theory already.”
A blush rose into her cheeks before she could stop it, and he laughed.
“Well, this is simply fascinating,” he said, pressing his tongue to his teeth. “So, tell me―was my theory correct? Did you knit yourself back up after Elliot was done?”
With adrenalin coursing through her veins, she drew back her foot and kicked him between the legs as hard as she could. He screamed and doubled over as she seized the lamp beside her and raised her arm to break it over his head and cut his throat. Before she had the chance, however, he reached inside his coat and pulled a pistol from his pocket. Her arm froze as he cocked the gun and pointed it at her face.
“You little bitch,” he groaned, clutching his groin with his other hand. “You couldn’t have thought I’d really come to your room so unprepared.”
She lowered her arm as he straightened up, his face beet-red with pain, but he kept his hand steady, aiming the gun at the spot between her eyes.
“You said yourself this morning, you can be killed like anyone else. So if you want to live, you’ll come with me and do as I say.”
lliot was knocking on Iris’s door for the third time. As soon as he’d woken, he’d dressed and gone to her room to talk to her, but just like the second and third attempt, he’d received no response. He was about to actually open the door and search for her inside when Cam appeared, walking toward him and looking disturbed as well.
“El,” he said, chilling the air with the bite of his uneasiness. “You haven’t seen Andrew, have you?”
“Not since last night. Why?”
He bit his lip and glanced at the floor. “He disappeared during the ball. I’d assumed he’d gone to tend to some crisis with his mother, but a letter just arrived from her, asking to send him home. Apparently, he hasn’t been there since the night before the ball.”
Elliot furrowed his brow. “That’s strange. I can’t find Iris, either. I’ve been knocking on her door all morning and haven’t received an answer.”
The Heartless City Page 19