The Eidolon

  She nodded at Emil. He made a gesture with his hand and all at once, light flooded the street. The doors to the waiting carriages opened. One by one, elegant gentleman stepped out and approached Veronica and Lord Grillett. Men of all ages, from several boys just out of Oxford to a man with graying temples, wore leather, buckles, goggles, top hats, dusters—the wardrobe of the New Era. It looked like a night at Almacks, without the crinoline, chiffon or silk. Several of Emil’s crew appeared distinctly uncomfortable, tugging at their trousers and squirming in their fitted vests.

  “They know everything, my Lord. I’ve shown them. Taken them on a tour of The Grave. My, my, what a filthy place. Not at all like the papers show! No fat, healthy children there. Only skinny little things, hardly strong enough to stand.”

  Lord Grillett’s eyes flickered from one dandy to the next. He swallowed, any honeyed words vanishing down his throat. His weight shifted backwards and he rocked back on his heels to disguise what might’ve been a stumble. But he straightened his posture immediately and lifted his chin in a perfect disdainful tilt.

  Grillett started to talk but Veronica cut him off. “They feel very sheepish to have been so deceived by you. In fact, you’ve made them quite angry. They plan to do what they do best—spread the word about who you truly are very quickly. By tomorrow, all that matters to you will be lost forever.”

  Alec stepped forward, tipped his hat and said, “Grillett, old chap. You remember my friend, Lord Walter, Baron of Ghent? And His Grace, the Duke of Grafton? Or perhaps Sir Howard, heir to the Earl of Essex?”

  Grillett opened his mouth, and then shut it again. He glanced down the row of nobles and closed his eyes briefly.

  Veronica waited, sword still drawn. It was working better than she’d hoped. Now all he had left to do was prove the coward and run. Leaving the children to her.

  Grillett’s eyes flew open, squinted in calculation, his lips curved into a sneer.

  “My apologies, my Lords and your Grace for what you’ve heard. Unfortunately, I cannot have such lies spread among my peers.” He gestured toward Alec and the others, turning to speak calmly to his Enforcers. “Leave no one alive.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  After the wedding

  Emil drew both swords and took his stance by Veronica. Hayır, olamaz. Grillett just ordered a mass murder of members of the peerage. The golden man himself vanished behind his sea of red.

  “Run!” he ordered Alec and his friends. A few ducked back into carriages and took off, but Alec and several others remained. They drew rapiers and stood ready.

  Out from behind Alec’s group, the shadows moved and a hundred men charged the Enforcers. Brandishing knives, clubs, steel bars, they whooped as they crashed into the red capes.

  “Who are they?” Veronica asked, her voice raised above the din.

  Emil grinned. “The secret society that supports the Eidolon.” Giles and all his friends. He’d sent word as soon as he realized Veronica’s plan. “They are, like us, very, very mad.”

  She smiled, a bright, forceful thing. Her body loosed and she raised her sword and whooped just as they had. She charged into the fray, knocking aside one Enforcer and then another.

  She was magnificent. Tall. Strong. Fierce as she whirled to face each new foe. Her cape swirled behind her with each fluid thrust and parry of her blade.

  Emil’s men followed her, Alec’s friends close behind. They met the Enforcers, steel on steel. A deafening clang shattered the air. Emil cleared a path to Veronica. He guarded her left, wishing she would use that blasted powerful hand hanging by her side.

  Veronica turned, saw Alec nearby, and yelled, “What’re you doing?” She parried a blow and shoved a man aside. “Go! Please, Alec, go!”

  Alec thrust his sword at an oncoming Enforcer. With a few surprisingly deft moves, he struck the blade out of the other man’s hands and cuffed him on the head, knocking him out. “Really, Peanut, do you think I learned nothing at Eton?” And with that, he vanished into a sea of red.

  Aman Tanrım. Alec would make a mess of it. But Emil didn’t have time to follow him. He met several Enforcers at once while Veronica watched her brother vanish into the crowd. It took her a few moments to snap back into focus. When she did, she drew her Tesla-ray and sprayed a beam in a circular motion around her. Six men dropped to the ground, stunned. She holstered it and said, “We have to get inside.”

  Emil nodded and led the way. He swung his blades, cutting a path through a river of red Enforcers. They were quite good, really. Just no match for him.

  Veronica fought at his back, favoring her right hand, which brandished her sword. In spite of their trainings together, she didn’t use her left—it hung by her side, an awkward prop.

  “Don’t push it too far,” Emil warned as they reached the entrance to Bridges. He pulled her inside the doors, searching for a place to rest. Several more red capes descended upon them. He shielded her from the worst of it, but couldn’t take them all on at once. The beam of her Tesla-ray broke through, sending the last few to the floor. One of his crew followed them inside the building, fending off Enforcers that broke through the crowd toward Emil and Veronica.

  Veronica holstered her gun and lifted her goggles onto her hat. “Charge is almost gone.” Wiping her damp forehead with the corner of her cape, she continued, “We’ve got to find Grillett. Quickly, now.”

  Hayır, olamaz but it was too soon for her to be fighting like this. Still, she’d never been more stunning, with her mouth twisted in pain, the sweat of battle on her brow and a twisted, desperate fire burning in her eyes.

  They stood in what appeared to be a receiving lobby. A chalkboard with a scribbled price list stood off to the right. An aged, but clean desk off to the left. Several large bins were grouped in a corner, with etched metal signs hanging from the brims.

  “Where do we look?” he asked. “Should we split up?”

  She didn’t answer, simply took off down a hallway to the right. A single Enforcer rushed his left side. He dispatched the man with one uppercut to the chin, sending him sprawling to the floor. The crewmember that had followed them inside—Emil couldn’t see who with the fancy rags the man wore—continued to cut through the streaming red capes as more and more Enforcers entered the building.

  He took off at a run in the direction Veronica had gone. Cursed, wonderful woman. Now that they were within reach of her children, she must be half-mad to find them.

  He found her jogging down the hall, looking in each room she passed. She muttered to herself, “They must’ve gotten warning, reached the hiding place.”

  “Hiding place?” he asked.

  “Cellar. Below the kitchen. I had it dug out when I bought the building. The children hopefully took refuge there before Grillett got to them.”

  “You have a warning system in place, canım?” He couldn’t help grinning. The woman was always ahead of Grillett. Always looking at the situation differently from anyone else.

  She nodded, unaware of his endearment. “We run drills every day. Saints above, I hope it worked.”

  “Of course it did.” If not, if Grillett held even some of the children captive with him…there couldn’t be casualties. He wouldn’t allow it. Thank the almighty stars Veronica was as brilliant as she was caring.

  They neared the end of the hallway. She pointed to a door a few feet away.

  “There’s the common room. It’s our gathering place. I think—” she paused. Crept up to the closed door. Listened. Nodded. Continued in a low voice, “He’s in there.”

  The cries of the battle grew suddenly louder as part of the fray entered the hallway. More of Emil’s crewmembers joined the first, their fancy leathers at odds with the swift and brutal way they fought. A thrust of the sword followed by a fist. A spin and a low, sweeping kick. It was a beautiful sight.

  Veronica reached forward and eased the door open a crack. A gun popped, the sharp report loud in his ears. He dropped to the floor. At the same time, a figure
hurtled out of nowhere, knocking Veronica out of the way.

  Emil looked around, unsure of where the bullet had come from—the fight behind them in the hallway or the room in front of them? He reached forward and slammed the door just in case. To his side, Veronica sprang to her feet.

  “Emil?” she asked sharply. She looked shaken as she took a hesitant step toward him.

  He smiled beneath his scarf at her concern and placed a hand on her shoulder. She felt strong beneath his touch yet her skin was pale as the moon. “I’m fine, canım.” He allowed himself a moment to look at her. The soft shimmer of her eyes. The hard line of her mouth. She swayed under his scrutiny, her expression flickering.

  He dropped his hand at once. His thoughts had turned far too dangerous for both of them. She stepped back and they glanced down to see who’d saved her, which of his crew Emil planned on awarding a generous token of his gratitude. The man lay groaning on the ground. Emil cautiously turned him over, hoping he was okay. Veronica let out a startled cry and it was then Emil noticed the man’s face.

  “Durad? Durad!” His prince’s eyes were closed, his breathing labored. Emil tossed aside all of Durad’s goggles and gadgets and checked his wound. A hole. On the left side of his chest. Emil heart’s grew heavy, until he thought he might be sick.

  “What are you doing here? How did you get here? Rosseau—” It was impossible. An illusion. A dream. His prince. His oldest friend. Hit by a bullet. Lying here in his arms.

  Emil had seen such a wound in battle—Durad might not survive. He would grow pale, pass out from the blood loss and then his spirit would leave him empty and cold. Emil would know the moment it happened. The body grew still and silent with nothing left to animate it.

  “Curses, Durad, what on earth were you thinking?” he groaned.

  Veronica stripped off her cape and pressed it to Durad’s wounds. She leaned forward, great tears falling from her eyes. “Where did he come from? How did he know, Emil? Will he be okay?”

  He glanced away, unable to tell her the truth of the matter. The clamor of battle grew louder as Giles and his men reached the hallway. With a loud yelp, they crashed into the Enforcers from behind.

  Emil clasped Durad tightly. He had to get his friend somewhere safe. But he was trapped. Grillett in the room just ahead and Enforcers behind.

  Veronica wiped her eyes and stood. “I’ll take care of Grillett. Wait here. Make sure no more harm comes to my husband.” She checked the charge on her Tesla-ray and lowered her goggles.

  “No!” he said. Durad’s eyes fluttered at the loud noise. “Absolutely not. You have no idea what’s in there. And he has a pistol, which he’s probably already re-loaded. There could be a dozen more Enforcers. You can’t do this alone,” he babbled, unable to form any coherent strategy to keep her from taking such a risk.

  She glanced at the fray behind them and then back at Emil. “Take your prince. Leave. Emil, you and Durad have done enough. I never intended to involve you in all this, but I had no choice. Claire and the others,” her voice choked, “I did what I had to. You’ve gotten me this far. You’ll never know how much it means, how different you are. Now go!”

  Emil took note of her rigid, unyielding stance. She would enter that room. Face the gilded shadows that chased her night after night. Fight bravely, with all her heart, for the children that had long ago claimed hers. Most likely, she would lose against such odds.

  Emil whistled and Kasun came running to his side. He handed Durad gently over to his crewmember and said, “Nothing happens to him.”

  Kasun took the prince’s body and for the first time lost his smirk, appearing properly solemn. He nodded and took shelter by the wall, shielding Durad with his body.

  Veronica already had her hand on the doorknob. Emil snatched her shirt and whirled her around. He tilted her chin and stared into her eyes. “Me first.”

  She looked startled for a moment. Then the side of her mouth curved up into a half smile and she took up a post to the right of the doorframe. He spent one last moment memorizing her before he turned, kicked open the door and spun to the side. He ducked and then rolled as he entered the room. Another bullet whizzed by, just above his shoulder. When he stood, Veronica was there, unharmed, staring behind him.

  Emil followed her gaze. Grillett no longer pointed the Smith & Wesson at the doorway, but at the head of a petite, big-eyed, brown-haired girl of about seven or eight. Dressed not in factory rags, but a bright blue dress, she must be one of Veronica’s charges. The rest of the room, however, was filled with older boys of sixteen or seventeen wearing filthy, gray shirts and trousers. Grease streaked their faces and their hair stood up in uneven spikes, as if cut by a mischievous child. They carried broken rods, knives, and whatever one might find on a factory floor. Each wore looks varying from fury to fear as they looked at Veronica.

  Emil’s heart ached. It felt as though Grillett held up a mirror. Emil would look into it and see a tall, stick-thin boy wearing nothing but angles and deeply hidden fury. He would see a boy dangerously deep in his own mind, with little left to lose but a flickering flame of hope that would soon be extinguished by the next crack of a whip. He lowered his weapons. Their weight felt too much to bear.

  Grillett spoke in a pleasant, crisp tone. “These boys, they’ve heard stories about you, Lady Eidolon.”

  Veronica didn’t move, didn’t speak. She simply stared at one boy after another, her hands tense by her sides, as though to keep them from reaching out. Emil felt the same impulse.

  A smirk crept across Lord Grillett’s face. “They know how you steal away others like them, give them hope of a different life. Why, look at this fat, healthy child. So bright. So innocent. You provide all this—” he paused and lifted a brow, “And then give them to your father. The front lines need fresh blood—isn’t that right?”

  Veronica started and sputtered, “What? Of course I don’t! I despise my father!”

  Ridiculous, but brilliant. He’d turned the tables neatly. Emil wanted to smash his hand into Grillett’s confident face.

  Grillett interrupted. “Tsk, tsk. This little brat is part of your plan. Make them think they’re safe. Secure. Then send them to be slaughtered. The Duke, why, he has the golden touch! No one can defeat him. He’s never lost, they say. Well, of course he hasn’t. He has an endless source of fuel for his battles.”

  Fuel. The children? He’d been sending them to the front? Emil’s gaze swept the room, appraising the hard, young faces, still too soft to be plunged into war. Especially as part of a sacrifice move. Emil didn’t think it possible to hate the Duke any more. Yet the embers inside him flared like a stoked furnace.

  “That’s ridiculous! Why would I bother to feed them and make them feel secure before giving them to someone I hate? Why would I go to the time and expense to do all this?” Veronica’s arm swept out, gesturing around the room. “Not one child has left this work house yet. I haven’t found a safe place to put them and I would never—”

  Grillett laughed. “These boys have seen bodies return from the front. So young. So…mangled. They know there’s no better existence beyond the factory doors than the productive and safe one I offer them. I feed them, clothe them and give them purpose.”

  Veronica moved to step forward but Grillett pressed the pistol tighter into the girl’s temple. She froze. Emil inched up behind her slowly when all he wanted was to cut Grillet down with a few, swift strokes and end the boys’ thrall.

  “What bodies? You must be referring to those who die in your care. Those who become an unfortunate statistic in your profitable enterprise.” She laughed, a bitter and hard sound. “Now you’ve managed to turn the tragic deaths of your orphan slaves into a twisted motivational tool for your remaining workers?”

  A few of the boys shifted, exchanging glances with one another. The current of energy in the room wavered. They no longer clutched their weapons as tightly. The redness of anger in their cheeks paled.

  Listen to her. Emil wanted
to shut Grillett’s lying mouth and tell the boys his own story. There’s hope. She can give it to you.

  Emil stepped closer to Veronica’s side. Some of the younger boys appeared unconvinced but the older ones were too far gone. Lost, hope’s light brutally stamped out. They believed Grillett because he’d delivered on every other promise he’d made. These boys would attack Veronica because they knew with ruthless certainty that if they didn’t, they’d suffer. None of them had remained alive this long by being noble, by protecting others. They did what they had to in order to survive.

  They were Emil, before he met Durad.

  And now surviving meant killing Veronica. Nothing would stop them.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The beginning of the end

  Veronica had seen many terrible sights in the factory district. Children lashed by a cattail, cuffed and beaten for not meeting quota, denied food for bad behavior. The smell of the streets alone was nearly unbearable, full of filth of every kind.

  Nothing could compare to this. Here were the children that haunted her—the ones she hadn’t saved. Ragged and thin to the bone, they were naught but lean muscle and anger. They provided the greatest contrast imaginable to Claire. Round-cheeked and healthy, she rarely smiled, but the darkness had at least been chased from her eyes. Now, pale and frightened, she still looked at Veronica with complete trust, as though she’d always known Lady Flowers was also the Eidolon. Had they all known?

  “What is it you want?” she asked Grillett.

  He laughed, a bitter and hard sound. “You’ve taken from me the only thing I ever truly wanted. Now, like a promiscuous debutant, I am ruined.” He shrugged. “It’s only fair I seize everything from you. My boys here have their orders.”

  A shout rose from the boys and they lifted their weapons and advanced on her. She stumbled back. She would not fight them, though they were nearly grown. She looked into one pair of eyes after another. The despair she saw buried deep matched what she had coaxed away with dozens of others. They could yet be saved.