Gilded Hearts (The Shadow Guild Series)

by Christine d'Abo

  Dennison held out his arm, a smirk playing on his lips. “Stick by my side please, Miss Smith. Master Ryerson will have my head if I let anything happen to his prized pupil.”

  “I’m still a little in awe you convinced him to let me attend.” They began to walk around the perimeter of the room. Dancers twirled, bowed, and dipped on the floor as the musicians played a country reel.

  “I can’t take all the credit. Master June worked her magic.” The twinkle in his eyes did strange things to Piper’s insides. “If I didn’t know better I’d say Ryerson has a bit of a crush on her.”

  Piper looked away, searching the throngs for their prey. She could feel the blush heat her face and prayed it would dissipate quickly. Dennison knew his impact on the fairer sex and took great joy flaunting his qualities. “I cannot believe Constantine would attend such a function when he knows there are rumors concerning his loyalty to the crown. Surely the duke would not allow his good name to be tainted by entertaining a possible traitor?”

  “He’s a duke. He does what he will. If he felt having Constantine here served a purpose, then the good doctor would receive an invitation and no one would question it. Let’s check the refreshment area.”

  The music drew to an end, and the dancers filtered from the floor to join the onlookers. For a few glorious moments Piper imagined herself a normal woman of one and twenty years, being escorted by a gentleman at a ball. She would dance and spin, sip lemonade, and snack on fairy cakes and finger sandwiches. No, even if she wasn’t with the Archives she wouldn’t have lived in this world. There would have been dances, far less formal. Samuel would have defied convention and danced with her more than the acceptable number of times.

  She would have allowed his caress to slip past the boundaries of propriety.

  The refreshment tables were surrounded on all sides by young bucks and their lady loves. The mamas kept careful watch from the sidelines, ensuring nothing untoward happened while the two genders mingled, physically and verbally dancing around each other in a complex courting ritual. Young and old in their carefully assigned spots, but no Doctor Constantine.

  “Dammit,” Dennison muttered.

  “We’ll find him.” Piper gave his arm a squeeze. It was then Jones stepped to the door, catching Piper’s gaze and nodding. “I think we might be in luck.”

  The good doctor was holed up in the cardroom, engaged in a rather serious game of poker, which was all the rage since its recent import from America. No one spoke, and the pipe smoke was so thick Piper felt as if she would drown. There was only a small crowd, with no other women beside herself in attendance. Not that any of the men noticed, so transfixed by the game they were.

  Constantine was a reedy man, tall-framed with a rather intelligent air. His black hair was thinning on the top and graying on the sides, slicked back against his head. The glint in his brown eyes shone out from beneath a fine pair of spectacles. Piper had heard the rumors that the good doctor had flawless eyesight and the spectacles were, in fact, not designed to improve his vision at all. The speculation around what they did do was as wide and varied as the origins of the memory extractor. The most disturbing was the rumor that the glasses gave the doctor the ability to see a person’s aura, to determine if they were telling the truth.

  A foolish notion. Still, Piper found him unsettling.

  Dennison moved them inside the door, while Jones took the other side. The occupants didn’t notice their arrival at first, focused on the round as cards were laid upon the table. A young man Piper was unfamiliar with tossed in a handful of chips, smirking.

  “Raise.”

  “Bloody hell,” the Earl of Luff muttered. “You have the worst poker face, Mr. Austin. Fold.”

  Several more followed suit, their grumbled curses coloring the air. The round came at last to Constantine. Piper watched, trying to take in the doctor’s expression, learn his signs of discomfort. The man’s face was granite, not a twitch as he picked up his own stack of chips and set them down in a neat pile before the other man’s. His hand did not shake, nor did he tense any part of his body.

  “Well, now you have me curious.” There was a note of amusement in Constantine’s voice, but Piper couldn’t be sure if it had to do with his awareness of Mr. Austin’s hand, or simply because he didn’t care and genuinely was interested.

  Austin shifted in his seat, his gaze flicking between Constantine and his hand. “I didn’t think you had it in you, doctor. You don’t strike me as a bloke who could afford to toss about that kind of blunt.”

  “Don’t I?” Constantine lifted an eyebrow.

  Dennison snorted. It was soft, but enough to garner the attention of the players. Several of the men stiffened when they saw who had invaded their domain. It was fascinating to see grown men pale and shrink where they’d only moments before been laughing and carrying on. Like Death had followed them into the room and stood waiting for one of them to expire.

  “Please don’t stop on our account.” Dennison stepped forward and laced his hands behind his back. While he wasn’t as tall as Samuel, he could be every bit as intimidating. Firm muscles encased in quality cloth, speaking of his privileged background. He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his gaze, targeting the young man at the center of the attention. “I believe the doctor just called. Your turn, Mr. Austin.”

  The young man sat back in his seat to the point of making the wood creak from the strain. Austin picked up a single card, thumbing the corner as he focused his attention back on Constantine. Tossing it into the discard pile, he nodded at the doctor. “Maybe it will be lucky to have such prestigious company in the room.” Austin shot a glace toward Piper. “Perhaps you would be interested in some refreshments after I win this hand, Miss? I can’t say I’ve ever been in the company of a lady archivist at a ball before.”

  It wasn’t flirtatious. There was no promise of gentle caresses or stolen kisses in his tone. Piper didn’t feel the same warmth spread through her body as she had when Samuel had looked at her in the Archives. Austin was using words as a deflection, a means to throw off his opponent and show his lack of concern. Piper didn’t need to look at Constantine to know it wasn’t working.

  The doctor didn’t even glance at his hand. “I call.” His hands were as steady as before, when he neatly set the piles in the middle of the table. “Your hand, sir.”

  Austin flipped the cards, his lips quirking into something that resembled a smirk, but had a far crueler edge. “I have a straight. Jack to seven. Thank you very much for your patronage, sir.”

  Austin and several other men around the table clearly believed he had the better hand, though he made no move yet to collect his winnings. The doctor nodded, looked down at his hand and laid them out one by one. “Flush. I do believe I win.”

  Shocked gasps quickly morphed into a smattering of applause. The men around the table barked out laughter and cheers, congratulating Constantine while offering condolences to a stunned Austin. The doctor collected the markers, smiling softly and still not looking the archivists’ way.

  “If I could be so bold as to use the room for a moment, our friends here have been patient long enough.”

  The Earl of Luff hauled Austin to his feet. “Come on, boy. You look like you could use a drink.”

  Dennison placed his hand to the small of Piper’s back, but didn’t press her forward until the room had cleared. She took the chair opposite Constantine and was immediately struck by the directness of his gaze. His brown eyes seemed to catch every twitch of her body as she forced herself to be comfortable. Austin’s accomplishment in remaining calm under such scrutiny was impressive.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of the company of the archivists?” Constantine leaned back against his chair, draping his arm along the back and fixing his gaze on Piper. “No injuries you would like me to attend to?”

  “Doctor, I’m afraid we are here on official business. Master June sent us to find you.” Dennison stood directly behind Piper, his hand
placed on her shoulder. Strangely, the contact did little to soothe her. “Did you hear about the murder of a prostitute two evenings ago?”

  “Something in passing.” The doctor’s expression didn’t change from what it had been during the poker game. “What was the cause of death?”

  “She’d been slashed with a knife,” Piper said in a soft, clear voice.

  “You did the extraction? “ Constantine cocked an eyebrow. “I assume there is a reason you are speaking with me now, why you interrupted my game while I had that young buck on the run?”

  “Miss Smith filed the report.” Dennison gave her shoulder a squeeze before joining her at the table. “And yes, something came up during the investigation.”

  “Go on.” The doctor spoke to Dennison, but his gaze never left Piper.

  “An image was extracted from her memory. One we think you might be able to assist with.”

  Piper reached into the bag she carried, carefully removing the image slate. Captured on the glass was a perfectly preserved picture taken from the woman’s mind. Piper couldn’t remember it now, but something tugged at her when she looked at the picture. Most of the details were blurred, as captured memories tended to be, but there was one feature easily distinguishable from the jumbled images.

  The long tendrils of a tattooed ankh looped up a man’s forearm, disappearing off the glass. There was something about it, the shape and location that made her brain itchy. If she gave it too much thought her head would begin to pound, the void in her mind making its presence felt.

  Setting the glass on the table, Piper carefully slid it across the table toward Constantine. “Doctor, have you seen something like this before?”

  Reaching out, he caressed the edge of the plate with his finger. “Interesting. I thought they’d all been rounded up.”

  Dennison shifted in his seat. “Who, doctor?”

  “It was five, no, six years ago now. A group of men, and a few women, if I remember correctly, were found dead on the banks of the Thames. Each of them had this symbol tattooed on their arm. The archivist at the time was unable to do the extractions. All of them had shot themselves in the head.” Constantine gently nudged the glass away. “I believe the investigators determined that the group called themselves the Children of Osiris. I was only brought in to see if I could make the extractions work.”

  “Did you?” Piper held herself stiff as Constantine’s gaze dipped to her breasts.

  “The attempt was made. Unfortunately the extracting archivist went insane and killed himself.”

  “Dear God,” Jones muttered.

  “And you’re saying a prostitute has been in contact with someone with this mark?” Constantine pushed the bridge of his glasses up. “Why come to me?”

  “That isn’t anything we care to share—” Dennison stopped when Constantine held up his hand.

  “From the lady, please.”

  Dennison stiffened, but Piper gave his arm a light pat. “Doctor, we are simply trying to help the King’s Sentry solve a murder.”

  “Why on Earth do you care about the murder of a whore?”

  Piper dug her nails into her the palms of her hands. “We care about the deaths of any of New London’s citizens. Even those who are forced to hold less savory occupations in our city. They are still human beings, after all.”

  There was only a flash, but Piper swore she saw a flicker of something dark cross Constantine’s face. “Touché, Miss… what did you say your name was?”

  “Smith. So the woman had contact with someone from this cult. That is very helpful, doctor.”

  “I would be more than happy to come into the Archives, review any additional plates you may have pulled. I might be able to offer some insight into your prostitute.”

  “Perhaps.” Something about the way the doctor looked at her made Piper’s skin crawl. “I would hate to waste your time. This could be nothing more than a client unhappy with… services rendered.” Piper was blushing now, but refused to break Constantine’s gaze.

  “I am always happy to assist the Archivist Guild. But for now, I would very much like to return to my cards. The others will stay away, and their purses along with them, until you three leave.”

  The dismissal was harsh, but not unexpected. She’d been able to get under his skin, something she suspected wasn’t easy to accomplish.

  Dennison jerked to his feet. “Thank you for your time, sir. You’ve been most helpful.”

  Piper hesitated for a moment before retrieving the glass and tucking it back into her bag. Dennison and Jones quickly made their way to the door.

  She held the doctor’s gaze a moment longer, but also noted his hand was still clutching his glasses. Yes, she’d upset the man for sure. Rising to her feet, she nodded. “Thank you, doctor.”

  “Of course. And Miss Smith?”

  Piper stopped before she left the room, turning to look Constantine in the eye. “Sir?”

  “Excellent job with your first extraction. To pull an image this clear from the memory cathode is impressive. I anticipate you will be in high demand. Let me know if the effects of the extractions start to affect your memory or personality and I’ll see what I can do to help.”

  “That’s very kind of you, doctor.” The bastard certainly knew how to pull her levers. Piper straightened, not wanting to show the panic that tugged at her innards. “If I require your assistance I will send word.”

  As they left, Piper swore she heard the doctor chuckling all the way out to the courtyard.

  “Ignore what that bastard said, Miss Smith.” Jones spoke once they climbed into their steam horse carriage. “They pull us from duty now before the madness takes over. There hasn’t been a reported case of an archivist losing his faculties for decades.”

  “I know.” Not an officially reported case, at least. But Constantine’s story of the archivist going mad and committing suicide had the ring of truth to it, somehow.

  Dennison hadn’t said a word to her. He took the seat opposite her, and the door clicked shut behind them.

  “That smug bastard.” Dennison’s white-ringed gaze was cold and steady.

  “He was toying with us, trying to throw us off our game.” She’d seen Samuel do something similar more than once when they were growing up. While she might not be as effective as he was, Piper had been able to employ the same skill on more than one occasion. “He can talk all he wants. I won’t let it bother me.”

  “Good for you, Miss Smith.” Jones smiled. “You never let anyone bother you.”

  The itching in Piper’s mind began again, like a thought trying to climb its way up from the void. “No, I don’t. I’m certain that he knows more about this cult that what he’s saying. We should coordinate with the King’s Sentry and get them to assign an officer to watch Constantine.” Jones and Dennison shared a look. “What?”

  Dennison pinched the bridge of his nose. “And who do you suggest we liaise with? A particular Sergeant Hawkins, perhaps?”

  No, she wasn’t going to be made to feel guilty about this. “Of course. He’s the lead investigator in this case. If the murderer is a member of the guild, then his cooperation could benefit us.”

  “The bastard ran away from our cause.” Jones’ frown cut his baby-faced look, giving him an edge Piper rarely saw. “He left us. Why should we make any effort to help him, or trust him to help us?”

  There was no response to that. Jones was, of course, correct.

  “Our interests and those of the King’s Sentry aren’t necessarily aligned, Miss Smith. I don’t want to waste time hunting a killer, only to have the guild become the target of attack by the public if our suspicions turn out to be true.” Dennison held out his hand. “The plate, please. I want to make sure it is put in safekeeping.”

  She wasn’t sure why, but Piper hesitated for a moment before taking the strap from around her head and coiling it on top of the bag. Carefully, she passed the weight over. “I’m more than capable of filing it myself.”

&nbs
p; “Master June entrusted it to me.” Dennison gave Jones another look before turning to face the window. “I’ll take it when we return.”

  “You bastards.” Piper was many things, but a fool wasn’t one of them. They couldn’t demand she put her life at risk, keep secrets, jump and do their bidding whenever it was needed, then close her out. “There is a killer in our midst. You expect me to sit idly by and do nothing while the two of you run the investigation?”

  “I expect you to follow my orders.”

  “I’m not an apprentice, nor am I a child. Stop treating me like one.”

  The silence was only broken by the mechanical grinding of the automaton’s joints and the hiss of steam into the night air.

  “What do you mean, he’s gone?”

  Dennison and Jones cornered Piper as soon as morning meal started. She’d been hoping to put this encounter off as long as possible. Of course, things hadn’t gone her way.

  “He left last night.” She hadn’t been able to sleep at all upon returning to her quarters. The look of blind terror Samuel wore continued to haunt her. “I’m not sure where he’s going or why.”

  “Asshole.” Dennison pressed the heel of his hand to his eye, pausing only for a moment before snapping around and storming from the room.

  Jones stayed with her the rest of the day, neither of them making much conversation.

  “You saw him.” Dennison’s quiet voice startled her.

  “I did.”

  “How is…” He gave his head a shake. “Will he help us?”

  Memories of Samuel fighting against the machine, the fear on his tear-streaked face and the distrust in his eyes as he fled, reared up. “Of course he will. Sam might have left, but we’re still the only family he has.”

  “Go to him tomorrow and either bring him on board or take what information we need. We must be certain.” Dennison finally turned to look at her, his normally handsome features hardened and cold. “There’s too much at risk if you’re wrong.”

  “I’ll make sure he’s with us.”

  For all their sakes, she hoped he was.