“Well, that’s believable. With politics as shaky as they have been lately, private investigators may be a better option than the local police.”
“More than likely. At any rate, a little digging of my own and I ran into a couple of names. They’re powerful men, little neice. I know you can handle yourself, but be careful here.”
Olyve smiled at her uncle. He was probably one of the most closed off, distrusting men in all of London, but when it came to family, he was the same as all Blackwells. They looked out for their own. “I will. I’m not looking for any trouble, just information. If I get too deep or find anything worthwhile, I’ll use the Lodestar.”
He reached out with one scarred hand and pat her on the head, the same way he did when she was a child. “You’d better. We can’t let anything happen to you. Warham will burn this city to the ground and you know it.”
Talking about her father with family always made her happy. She giggled before nudging him playfully. “As if you would ever let that happen.”
“Yes, well…the guys you have to watch out for are Sir Thomas Goodwin, Mr. Arnold Fenne, Sir James Reeves, and Sir Neil Wheeler. Besides Fenne, who is a politician, they’re all Peers of the Realm.”
Olyve committed the names to memory, and stepped out of the alcove on the street. “Thank you. I’m going to see if Andrew can get me close to any of them, within the allowances of polite society.”
Cole’s expression shuttered and Olyve mourned the cheer that vanished from his eyes. She gave a mental sigh, wondering once again what demons plagued her solitary uncle.
“Just be careful. If one of those men is behind these disappearances, things will undoubtedly get ugly. There are already rumors circulating about Reeves. A body washed up in the Thames. They’re already drawing connections between the floater and him.”
Blanching, Olyve ducked her head so that her Uncle wouldn’t see how deeply his words affected her. His inability to lie came with more drawbacks than pending manipulation by his niece. “I promise to take every precaution, don’t worry about me.”
He nodded and she kissed him on the cheek before remounting her glide. She was already riding off by the time the trickle of blood ran down her uncle’s strong jaw.
* * * *
“I refuse.”
“Why not, Andrew? All you have to do is introduce us, and then you can leave.”
“You know it doesn’t work that way. You need a chaperone in order to socialize with anyone. Unless you're planning to announce an engagement, this will never work. Are you planning to go that far for this insane plan of yours?”
Olyve glanced over her shoulder to where Mr. Leeway was standing watch across the room. “Well, then send me with one of your guards. I’m sure Mr. Leeway would be more than happy to take me to an event.”
Andrew laughed and the man in question raised an eyebrow. “Don’t just assume that you can borrow my men. Besides that, Olyve, it’s still not proper. Your chaperone should be female, preferably married. You can’t decide you want to play with the ton after doing your best to garner their scorn.”
“I haven’t been trying to garner anything. I’m just refusing to settle into the role I’ve been forced into.”
Her cousin nodded thoughtfully. Standing up from the desk where he sat, he rifled through a pile of requests and letters. “All right. I can certainly understand that. Besides that, I can tell your mind is set and you’ll find a way with or without my help. I’ve got an invitation here that might work for you. You’re on your own for preparations other than that. I won’t be held responsible for anything you do or do not find.”
“And you’ll let me borrow a guard if I can’t find one?”
Andrew looked around her to check with Mr. Leeway. After a second, the guard shrugged. “We are at your disposal.”
She snatched up the invitation faster than he could blink. “You’re the best, cousin.”
“Olyve, I know I’m wasting my breath here, but I wish you would reconsider. You are not a detective. You shouldn’t be chasing after potentially dangerous situations.”
“Why is everyone so sure that I’m going to get into trouble? I am just going to see what I can find out. I’m not going to be in any danger.”
“Forgive us for worrying, cousin, but you kind of have a knack for finding it, whether you’re looking for it or not. I blame that power of yours.”
“Not all of us can ignore our gifts, Andrew. Some of us even enjoy using them. We help people.”
It was an argument they had frequently. Andrew flat out refused to use his abilities. He hadn’t practiced in years.
“I’m more interested in helping myself, Lyv. To each his or her own. Not all of us are cut out for being saints.”
She ignored his sarcasm. “At any rate, I still have to get back and see to the new housekeeper. I’m hoping she’s already acclimated herself.”
“Just do me a favor. Take the train back to your place this time. That glide is falling apart.”
Half an hour later, Olyve stood in the carriage of the impressive locomotive that ran through the city. She only had two stops to sit through, but still opted for a seat. The rocking space was almost empty, though the rubbage collectors had obviously been through recently.
Gleaming brass surfaces meshed with plum upholstery, promising a comfortable transit. Even with the crisp winter air, the train was warm.
“’Ello, Miss.” A sudden voice made her jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I was wondering if you had the time.”
A pleasant looking man sat in the bench across from her with his hands in the air. He looked respectable, if not puny, so she offered him a smile in response.
The watch that she kept in the pockets carefully sewn into her skirts would have been left in the hallway after her dramatic altercation with Mrs. Jacobson. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a timepiece on me right now.”
The man shifted slightly, his second-hand jacket bunching at the shoulders. “I see. Well, I’ll just have to hope I’m on time, then.”
She nodded, a little, going back to her thoughts. The party was in a few days and she had to get ready for it. She worried her lip guiltily, hoping her cousin wouldn’t be too adverse to her plan.
“Where are you headed?”
Unaccustomed to strange men talking to her out of the blue, she almost didn’t answer. “Home.”
“Is your name Olyve?”
She turned slowly, the bells in her head going off.
Danger. They whispered. Get away.
The train turned on its railing, forcing her to shift her weight in order to remain upright. The lights illuminating the unstable room flickered for only a moment before returning.
By the time she could see again, there was already a garrote hovering before her neck.
The warning bells in her head sounded with all the force of an explosive orchestra. Olyve barely lifted her head and ducked down and out of the way before the cord could snap against her skin. The first barrier within her mind crumbled without prodding, immediately flooding her body with a speed she couldn’t have had otherwise. Her muscles coiled and flowed, allowing her to block the next two blows as the man struck out, trying to catch her twisting form.
Olyve pushed herself away from the bench, sliding to the opposite end of the carriage. She’d chosen a room in the middle of the train and it was empty but for the two of them. A narrow door with a window in it pressed against her back, so she knew that the next carriage was just as deserted. Her attacker blocked the other side.
She had no time to come up with another plan of action. Before she knew it, the man was flying at her, his fists colliding with the surface at her back as she managed to dodge. He recovered with surprising speed, shifting his position so that his next blow connected with her chest. The breath whooshed out of her lungs but Olyve managed to kick out as her body hurdled backward.
“So, you’re more than some little upstart debutante, huh?” the man snee
red at her, his body already launched into another assault. Her Intuition fueled her with information, telling her when to dodge and strike. She spun sharply, landing a solid fist against his jaw. He slammed against a bolted seat, his elbow grinding loudly in protest. Before she could gear up for the next attack, a hard knee speared through the air, colliding with her stomach and bringing her to her knees even as she managed to choke out an unladylike response.
The man panted with anger as he moved and that sound managed to drown out the noise of the train when he bent close to her face.
“Help!” She choked out the plea when a large hand wrapped around her throat. Almost immediately, her lungs began to burn and her pounding heart stuttered in fear. Adrenaline, as well as her own power pushed her blood through her smaller form much too fast and went straight to her head, dizzying her efforts to fight back.
Through eyes burning with tears, she watched the man tighten his grip. His brown eyes were flat and dispassionate. He didn’t care. Olyve’s chest jerked desperately, trying to drag in necessary air and all the while, she was distinctly aware that he didn’t want her dead.
Dark spots hung in her vision, blacking out those cold eyes. Deep within her mind, Olyve reached for the beacon of light that connected her and the rest of her family. It was a system ingrained into their blood, something that was nearly impossible to alter or take away. If she touched it, those members of her family who had bound themselves to it would know that she was in trouble. The Lodestar, a means to a desperate end, not to be used lightly or often. She couldn’t help the bitter thought that she’d used it too late.
Before she could make the connection, she felt her body land on the carpet. Her disconnect was so deep she felt as if she were wrapped in cloth. Coughing wracked her body with such intensity that her bruised throat cried mercy. She lay there, gulping huge mouthfuls of air, unable to hear anything besides her own struggle. Above her, she was aware of a disturbance. The air quaked with continued violence. Her head swam but she forced her eyes open.
The man who attacked her was hissing something, but she couldn’t catch the words. He was crouched on the ground, his knee touching the same carpet her limp form pressed against. One of his arms dangled toward the ground while his other hand pressed against the useless limb. His mouth moved again, this time the distorted sound that left his lips was obviously a curse. He shifted as if making to attack again.
From behind her, a percussion of bent energy shuddered in the air. A small projectile slammed into the berserking form of her attacker. Olyve watched with wide, disbelieving eyes as the sphere shattered on impact, wrapping the man with purple and blue bolts of controlled lightning. They spun and crackled, throwing off weak, colored light.
Her attacker jerked violently, his head thrown back. Foam spewed from his clenched teeth and ran down his chin, tracing the cords of his elongated neck. The electricity dispersed into the air, leaving tiny trails of white smoke behind as they vanished and the man slumped over into a heap of steaming flesh.
Olyve closed her eyes tight. Information rocked against her brain, forcing her to evaluate what had just happened. She knew what she’d been doing was dangerous, but the reality of the hazards hadn’t been real until this moment. The man had attacked her because of the questions she was asking.
“Miss, are you all right?” A mellow, masculine voice asked from behind her.
Olyve hadn’t given a second thought to her rescuer. The barriers in her mind were now relaxed and silent, at ease now that she wasn’t in danger any longer. She forced herself into a sitting position, ignoring the continued dizziness. “Yes, I don’t think that he did any real–”
Her sentence sliced in half when a slender man kneeled before her. He reached out and pulled her chin upwards, forcing her to stare into his eyes.
“You’re going to have quite the bruises. You shouldn’t ride the train on your own, you know.”
He continued to talk and touch her lightly, his generous mouth turned downward into a frown. Intelligent, malachite eyes inspected the damage of her attack without concern for propriety or comfort. She could tell that he was a gentleman. His fine greatcoat was the height of fashion, a sweeping green that matched his eyes. The material was fine and embroidered, more expensive than anything she would have expected from someone who would violate the rules of society so completely.
“Can you speak? Why did he want to hurt you?” He paused and Olyve could almost feel the menace rolling off of him in waves as he turned back to the unconscious man. “Is he your husband?”
If she could have, Olyve would have answered his question. As it were, she simply sat and stared at him. Even kneeling as he was, she could tell that he was tall. His form was sleek and graceful, packed with the kind of effortless strength she’d always admired. He shifted his attention back to her and she had to bite back a foolishly wistful sigh.
He touched her shoulder and she felt his warmth even though the fabric as he pulled her into a standing position. He dusted her off, placing his hands in positions they shouldn’t have been. “If he is your husband, there are places you can go. There are shelters for women in your situation. You don’t have to suffer quietly.”
She blinked stupidly before understanding dawned. Based on her clothing he must have assumed she wasn’t part of the gentry. Parting her lips only created a little squeak.
“The train is about to stop, Miss. Do you need help getting back home?” He looked her over once again before continuing. “I’m certain you’ll be missed if you linger. Best leave the cretin to me. I’ll make sure he gets to the cell he belongs in.”
“He’s not my husband.”
The Good Samaritan’s blank face speared with a grin. Olyve pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to contain the butterflies that took flight at the sight. He opened his mouth again but the bell rang, signaling the next stop. “It’s time for you to go, then.”
She struggled with each word, though she couldn’t tell if it was because of the damage to her throat or the attraction she felt. “Are you sure you can…?”
The grin grew wider.
Definitely the attraction. The sixth sense she relied on so heavily to keep her body safe now whispered promises of keeping her heart safe. With him.
“I…”
“Need to go.” The car door slid open and he was already pushing her out before she could focus her thoughts. “Get moving, Revolutionary.”
She nodded dumbly, backing away. She was almost completely out of sight by the time the bell sounded again, warning that the train was preparing to move.
She was halfway home before the effects of his smile wore off. By then, she’d realized that something was horribly wrong with the entire scene. No one appeared to board or abandon the hulking transit in that time.
Chapter Four
Two days later, Olyve stood on the outside of a sea of corsets and wig powder. The evening party was more crowded than she expected. The Season was over and Parliament had long been out, but apparently the rise of the Revolution and the monetary standing to be had influenced the politicians and gentry to remain in London.
Those who could afford it wore heavy walking gowns and wool-lined shawls to combat the sharp cold. All around her, women were chatting in small groups with their heads pressed together. Here and there, she caught belts of leather and brass and smiled to herself. The gentry may think they were beyond the influences of the lower classes but there was no denying that they were on the cusp of change.
A quadrille filled the ballroom and Olyve took a moment to watch the spinning dancers. A sparkling chandelier hung high in the air, offset by dozens of ornate oil lamps.
Even though it was below freezing outside, the sheer bulk of humans and movement in the large space gave it heat and life. Double doors leading to the gardens stood flung open, offering a frigid breath of fresh air.
Slipping quickly away from anyone who may recognize her, she kept moving. After all, she didn’t want to speak t
o anyone who might be looking for Andrew.
Her cousin had laughed in her face when he had first heard her plan. Of course, that laughter had dried up quickly when he realized she wasn’t kidding.
“Olyve, that’s pure madness.” He’d exclaimed. “There’s no way such a thing would work.”
Olyve had done her best to meet his outrage with calm and logic but she’d never been one to respond well to naysayers. She’d gotten right into his face. “There’s absolutely no reason it wouldn’t work. I’ve already managed to fool two people. People, might I add, who have been working in your employment for years.”
The reminder didn’t sit well with her cousin. He’d returned home from an afternoon on business to find her sitting at his desk. She’d straightened her shortened hair with the help of a steaming iron, and pulled it back into a club, much like he did his own. On her pert nose rested a dark pair of specs, the kind he had begun to see throughout the gentry.
“Don’t I look fabulous, Andrew?”
She asked the sassy little question in an overly deep faux male voice that had left him sputtering. “You cannot go to this gathering as me. It’s simply out of the question.”
“You aren’t being reasonable.” The pout that she’d sported looked like a ridiculous ornament on top of the charcoal frock coat and loose trousers. She’d even managed to find a fob to go with the disgustingly ornate pocket watch she’d tucked into her right pocket.
“I think I’m being perfectly reasonable. It’s you who appears to have lost her wits. What happens when someone tries to speak to you, Olyve? What will you do then?”
“Well, that is why I will have Mr. Leeway with me, I’m sure he will run excellent interference.”
“Ugh!” Andrew threw his hands up in the air, spinning away from her in order to take a few deep breaths. “I cannot believe you’ve done this. Do you know what your father will say when he sees that you cut your hair for this charade? He’s going to have words for me.”
The little minx snorted, waving one hand in the air. “Then I suppose we had best make sure to have done something to make it worthwhile by the time he notices.”
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