The Mystery of Emerald Flame (Verity Fitzroy and the Ministry Seven Book 2)

by Pip Ballantine

  “Glad I didn’t hear my Dad’s voice,” he said screwing up his face and kicking a stone across the alleyway. Henry’s father had been awful, beating and abusing his son, so consequently wasn’t much mourned when he drank himself to death. “Any idea what the flame was though?”

  “The only thing I have seen that was anything close was…” She stopped as another more recent memory leapt to mind.

  “Was wot?” Henry was the most impatient person she’d ever known.

  She waved her hand at him, frowning as she pondered. “It was that seance Julia McTighe did at the Delancy Academy. Do you remember?”

  Henry’s lips twisted. “I can hardly forget that can I.”

  “But that particular shade of green… it wasn’t anything you find in nature. I think it was an effect of the aether that Julia used in her device.”

  Henry pushed away from the wall and crossed his arms. “Hold on a moment, you’re not thinking of talking to that crazy McTighe girl are you?” When Verity pressed her lips together to keep from spilling the beans, he threw his hands up in the air. “You have got to be having a laugh!”

  “I have maintained a correspondence with Julia since leaving the academy. She writes me almost every day. I have to say life in her household is never without drama.”

  He shook his head. “I bet not, since her uncle is ‘Mad McTighe’ and has blown up more laboratories than anyone in the bleedin’ Empire.”

  Verity pursed her lips, before replying, “The road towards progress can be… dangerous. Besides the Queen herself keeps him as an advisor.”

  “Only as long as he stays in Scotland. She wouldn’t have him in Buckingham palace unless she wanted to redecorate.”

  They glared at each other, which was how most of their conversations went.

  “Well,” Verity said, “Julia is my friend, and I think she might know something about all this. Her knowledge of aether is greater than either of ours.”

  Henry opened his mouth but then shut it again, because there was no arguing with that. Aether was a substance on the very edge of science. It was first described by the Greeks as the breath of the gods, and then later by the alchemists as the fifth element. However it was also connected with the transmission of nebulous powers such as the paranatural, like the Silver Pharaoh.

  Its use was considered almost an embarrassment in some scientific circles, and Verity was among them, until she’d experienced its power in the whole Delancy Academy situation.

  “Send a message then,” he grumbled. “But we need to get that automaton out of the house. If it’s packed with that much aether power it could be dangerous.”

  She wanted to argue about that, but then thinking about the echoes of her father she’d heard in the flame, maybe he was right.

  Henry and she wandered back towards the house, but he was in a remarkably chatty mood.

  “You don’t talk much about your parents,” he said, glancing at her from under his cap.

  “Neither do you.”

  “Yeah, but mine was a tosser. Yours sound alright.”

  Verity took in a breath and tried to talk past the tightness in her chest. “They were. My mother was a clankerton, she let me mess around with her bits and pieces when I was little. Papa was an archaeologist, and the three of us went on digs together all the time.”

  Henry stared at his feet for a moment, and a she recognised a flicker of jealousy over his face.

  “I try not to think about them often,” she said, stumbling over her words, “it hurts too much, and besides… the Seven are important too.”

  He shot her one of his seldom-seen but bright smiles. “What a handful though…” He paused and gestured across the road. “An aethermessager office. You should send Julia a message—might as well since we’re out. I’ll wait here.”

  For all his height and increasing maturity, Henry didn’t do well with authority figures, and that included clerks. Verity darted over the road, dodging piles of horse manure and one of the new electrically powered hummingbird motor vehicles. The slight whirr was her only warning, since it had no steam or clockwork power to trigger the Sound.

  Inside the office she paid her pennies to send a message to Julia McTighe. She kept it simple to keep the cost down, and just in case anyone was paying attention to aethermissives.

  Aether problem. Any free time for a London visit next month? - Verity

  Then she bolted back to Henry, who was keeping watch up and down the street. They weren’t on an assignment, but he still acted like they were. She understood; the events of the previous evening were most disturbing.

  As they strolled back to the house, she enjoyed the day, until she realised something.

  “The fog’s gone,” she said with a frown. “It usually sticks around for a good few days…”

  “Took you long enough. Yeah, it’s strange ain’t it?”

  Neither of them had answers, but Verity chalked it up to the whole strangeness of the event. Maybe the monster that Potts described been in control of the mist itself? That idea didn’t bear thinking about, since King Fog already had a pretty tight grip on the city as it was.

  Henry and Verity slipped back into the house and found the child piked out all over the place. It had been a long night, with far too much excitement even for them.

  With the Ministry’s coin for their assistance, the children didn’t have to do any of their usual stealing or begging. Seeing them tucked up in corners of their narrow home, Verity couldn’t help but feel protective of them. The twins were curled up next to the hearth like puppies. Christopher’s soft snores came from his room, because he always liked the door open. A stint in prison had given him a healthy fear of being shut in anywhere. Colin sat at the kitchen table, slumped over, head on his arms, out like a gaslight. Liam, when she peeked into his room, was asleep with his thumb in his mouth. She wouldn’t point that out since he got quite angry at the suggestion he was still a child.

  When she climbed up to her own room, she found Emma still up there, but asleep wrapped around Professor Potts. The automaton’s green eyes grew brighter as she approached. It wasn’t fair of her to judge him by what his creators used him for, she knew that. Still the glow was a little eerie.

  Holding a finger up to her lips, she crawled in behind Emma, and snuggling up with her, drifted into a warm nap herself.

  By the time the whole house awakened later in the afternoon, it was drawing in dark. November could be such an odd month weather wise, but night started its dominance over the day.

  Verity slipped downstairs to make tea for everyone, and soon all of the Seven were up and about. The twins already made themselves scarce before she could stop them. Like the spirit of London itself, they fed on mischief, and caused no fair amount of it themselves. She had no way of preventing it.

  Though she sometimes liked to think of herself as their mother, these children would not be hemmed in or controlled—even by her. After drinking a couple of cups of tea, Liam and Colin slipped away with Christopher. It was likely some confidence trick they were working, since they couldn’t control the grins on their faces. Maybe they didn't have to rely on such plays to keep from starving these days, but they needed to keep their skills sharp.

  Emma appeared, holding fast to Professor Potts brass hand, as they came down the stairs. The automaton was perfectly stable, but the girl took great care with him, as if he were elderly. Verity and Henry watched without comment as Emma bustled around, fetching both her and the Professor some sandwiches and a cup of tea.

  When Verity raised one eyebrow, the younger girl raised her hand to act as a shield and whispered, “I know he can’t drink it, but it is nice to include people.”

  It wasn’t easy to restrain her giggle at that. Emma might have been hardened by the streets, but she had surprisingly soft spots in odd places.

  She’d just taken a seat next to the robot at the table, when the secret knock came, followed by the tall form of Agent Harrison Thorne bending to enter t
he kitchen. He always looked like an adult who stumbled into a playhouse.

  “Ah yes,” he said, “perfect timing. I'd love a cuppa.”

  While Emma jumped up to fetch him one, the agent took off his hat and addressed the automaton. “Professor Potts, I can confirm your identity, at least as far as anyone can do so in this situation.”

  “So he is this bloke from the Brunel Institute?” Henry asked as he entered the kitchen.

  “The details he was able to give us, do line up, yes.” Thorne took the cup from Emma and raised it to take a sip. Verity noted that while he did so his eyes never left the automaton.

  “I’m glad you see reason,” the professor said, his voice modulating high to reflect what had to be disdain. “Now, if you can locate my original body and take me to this Ministry of yours, we can set about getting me back into it.”

  “Ah, now here’s the rub.” When Thorne pursed his lips like that, Verity worked out he was about to say something he really didn’t want to. “We have already managed to do that.”

  “Excellent,” Potts trilled, his stubby metallic legs swinging from where he sat in a strange imitation of how Emma moved hers.

  “One slight kink to that though—you see we found your body in the Thames, and it is quite dead.”

  “Oh Monkey Wrench,” Emma sobbed, throwing her arms around the motionless form of the automaton. “I’m so sorry.”

  The Potts’ eyes flickered and dimmed a few times. “I see,” was all he said.

  “How did he die?” Verity asked.

  “That is what we are not quite sure about, we’re going to have to cut him open to see," Thorne said shooting the automaton a sideways glance.

  “Now I feel rather queasy.” Potts head wobbled from side to side as if he’d been struck with a hammer.

  Henry scoffed and shook his head.

  “There, there,” Emma said, rubbing a spot on his body that she must have decided was his back.

  “We definitely have more questions than answers,” Thorne whispered to Verity and Henry, “but would you mind keeping him here for a while? I’m afraid the clankertons at R&D would just take him apart to find answers, and that doesn’t quite feel right at the moment.”

  “He can stay,” Verity replied. “Emma has taken quite a shine to him.”

  “Not sure how he feels about that,” Henry muttered with a slight grin.

  Yet if he was going to remain here, then Verity knew she would have more opportunities to examine him. Even though that scared her, she wanted answers and only the little brass man seemed capable of giving her those. Whoever his monster was, they needed to find him before he started his experiments all over again somewhere else. No more people should suffer the fate of Professor Alexander Potts.

  Chapter Five

  A Squirrel's warning

  For the next two days, the house was relatively quiet, even with the mechanical professor about. Finding out about his body put him a rather depressive state, Verity decided while observing him.

  Emma didn’t leave his side, but even she was muted somehow, keeping her conversation quiet. The boys took to the streets intent on their own schemes, except for Liam who shadowed Emma and Potts. It was hard to tell if that was because he was curious or if he was worried about the younger girl. She’d noticed Liam’s kind nature under all that boyish bluster. He cared about Emma, and didn’t quite trust Potts.

  Studying the automaton Verity hadn’t noticed any change in his behaviour. If he was a trick, then he was a mighty impressive one. The amount of programming and mechanical cleverness involved in making one like he she'd never read about… and Verity read a great deal. Despite the Seven’s circumstances she was never short of books, and some very obscure ones. Agent Thorne often brought her the latest scientific journals smuggled out from the Ministry R&D department. Nothing she’d found in them came close to suggesting that the level of mimicry that Potts displayed was even possible. The little automaton the younger children named Monkey Wrench showed signs that he was capable of feeling.

  How that could be? When Verity considered she came to the immediate conclusion that it was connected to what lay within him.

  At night, when Verity finally feel asleep, she dreamed of the green flame in his chest. It spun around in its crystal chamber, almost like a flower, but one made of constant movement and change. It entranced her and called to her with the voice of her father. Now though he did not speak English.

  Faint whispers in languages on the edge of her comprehension slipped in her head, blurring with the sound of boilers heating and cogs and gears turning. It sent seductive chills through her body, even if the flame frightened her at the same time.

  She woke up, sunlight creeping into her room and a rhythmic thump in her skull. It took her a full minute to rub the sleep out of her eyes, lever herself out of bed, and realise that the noise was not in her head, but rather a tapping against the window pane.

  When she pulled open the curtains and peered out, she found herself face to face with a squirrel—or rather a mechanical squirrel. They stared at each other for a moment, Verity with her brows knitted together in surprise, and the squirrel with a tiny brass paw pressed against the glass.

  She could have easily made it go away, or stopped the mechanics inside it, causing it to fall of its perch, but that seemed very unkind. So instead Verity opened the window and reached out to the device. It was beautifully put together, but inside she could sense a simple and elegant design. Before her fingers could touch the tiny automaton, it flicked its tail around and presented it to her.

  Verity blinked in surprise as the layers of brass peeled back to reveal a roll of paper within, about as long as her index finger. When she plucked it free, the squirrel chimed once, and then threw itself from the window ledge into the apple tree ten feet from the house.

  She watched it until it disappeared over the back wall, before turning to the paper. She broke the red string holding the roll tight and opened it.

  For a long moment, she sat there staring at the words, but not really making them out, because she recognised the writing. Uncle Octavius wrote to her often when he was in the field. His precise, angular script was very distinctive, and so when she found it inscribed on a piece of paper delivered by a mechanical squirrel it was quite naturally surprising.

  First and foremost was, this meant he knew where she was. Her heart raced in her chest and for a moment she couldn’t draw breath. The tingle of alarm came far too early in the morning for her to be ready for it.

  Smoothing out the paper, still in a daze she read what Octavius had written.

  Dearest Verity

  Excuse the strange delivery mechanism, but I understand you are under the protection of the Ministry and can’t risk any other method least they detect it. I imagine the glimpse you caught of me at the Academy was quite shocking.

  She paused and took a raggard breath. He thought that was the first time she’d laid eyes on him, even though it wasn’t. He can’t have been aware that she’d actually spotted him at his doss house or observed him garroting one Arthur Clayton. He most certainly didn’t know she had the mysterious cog he’d killed the man for, otherwise she suspected he would have come himself, instead of sending a brass squirrel.

  It was the same for me. I heard of your parents' death, and assumed you’d been killed as well. I am very glad to find out that wasn’t true. You have grown very like your mother, and I am sure you are a credit to her. However, it is because of Cora and Hugo’s memory I am reaching out to you.

  I understand you encountered a kidnapper in London a few days ago and may have seen some very strange things indeed. I am writing to you to beg that you leave it there. I know your mind, Verity, and you are just as curious as your lovely mother, but please let this lie. The Illuminati which attacked the Academy have not given up their pursuit of my same goals, and I fear they have now found out about you. When you disrupted their experiments you drew their attention.

  I am sure
you are not the type to give up, but you do not want to draw their attention further.

  Pursuit of the Emerald Flame will only lead you to death and destruction for you and those you love. Believe me.

  I hope once I have finished my work, to find you safe and well, so please do heed my advice. I will explain everything that has happened once all this is done.

  Your loving Uncle Octavius

  Verity stared at the words for a moment, and then read them a second and third time just to be sure. The glimpse of him in the carriage that sped from the Delancy Acadamy had been more than enough for her to identify him, but she’d hoped that perhaps he didn’t recognise her. After all she’d only been eight when he’d last seen her, but as he said she looked very like her mother Cora—though she’d never thought of it until this very moment.

  Somehow from all that, he’d tracked her down to their safe-house in Kensington and sent of all things a squirrel automaton to warn her off. However, he’d made no mention of Potts, so perhaps he didn’t know about the existence of the little brass man.

  Tucking her knees up against her chest, Verity stared out the window, her hand tightening on the note. He could be out there right now, in the street or over the back wall, and though after the initial surprise wore off, she found that deep down she had been thinking of him when she saw the bright green flame in Potts' chest. He was collecting strange and ancient things for some purpose she didn’t know yet, and the Emerald Flame looked so like that which had stained the air around the pharaoh that it couldn’t be just a coincidence.

  Aether, it must have something to do with that.

  “I said stop!” Potts’ reedy voice echoed through the house, along with a high-pitched bleep. Stuffing the confusing note into her pocket, Verity bolted downstairs to see what was happening. The walls of the Kensington house were thick, but she still worried what the neighbours would say if they heard more commotion.