by Amanda Quick
“We have wasted enough time,” he said. He went to the statue that stood next to the sarcophagus. “Bring Miss Lockwood to me, Victor.”
Victor gave Beatrice an apologetic look. He started toward her.
“It will not be necessary to put your hands on me again,” she said in her iciest accent.
Victor stopped, waiting.
She moved slowly toward the sarcophagus.
“I still do not understand what you think I can do to assist you in this madness,” she said quietly.
“There are two steps to the awakening process,” Clement announced. He sounded like a professor now. “The first requires that the power infused into the statue be released.” He picked up the trailing end of the gold wire that was wrapped around the neck of Anubis. “That is your task. The energy will be conducted along this wire into the Egyptian Water. That will cause a chemical reaction that will reverse the state of suspended animation.”
She thought about telling him again that he was insane but decided that as he had not responded well the last time, it would probably not be wise to do so.
“What is the second step of the process?” she asked.
“Once the Egyptian Water has been ignited it will be necessary to add fresh blood to the chemicals in order to keep the process going long enough to accomplish the awakening. My beautiful Emma was a woman of talent. It’s obvious that the best source of strong blood would be that of another female with strong psychical abilities.”
She looked at the surgical instruments set out on the workbench.
“Me,” she said.
He smiled. “Yes, Miss Lockwood, you.”
Victor frowned. “Clement assures me that the process does not require a great deal of blood, merely a small amount to spark the energy of the Water. You will not be a sacrifice, Miss Lockwood.”
She looked into Clement’s mad eyes. “You lied to Mr. Hazelton about that aspect of the thing, didn’t you? You’re going to murder me tonight.”
“Nonsense,” Clement said. “As Victor said, the process merely requires a small amount of blood.”
He was definitely lying but there was no point arguing.
“What if I can’t awaken her?” she asked.
“Then I will have no further use for you, will I? You will live only as long as you are useful to me. Enough. It’s time. Victor, help me remove the lid of the sarcophagus.”
Victor went forward, leaned down and placed both hands on the edge of the crystal-and-stone lid. Clement did the same. Together they pushed the top of the coffin to the side, angling it so that it rested across the foot of the burial box.
The heavy scent of harsh chemicals grew abruptly stronger. Beatrice winced and took a step back. The body floating in the liquid appeared unreal, a beautiful wax doll made to resemble a sleeping woman.
Clement pulled on a pair of leather gloves and picked up the end of the gold wire. He submerged the tip into the preservative fluid.
“Touch the statue’s eyes and release the power,” he ordered.
Beatrice studied the Anubis. “What, exactly, do you want me to do?”
“I just told you, touch the eyes. When you make physical contact with the obsidian stones you will sense the energy locked inside. Even I can feel it. My paranormal senses are not strong enough to release it. Let us hope that yours are because otherwise there is no reason to keep you alive.”
Victor scowled. “That’s enough, Clement. There is no reason to threaten Miss Lockwood.”
Beatrice moved closer to the statue. Warily she raised one arm and touched an obsidian eye with her fingertip. An icy shiver of energy whispered through her. She flinched and quickly took her finger away from the stone.
“This is not a good idea,” she said.
“Do it,” Clement ordered.
He was losing control again, she realized. Gingerly she put two fingertips on one of the jeweled eyes and heightened her talent. Energy stirred in the stone. Power rose in the atmosphere. Intuitively she tried to find a way to channel it. There was, she discovered, something oddly seductive about controlling the currents. She pushed her senses higher.
She was concentrating so intently on the statue that she did not realize anything was happening to the preservative formula until she heard Victor speak in a hushed voice.
“Look at the Water,” he said.
“It’s working,” Clement said. Fierce satisfaction reverberated in the words. “It’s working. It’s working.”
Keeping her fingertips on the eye, Beatrice turned her head to look at the sarcophagus. The fluid was turning an eerie shade of violet and starting to bubble. She could feel currents of paranormal energy coming from it now.
Clement gave her an impatient glance. “Touch the other eye, you slow-witted woman. Hurry. Emma’s finger twitched. She’s coming awake.”
“Emma,” Victor whispered. “Dear God, Emma. Wake up, my darling girl.”
Beatrice looked at the dead woman’s hand. The fingers were moving slightly but she knew it was not with the stirrings of a life force. The small motions were caused by the bubbling, frothing water. Clement and Victor were deluding themselves. But some sort of energy was building in the statue and she was quite certain it was dangerous. There was no knowing what would happen if she pushed it higher, but it might prove to be the distraction she needed to escape. She focused on the rising energy in the stones.
Clement gave a startled shout of pain.
Beatrice took her fingers off the statue and whirled around to see what had happened. Clement had dropped the wire into the Water and was peeling off the leather gloves.
Victor looked at him, irritated. “What happened?”
“So strong,” Clement muttered. He stared at his fingers. “Too strong. I dare not hold the wire. The gloves are not sufficient protection. I’ll leave the wire in the Water and stand aside while the energy is being generated.” He stood back. “Again, Miss Lockwood.”
This was not going to end well, she thought. But she had nothing to lose.
She put the full power of her talent into exciting the energy in the obsidian. The Egyptian Water churned and roiled and seethed. The body in the tank shuddered and twitched but Beatrice knew the movements did not indicate life. The corpse was being jostled about by the agitation of the fluid.
The energy in the statue was building swiftly now. She was not sure she was still in control.
The explosion did not come from the Anubis, as Beatrice had anticipated. It came from above. A large pane of glass in the dome ceiling shattered inward. Shards rained down.
For a few seconds Clement and Victor did not seem to comprehend what had happened. By the time they realized that the source of the broken glass was from the ceiling, it was too late.
An avenging angel clad in black and carrying a steel-and-ebony sword in the form of a cane was plummeting down into the small antechamber of hell.
Joshua.
Forty-Eight
He had assessed the situation before he made the descent into the chamber. Victor was the first and most immediate threat, Joshua concluded.
He landed hard near one of the workbenches, as planned. He took much of his weight on his good leg and grabbed the edge of the bench to support the rest.
He released the end of the rope ladder that Nelson was paying out from the roof. He had only a split second to catch his balance. In that instant he saw that Victor stood frozen in anguished disbelief. It was, Joshua knew, the only chance he would get.
Victor recovered in the next instant. He reached inside his coat.
Joshua braced himself against the edge of the workbench and swept the cane out in a slashing arc. The heavy length of steel and wood caught Victor on his forearm. Bone cracked. The gun he had just pulled out fell from his hand. He crumpled to his knees.
Nelson shouted from the
edge of the dome, “Josh, he’s got her.”
Joshua turned, using the workbench to keep his balance. He saw that Clement had seized Beatrice. He had one arm wrapped around her neck. He held a scalpel to her throat.
“I see you have not lost your skills while you have been rusticating in the countryside,” Clement said. “But I’d advise you to tell your companion up there to stay where he is or I will slit Miss Lockwood’s throat.”
Joshua looked at Beatrice. Her arms were at her sides. She appeared calm—unnaturally so. No one could remain so composed when a madman had a scalpel at one’s throat. Beatrice really was an excellent actress.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she said, her voice remarkably steady.
She made a small movement with one hand. Her fingers appeared from between the heavy folds of her gown. He glimpsed the sheen of a metal scalpel. She was letting him know that she, too, was armed.
All that they needed was a distraction, Joshua thought.
He looked at the sarcophagus. The fluid continued to froth and churn. He saw that Emma appeared almost alive. Her hair swirled around her face. Her arms undulated gently.
“I would never have believed it,” he said. “But I see you have been successful. Her eyes are open. You had better get her out of that fluid before she takes a breath and drowns.”
“Emma,” Clement whispered. He started to haul Beatrice toward the coffin. His attention was on the dead woman. “Get her out of the Water, damn you, Gage.”
“Only if you release Beatrice.”
“I’ll kill her if you don’t get Emma out of the Water, I swear I will.”
“It seems that we each hold a hostage,” Joshua said. “I suggest that we exchange them.”
“If I release Miss Lockwood, you will kill me.”
“No,” Joshua said. “I will not kill you tonight. If you keep your side of the bargain, I will keep mine. Beatrice and I will leave the same way I arrived, through the dome. You may remain here with your beloved. You know that I have always been a man of my word.”
Victor said nothing. He remained on his knees, clutching his broken arm. He gazed in despair at the body of his daughter. Joshua knew that Victor was finally acknowledging the truth. Emma was dead.
Clement’s face contorted with anguish and indecision. He gave Beatrice a violent shove that sent her stumbling away from him.
He rushed to the sarcophagus and reached into the frothing liquid to seize the body.
Joshua caught Beatrice. “You will go up the rope ladder first.”
She dropped the small scalpel, hitched up her skirts and started climbing.
He followed her up the ladder using his gloved hands to secure his grip. He could put enough weight on his bad leg to make the ascent possible but it was not easy.
When they reached the roof, Nelson helped steady Beatrice at the edge of the dome.
“Are you all right, Miss Lockwood?” he asked.
“I am now, thanks to you and Mr. Gage,” she said. “I assume we use the same rope ladder to get down from this roof?”
“Luckily that will not be necessary,” Nelson said, reeling in the ladder. “Uncle Joshua found an old stairwell in one of the towers.”
“Clement Lancing said that the stairs and hallway that lead to the laboratory were set with traps,” Beatrice said.
“I assumed as much,” Joshua said. “That is why we came in through the roof. No one ever expects an opponent to approach from above.”
“Another Mr. Smith saying?” Beatrice asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Joshua said. “He forgot one of his own rules. But then, everyone has a blind side. Let’s get away from here. Inspector Morgan will be waiting to make his arrests.”
“But the gas,” Beatrice said. “How will the police enter the laboratory?”
“The same way we did, if necessary, but I don’t think that will be the case. Victor will let them in. He knows that this is finished.”
The screaming started then. Clement Lancing’s roar of rage and madness echoed in the night. It was cut short by a single gunshot.
Joshua looked down. Victor was standing over Lancing’s body, the gun in his hand. He looked up at Joshua.
“You were always my best agent,” Victor said.
Forty-Nine
Seriously, Josh, how did you and Nelson know where to find me?” Beatrice asked. “And please don’t give me that line about looking in the right place. I want details.”
She and Joshua and Nelson were gathered around the dining table with Sara and Abigail in the cozy morning room in Lantern Street. Thankfully, Sara and Abigail appeared none the worse for their encounter with the incense drug. To all outward appearances, Joshua was his usual cool, controlled self but whenever he looked across the table at Beatrice she detected a little telltale heat in his eyes. For his part, Nelson was still brimming with excitement. He had been the one who had relayed every detail of the rescue to Sara and Abigail.
Mrs. Beale had also recovered from the hallucinogenic fog. She had served up a hearty early morning breakfast of eggs, potatoes and toast. Everyone was drinking a great deal of very strong coffee because none of them had yet had any sleep. Beatrice doubted that any of them except Joshua—who evidently could put himself into a trance whenever he wished—was capable of sleep. They were all still dealing with the edgy energy that followed violence.
“It was simple logic,” Joshua said. He reached for another slice of toast and slathered it with jam. “Once I realized that Victor was involved in the affair, everything else fell into place. I knew that if he had established a properly equipped laboratory for Lancing, it would be in a location that Victor deemed safe and under his full control. That location also had to be close to London because Victor would want to make frequent visits to make sure that progress was being made and to be certain his daughter had the appearance of being alive.”
Sara looked thoughtful. “It would also need to be a location that was convenient to Mrs. Grimshaw, the apothecary in Teaberry Lane.”
“Yes,” Joshua said. “I naturally concluded that the most obvious place was Exford Castle. It has been in Victor’s family for generations.”
Beatrice raised her eyes to the ceiling in a give-me-patience manner. “Naturally.”
“Victor knows how I think,” Josh said quietly. “That’s why he was always one step ahead. But I know him, too. Once I realized that he was the one plotting the strategy, I was able to second-guess him.”
Abigail frowned. “What on earth was going on with that statue of Anubis? Did it really have paranormal powers?”
“No,” Joshua said flatly.
“Yes,” Beatrice said at the same time.
Everyone looked at her. She put her cup down and thought about what had happened in Clement Lancing’s laboratory.
“The statue is a kind of engine,” she said slowly, “similar to an electricity machine, I think. It requires some psychical ability to activate the forces but the power that is released is just that—raw energy.”
“Like the energy released by a steam engine or a generator,” Nelson said. “You might be able to use it to turn a wheel or ignite a lamp but that’s all.”
“Exactly,” Beatrice said. “The Anubis energy is certainly not magical in nature. It has no special properties. The currents conducted into the preservative fluid agitated the Egyptian Water but that was all they did.”
“I would very much like to examine the statue,” Sara said eagerly.
“It’s yours,” Joshua said. “Consider it a thank-you gift for all that you did for me.”
Sara’s eyes widened. “That is very generous of you, sir.”
Joshua’s mouth twisted wryly. “Trust me when I tell you that I have no desire to install that antiquity in my own household.”
“I understand.” She sighed. “In spite of everything, I do feel sorry for Victor Hazelton. All these months he has been living on a false hope offered up by a madman. In the end his grief drove Hazelton mad, too.”
“How true,” Abigail said. “And how sad. I doubt that he will go to prison. He will probably be declared insane and likely spend the rest of his life in an asylum.”
“No,” Joshua said. There was quiet certainty in his voice. “Victor could not endure an asylum. And now that he knows that Emma has been dead all along he has nothing else to live for, so I do not think that he will survive for long.”
Nelson looked up from his eggs, startled. He frowned. “You believe that he will die of grief?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Joshua said.
Beatrice understood. She knew from their silence that Sara and Abigail did, too. It took Nelson somewhat longer to grasp Joshua’s meaning.
“I see,” Nelson said, abruptly subdued. “You expect him to take his own life. But you can’t know that for certain—”
“I know him,” Joshua said. “I know how he thinks.”
Because you believe that Victor thinks a lot like you, Beatrice thought. But she did not say it aloud. At that moment Joshua met her eyes across the table and she knew that he was aware of her thoughts.
“You’re wrong, you know,” she said simply. “You are two very different men, in spite of your philosophical training and your martial arts abilities. You would never have allowed yourself to believe what you know is impossible—that the dead could be brought back to life by magic. And you would never have murdered people who had done you no harm in order to achieve your objective. You would have found other ways.”
Joshua’s brows rose. “Because I am a man of logic and reason?”
She smiled. “No, because you are a good and decent man.”
Sara chuckled. “She is trying to tell you that you are a hero, Mr. Gage, and I do believe she is correct.”
“There are no heroes,” Joshua said. “There are only those who try to make the right choice when choice is thrust upon them.”