Valentin peered at me, and it was clear enough what he was thinking. I quelled a powerful urge to shout that I was not mad and took another deep breath. I uncurled my fingers, flattened my face. I met his eyes and tried my best to appear sane.
“I became overexcited.” My calm, slow voice sounded to my own ears like it belonged to someone else. “I apologize.”
Valentin snorted.
“Now I am certain you have lost your mind,” he said. But he released my arm. “I was going to escort you to breakfast. Your friend Dominic is well enough. Fräulein Rahel said you might both eat in the dining room this morning, if you like.”
“Will Rahel be there?” One meal under her smoldering glare was enough.
“She takes breakfast in her room.”
I hesitated, and Valentin went on. “I will ask Karl who he sent away from the gate. Come, you must be hungry. You ate almost nothing yesterday.”
I could not suppress a small, wry smile at his concern. One might call it motherly, though not if one had my mother in mind. The almost nothing I ate yesterday would have seemed a great deal to her.
“There are sausages and strudel,” Valentin continued, starting to sound impatient. “And your friend Dominic is already there.”
If the truth were told, I didn’t want to see Dominic much more than I did Rahel. He would certainly attempt to convince me to stop work again, something Valentin ought to have known considering how loudly Dominic had shouted his objections the other day. And I was afraid of what he might see on my face. On the other hand, I was suddenly ravenous for sausages and strudel. I nodded and followed Valentin.
I slipped into the dining room quietly. It was full of men again. This time they hovered over the sideboard helping themselves to pastries and sausage rather than liquor. Dominic sat at the table, slouched over a cup of coffee, not a scrap of food left on his plate. He eyed the sideboard, evidently planning his second course. He hadn’t seen me come in, so I was able to observe him unobstructed for a few moments. He looked disheveled and somewhat underslept, as one would after spending a few nights chained to a radiator, fending off madness. But his eyes were clear. His color was healthy. He seemed well. I straightened my shoulders and hoped I could give him the same impression.
“Good morning, Dominic,” I said.
He looked up at the sound of my voice, eyes wide, and jumped to his feet.
“Thea!”
I crossed to the sideboard, ignoring the sidelong glances of the Prussians, and filled a plate so full that a sausage nearly rolled off the top. Dominic pulled out a seat next to him, which I could hardly refuse. I sat in it with as much dignity as a person can when she has just served herself enough food to fill several grown men.
“You look very well,” I said.
“You don’t,” said Dominic with a frown. I glanced up at him in surprise, and his expression fell into embarrassment. “Oh—I didn’t mean— You look quite well, I mean to say— You always look—”
He broke off, gripping his coffee, and stared into it for a moment to recover himself. “I mean you look rather warm, and…”
“And a bit mad?” I supplied.
“No,” said Dominic, flushing.
This one is just full of social graces, isn’t he? said my mother.
My heart thudded wildly at the sound of her voice. Even here, surrounded by people, I couldn’t escape it.
“I feel a bit mad,” I admitted, and took an enormous bite of apple turnover and almost choked as I swallowed it in haste. “I would never eat this much in my right mind, especially in front of a man.”
I tried to smile at him, but he looked back at me with such alarm that I couldn’t make my mouth hold the shape.
“I’m all right, Dominic,” I lied to him.
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
I thought about telling him what I had seen in the corner. Dominic hadn’t mentioned seeing anything like that. Though he had heard his father’s voice. I nearly asked him about it, but I remembered the raw terror in his voice when he spoke of it. Hell, he had said. It was like hell.
“Thea,” he began.
I swallowed hard and held up my hand. “You won’t convince me, Dominic,” I said. “Please do not ruin a lovely breakfast attempting the impossible. Who knows how many more meals we will get to take together?”
Dominic looked stricken, and it was my turn to regret my choice of words.
“Oh, I didn’t mean anything grim,” I said hastily. “Perhaps they didn’t tell you? I’ve arranged with them to take you to Prussia when this is over, and give you what you need to study medicine.”
Dominic met my eyes for half a moment, his brows drawn into a deep frown. Then he stared back into his coffee. “I asked you not to do that,” he said. “I don’t want anything that costs you your mind.”
My hunger had left me abruptly, but I shoveled a sausage into my mouth anyway. I chewed, swallowed, and tasted nothing. When I allowed myself to look at Dominic again, he was still frowning miserably into his coffee.
“I am not doing this for you,” I said. “But since I am going to do it, why shouldn’t I make a way out for you, if I can? It costs me nothing. Nothing extra.”
Dominic shook his head. He got up without looking at me and went to the sideboard. Once there, he stared at the platters of food as though he’d forgotten what he came for.
I continued to eat with determination. When Valentin came in a few moments later, I had already finished my second pastry. Dominic returned and picked at his food in grim silence. Valentin sat across from us and watched us for a moment before speaking. “You wanted to know about the man at the gate,” he said to me.
“Oh. Yes.” I glanced at Dominic. I had forgotten to mention to him that my father had been here, and now it was too late. I silently willed him to stay calm and quiet.
“He wished to speak to the master of the house,” said Valentin. His eyes were narrowed on me, watching for my reaction. “He said his name was Vellacott.”
Beside me, Dominic stiffened.
“Did he say why he wished to speak to the master of the house?” I asked calmly.
“Indeed, yes,” said Valentin. “He said he was looking for a young girl he believed to be in danger. He said her name was Theosebeia Hope.”
“And did he say what business of his it might be if Theosebeia Hope is in danger?” I asked.
Valentin tilted his head, then shook it. “He did not.”
“And what did the guard tell him?”
“Nothing at all,” said Valentin. “My men know not to speak out of turn. Karl told Vellacott all he was authorized to tell, which was that he must leave or be shot.”
“Did he mention anyone else? Perhaps … the police?”
“The police? No.”
I thought as quickly as I could, though that was much slower than I liked. My mind struggled to reach the point, like I was drunk, though I’d drunk nothing but coffee. I banished my panic and forced my thoughts into focus. My father had asked only after me. He hadn’t mentioned Dominic, or Ludovico Bentivoglio. What did that mean? What did it mean that he had said that I was in danger, and not that we were fugitives from the law?
It could mean anything, I decided. It could be that he thought he would gain more help if he seemed to be looking for a vulnerable girl rather than a killer and his accomplice. Or, he might be looking for me and not Dominic. In that case, it was most likely that he wanted me for the same reason the Germans did. He knew what I knew, and what I could do. He had failed to decode my mother’s notes, and came searching for my help. I already knew he wanted the Philosopher’s Stone as much as Ludwig did. It should be no surprise that he wanted to catch me out and bring me back.
I found the idea of being forced to make the Stone for my father no more appealing than making it for Ludwig. Quite a bit less, in fact. I could not allow him to find me.
“You know this Vellacott?” Valentin asked.
I glanced at Dominic. He h
ad set down his fork, placed his elbows on the table, and dropped his head into his hands.
“Yes,” I said simply. “He is an alchemist. He must have some suspicion that we are here, but I hope you will not allow it to be confirmed.”
“What does he want with you?”
“The same thing your Burggraf does, I should think,” I said. “In any case, it won’t be anything good.”
“You don’t know that,” said Dominic.
I turned to him, my eyes widened in what would have been an effective silencing manner if Dominic had not still had his head buried in his hands.
“I know enough,” I said.
Dominic straightened slowly, as though making a decision. He’d looked well enough earlier, but from the expression of anguish on his face I suddenly wondered if he ought to still be chained to the radiator.
“He’s not a bad man, Thea,” he said. “You saw him at his worst.”
“What better time is there to know a man than at his worst?” I exclaimed, heat rising in my cheeks. “I am glad he showed his true character at once. I shudder to think of all the time and effort I might have wasted in trying to know and help him!”
“This has gone on long enough,” said Dominic. “You should never have come with me to London. He’s here for you. You should go with him.”
While I struggled to find words sufficient to contain my contempt for this idea, Valentin broke in. “Why should she go with him?” he asked Dominic. “Who is he to her?”
“Dominic!” I warned. But his voice rose over mine.
“Mr. Vellacott is her father.”
I choked on my fury. Words were momentarily lost in rage. My hands balled into fists, and I had to press them to the table to keep from striking Dominic.
“Ah,” said Valentin with an infuriatingly calm nod.
“Let her go,” said Dominic. “Call him back and send her with him. You have no right to keep her here when her father has asked for her.”
“Ah, but he did not claim her as his daughter,” said Valentin. “Miss Hope, he called her. Not Miss Vellacott. He has not acknowledged her, I think. And therefore he has no more claim upon her than Graf Ludwig.”
“Claim?” The word escaped, a low hiss through my violently clenched jaw. “What claim do any of you have on me?”
“Thea, please be calm,” said Valentin.
I thought I had been calm, though it had taken more strength than they could have imagined. Now I jumped to my feet, throwing back my chair as I did.
“Let me be quite clear. I will not go anywhere with Mr. Vellacott. To that end, I may require protection from him. And it seems—” I turned on Dominic with a glare. “Also from Dominic. I advise you to keep him well under guard, Valentin, or he may attempt to escape and tell Mr. Vellacott where I am to be found. If you value the deal that we have struck, you will do whatever is necessary to prevent that.”
“If you gave him another chance—” Dominic broke off when he looked up at me.
“I don’t have time to give more chances!” I cried. “I only have this one chance myself, and it’s halfway gone!”
He looked almost confused, as though he wasn’t precisely certain why I was angry. Then the confusion turned to alarm.
“Thea, what are you saying?” Dominic asked. “Have you—has it started?”
I couldn’t stand the fear on his face. I turned away.
“It is time for me to work,” I said to Valentin, who made no move to rise. “Shall I see myself out?”
“You haven’t finished your breakfast,” he said, glancing at my still full plate.
I picked it up—I had eaten enough that there was less danger of sausages rolling off—and marched out the door. Valentin had little choice but to follow.
14
The work went as it always did. There were long, grueling periods of waiting, watching, and coddling the substances, as one would especially temperamental infants. These were punctuated by short, sharp, and sometimes alarming bursts of activity. A fire would flare. Smoke would change color or fill with sparks. And the substance in the brazier would become something else.
It was all very familiar, and it wasn’t. The work was the same, the same grinding, measuring, mixing, and tending. But instead of working out Decknamen, breaking down figures of the planets and approximating quantities, I had my mother’s coded notes imprinted in my mind. There were no mysteries now. I followed a receipt I understood, whose outcome I had seen. Every step went straight toward my goal; everything was clear.
Everything except my own mind.
I knew it from the yellow blur at the edge of my thoughts, and from the way Valentin looked at me at the end of the day, when I spoke to him in garbled sentences that even I could not decode. He did not invite me to dine with Rahel again. He had begun to believe.
That night, I went to bed with the dark figure that was not there crouched beside me. This time, when I hurled a shoe through it, the figure did not vanish. When I screamed at it, only Valentin answered, from outside the door.
“What is it?” he demanded. “Why are you screaming?”
“It’s nothing,” I replied, staring at the dark, crouching form. “Nothing is there. It’s nothing.”
Valentin hesitated, apparently not reassured. Then the key turned in the lock, and he came in. He stood over me, next to the figure.
“You are shaking,” he observed.
I glanced down at my bare arms and noted that he was right.
“Should you be alone?” he asked.
“I’m not.” I shuddered, trying not to look in the corner.
“Miss Hope,” he said. “I am asking if I should stay.”
I looked up at him, not understanding at first.
“Stay?” I asked. “Where would you sleep?”
“On the floor,” said Valentin, gesturing to where the unreal thing huddled.
“No!” I exclaimed, panic sharpening my voice. “Not on the floor!”
“Then…?” He glanced back toward the door, and I found myself desperate that he not go.
“Here.” I patted the bed beside me, between me and the figure. Valentin looked at my hand and frowned. He started to shake his head.
“Please,” I said.
I pushed myself farther to the side under the covers, leaving him as much space as I could. Reluctantly, he sat down, then lay on his back, stiff as his starched blue jacket.
I couldn’t see the figure past Valentin’s sturdy bulk. I exhaled slowly, releasing some of my terror.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
Valentin didn’t respond.
I closed my eyes. Some sleep would help, surely. My mother hadn’t gone mad all at once. She’d had some time to fight it, to keep working. I only needed a few more days.
The memory of my mother’s face, mad eyes and bared teeth, forced my eyes open again. My heart raced.
“Valentin,” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“I’m afraid.”
He was quiet a moment. “I know,” he said.
He had not relaxed into the bed one inch, whether from concern over the impropriety, or discomfort with my strange, altered state, or both. He stayed only for my sake.
“Valentin.”
“Yes,” he said again.
“You should find another line of employment,” I said.
He exhaled sharply—a nearly soundless laugh.
“So should you, Miss Hope.”
But I could not agree with that, not even now. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep once more.
I succeeded. When I woke, dawn was breaking and Valentin was gone.
The dark figure wasn’t, but it didn’t move. It was so still, it almost seemed to be sleeping. Or perhaps it was simply waiting.
Still, I felt a little better this morning. Steadier. I went back to work.
The thing followed me into the library and settled itself in the far corner, opposite the German who’d been assigned to watch me work.
I did my best not to look at either of them.
After a few hours, it was time to seal the blackened mass into the glass ovum. It was a delicate procedure, and I found to my dismay that my hands were shaking.
My hands never shook. Alchemy was a science of head and hand. Unlike my mother’s, unlike Will’s, my hands had always been as steady as my mind.
I went to the bronzed mirror by the door and peered at my reflection. I touched my face gently, alarmed at the cold trembling of my fingers. My eyes were bloodshot. My face was paler than usual, except for my cheeks and brow, which were a livid pink. I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead and drew it back at once. My face was very hot. In the mirror, the thing in the corner pulsed.
I stepped back. My vision blurred, and when it came back into focus, I didn’t recognize the girl in front of me.
It was me, I knew that. Each feature was the same. The same curly dark hair, messily pulled back, the same high forehead and narrow patrician nose. Those were my square shoulders, my tall, spare figure. I told myself so, but another part of me was not convinced. It rejected the face, first of all. The face was wrong. I had seen it another place, on another person, where it had belonged. I didn’t like that person. I shouldn’t have his face. No, this face did not belong to me. I touched it again. I traced the cheekbone up, then down and under the jaw. The skin was hot, damp, and false. My fingers hooked under it, under the jawbone. There was a space there. I could get it off. My fingernails were short, as an alchemist’s must be, but they were sharp enough to cut the skin, to dig in, to peel away the false face—
Valentin opened the door, and the sharp cry he made arrested me. He seized my hand and jerked it from my face.
“Gott im Himmel! Was für Teufelei is dies?”
The raw horror in his voice called me to myself.
Devilry, he said. What devilry is this?
My eyes went back to the mirror. Blood was smeared across my jaw and dripping down my neck. I looked at my hands, held fast in Valentin’s. One was bloody, the other clean.
“Oh,” I said. My vision blurred again, this time with tears. “It hurts.”
“Why did you do it, then?” Valentin cried. He took both my hands in one of his and used the other to turn up my chin and examine the wound. His face twisted with revulsion.
A Golden Fury Page 18