Dead Magic

by Kara Jorgensen

  Leaning back, Lord Hale watched his aunt’s chest rise and fall. A part of him was relieved. “She’s still alive. One of you, bind her hands with your belt. I—”

  Cecil hissed, grabbing his stomach as he stood. Staggering forward, he fell to his knees on the carved earth. Emmeline pushed Immanuel away and ran to Cecil’s side. As she grabbed his arm to help him up, her head swam at the blood dripping onto the glowing patches of dirt beside him. He raised his gaze to meet hers, fear and horror crossing their features at the realization. Pulling her to him, Lord Hale kissed her as he wished he had done all season. Long and deep, burdened with every night he longed for her and every time he envisioned a life beyond all hope. The backs of his eyes burned as the symbols beneath them danced with renewed energy. His heart lurched, but he kept his lips to hers and his arms locked around her trembling form. This was what he wanted to remember last.

  Strange voices filled his ears along with the sounds of a chattering, grinding world beyond his own. Shoving Emmeline back, he stared down at the runes beneath his feet, which had gone from a faint green to a violent red.

  “Take her out of here! Get her far away!” he cried, pushing her into Immanuel’s arms as he and the redhead stared at him in disbelief.

  “It’s coming?” Immanuel asked, watching the nobleman lurch forward as if tugged by a string.

  When Lord Hale looked up at them, his eyes were not his own. They were black save for the sliver of a pupil which had turned a deep crimson. Lord Hale was gone and in his place stood the creature. A cry tore from his throat as he grabbed his head, his nails digging into his scalp.

  “Get it out! Get it out!”

  “No…” Tears filled Emmeline’s eyes. “No! Cecil!”

  Emmeline dove forward, but Immanuel and Adam caught her, dragging her back to the tree line as Lord Hale’s body twitched and whipped against his will. His muscles bulged under the strain of the beast’s power until the seams of his suit ripped. Falling to his knees, Cecil stared ahead.

  “Cecil?” Emmeline peeped, her fingers digging into Immanuel’s arm which barred her chest.

  “You can’t go near him, Emmeline. We don’t know what it’s capable of.”

  “But he’s my fiancé. Cecil wouldn’t— Cecil, please come back!”

  Rising, Cecil stepped over his aunt’s body and through the flames flickering from the sigil at his feet. The cords of his neck strained as he stood at the edge. His body tensed and jerked, but when he looked up at them, there was only him. His face glistened with perspiration as he staggered closer and locked eyes with Emmeline. Adam trained the gun on him with trembling hands.

  “I’m so sorry, Emmeline, but this is the only way,” Lord Hale said, his eyes brimming with regret.

  He swallowed down the monster threatening to usurp his mind and body, and in one swift motion, he shoved Adam back and yanked the gun from his hand. Immanuel threw himself in front of Emmeline, steeling his arms around her as a retort echoed through the park.

  The fire flared behind them, its heat all-consuming until suddenly it shrank into silence. For the first time since entering the park, Immanuel could breathe again. He slowly raised his gaze, hoping that what he heard hadn’t been real. Lord Hale lay in the center of the circle, his chest ringed with blood and his fingers loosely curled around the derringer. Looking between them, Adam stared at his empty hand where the gun had been. As Adam stepped back, Immanuel pushed Emmeline into his arms. She latched onto him, burying her face in Adam’s chest.

  “Adam, don’t—,” he paused as Emmeline released a sob, “don’t let her see.”

  With the edge of his foot, Immanuel kicked dirt over the symbols until he reached Lady Rose. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he carefully pulled the lethal blade from her hand and threw it into the Serpentine. Immanuel knelt beside Lord Hale’s body. Even in death, his brows were furrowed in concentration, his neck taut. Drawing in a steadying breath, Immanuel pushed the tip of Peregrine’s dagger into his finger until a bead of blood appeared. He unbuttoned Lord Hale’s waistcoat and shirt, trying to ignore the burned skin that ringed the hole over his heart. Closing his eyes, Immanuel thought of life. He pictured the sea and the creatures teeming with life just below the surface, children playing, flowers springing through an unseasonable snow, Adam’s smile upon waking. Tapping his finger in the center of the twisting sigil, he leaned back and waited for a breath.

  Immanuel shook his head and closed his eyes again, tracing the sigil from memory. Once again, he sealed the symbol, but nothing happened. He leaned closer until his head rested over the bullet wound, but the only heartbeat he heard was in his own ears. Behind him, Emmeline wept openly into Adam’s chest as guilt-ridden tears surfaced in his eyes. Meeting Adam’s red-eyed gaze, Immanuel shook his head. Adam hugged Emmeline closer as Immanuel buttoned Lord Hale’s clothes and folded his hands over his chest. Immanuel sat back on the muddied ground, covering his mouth to stifle a cry at the image of Lord Hale right before—

  Immanuel hung his head as voices called over the hill. He had failed Emmeline, but worst of all, they had failed Cecil Hale.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Open Doors

  All activity at Interceptor headquarters ground to a halt as they arrived. Immanuel and Adam flanked Emmeline as Judith led them through the halls and up to her office, but at every turn, eyes probed them, searching for any hint of what had transpired in Hyde Park as Emmeline kept her scalded gaze on the carpet. As he had done with Immanuel at the museum, Adam glared at anyone who dared to eye them with suspicion. When they reached her office, Judith ushered them in and locked the door. Before Immanuel could offer her the seat, Emmeline sank into it and sat with her head in her hands. Her torn gloves cradled her face as she stared at her feet. It had been that way the entire time they were in the steamer. She never spoke. She just stared.

  Squatting beside her, Immanuel croaked, “Emmeline, I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would happen. I only meant to… I thought you were in danger.”

  Emmeline glared up at him, her lips white with anger. “Leave me alone.”

  “I just—”

  “Immanuel, let her be,” Adam replied, squeezing Immanuel’s shoulder as he rose to his feet. “We all had a hand in this.”

  Standing behind Emmeline, Adam slipped his hand into Immanuel’s. More than anything he wished he could wrap his arms around him and tell him everything would be all right, but it felt wrong knowing Emmeline would be without her companion. That they had caused a tragedy that would live with her forever. Adam opened his mouth to give Emmeline his condolences when the door flew open and Judith walked in with a huff. She lingered behind her desk, looming over it rather than sitting down.

  “The three of you were incredibly reckless. This whole mess could have been avoided if you or Lord Hale had come to us. We could have put a stop to this earlier, Miss Jardine.”

  Emmeline stared defiantly at her from under her bangs.

  “Lady Rose has been taken into custody, the grimoire confiscated, and,” Judith stopped to fish into her pocket, “I can return these to you.”

  Placing the vivalabe on the table, she reached over Emmeline and stuffed the derringer into Adam’s hesitant grip. “As you probably know, Lord Hale is dead.”

  Immanuel winced. “I— I tried to resurrect him, but it didn’t—”

  “Magic can’t supersede free will.”

  “Can we get on with this?” Emmeline said through clenched teeth. “I told you everything. Now, can I leave? Unless you plan to arrest me, too.”

  “You’re lucky, Miss Jardine, because my superiors wanted to do just that, but I convinced them to release you to your aunt and uncle under the provision you don’t get involved in any more magic or become part of any club. That includes the spiritualists.”

  Emmeline’s lip trembled. Hardening her jaw, she raised her gaze to Judith’s. Her brown eyes steeled with rage, but her voice stayed level as she replied, “That’s fine. I don’t plan on b
eing a medium anymore or staying in England a moment longer than I have to. I’m taking my inheritance and going somewhere I don’t know anyone.”

  “Very well. You may go, Miss Jardine. Your aunt and uncle are waiting downstairs for you.”

  Without a glance back at Adam or Immanuel, Emmeline leapt from the chair and stormed out of the room. The door slammed behind her, reverberating through the empty hall. Her legs trembled with each step, and by the time she reached the iron staircase, her entire body shook with sobs. Gripping the railing, Emmeline rested her head against the cold metal as her legs buckled beneath her. First Mama, now Cecil. Why did she never get to say good-bye?

  Footsteps sounded down the hall, sending Emmeline scrambling to her feet. She wiped at her nose and eyes as a familiar face appeared at the end of the hall. Cassandra’s cocoa eyes softened with worry and then relief upon seeing Emmeline, but before she could embrace her friend, she stopped short at the sight of Emmeline’s cutting glare.

  “I just heard what happened. Are you all right?”

  “No,” she replied, sniffing against her will as anger overtook her sadness. “Cecil’s dead.”

  Cassandra gasped. “Oh, Em, I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry? You’re sorry? You lied to me and kept me in the dark, and now, you’re sorry. Are you happy now? The man I loved is dead, and you and Aunt Eliza have me all to yourselves again,” Emmeline venomously spat.

  “You know that was never my intention. I thought I was helping you. We can still fix things. I know you’re in trouble now, but I could help. We could start a new medium business or maybe you could work here with us.”

  Emmeline released a bitter laugh, the void within her gnawing away what little love she had left. “You can’t fix this. No one can. Besides, look what all of this has brought me! My mother’s dead, my fiancé’s dead, and now, I’m not allowed to be a spiritualist anymore. See what good this has done.”

  “But, Em—”

  Cassandra reached for Emmeline’s arm, but the raven-haired girl kept her at bay with trembling rage.

  “Don’t. You. Dare. Your help has done enough damage.”

  Pushing past her, Emmeline stormed down the steps. Interceptors eyed her as she passed, lingering on her reddened face before trailing to the ring on her finger. As she burst into the street and the night air drew her anger into emptiness, the blood-red gem on her finger flashed. At the curb a steamer idled to take her back to Wimpole Street, but instead, she kept her head down and walked toward the Victoria Landing Fields, her gown sweeping behind her. She was done with people, but most of all, she was done with love. No, that wasn’t it. She could never pretend her feelings for her mother and Cecil weren’t worth the pain. She was done with death and loving things that would leave her behind.

  ***

  Immanuel eyed the empty seat, resisting the urge to run after Emmeline. Adam would tell him she needed her space, but how could he make it right for her? He had tried… he had tried so hard to bring him back. He never thought he wouldn’t be able.

  “Is she always like that?” Judith asked.

  “How could you say that? She just lost her fiancé,” Adam cried. “I think she has the right to be cross with everyone after tonight.”

  “Even after all that, she still has feelings for him?”

  “Of course she does.”

  Judith sighed and sank into her chair. Leaning forward on her elbows, she looked from Adam to Immanuel. The latter stared miserably at the floor while Adam watched her warily, his body inching closer to Immanuel’s.

  “My apologies for my momentary insensitivity. This job is rarely easy, but today has been worse than usual. As I said, you were incredibly reckless going after Lady Rose and Lord Hale alone, but I must commend you on how you stopped her.”

  Immanuel gnawed on his lip, his fingers working at his cufflink. “We didn’t stop her. Emmeline and Lord Hale did. They’re the heroes in all of this. If it weren’t— if it weren’t for me, he might still be alive.”

  “There’s no telling what could have happened. You could be right, but you did a good enough job that my superiors would like to ask you if you and Mr. Fenice would consider joining the Interceptors.”

  His mouth ran dry. “Join the Interceptors?”

  “You would still keep your job at the museum. We can work out the rest of the details in the coming weeks.”

  Adam released a nervous laugh. “You said we, but I don’t have magic like Immanuel has.”

  “Neither does my partner, Cassandra, but these pairings seem to work quite well.” Her hazel gaze lingered on Immanuel, who wringed his hands. “Just think it over. Maybe after a vacation, the answer will be clearer. It looks as if you could use one.” Judith rose, opening her door for them. “I have a cab waiting for you downstairs. We look forward to hearing from you, Mr. Winter. A man of your skillset would be greatly valued here.”

  Immanuel forced a weak smile and led Adam down the wood-lined halls and out into the hot night air. Climbing into the cab, Immanuel let his head fall back against the seat as he rubbed the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. What had he gotten himself into? More importantly, what had he gotten Adam into? When he opened his eyes, they were outside 126 Baker Street. Shutting the front door behind them, Immanuel leaned against it, relishing the stillness. Tinkling footsteps drummed on the floor as Percy appeared in the doorway to the parlor, his tail flicking as he stared at his masters. Adam hesitantly squatted beside him and scratched his head.

  “What are you going to tell Miss Elliott?” Adam finally asked as Immanuel scooped up the cat and held him close to his chest.

  “You aren’t seriously considering that I should—?”

  Adam shrugged. “It’s up to you, but I don’t know if I would want to go back to pretending magic doesn’t exist. She thinks you could be a great help, and I do, too.”

  Leaning close, Adam pressed his lips to Immanuel’s until he felt his face bloom into a reluctant smile. Immanuel closed his eyes. He never would have thought that a failure could open up a new realm of possibilities. As a younger man, the man who mocked him from photographs and dreams, he would leapt at the chance to fight for good and discover the secrets that lay just beyond their reality. But if the gala was any indication, he would be putting his life and Adam’s at risk.

  “What if I make a mistake again? What if someone else dies because of me?” Immanuel said, his voice cracking as he buried his face in Percy’s smooth bones. What if you die because of me?

  “But what if that never happens? What if you’re as fantastic at your job as you are with everything else? You would do more good there than you ever would at the museum.”

  Adam’s arms wrapped around Immanuel’s shoulders, leading him up the stairs to their bedroom. As they passed each window, Immanuel spotted the shimmer of blood and oil. With the dangers of being an Interceptor came a new found freedom he and Adam had never dreamed of. They could be together, they could be known, and they could forge a life sheltered under Her Majesty’s protection. At the bedroom door, Immanuel let Percy jump down as Adam’s hands traveled over the buttons of Immanuel’s waistcoat. Clothes fell away in the midnight stillness. Bodies lay vulnerable and bare beneath skimming fingertips that hummed with magic and eyes filled with longing for immortality. Drawing Adam close, Immanuel traced the symbol for protection over Adam’s heart. He focused on the smoothness of his skin and the dusting of henna hair as he banished the vision of Lord Hale’s splintered heart peeking through his skin.

  Immanuel closed his eyes and rested his lips against Adam’s neck. The words hung in his throat, coming in spurts. “The only way I’ll do it is if you’ll promise me something.”

  “Anything.”

  “To be my partner. In life and death and everything in between.”

  Adam locked gazes with him, tracing the lines of copper in Immanuel’s eye. Once more tragedy would lead to something better. Giving himself wholly to Immanuel, he whispered, his voice hoarse,
“Always.”

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  About the Author

  Kara Jorgensen is an author and English professor from New Jersey who will probably die slumped over a Victorian novel. An anachronistic oddball from birth, she has always had an obsession with the Victorian era, especially the 1890s. Midway through a dissection in a college anatomy class, Kara realized her true passion was writing and decided to marry her love of literature and science through science fiction or, more specifically, steampunk. When she is not writing, she is watching period dramas, going to museums, or babying her beloved dogs.

  For more info, please visit KaraJorgensen.com or subscribe to her newsletter to receive news about new releases, sales, and previews of future projects.

  Also by the Author

  The Earl of Brass (IMD #1)

  The Gentleman Devil (IMD #2)

  “An Oxford Holiday” (An Ingenious Mechanical Devices Companion Short Story #1)

  The Earl and the Artificer (IMD #3)

  “The Errant Earl” (An Ingenious Mechanical Devices Short Story #2)

  Dead Magic (IMD #4)