Burning Lamp

by Amanda Quick

  “Some of us aren’t worth saving.”

  Luttrell smiled. “You’re probably right. On the other hand, some of us don’t want to be saved, do we? Can you imagine either one of us living a quiet, boring, respectable life? What a waste of talent.”

  “The Truce. Why did you break it?”

  “Our agreement has had its uses for the past few years. But unlike you I’m not content with only a portion of an empire. I am now ready to take it all. You and Pierce are the only major obstacles in my path. After tonight only Pierce will remain. I do not anticipate any trouble in that quarter.”

  “You’re forgetting about Arcane.”

  Luttrell smiled. “The Society is composed of our betters. None of them were forced to survive on the streets the way you and I did. What do they know of our world? They have been weakened by generations of comfortable living.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  “I know they have some strong talents in their ranks, and that is why I am in no rush to take them on just yet. But soon I will own some of the most powerful men in that organization. I will know their secrets, and with that knowledge I will control Arcane. Think what I can accomplish with that kind of power.”

  “You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” Griffin said. “Trust me.”

  “Now that is where you are wrong. I know exactly what I’m dealing with. I have a spy within the very heart of Arcane.”

  “You’re a fool.”

  “Which one of us is lying helpless on the floor?” Luttrell asked. “But before I end this, there is one thing I would like to know. Did the Pyne woman work the Burning Lamp for you? According to that old legend you should have a couple of additional talents by now. I don’t see any indication of extra powers, though.”

  “You know how it is with legends. Ninety-five percent of the tale is usually false.”

  “Yes, I was certain that would turn out to be the case with the Burning Lamp myth. How unfortunate for you. What matters to me is that my Arcane connection believes that he can access the energy of the lamp. He is obsessed with the damn thing. And I have become quite fond of these crystals that he creates for me. Thus, we have arrived at an agreement.”

  Luttrell’s focus flickered again. Griffin grabbed a few more shadows. The natural gloom inside the room was a great asset. He knew that he was rapidly becoming a vague object in the poorly illuminated space.

  “On your feet,” Luttrell ordered. “Stand up where I can see you, damn it.”

  Griffin went very still and very silent. Luttrell was getting nervous.

  “You heard me,” Luttrell shouted. “Get on your feet.”

  Anger and a trace of fear reverberated in the words. Luttrell swung the crystal in an arc, searching for the target he could no longer see.

  Griffin abruptly found himself free. His senses roared back at full power. He sent out a heavy wave of his nightmare talent.

  Luttrell screamed, a high, keening cry that soared above the howl of the fire. The red crystal blazed once, weakly, and then went dark.

  Griffin staggered to his feet.

  “No,” Luttrell shouted. “Stay away from me.” He whirled and started toward the door.

  Griffin slammed into him. They crashed to the floor. Griffin was remotely aware of pain in his left shoulder but it did not seem important. Luttrell flailed wildly. Griffin pulsed more energy.

  Luttrell screamed again. In the next instant his heart stopped. So did the scream.

  Griffin did not stop the floodtide of nightmares until there was nothing left on which to focus. The shock of the death splashed like acid across his senses. It was not the first time he had experienced it. He knew he would pay a price later but he considered it a fair bargain.

  The fire was louder now. Smoke was drifting into the bedroom. He scrambled free of Luttrell’s body, grabbed the crystal and ran for the window. He paused a moment to strip off his coat. He would need it to protect his hands from the friction created when he went down the rope.

  He got one leg over the sill. The rope went taut. He looked down and saw Adelaide. She had seized the trailing end and was starting up the stone wall of the house.

  “I should have known you’d show up sooner or later,” he said.

  “Griffin. Thank God.”

  She released her grip on the rope and dropped the short distance into the garden. He went over the edge of the window and lowered himself quickly down beside her.

  Delbert came around the corner of the house, revolver in hand. He was breathing hard.

  “Sorry, Boss. She got away from me.”

  “She’s good at that kind of thing.” Griffin grabbed Adelaide’s hand. “RuN.”

  They raced around the corner of the house and out into the lane. Norwood Harper was waiting for them, the fern clutched in his hands. Griffin snatched the basket out of his fingers.

  “Move, Harper. The house is coming down.”

  The stone walls stood but the interior of the house crumbled in on itself in a whirlpool of flames. Griffin could hear the fire brigade in the distance.

  He brought Adelaide and the others to a halt next to the carriage.

  Jed looked down from the box. “Bit of trouble, Boss?”

  “Just the usual,” Griffin said.

  Together they watched the fire wagons rumble past. No one spoke for several minutes.

  Finally Griffin looked at Adelaide. “Where did you learn to climb a rope? Wait, let me guess. Monty Moore’s Wild West Show.”

  “We had a regular feature that involved a gang of outlaws who escape from jail,” she said. She was breathless from running. “The villains escaped by climbing a rope.”

  “How did it end?”

  “The sheriff and his posse always caught the outlaws. But not before they robbed a bank.”

  “The outlaws always got caught?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Adelaide said.

  “Obviously they were working for a poor excuse for a crime lord.”

  “I always played the role of the leader of the outlaw gang,” she said. “I was the crime lord.”

  47

  JED USHERED LUCINDA AND CALEB JONES INTO THE LIBRARY. Griffin rose from behind his desk to greet them.

  “Imagine, Mr. and Mrs. Jones consorting with a known crime lord,” he said. “This cannot be good for my reputation.”

  “Probably won’t benefit ours much, either,” Caleb muttered darkly.

  Adelaide smiled at Lucinda.

  “Ignore them both,” she said. “Please sit down.”

  “Thank you.” Lucinda took one of the chairs. She surveyed Adelaide with a worried glance and then she looked at Griffin. “Are you both all right? The man who brought the message said there was some sort of fire. No offense, but the two of you look as though you got a bit too close to a poorly vented hearth.”

  Adelaide glanced down at her soot-stained shirt and trousers and grimaced. Griffin’s clothes were in worse condition. His face was smudged with smoky residue.

  “We do look a sight, don’t we?” Adelaide said. “We have not yet had a chance to bathe.”

  Mrs. Trevelyan brought in a tea tray. Griffin gave a brief account of what had happened in Hidden Moon Lane. At the conclusion he produced the fern from behind his desk with a theatrical flourish that made Adelaide roll her eyes. He winked at her.

  “My Ameliopteris,” Lucinda exclaimed. She leaped to her feet to take the basket from Griffin. Anxiously she surveyed the plant and then gave a relieved sigh. “Hulsey cut off several fronds but the poor thing appears to be in good health. It will grow back.” She looked at Griffin. “I cannot tell you how much this means to me. Thank you, Mr. Winters. I hope that someday I can repay the favor.”

  Caleb’s jaw tightened. He cleared his throat.

  “My dear,” he said to Lucinda, “There is no need to get overly emotional about this.”

  “But I truly am grateful,” Lucinda insisted. “I am, indeed, in Mr. Winters’s debt.”

&nbs
p; Griffin was already smiling his slow, cold smile. “As you wish, Mrs. Jones. I collect favors. It is something of a hobby of mine.”

  Caleb shot Griffin a wary glance. “It’s just a fern, Lucinda. It was your property to start with. Winters merely returned it to you. No favors involved.”

  “I disagree,” Lucinda said. “My Ameliopteris is very special to me. I will be forever grateful to Mr. Winters.”

  “I’m glad you are pleased, Mrs. Jones,” Griffin said.

  Adelaide gave him a repressive glare and then turned back to Lucinda. “Ignore Mr. Winters. You do not owe him anything just because he rescued your fern. Isn’t that right, Mr. Winters?”

  Griffin inclined his head in a gallant gesture. “Always happy to be of service to one of the proprietors of Jones and Jones.”

  Caleb fixed Griffin with a steely expression. “You say the Hulseys got away?”

  “I think it would be prudent to assume that is the case,” Griffin said. “That underground laboratory of theirs was connected to some old medieval tunnels.”

  “Given their history with various employers, I think it likely that they had some emergency escape plans prepared,” Caleb said. He sounded resigned. “It’s certainly what we would have done.”

  “Yes,” Griffin said. “It is.”

  Caleb exhaled thoughtfully. “We do think alike, you and I.”

  Griffin did not respond to that statement but he did not deny it, either, Adelaide noticed.

  “Well, on a positive note,” she said briskly, “if the Hulseys did get away it will mean more work for Jones and Jones.”

  Caleb looked grim. “I assure you, Mrs. Pyne, the firm does not lack for clients. Damned nuisance they are, too.”

  “Don’t believe a word he says.” Lucinda patted his arm affectionately. “He loves the challenge of an investigation. And so do I. Now, then, with Luttrell dead, what will become of the underworld empire that he controlled?”

  Griffin lounged back in his desk chair. “As neither Mr. Pierce nor I are interested in the brothel or opium business, I expect that there will soon be some squabbling over the remains.”

  Adelaide poured some tea for Lucinda. “In the meantime, my charity house and the Academy will take in as many of the women who worked in Luttrell’s establishments as can be convinced to leave the streets.”

  Lucinda looked impressed. “Congratulations, Adelaide. Just think, in one fell swoop, all of those notorious brothels have been destroyed. That is a very impressive accomplishment for any social reformer.”

  “I cannot take the credit,” Adelaide said. “Mr. Winters is the amazing social reformer who succeeded in leveling Luttrell’s empire. I can’t wait to read the account in The Flying Intelligencer.”

  Griffin fixed her with a dangerous look. His eyes heated a little. “I will be more than a little displeased if my name appears in the sensation press.”

  “Really, sir, there is no need to issue dire threats and warnings,” Adelaide said. She set the teapot back down on the tray. “I assure you, I will not mention a word to Gilbert Otford or any of the other gentlemen of the press. But I cannot be held responsible for any rumors that might even now be circulating.”

  “Yes,” Griffin vowed, “you can and will be held accountable.”

  Adelaide smiled. “More tea?”

  Caleb frowned at the chunk of red glass sitting on the corner of the desk. “What can you tell us about the crystal?”

  “Very little.” Griffin got to his feet and went around to the front of the desk. He propped himself against the edge and picked up the crystal. “The devices appear to be able to enhance the focus of one’s natural psychical currents, at least temporarily. But the crystals burn out quickly.”

  Caleb rose and took the crystal from him. He held the device up to the light for a closer look. “You say the Hulseys did not take credit for them?”

  “No. Luttrell made it clear that he obtained them from Smith, who, according to Luttrell, is Arcane. Smith moves in your world, Jones, not mine.”

  “You’re quite right, Mr. Winters,” Lucinda said. “Smith is our responsibility. We will investigate immediately.”

  Caleb frowned. “Tell me exactly how Luttrell described Smith’s position in Arcane.”

  “He claimed that Smith was at the very heart of the organization.”

  Caleb nodded, grim- faced. “Odds are excellent that he’s on the Council, then. That is the heart of Arcane.”

  “Well, at least that narrows our list of suspects,” Lucinda pointed out.

  “I did warn Gabe that some of those half-mad old alchemists on the Council would prove to be troublesome,” Caleb said.

  “I can help you identify the right man when you do find him,” Adelaide offered. “I know his dreamprints.”

  “That will be extremely useful,” Lucinda said. “Is there anything else you or Mr. Winters can tell us about him?”

  “One thing, perhaps,” Griffin said slowly. “I think that your Mr. Smith may have an obsession with the genealogical records of the Society. I believe that is how he found Adelaide the first time thirteen years ago.”

  A great stillness came over Caleb. He exchanged a look with Lucinda. She nodded somberly.

  “Samuel Lodge,” Caleb said very quietly.

  HALF AN HOUR LATER, the length of time it took them to reach Lodge’s town house in a fast hansom, Griffin and Caleb stood together in Lodge’s bedroom. The wardrobe was open but it was only partially empty. Lodge had evidently taken only as many clothes as he could stuff into a pack or a small suitcase. There was a leather-bound notebook on one shelf.

  Caleb looked at the nervous housekeeper. “When did he leave?”

  “Mr. L-lodge left about an hour ago,” the woman stuttered nervously. “He said there was a family emergency at his estates in the North.”

  “Did he receive any visitors before he left?” Griffin asked. “Were any messages delivered?”

  “Y-yes, sir. A boy brought a message to the kitchen door. Said it was urgent. That was when Mr. Lodge told me that he had to leave immediately.”

  “Damn,” Caleb muttered. “The Hulseys must have sent word to him after they escaped.”

  “They are no doubt hoping for future employment,” Griffin said. He walked to the wardrobe and picked up the notebook. He opened it and studied some of the entries. “It appears that Lodge has been very busy with Arcane’s genealogical records of late.”

  Caleb frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “According to these notes he recently searched for and found three young men, all hunter-talents. All three grew up in orphanages. They were experimental subjects of a sort. He was curious to see if the crystals would work for other kinds of talents, but he did not want anyone within Arcane to become aware of his experiments. After he started doing business with Luttrell he realized he might need the three as bodyguards.”

  “How in blazes did Lodge find the three hunters?”

  “The same way he found Adelaide. Through the genealogical records. The three men he identified as probably having some strong talent were all fathered by members of the Society. But the babes were illegitimate. They disappeared into orphanages.”

  “So Lodge now has some well-armed hunters protecting him.”

  Griffin closed the notebook. “Makes one wonder how many children of Arcane have vanished into the streets over the years because they were orphaned or born illegitimate.”

  Caleb exhaled deeply. “Arcane needs to do a better job of looking after its own.”

  A SHORT TIME LATER Adelaide stepped into the front hall of the town house and raised her talent. Decades of warped dreamprints were thickly layered on the marble tiles. The psychical footsteps shimmered with an oily luminescence. Her stomach tightened. She was suddenly aware of Griffin’s hand on her arm, steadying her.

  “Lodge is most certainly Mr. Smith,” she said. “There is no question about it.”

  Caleb looked satisfied. “I made a few inquiries. It appear
s that he has fled to the Continent. I doubt very much that he will risk coming back. He knows that Jones and Jones will be waiting.”

  “What I do not understand,” Adelaide said, “is why Lodge’s dreamlight patterns are so disturbed.” She studied the floor. “The instability appears to have grown worse over the years.”

  Caleb looked at Lucinda. “Do you sense any signs of the formula?”

  “No,” Lucinda said. “None whatsoever. There is no hint of poison here, at least not the sort that I can detect.”

  “The crystals,” Griffin suggested. “Perhaps something about using them affects the resonating patterns of one’s dreamlight energy over time.”

  Caleb was impressed. “Do you know, Winters, I think your talents have been wasted as a crime lord. You would have made an excellent detective.”

  “Why is it,” Griffin asked, “that lately everyone seems to think that I chose the wrong career?”

  48

  SHE UNDRESSED, GOT INTO HER SILK NIGHTGOWN, TURNED down the sheets and then stood looking at the bed, undecided. It had been an exhausting day. She knew she desperately needed sleep but she doubted that she would even be able to close her eyes. The unpleasant shivers that always accompanied the aftermath of danger and violence were still fluttering through her, putting her senses on edge.

  A large glass of brandy might help, she thought. She was contemplating that thought when she heard the single knock on the connecting door. Hot energy swept through her, momentarily driving out the shivers.

  She drew a breath, crossed the room and opened the door. Griffin stood there. He had started to undress but had not completed the process. He still wore his trousers. His shirt hung open. She knew that he needed sleep even more than she did. But when she opened her senses she saw that his dreamprints burned.

  “Griffin,” she whispered. She opened her arms.

  Without a word, he moved into the room, swept her up and fell with her onto the silk sheets.

  He made love to her with an intensity and a single-mindedness that took her breath away.