The Bones of Ruin

by Sarah Raughley

  “Belgium’s boars?” Adam’s eyebrows raised with amusement.

  “It isn’t against the rules for a champion to switch teams of his or her own will, is it? At least”—Bellerose dabbed her lip with a napkin—“it wasn’t a rule we made. So technically, I’m doing nothing wrong. Luckily, I’ve made some progress with one.”

  Finding loopholes was only the smart thing to do in a tournament such as this. But challenging Van der Ven took guts. The military man would not take it lying down. It was that kind of brazenness Adam actually admired in her.

  “You know,” she continued, “you still haven’t answered my question about Belle Vue Zoo. And your involvement in the first round.”

  “Still on that, are you?” The orange juice was freshly squeezed. Even if it were poisoned, it would have been worth it. He loved orange juice. “Have you learned anything from my father’s research?”

  “Alas, no. But I’ve discovered something else that unfortunately has led me to consider all the questions I have about you a little more carefully. Pierre!”

  The ghoul-like man wafted into the dining room, a dark cloud following behind him as if he were slowly dying from dysentery. “Yes, madame.”

  “Have you confirmed attendance for all our guests?”

  “Yes, madame.” Pierre nodded slowly. Everything this man did was very slow.

  “And what of our special guest upstairs? He’s still mending well, I hope?”

  Adam carefully placed his glass back on the table. Who exactly was this special guest she kept going on about?

  “He is as comfortable as he can be, madame, but he still has trouble talking.”

  Madame sighed. “Of course, the poor thing. That will be all.” She looked at Adam. “Would you like to see him? I think he responds to company quite well.”

  Adam smiled cordially as he wiped his mouth with a napkin and left the table with Madame Bellerose. Just what was that witch up to? It bothered Adam to no end that he couldn’t grasp the answer as he followed her up the grand staircase, even though he ran every hypothesis in his mind while responding pleasantly to her idle chatter.

  “I’ve realized as I grow older just how important it is to keep track of your friends,” she said, completely insincerely. “My friend was found floating in a river near Oxford. A nasty blow to the head. He’d been healing there in Oxford all this time, unbeknownst to anyone. But you see, I’m a very suspicious person. And so I wanted to discover for myself what happened to him.”

  Madame’s heels were crisp upon the wooden staircase. The rhythm filled Adam with dread.

  “I found him after the auction and immediately had him delivered to my house,” she continued as if speaking about a package. They walked down the hallway and stopped outside a room on the second floor. “But as he stayed here, I began to wonder.”

  They walked inside. A group of servants and nurses was tending to an old man breathing shallowly upon a comfortable bed, the curtains and windows open. The servants bowed and curtseyed at their presence and one rushed to close the door behind them. It wasn’t until Adam drew near enough to see the man’s face that his blood ran cold.

  “This is impossible.” Adam’s face paled, his lips trembling. “This can’t be.”

  “And yet it is. Mr. Carl Anderson is indeed alive, Adam, although we sent you to kill him.”

  The servants and nurses were completely under Bellerose’s employ. They didn’t respond in any way to her words, as trained and instructed, Adam expected.

  “I did have him killed,” he said in a hushed voice, watching the sleeping man. “I was there to make sure it was done.”

  “But for what purpose? Or rather, for whose purpose.” Madame Bellerose dismissed the nurses and servants, who scurried away and shut the door, leaving the three alone. “We asked you to kill John because he betrayed the Committee by taking the Moon Skeleton and hiding his research. He aimed to betray us. To find an ally who could help him escape us. But unlike you, he was never quite so good at concealing his intentions. Or maybe he just trusted the wrong man.”

  Neville Bradford. His father didn’t know how desperate the man was to find a seat on the mysterious and powerful Committee. John had gone to both Bradford and Anderson, his friends from the old days. Anderson had agreed to help. Bradford sold them both out and then had a sudden crisis of conscience once Anderson was “dead,” the idiot.

  Madame stepped to the side of Mr. Anderson’s bed. “He was a stupid man, your father.” She scowled, looking at the barely living body as if she wanted to strangle it to death. “He really thought we in the Committee weren’t worthy to guide the next stage of humanity. The audacity.” She squeezed her fists so tightly that Adam could see a spot of blood developing on her white glove where her nails had been. “But the real question is, what do you believe, Adam?”

  By now Adam had regained control over himself. He stayed perfectly still.

  “I know we in the Committee wanted them all dead,” Madame continued. “To hide our secret. To make sure that not even the Crown knows that the world is to end and how we plan to escape from the apocalypse. Only we Enlighteners deserve to have the power that knowledge brings. But what about you?” Madame cocked an eyebrow. “Why did you want them dead?”

  Adam responded carefully. “For the same reason, of course.”

  “Really? Because I’ve been spending my spare time with dear Mr. Anderson, seeing if I can get him to say something intelligible. And one day, do you know what he told me?”

  Adam gritted his teeth but said nothing.

  “ ‘That boy will betray you all.’ That’s what he said.”

  The room filled with silence but for the sound of Carl Anderson’s labored breathing. Adam remembered that night clearly. The night he hired men to march Anderson out to the river blindfolded. Just like Bradford, Anderson had learned John Temple’s dangerous secret—the one secret Adam didn’t want anyone to possess. And just like Mr. Bradford, Mr. Anderson had bargained, begged for his life. But Adam wouldn’t be stirred.

  “Please, Adam!” Beads of sweat had dripped down Anderson’s face as the hired goons readied their clubs. “The Committee is evil!”

  “To hell with the Committee,” Adam had told him. “I’m doing things my way.”

  Damn it! He should have killed the old man himself. Angrily, Adam turned around. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  “And yet you so clearly have too many secrets,” Madame Bellerose said as Adam began stalking toward the door. “I don’t like men with secrets.”

  Adam reached for the doorknob.

  “And I don’t like men who lie.”

  Adam saw Pierre on the other side of the door before a whack on the side of the head from the man’s cane knocked him out cold.

  * * *

  Adam woke with a gasp, stripped of his shirt and chained by the wrists to the ceiling of what could only be described as a torture chamber. All kinds of painful-looking medieval instruments hung upon the dark red clay walls. It was the bucket of chilled water Bellerose had splashed on his face that had woken him so violently. His bare chest was cold and wet, the hairs on his arms raised. He shivered.

  “Oh, my dear Adam, you’re awake!” Madame threw the bucket to the ground and clapped her hands together. “How do you like my basement?”

  Warily, Adam glanced at the lit candles on the bloodstained table. “It’s very you.”

  “Now, Adam, are you prepared to tell me everything you’ve been hiding from me?”

  “I’m not hiding anything,” Adam lied, earning him a slap in the face.

  “What about your father’s research? The secrets he kept even from the Committee. You know them, don’t you?”

  “Not at all.”

  This time a backhand. Madame Bellerose was finished playing. She took off her gloves before she gripped his chin so that he could feel her nails dig into his skin.

  “What about that girl you’re so fond of? What would she do if she
knew you murdered your own father and at least one of his friends? Maybe I should invite her to my party and ask her. Oh, you didn’t know?” Bellerose added as Adam narrowed his eyes. “This party is dedicated to Mr. Anderson—his re-debut into civilized society. Although only the Committee will be in attendance. I’m sure they’ll be very interested in what he has to say.”

  And no doubt, if Bellerose uncovered another snake within their numbers, just like her brother, along with the truth of his father’s research, it would earn her their respect—and fear.

  “The doctor said Mr. Anderson’s inability to speak is a reluctance. A psychological issue rather than simply a physical one. I wonder if he’d be in a talking mood if I sent Iris to speak with him. Of course, I’ll be there too.”

  An ambush. Damn it! Gritting his teeth, Adam struggled against his chains.

  “I love it when your mask cracks. I knew using her would be much more efficient than simply torturing what I want out of you. Do you know why, Adam?” Madame Bellerose leaned in close, tilting her head. Adam could feel her breath on his ear. “Because I think whatever little secrets you’re keeping have to do with that beast you seem so inexplicably fond of.”

  “We’re the beasts, Violet,” he replied, rattling his chains.

  But Bellerose looked content. She’d sniffed a connection. And though she didn’t know what that connection was, it made her all the more dangerous.

  “Guard?” Bellerose turned. “Guard? Viens ici.”

  Through the door stepped the young champion he’d seen inside Club Uriel. The Amazon: Rin. Her face, newly unveiled, caused Bellerose to cringe and swear in French, complaining about the young woman’s eye. Rin kept her face neutral, but from years of feigning compliance himself, Adam could tell she’d be happy to lop the woman’s head off right where she stood.

  “I’m getting ready to go out. You’ll be coming with me, of course. Watch him while I’m dressing,” she said in French. Rin nodded. “Adam, I’ve done a terrible thing.” From underneath her dress she pulled the tarot card of Judgment. “It’s meant to be in a grand house my father bought for me on St. Martin’s Street.”

  “Where Newton lived more than a hundred years ago,” finished Adam with a cough.

  “I wonder if your champion will come if I offer her something in exchange.” Bellerose seemed to relish his inability to answer. “Don’t think of trying anything daring while I’m away, Adam. One of Van der Ven’s men will be here shortly to watch you. Seems like I chose the right boar to bargain with.”

  Bellerose laughed as she left Adam alone with the girl named Rin. But Rin wasn’t like the other champions or even Bellerose’s servants. He’d seen her standing with Iris as Cordiero’s corpse fell down the staircase. Seen her body language, her closeness to Iris. Her arm up, blocking Iris as if to shield her. That, her clear hatred for Bellerose, and her current, dispassionate expression were enough for him to make a quick deduction. Once the door closed, Adam gathered together all the Fon words he knew from his father’s research, mixing them with French in hopes she’d understand.

  “Iris is in danger. I need you to help me.” And when Rin raised her eyebrow, he nodded. “I need you to give a message to one of Iris’s teammates. Listen carefully.”

  34

  THE DAY OF DARKNESS. THE white crystal. The South Kensington explosion. The Fanciful Freaks. Iris didn’t know what any of it meant. But what she did know was that she stood at the center of it all. The Crystal Palace was where she had to go next. If the British government had a stock of white crystal right here in the city, where else could she go?

  She sat on her bed as Max and his friends debated their next move. Rin’s information about a card being at Marlborough House was wrong somehow. She’d misunderstood Bellerose. That was what Iris had to tell them to stop them from going back to try again. Instead, as the guilt of a lie stung her, she gave them an idea: target the teams, not the locations. Henry’s team had gotten a card for sure. They were the obvious choice. But where to find them? That was the debate. Some would search outside while others would stay in case they returned to the club.

  Once Jinn sat down next to her, she snapped out of her daze.

  “You seem distant.” Jinn leaned forward, letting his elbows prop him up.

  “Oh?”

  “A little.”

  With a sigh, Iris shut her eyes. “Does it bother you?”

  “Why wouldn’t it?”

  Iris could feel her purple ribbon tied in a great bow brushing against her ear. She hadn’t taken it off since he’d given it to her.

  “I understand your feelings,” Jinn said softly once it was clear Iris wasn’t going to answer. “Things are so different now. So wild.” They both glanced over at Max and his friends, who’d all begun to bicker. Cherice was wringing Max by the neck. “In only a few days, everything has changed so drastically. Just like back then.”

  “Back then?”

  “When my father died. Everything changed in an instant. I was on my own, alone and desperate. Eventually, I found a steady rhythm, but now things have changed again. I wonder if that means we’ve changed.”

  People were made up of their experiences, their memories, their understanding of themselves relative to those around them. For Iris, those three points were like parts of a wave constantly in flux, a picture changing and taking shape before her eyes. How could it not change her? But who would she be once the dust had settled? The more she learned about herself, the more complete and the more fearful she became. Why did she have to go through this just to know who she was? What was so special about her past that its secret had to be so safely guarded?

  “There are times when I feel separated from myself,” Iris confessed. “I thought participating in the tournament and discovering more about the truth would bring me together. But as this goes on, with all the information flooding in, the more everything feels out of control. There are times when it all makes sense and times when I feel… sectioned. Like my inside and outside aren’t in harmony with each other.”

  “Then you need to ground yourself.” Jinn placed the back of his hand on her cheek. A small touch that sent an electric shock through her chest. “Ground yourself in the familiar. In me, for example. Ground yourself in me, Iris.”

  As if suddenly catching himself, he withdrew his hand and stared resolutely ahead. His touch was familiar, as familiar as his hands gripped firmly and confidently around her waist, tossing her up into the sky. It excited her at the very same time it gave her comfort.

  It was her own bubbling emotions that sent her into confusion. Because at the same time as she craved Jinn’s touch, every time she heard Max laugh heartily at the other side of the room, it made her feel lighter. Like all this nonsense would sort itself out. She looked at Max now as he battled with Cherice and smiled in spite of herself. She wasn’t sure if Jinn noticed. She wasn’t sure if it was important even if he did. But maybe she was thinking too much. With a deep breath, she placed both her hands upon his face.

  “I’ll try that,” she told him with a little smile.

  The morning sun streamed through the window. They’d had a little sleep, but overall spent most of the night coming up with a list of places they could feasibly check before midnight tonight. Cherice overheard some club members gossiping. Apparently, many champions were checking the area. But as far as Iris knew, nobody had come to the second floor of Club Uriel with all three cards.

  The game was still on.

  Soon, a knock came at the door.

  “Rin?” Iris looked excitedly at the girl in her long black jacket standing in the threshold of her room. “Do you…” She dared to think it. “Do you want to join us?”

  To her dismay, Rin shook her head. “Come to the club room on the second floor. Someone there wants to see you.”

  She cast Max and Jinn a furtive glance before turning and beckoning for Iris to follow.

  “Have you found a card?” Iris said. “And by the way, who’s this new p
artner you have?”

  “A card?” Rin thought as they descended the steps. “You could say that.” She didn’t answer the second question. Not out of malice, but something else. Next to her, Iris could see her eyes shifting nervously to the side.

  Finally, they came to the second-floor club room, mysteriously empty even at this early hour but for one individual. Iris recognized her even while seeing only the back of her head.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” Rin said, patting Iris on the shoulder before going.

  The woman’s wide-brimmed pink hat had several red feathers that matched the color of her overcoat, dress, and of course, that hair, twisted expertly with little white flowers sticking out from the folds. Her white-gloved hands daintily held a steaming cup of tea and brought it to her lips. The only light in the room was through one drawn curtain over a window near the bar.

  “Don’t just stand there.” Madame Bellerose waved to the leather seat in front of her.

  Iris defiantly strode down the aisle and sat opposite the woman. She readied a slew of clever insults on her tongue, but then looked down at the table.

  A tarot card. Judgment.

  Iris’s fingers couldn’t help but twitch at the sight of it. Madame slipped it into her jacket’s inside breast pocket.

  “In due time,” Madame said, taking another sip from her tea.

  “Are you Patrons allowed to get so involved?” Iris’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t this cheating?”

  “We’re Enlighteners. We do as we please and kill those who disapprove.”

  Madame Bellerose’s lips stretched into a smile as she watched for Iris’s reaction. Iris stayed neutral, although an image of Cordiero, gasping and bloody, rose up in her mind. Bellerose had no idea how much Iris already knew about the Enlightenment Committee—their members, for example. Iris was sure Bellerose was especially interested in how much information Adam was willing to share with Iris. And why.