Quicksilver

by Amanda Quick

  “There will be no more threats to Miss Dean’s career,” Sweetwater said. “If I hear so much as a whisper of gossip I will assume it came from you, and I will come for you.”

  He did not wait for a response, which was just as well because Gilmore doubted that he was capable of speech.

  He sat at the desk for a long time, collecting his nerve. After a while he got up, crossed the room to the brandy decanter and poured a large measure of the strong spirits into a glass. He downed the brandy in three swallows. Then he poured another glass.

  After a while his nerves recovered somewhat.

  One thing was clear, he would have to pursue his vendetta against Arcane without the assistance of Virginia Dean. Well, it was not as if she was the only powerful talent in London, he thought. He would find another who could help him destroy the Society.

  FORTY

  You do realize that Mr. Sweetwater and his associates will be here soon,” Virginia said.

  She sat next to Mrs. Crofton on the velvet bench, her left wrist bound to Mrs. Crofton’s right wrist with the heavy manacle. The chain of the manacle had been looped around the center leg of the padded bench. The iron bench leg was, in turn, bolted to the floor.

  Welch was busily arranging three clockwork curiosities, a large praying mantis, a monstrous scorpion and a giant spider. He positioned the terrible toys in a semicircle in front of Virginia and Mrs. Crofton, careful to make certain that the curiosities were out of range of their feet.

  “Rest assured there is no way that Sweetwater can possibly learn the location of this house,” Alcina Norgate said. “Just as he will never discover the identity of the glass-reader killer. I assume that is why he took up with you, is it not? It is the only explanation for his presence in this affair. I never did believe that he was merely an investigator who was out to expose a few pathetic fraudulent practitioners.”

  “You seem to have it all reasoned out,” Virginia said. “But why in heaven’s name did you get involved with Hollister and his wife? They were both mad.”

  “Their eccentricities are what made the entire plan possible,” Alcina said. “It was a somewhat risky venture, to be sure, but the results made the effort worthwhile.”

  Owen had been right, Virginia thought. Money had been the motivation for much of what had occurred. But she did not want to let Alcina and Welch know that Owen was closing in on the answers. She needed to buy time for Mrs. Crofton and herself.

  “You were after the Hollister fortune?” she asked aloud.

  Rage flashed in Alcina’s eyes with the startling speed of a wildfire. “The Hollister money belongs to Jasper and me. It will soon be ours. Lady Hollister inherited her husband’s fortune, you see. But I persuaded her to leave it all to me in her own will. I had planned to get rid of her in due course, but she very graciously took care of the problem herself. Now that she is dead, I am the sole beneficiary.”

  Suddenly it all fell into place, the disconcerting burst of fury, the talent, the obsession with the Hollister inheritance.

  “You and your brother are Hollister’s illegitimate offspring, aren’t you?” Virginia said quietly.

  Mrs. Crofton nodded with a knowing air. “Ah, so that’s the way it is.”

  Alcina frowned. “Very good, Miss Dean. Did you guess the truth because you and I share the stain of illegitimacy?”

  “Well, that, and because you and your brother are obviously as mad as your father,” Virginia said.

  The taunt proved to be a mistake. Fury flashed again in Alcina’s eyes. She opened the nearest glass case, reached inside and took out a crystal pendant.

  The pendant sparked. A senses-searing fire crackled in the room. Virginia had lowered her talent, but that did not save her from the shock of the pendant’s energy. It was as if she had been struck by lightning. Instinctively she put up her free hand in a useless attempt to shield herself.

  “No, Alcina,” Welch shouted. Alarmed, he rushed toward her. “You must not destroy her senses. I need her and her talent.”

  “Miss Dean,” Mrs. Crofton said urgently. “Are you all right?”

  The white-hot energy ceased abruptly.

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” Alcina shrieked. “Don’t ever say such a thing again or I will blind you permanently. Do you understand?”

  Virginia blinked several times. “I understand.”

  Cautiously she heightened her senses. When she perceived the heat in the mirrored walls and the dazzling energy of the artifacts around her, she breathed a small sigh of relief. Her talent still functioned.

  “You are right about one thing,” Alcina said, once again unnaturally calm. “My father was quite mad, and so was his ridiculous wife.”

  “How did you discover that Hollister was your father?” Virginia asked.

  “The orphanage where Jasper and I were sent after our mother died burned down years ago. All of the records were destroyed in the fire. It wasn’t until last year that I was finally able to locate a woman who had been close to our mother when they both worked as maids for Hollister’s parents. Hollister got her pregnant when he was a young man. She was, of course, let go. She could not afford to feed her infant twins. She wound up in the workhouse, where she died of a fever.”

  Mrs. Crofton stirred on the bench. “An old and very sad story.”

  “True,” Alcina said. “But Jasper and I decided to give our tale a slightly different ending. First, however, we had to find a way to survive in the world. When we left the orphanage, we were sent out to work in a wealthy household. Jasper was a footman. I was a maid. But I was fortunate in my looks. At the age of sixteen I succeeded in catching the eye of an elderly, extremely wealthy gentleman who had become senile. He had no close family to protect him from me. It was no trick at all to persuade him to marry me.”

  “Something tells me he did not last long after the wedding,” Virginia said.

  “He expired a month later. A great tragedy but one that passed unnoticed in the social world because he had not gone into society for decades. I inherited his fortune and this house. Jasper came here to live with me. We copied the manners and accents of our betters, and now we pass easily among them when we wish, as you do, Miss Dean. Really, we have so much in common.”

  Virginia waved a hand to indicate the contents of the mirrored gallery. “This collection is yours, I assume?”

  “Yes.” Alcina looked around with satisfaction. “I have spent a great deal of time and money acquiring glass antiquities with a paranormal provenance. Jasper designed this chamber for me. We both inherited our father’s talent, you see.”

  Welch looked around the room with a sense of satisfaction. “It was some years before I realized what was happening in this room.”

  “Over time the accumulated energy of so many relics imbued with psychical power has saturated the mirrors,” Virginia said. “That explains the fire in the glass.”

  Curiosity leaped in Welch’s eyes. “You can sense the power trapped in the mirrors? Yes, I suppose that is only natural, given the strength of your talent. Very good, Miss Dean. You might be interested to know that the process works both ways. As the energy has built up in the mirrors, the currents have been reflected back into the artifacts, enhancing the forces infused into them. Those forces, in turn, are reflected back into the mirrors. The process has gone on for over a decade. The result is that this chamber has stored an astonishing amount of powerful energy.”

  Virginia looked at Alcina. “When you discovered the identity of your father you began to plot your vengeance. You found a way into the Hollister household as Lady Hollister’s companion.”

  Alcina gave her an approving look. “It was not terribly difficult. None of Lady Hollister’s companions lasted long. I bought an inexpensive, tailor-made dress, pretended to be a respectable woman who had fallen on hard times and knocked on the front door. I told the housekeeper that I had been sent by an agency. No one asked any questions. I was accepted as Lady Hollister’s companion almost imm
ediately.”

  “Once inside the household, you began to take charge,” Mrs. Crofton said. “You manipulated Lady Hollister, who was too mentally unbalanced to understand what was happening.”

  Virginia looked at Mrs. Crofton in surprise.

  “I found the Hollisters’ housekeeper,” Mrs. Crofton explained. “She answered my questions, but she must have slipped a drug into the tea she served me.”

  “It was the same drug that we used on you, Miss Dean,” Alcina said. “After Mrs. Crofton was unconscious, the housekeeper sent a note to me, informing me of what had happened. We had made a bargain, you see. I paid her a great deal of money to ensure that she would notify me if anyone came around asking questions. I sent Jasper to collect Mrs. Crofton.”

  “Gaining control of Lady Hollister must have been a simple matter,” Virginia said. “It did not require any talent to manage her, and through her, the entire household. But Hollister would have been another problem altogether.”

  “My father was a rather dangerous man.” Alcina smiled. “But when you discover a man’s passion, you know what is required to control him.”

  “How long did it take you to realize that he was raping and murdering young prostitutes in that mirrored chamber below the mansion?” Virginia asked.

  “Not long at all. I realized almost at once that something very odd was going on, of course, but Hollister kept his secrets surprisingly well. It was not as if he went about practicing his hobby every Saturday night. He often went weeks, sometimes months, between kills. But eventually the fever would come upon him and he would go off into the night to find a suitable victim.”

  “How did you learn the truth?” Virginia said.

  “Jasper followed him one night,” Alcina said.

  “When I realized what he was doing with the street girls, I began to conceive my grand experiment,” Welch said. “I had already discovered Mrs. Bridewell and her clockwork curiosities, and I had developed my theory. I was anxious to perform some experiments with the devices.”

  “You convinced your father to let you run those experiments on his victims,” Virginia whispered.

  “He was very enthusiastic about the plan when he realized that I was his son. He certainly got into the spirit of the experiments, I must say.”

  Virginia did not think she could be any more horrified than she already was. But a new chill slithered down her spine. She stared at Welch.

  “You helped your father murder three street girls in the basement of the Hollister house, and then you murdered Mrs. Ratford and Mrs. Hackett,” she said.

  Welch scowled. “You speak as if I were a common criminal. I am a scientist. I have been carrying out experiments with glasslight for years, but it wasn’t until I accidentally discovered Mrs. Bridewell’s inventions that I was able to conceive of a way to realize the full potential of my work. My father and I worked together to perfect the process of infusing the death energy into the mirrors.”

  “Why did you stop using streetwalkers as your victims?” Virginia asked. “Why take the risk of killing Ratford and Hackett?”

  “It occurred to me that if the subject that was to be extinguished—”

  “You mean the murder victim,” Virginia said.

  Welch ignored the interruption. “If the subject was possessed of a talent that was sensitive to glasslight, the energy given off at death would have a natural affinity for mirrors and be far more readily absorbed by the glass.”

  Mrs. Crofton glowered at him. “What is the purpose of all this murdering? Why are you trying to infuse paranormal energy into mirrors?”

  “Of course you do not understand,” Welch said impatiently. “You are a housekeeper, not a scientist.” He turned to Virginia. “But surely you, with your great talent, can perceive the potential of my work, Miss Dean.”

  “As far as I can tell, your only goal is death by glasslight,” she said. “Where is the use in that? A gun would certainly be more efficient.”

  “Bah. You are as ignorant as your housekeeper. This is where you come in. Over time this chamber has absorbed a vast quantity of energy. It only remains to find a way to ignite the power in the mirrors.”

  “You think you can do that by murdering me and infusing my energy into the glasses?”

  “Indeed. What’s more, if my theory is correct, I will be able to construct other engines like this one.”

  “Good grief,” Virginia said.

  “Once I learn how to harness and control the energy in the mirrors, there is no limit to what I can achieve. I stand on the brink of creating amazing weapons that will bring down armies yet leave buildings, roads and factories untouched.”

  “In other words, you are crafting a very large psychical cannon,” Virginia said.

  “Advanced weaponry is only one potential aspect of my work,” Welch said. “Power is power. It can be used for an infinite number of purposes. A psychical scientist with a talent for engineering might find a way to use my glasslight generators to power ships and trains. One day someone might use one of my generators to unlock the secrets of the paranormal spectrum. Who knows what might be accomplished if mankind succeeds in comprehending the workings of the paranormal.”

  “And all of it powered by death,” Virginia said. “Something tells me that is not going to generate a lot of enthusiasm in the general public.”

  Welch’s face tightened with anger. “The public need never know that my Great Engines require the death energy of an occasional glasslight-talent or two to ignite them.”

  “A few glass-readers will disappear here and there, and no one will even notice. Is that the plan?”

  “The reflective properties of the mirrors will magnify the results of each subject’s contribution,” Welch assured her.

  “How do you plan to control your looking-glass engines? You said yourself that you do not know Mrs. Bridewell’s secret for releasing the energy stored in glass by mechanical means.”

  “I am still working on that aspect of the problem,” Welch admitted. “But it is only a matter of time before I reason it out. Meanwhile, igniting the energy in this chamber will have one very immediate and useful effect. It will vastly enhance the power of each of the objects in this room.”

  Mrs. Crofton looked disgusted. “You’re turning these artifacts into weapons?”

  “Weapons that are far more powerful than Mrs. Bridewell’s toys,” Welch assured her. “One can only imagine what devices I will be able to create in this chamber once I have ignited the mirrors with the energy given off by a high-level glasslight-talent like Miss Dean. And that is just a starting point. Future applications are unlimited.”

  “Mirrors break rather easily,” Virginia said.

  “If that was intended as an attempt at humor,” Alcina said, “perhaps you don’t understand why you are here today.”

  “I’m well aware of why you brought me here,” Virginia said. “Your brother wants to murder me in this room because I’m the strongest glass-reader he has ever come across. There is a lot of energy trapped in these walls. He thinks he can use me to ignite it.”

  Alcina looked amused. “You are impressively calm about the situation in which you find yourself, Miss Dean.”

  “So are you,” Virginia said. “Why are you allowing Welch to use this fantastic collection and these mirrors for his grand experiment?”

  “The more powerful the mirrors in this room become, the more they enhance not only the objects but also my talent.”

  “Surely you can see that your brother is mad as a hatter,” Virginia said.

  Alcina smiled. “Like father, like son.”

  FORTY-ONE

  One last question,” Virginia said. She looked at Alcina. “What went wrong that night at the Hollister mansion?”

  “Everything went wrong that night,” Alcina said, her face twisting with fury and remembered frustration. “Jasper and I always intended to kill Hollister, but we did not plan for him to die that night. We wanted him to suffer.”


  “And, of course, make a contribution to my Great Engine,” Welch added. “Father was a fairly high-level glasslight-talent. Not nearly as powerful as you, Miss Dean, but certainly strong enough to enhance the store of energy in this chamber.”

  “The plan was to kidnap you and hold you in Hollister’s basement until we could arrange to transport you here,” Welch said. “We reasoned that if anyone noticed that you had disappeared, the investigation would get no farther than the door of the mansion. Hollister would see to it that it was stopped at that point.”

  “Hollister cooperated because you promised him that he could participate in the experiment, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.” Welch smiled. “He was very excited. He even offered to toss in the little whore that he had picked up for his own amusement. Extra fuel, he said. Of course, he did not entirely understand what I meant by the word ‘participate.’”

  “But Lady Hollister finally snapped that night,” Virginia said.

  “It was something you said at the reading, you stupid woman,” Alcina hissed. “You told her that you saw the ghost of her dead daughter in the mirror and that the girl had been murdered by someone in the household, someone the child feared greatly.”

  “Her own father,” Virginia said.

  “I’m sure Lady Hollister had long ago guessed the truth, but she refused to acknowledge it to herself all those years. Perhaps the denial is what drove her mad. But that night you ripped through her illusions by forcing her to confront the ghost of her daughter.”

  “Well, actually, I don’t see ghosts,” Virginia began.

  “She thought you did,” Alcina shot back, accusation ringing in the words. “You were not awake to watch her lose whatever frail grasp she had left on sanity, because at that point you were overcome by the drug I put in your tea. Lady Hollister thought you had fainted. I told her I would arrange to have you sent home in a cab. She went to her bedroom and locked the door. I assumed she was taking her laudanum. Hollister and I got you downstairs. We were about to lock you in one of the cells.”