MARY: As though we could have! I think I paced nervously most of that evening. I may have worn a hole in my bedroom carpet. And of course I worried about Mr. Holmes.
JUSTINE: Beatrice and I read in Mina’s library. You should have joined us. When I am nervous, I find Kant’s Observations on the Feeling of the Beautiful and Sublime always calms me.
BEATRICE: I’m afraid that I read a copy of La Nouvelle Mode. I could not concentrate on anything more serious than a fashion magazine. But where was Catherine?
CATHERINE: Rooftop. I had a lot to think about, and I always feel better on mountains.
Just before Mary was about to go to bed, there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” she called.
It was Mina. “Mary,” she said, walking over to the bed and sitting at the edge of the mattress, “there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Yes?” said Mary. Would Mina say anything more about all those years she had lived in the Jekyll household, spying for the Subcommittee on Bibliographic Citation Format? And did Mary want to hear it?
“Tomorrow, I’d like you to be the one who makes our case in front of the society. You’re Mary Jekyll, your father’s daughter. You have a credibility I don’t. Could you do that?”
“I guess so,” said Mary. “But what do I say—”
“Just let Lucinda talk, and then make your case to Ayesha. No more experiments. No more monsters.”
Mary winced at that word. Did Mina have to use it? Is that what Mina thinks I am? she wondered.
“All right,” she said. She would do it—not because Mina asked, but to stop men like Van Helsing. So there would be no more Lucindas . . .
Mina smiled. “My dear, you were always my favorite student. Good night, sleep well.”
And you were my favorite teacher, thought Mary. Truly, my only teacher. After Mina left her room, she tossed and turned half the night before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
She woke the next morning dreading what the day would bring. There was breakfast, as usual, but only Diana seemed to have any appetite. Even Catherine chewed on some bacon desultorily.
Mary looked around the table. All of them but Diana seemed tired and anxious. Even the Count looked worried, and he knew better than any of them what they were up against.
Lucinda was the only one other than Beatrice wearing a dress—a white muslin that made her look like the heroine of a melodrama. Had Mina chosen it for effect? Of course she had! Mary stole a glance at Mina, who looked weary but resolute. For a moment, Mary longed for the days when Miss Murray had been her friend and companion, the woman she had most looked up to in the world. This Mina was so different! Like Mary, she was wearing a walking suit that would not restrict her movements. The rest of them were in masculine attire and had done their best to look like respectable members of the Société des Alchimistes.
“Here are the things I want you to keep in mind,” said Mina. “First, there will be guards, but they are the usual Academy of Sciences guards. As far as we know, the Société des Alchimistes has not hired any additional guards of its own. The guards won’t be able to tell us from the members by sight. What they will be checking are these.” She opened a small bag and scattered some metal objects on the table. “When I was still Lucinda’s chaperone, I took a wax imprint of Van Helsing’s seal. These are for those of us who will need to get through the front door.”
Mary reached for one and recognized it immediately. She had first seen it on the body of a murdered woman in Whitechapel—poor Molly Keane, her very first case with Sherlock Holmes! It was a metal seal, suitable for hanging on a watch chain or wearing as a pendant. Engraved on it were the letters S.A.
“Diana, Vlad, Laura, and Beatrice, you will be breaking in through the back door, the way we entered on Saturday, so you won’t need to identify yourselves at the entrance. I want you to go directly to the balcony—no getting distracted, Diana!”
“As if!” said Diana under her breath, so only Mary could hear.
“Find and take care of the vampires Van Helsing has positioned there before he can give his signal. You may find other observers as well—Vlad says provisional members, who have no voting rights, sometimes sit in the balcony. Try not to chloroform any of them by accident. Diana is there to break in, Beatrice and Laura to do the chloroforming, Vlad to restrain them. Remember these men are phenomenally strong. Also, they bite.
“Mary and I will go in through the front lobby with Lucinda. We’ll find a place to sit by the meeting room door, and won’t identify ourselves until Van Helsing calls for a vote. First, Ayesha will give the president’s welcome to the members, then the membership will discuss old and new business—that’s when Van Helsing will raise the issue of biological transmutation. And that’s when we’re planning to speak up. Catherine, Justine, and Carmilla will also go in through the front and position themselves about the meeting room. Catherine and Carmilla will be able to detect the vampires by scent. Justine, follow their lead. If they attack—and we don’t know how this meeting will go, any number of things may happen—you must deal with them and do your best to protect the members around you. Disable the vampires as fast as you can—Vlad will join you as soon as he’s done in the balcony to restrain them with the cables. Any questions?”
Mary looked around the table. Catherine was shaking her head, and no one else seemed to have questions either. Suddenly, Diana asked, “Can we bring Hóvirág? I bet she would be useful to bite vampires!”
“No,” said Mina. “Any other questions?”
There were none.
“All right,” she said. “It’s seven o’clock. First group goes by the Danube, second group by Váci utca, third group by Kecskeméti utca. You should be in positions by a quarter to eight. The meeting starts at eight sharp. Group one leaves first, wait five minutes, then group two, etcetera. Ready?”
No, not ready, thought Mary. But she was beginning to learn that one never was truly ready for the difficult things in life. They happened, and one either rose to the occasion or failed to do so. The trick was simply to rise to each occasion as it came.
She was in the third group. Fifteen minutes later, she, Mina, and Lucinda were walking down Múzeum utca. Birds were calling to one another in the linden trees that hung over the park fence. The lavender seller was standing in her usual place. “Levendula! Levendula egy fillér!” she called. Perhaps after this was over, Mary would buy herself a bunch? Surely she would deserve it.
They crossed the square—Kálvin tér, Mina had called it yesterday, when they had gone to the Calvinist church, then made their way down Kecskeméti utca, a narrow street that led between shops, apartment buildings, and more churches—just how many churches were there in Budapest? The air was clean and fresh, and the streets seemed quiet for a Monday morning. Their boot heels clicked against the cobblestones. She had asked Mina if they ought to disguise themselves in some way, but Mina had said no. They were going to speak in front of the society. They needed to do so as themselves, to earn the trust of the members—and perhaps Ayesha herself. The three of them would not carry weapons, and their only disguise would be a small hat with a veil for Lucinda. It was the sort of thing any fashionable woman would wear in summer, to protect her face from the sun—but it would keep Van Helsing from recognizing his daughter in the crowd.
The narrow streets opened up to a square, and once again she could see Gerbeaud, the coffeehouse where Mina had taken them on that first day. Mary wished—how she wished!—this were an ordinary morning, when all they needed to do was see the sights of Budapest, and perhaps stop for some ice cream. But they passed the coffeehouse and proceeded down a street with grand hotels on either side until they came to the park.
Across it, Mary could see the Academy of Sciences, looking exactly the way it had looked on Sunday: official and imposing, like a more ornate version of the College of Surgeons in London.
Mina turned to Lucinda. “Are you all right, my dear?”
Lucinda nodded, but Mary could
tell she was nervous. She reached out and took Lucinda’s hand. “All you have to do is tell your story,” she said.
“I think I can do that,” said Lucinda. Her small, cold hand clutched Mary’s tightly.
“And what about you, Mary? Are you ready?” asked Mina.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” said Mary. She missed the reassuring weight of her pistol.
Mina looked at her watch, a pocket watch with the seal of the Alchemical Society on its chain. “Quarter to eight. Five more minutes, and then we’ll go in. Just enough time to walk through the park.”
What Mary had really been worried about was getting into the building, but it turned out to be surprisingly easy. There were two turbaned men in front of them who looked Indian, speaking a language Mary did not understand. They showed their seals and proceeded into the marble lobby. Then Mina and Mary stepped up to the front desk. Mary pulled Lucinda with her—she was lagging a little behind. The guard at the desk simply looked at their seals and nodded. And then they were inside. Up the steps, to the right—that was what she remembered.
The hallway outside the meeting room was filled with members of the Société des Alchimistes, drinking coffee, greeting one another, making introductions. For the first time, Mary caught a glimpse of this organization her father had belonged to, an organization that had meant so much to him—until his expulsion.
They spoke in a babble of languages—she could make out German, French, and surely that was Italian? And that—no, she had no idea. Perhaps one of the Central European languages? And the members! Men and women, although not as many women, she thought. In the sorts of frock coats one might see in London, but also long jackets ornamented with embroidery, or tunics and loose pants of colorful silk, or in the case of several women, what looked like Indian saris. Several men were wearing fur hats. There was clothing she thought might be Turkish or Greek, and a party of members who appeared to be from the Orient—perhaps Japan? But did she really know the difference between those eastern countries? There was Burma, and China, and Indochina . . . It had been a long time since she had studied geography with Miss Murray. Suddenly, she felt dreadfully ignorant about the world.
Mina led them through the crowd to the meeting hall, which looked just as it had on Saturday, large and paneled in dark wood, except that now it was filled with people. Some of them were already seated, although many were still circulating. Mina found three chairs next to the door. Mary sat down gratefully, feeling less conspicuous that way. She looked around her. At the front of the room was a dais with a podium set on it, and two tables on either sides. She could see Leo Vincey seated at one of them—his golden hair shone in the sunlight coming through the large windows. Professor Holly was standing next to him. She did not recognize anyone else up there, but they all looked very important. No doubt they were various officers of the Alchemical Society and its national branches. The room itself was filled with chairs—at least a hundred, probably more. So this was what a meeting of the Alchemical Society looked like!
Bang. Bang. Bang. Exactly at eight o’clock, a gavel rapped loudly at the front of the room. Mary looked at the podium. There stood a woman—was this Ayesha? She did not look much like a priestess of Isis. Indeed, she reminded Mary a little of Nurse Adams—she had the same air of grim determination, although Nurse Adams had been more plump, and this woman had gray hair. She felt a hand in hers—Lucinda had once again taken her hand. She gave Lucinda’s hand what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze.
“Mesdames et messieurs, Damen und Herren, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the annual conference of the Société des Alchimistes. If you would, please take your seats. . . .” She had a heavy German accent—well, that was certainly different from Nurse Adams, who had been proud of being a Londoner born and bred!
There was a general bustle as the remaining members filed into the room and found their seats. The room grew quiet.
“I would like to remind you that there will be coffee in the hallway for the duration of the conference, and we once again thank the Café Gerbeaud for catering this annual event. Please remember to pick up your conference badges and schedules on the second floor. We will begin with a welcome by the president, then any business of the society. The first paper sessions begin at 10:30 a.m. sharp. Moderators, please make certain that presenters stay within the time allotted to allow discussion afterward. Lunch will be served in the dining room, after which we will have the afternoon paper sessions, and then panels. Tonight’s reception will begin at 5:30 p.m. in the hall outside the dining room with a selection of Hungarian wines and cheeses. Please remember that translation services should have been arranged in advance. All papers must be given in English, French, or German unless an alternate language has been approved beforehand. If you need assistance accessing any conference events, and I speak as one who has suffered from rheumatism myself”—there was scattered laughter—“please speak with either myself or Lady Crowe. And now, without further ado—Madam President.”
She stepped back from the podium. Ayesha took her place.
Mary knew at once that this was Ayesha. She looked exactly the way one would expect a priestess of Isis to look. She was tall—almost as tall as Justine. She had the brown skin of a Nubian, the high cheekbones and large, dark eyes familiar to us from paintings on Egyptian tombs. Her hair fell around her in a hundred long black braids, down past her waist. She was dressed in a cloth-of-gold gown that looked as though it had survived from the time of the Pharaohs.
BEATRICE: Actually, it was a robe à l’Egyptienne from the House of Worth. Mr. Worth told me the recent archeological discoveries of Professor Flinders Petrie would make all things Egyptian fashionable, whether in clothing, furniture, or architecture—as indeed they have!
Ayesha moved to the podium gracefully and with an air of absolute command—the way a cobra moves before it’s about to strike.
MARY: Don’t you think that’s a little judgmental?
CATHERINE: She does in fact move that way, and cobras are beautiful animals. They’re also very useful—they keep down the rodent population, like cats.
MARY: You are the only person who would think being compared to a snake is a compliment.
CATHERINE: Also, she’s as dangerous as a cobra. You can’t deny that.
“Welcome,” said Ayesha. “Willkommen. Bienvenue. And for our most recent members, konnichiwa.” Her pronunciation, in whatever language, seemed flawless, although there was a musical quality to her voice that made her English, at least, sound foreign. It was a deep voice, and it resonated around the room. “You are not here to listen to me, but to one another, so I will keep my remarks brief. This is the fifteenth year that I have had the honor to be your president. In that time, we have made great progress in expanding our membership, both in Europe and in countries that have not previously had a branch of the Société des Alchimistes. I am pleased and proud to announce new branches in Rhodesia and the Empire of Japan, which has a long and honorable tradition of alchemical accomplishments, older even than those of the European nations. Will the Japanese and Rhodesian delegations please stand up?”
Two groups on different sides of the room stood and bowed. There was a great deal of applause. Mary would have applauded automatically, as one does when others are applauding, but she was still holding Lucinda’s hand.
“Thank you. I am also proud to report that we have increased the participation of women in the membership and our research.” Here again there was applause, and a few calls of “Hear hear!” from feminine voices. “We are creating a society poised for the twentieth century. During my tenure as your president, we have made discoveries that will lead to incalculable benefits for mankind, while also maintaining important guidelines on alchemical research. That research must continue—we cannot stop the process of human discovery—but it must be done in a way that preserves the reputation of the society. I am proud of what our society has accomplished in its long history, and what it continues to accomplish. A new cent
ury is almost upon us. As we meet this week, I urge you to listen to one another, learn from one another, and think about how you and your colleagues can expand the bounds of human knowledge. Once again, I would like to thank the Hungarian Academy of Sciences for allowing us to share its headquarters, particularly for this annual conference. Professor Vámbéry, will you convey my thanks to the academy?” She looked at one of the men sitting at the table to her right—that must be him, thought Mary, with the pointed beard and mustache. He nodded and smiled.
“Now, is there any old business?”
A man stood up—not just any man—it was Dr. Seward.
“I would like to propose reinstituting the English branch of the society.”
The man sitting next to Seward stood up as well. He was an older man, white-haired and genial—Van Helsing. “Madam President. I second Dr. Seward’s motion, and I also propose that we abolish the approval process for experiments in biological transmutation.” Mary recognized his accent as Dutch because it sounded so much like Lucinda’s. “These two matters are inextricably linked. The restrictions on such experiments were put in place at the same time as the English branch was, how you say, disbanded, and for a similar reason—the actions of Dr. Henry Jekyll. I submit that we have not had a problem since, and there is no reason members of this society should be forced to go through such a process simply because of the actions of one man. I myself have had proposals rejected several times—”
“Indeed, Professor Van Helsing?” said Ayesha. “It seems to me that both of these items should more properly have been introduced as new business, since they are not currently under discussion in any of our committees, nor under consideration by the administrative body of this society.”
“However, Madam President, we have discussed these matters before, many times—” Van Helsing sounded frustrated.
“Nevertheless, as you have tabled these motions, the membership can certainly discuss them now. First, is there a second for your proposal?”
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