These Ruthless Deeds

by Tarun Shanker

  Rose took Catherine’s arm and it almost felt like the only thing holding her up, keeping her on her feet, stopping her from melting into a puddle. They began to walk west. The wind was harsh and their borrowed cloaks were thin. The streets became more crowded and the noise more overwhelming. The farther away they walked, the heavier Rose felt. Even though there was nothing there for her, it still felt like the last link to her family and home.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, finally.

  “The Harevian Society,” Catherine said. “I took Evelyn to a lecture there last Season and it was one of the few she did not sleep through.”

  “A medical lecture?” Rose said with surprise.

  “I seem to recall her saying something about giving the notes to you.” Catherine did not look at Rose, exactly, and somehow that made it even harder. Rose missed Evelyn, feared for her, needed her here, and wasn’t sure how long she could keep herself in one piece without her sister.

  “And she’ll remember that?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  It was that desperate hope that seemed to drive most of these attempts to find Evelyn. After reading the news about Captain Goode’s message the previous morning, they’d decided that it was foolish to return to any of their houses and announce themselves. Those would be the places he would be watching. And Evelyn wouldn’t risk it, either. Their best hope was to settle on a neutral location, connected to an intimate memory or shared secret.

  The only problem, Rose thought, was that she and Catherine knew Evelyn too well. There were too many possibilities. They’d walked all over the city, trying libraries, theaters, museums, tea shops, every place Evelyn had declared to have the best cakes—which meant whichever she had visited most recently. But Evelyn wasn’t to be found in any of them and they didn’t know whether they might have just missed her, she might have just missed them, or she was simply waiting somewhere else that they hadn’t tried.

  The worst part was the not knowing. Rose couldn’t help but wonder if Evelyn had felt this hopeless during her search last year. Guilt squeezed at her, even though there was nothing she could have done.

  After a half hour, they finally found themselves in front of the Harevian Society building. The sight should have filled Rose with joy. It would have a year ago, when she’d dreamt of becoming a member of these medical societies, attending the latest lectures and one day, perhaps, even presenting a discovery of her own. Now the building was simply another place to discover more disappointment.

  “Their weekly lecture is starting in fifteen minutes,” Catherine said, pointing at a sign as they passed by the front. “If Evelyn thought of this place, too, I’m sure she’d try to be here for the start of the lecture.”

  Indeed, Catherine had timed their arrival to coincide perfectly with a lecture that, according to the sign, had a last-minute change in topic. The subject was no longer blood transfusions; that had been postponed to the next week. Now, it was the more pressing concern of speculating on the causes of death at the Belgrave Ball. It seemed to be all anyone wanted to talk about.

  Rose and Catherine waited across the street. They watched the Society entrance and scanned the rest of the area for places where Evelyn might watch the entrance herself. Rose heard snippets of theories as doctors walked by, speaking with their colleagues about bombs, poisoning, suffocation, and diseases. Soon, they all congregated inside, while Rose and Catherine continued to shiver outside. The lecture started and there was still no sign of Evelyn.

  Finally, Catherine let out a sigh. “She must be somewhere else,” she said, leading them back. “Maybe the Royal Academy. It was the last place we went.”

  “What if she’s—what if Mr. Braddock hurt her?” Rose asked, putting voice to her greatest fear.

  Catherine shook her head doubtfully. “We would have heard about it.”

  “Captain Goode might have her.”

  “And he might not.”

  “It’s already been two days.”

  “Which means, Evelyn’s probably being as careful as us.”

  “I … worry we are going in circles.”

  Catherine’s cold hands clutched Rose’s. “We will find Evelyn. I promise.”

  But would they find her soon enough?

  Rose didn’t like imagining what might happen if her powers returned and Evelyn wasn’t there. She still had a little more than a day left, but she already found herself flinching at every passing glance, dreading every little act of politeness. Would strangers fall in love with her and want her for themselves? Would another misguided person kidnap her in an attempt to protect her from the rest of the world? What would it do to Catherine? Was she already affected? Rose didn’t know what she hated more: her own power or her own impotence.

  She couldn’t get the images from that night out of her head. The things everyone did for her. The sight of Mr. Hale meekly complying with Captain Goode’s threats to keep him from hurting her. The sight of Camille’s true form, an ancient-looking woman, when she’d died trying to guard Rose. The sight of Catherine fending off Captain Goode and nearly dying from being thrown out the window. And the sight of Evelyn refusing to save an entire ballroom full of people. For Rose’s sake.

  The tears came without warning. Rose was thankful her face was covered. She felt nauseated, like a knife was twisting into her stomach. She’d ruined everything by coming back. Evelyn was moving on, ready to do something great, ready to help the world. And then—

  “Mayhem!” a newspaper boy shouted. “Mayhem at the Belgrave Ball! Numbers rising! One hundred and twenty-two found dead!”

  Both girls stopped, watching the boy make his way toward them, waving a copy of The London Times above his head.

  “It can’t be that high,” Catherine breathed.

  But Rose’s pinched face and shallow breathing suggested it was not as much a surprise to her. She managed to find her voice by the time the boy reached them. “Please, may I see it?”

  The boy held his hand out. “Threepence, miss.”

  “I don’t have any. I just want to see for a moment,” Rose pleaded, her voice rising.

  He pulled his hand away and grunted his dissent. “No coin, no paper.”

  “But, but it’s my fam—”

  “Here,” Catherine said. She pulled a silver coin from under her glove seam and gave it to the boy. Rose took the paper and turned through it as they huddled together in a spot under a doorway.

  “No,” Rose was whispering, looking at the horrific image that dominated the page. Her parents’ ballroom, crudely rendered, a stage for slaughter. Looking below it, her eyes could only catch flashes of words before the tears welled up again.

  Dead.

  Sickness.

  Plague.

  Poisoning.

  Murder.

  Rose closed her eyes and let Catherine take the paper from her. She squeezed her palms against her face, trying not to let the panic overtake her.

  “Rose—”

  “I know. I know,” Rose said, reaching for some kind of calm.

  “Oh heavens, the Agony Column,” Catherine muttered to herself. “How did I not think of this until now?”

  “Of … of what?” Rose asked. She reached under her veil and mopped the rest of her tears with her sleeve.

  “‘The baker is grieving’—no, ‘hundred-pound reward’—no.” Catherine was reading the front page of the paper, her finger moving down the second column.

  Rose looked up at Catherine, her voice a rasp. “What are you doing? Why—”

  “There!” Catherine exclaimed, jabbing her finger at a particular entry. There was a shadow of a smile on her face and Rose trembled as she took the paper from her. It was a short note—to most it would appear commonplace in its absurdity, but Rose gasped as she read it, her hand flying to her mouth.

  Evelyn.

  In search of stolen friends—brilliant enough to solve the impossible, charming enough to win over a room, brave enough to face their gho
sts, clever enough to find the truth, loyal enough to follow us anywhere, fierce enough to destroy it all.

  Friendship for each, and faith to all,

  And vengeance vow’d for those who fall.

  Find me at my favorite poet’s statue.

  All Good things must end.

  —E.

  Acknowledgments

  EVERYONE TELLS YOU how hard a second book will be, but for some reason we thought it would be different for us.

  Hahahhhahahahahahahahaaahahhahahahahahhahahhahahhahahahahahaaahhahahahaahhhaahahahahaha.

  We will spare you the stories of our shouting matches and slumps, the highs of thinking we had it all figured out, and the lows of realizing we did not. Suffice to say, this one didn’t exactly come easy. And as we wrestled with this book, we were probably not the easiest people to be around, so we have some people to thank:

  To our respective roommates, who didn’t mind our long phone calls, weird writing hours, and jumpy bleariness whenever we emerged from our rooms. Who gave us food and tea and made us take much-needed breaks: thank you. We are lucky to have such wonderful people in our lives.

  To all our friends who told us they missed us, understood when we rescheduled for the fourth time that month, did not get mad when we had to bail on yet another play or party or trivia night: thank you. We missed you too. We can’t wait to hang out. Stop rearranging the bookshelves now, the employees are going to hate us. (But we love you.)

  To Dr. Elliot Handler, thank you for always enthusiastically answering all our panicked medical and psychiatry questions. We’d be lost without your help.

  To the Sweet 16s: You’re a wonderful group of people and we are so thankful we had your support, guidance, and joy as we navigated through the debut year. A huge thank-you to the admins who were tireless and excellent. We are a little bit awed and entirely grateful.

  To the bloggers and booksellers and librarians and reviewers and critics and booklovers and book clubs and conference-goers and to anyone who read These Vicious Masks—whether you loved or hated it—thank you, from the bottom of our hearts. We are inspired by your enthusiasm, critiques, threads, shout-outs, features, top-tens, staff picks, and all the wonderfully creative ways you promote books. Thank you for taking the time to pick up ours.

  To our parents: How do we ever thank you enough? We know it’s impossible, but we can try. You have given us so much. Years of support as we pursued careers in the arts, cheerleading when we wanted to give it up, firm pushes uphill when things were hard, and so much love. Thank you for never doubting. We love you.

  And to Swoon! Oh, Swoon. We swoon for you, Swoon. The hugest of thank-yous to Emily, for giving us brilliant ideas and enthusiasm and making us believe in this book. To Lauren, for your never-ending fangirling and love for Mr. Kent. To KB, for our gorgeous cover. To Jean, who helms the ship so skillfully and is such a genius. To Kat, who makes us crack up whenever we look at Swoon’s Twitter. To the wonderful marketing and Fierce Reads crew: You are the most fantastic. We still can’t believe we ended up working with such an extraordinary team.

  And finally, we have to thank Holly West. For, well, um, *everything*. If it weren’t for Holly, there would never have been a book two. We would have hid away and said “What trilogy?!” to anyone that asked. But Holly coaxed us into finding our story, sorting through our more sleep-deprived ideas (What if: ZOMBIES!) to find the heart and truth of Evelyn’s journey forward. Thank you so much, Holly, for helping us tell this one. Where would we be without your brilliant brainstorming sessions and kindest, non-panicked responses to our most desperate e-mails? Thank you for taking us on two years ago. We hope we get to work together on many more projects to come.

  To anyone we missed, it’s because we haven’t slept in a year. We love you. Good night.

  Tarun and Kelly

  From the Diary of Laura Kent

  February 5, 8:00 a.m.:

  Nicky is being most mysterious and I think it has something to do with Evelyn, who has been missing. He will not tell me what his secret is, but I have the most brilliant plan that I daren’t put to paper!

  February 5, 8:05 a.m.:

  I can keep nothing from you, diary! I am going to follow Nicholas like a spy! He will be so wonderfully impressed!

  February 6, 9:30 a.m.: Oh, diary, wouldn’t it be wonderful if I dressed as a boy?

  February 6, 11:00 a.m.:

  Tuffins caught me searching for clothes in the footman’s belongings and was unfairly cross with me. I will have to settle for wearing black.

  February 6, 11:15 a.m.:

  And a veil!

  February 7:

  Where do I begin? Nicholas found Evelyn and there are more people with all these special powers. And most important, I have the most marvelous new friend—her name is Miss Emily Kane and we are already sisters and she is staying with me as my companion. Best of all, she can speak with ghosts! They fly objects all over the room and it’s simply wonderful! I am wondering what my special gift is! I am sure it is something magical!

  February 11:

  Emily was very shy at first, but today we saw Mr. Edwards in the park and got revenge for the awful things he said about Evelyn by asking the ghosts to lift his hat and float it along the ground, and we laughed until we almost fell over as he ran around trying to catch it!

  February 15:

  Mother has always refused me coffee, but Emily managed to ask a ghost to sneak some during a morning walk! Today will be such an exciting day!

  February 16:

  Tuffins is extraordinarily skilled at fixing many types of broken things! I wonder if he has a special gift?

  February 18:

  I have asked Nicky if he thinks my mother might adopt Emily and he was not terribly encouraging. Perhaps she can simply be my companion forever? I will have to find a husband who also has a companion for her to marry.

  February 20:

  Nicky had another secret rendezvous tonight! I wanted to follow but Emily suggested we ask the ghosts to fly us around my room and we had so much fun!

  February 21:

  I am not myself today, diary. A man hurt me today. He threw me down the stairs and Emily’s ghosts were all that kept me from dying. Only, it turns out she doesn’t have ghosts. It’s all inside her. I am very happy for my friend, but I am tired now. Good night, diary.

  February 22:

  Mother is miraculously healed! She has been so quiet, though.

  February 25:

  I think Nicky and Evelyn are planning something. I wish I could go to Evelyn’s ball but Mother never lets me go to balls no matter how much I beg! I must try another tactic: I will show her I am a sensible, well-behaved woman.

  February 26:

  Emily and I have the most wonderful plan. We are going to sneak into the ball dressed as servants!

  From the Diary of Frederick Dalton Leopold Saddleworth, Earl of Atherton

  February 1: The weather is surprisingly mild.

  February 3: The weather has turned cooler.

  February 4: It is still chilly. Today was also a very wet day.

  February 7: Mother has indicated her choice for my wife: Miss Evelyn Wyndham. She is too tall with brown hair and a face.

  February 9: An amusing misunderstanding occurred this morning. For breakfast, I asked Elmsley for some eggs. A few minutes later, he brought out a plate of figs. I told him that I had asked for eggs. He apologized for the mistake, explaining that he’d misheard me, and returned with a plate of eggs.

  February 12: Somewhat cold today.

  February 18: I attended the Royal Academy Winter Exhibition last night with Miss Wyndham. Her behavior was abominable, but I must do my duty as a son.

  February 20: While I was reading the newspaper this morning, I noticed a misspelling in the fifth line of the Egypt story. I wrote a letter to the Times editor immediately.

  February 21: My health has been very good this winter. I suspect the wool waistcoat.

  February 23:
The weather has taken a turn. It is very cold for this time of year. Hopefully the winter will end shortly.

  February 24: Met Pearson for dinner at Verrey’s. He agrees that the weather’s been rather cold lately.

  February 25: I have indicated to Miss Wyndham that I will be making an offer.

  February 27: My last day as a bachelor. I’ve no regrets. I’ve lived my life to the fullest.

  A Coffee Date

  with authors Tarun Shanker and Kelly Zekas and their editor, Holly West

  Getting to Know You (A Little More)

  Holly West (HW): What books are on your nightstands now?

  Tarun Shanker (TS): The Dark Days Club by Alison Goodman, because of course.

  Kelly Zekas (KZ): Flashfall by Jenny Moyer. Just finishing it and it’s great!

  HW: What’s your favorite word?

  TS: Susurrus. Kelly made me cut it out of These Vicious Masks and I’m still bitter about it.

  KZ: Limerence. I think it’s gone out of style a bit, but it’s beautiful.

  HW: If you could travel in time, where would you go and what would you do?

  KZ: Absolutely would go to Victorian London. I want to travel those streets and peer into the world so badly!

  TS: Can I say the future? Every time I consider a place in the past, I can’t help but think about how bad it probably smells or how quickly I’d probably die. I just want to go one hundred years forward, play with all the cool technology, and see how it’s changed the world.

  HW: Does your co-author have any strange or funny habits?

  TS: She writes on the subway. It’s … weird.

  KZ: He is weirdly obsessed with making books perfect.:-)

  HW: In the book, Catherine brings Evelyn the perfect gift back from her travels. What gift would you bring back for each other?

  TS: Judging from the amount that Kelly plays with a fan during our brainstorming sessions, a dagger fan would probably be the perfect gift for her. Maybe some Band-Aids, too.

  KZ: I love my fan! I’d love a dagger fan more. I’d buy Tarun a solitary writer’s cabin in the remote woods, with a secret address. I’d stock it with chai and fast Wi-Fi.