The Lantern's Ember

by Colleen Houck

  No one else seemed to be suffering the same level of mistrust Ember was experiencing, and she longed for her pistols. It wasn’t that the servant was acting sinister, exactly, but her gut told her something was wrong.

  At last, Jack’s pumpkin returned, interested in the servant now that the mountain had been fully surveyed. Yegor stiffened and lifted his head to peer at the floating orb.

  Ember’s lips parted as she took in the gleaming, whiskey-colored eyes. They were too close-set and round to be human. They disappeared completely when the light of the pumpkin shifted away. She wondered what Yegor was. He didn’t look like a goblin or a vampire. She didn’t sense any magic in the man, so she doubted he was a warlock, but there was a tiny tickle of apprehension in her belly. She stepped a bit behind Jack. Dev narrowed the distance too, so he and Jack stood like knights protecting their lady.

  The servant finally ducked his head again, obscuring his face. He turned and said, “Come along, then. The master is resting at the moment, so your forbearance will be most appreciated.”

  They followed Yegor up and up the stone steps and entered a wide gate. An effervescent fountain bubbled in a courtyard filled with all manner of trees. Interestingly, though well-tended and healthy, the plants and trees appeared to be placed randomly: fruit trees next to conifers and chestnut trees near beeches. The flowers and plants were mixed in a similar fashion.

  Upon closer inspection, Ember found that all the flora were carefully labeled with engraved metal plates either staked into the soil nearby or screwed into a trunk. She wondered why a metallurgist would play at botany.

  One area seemed to be plagued by desuetude. The plants were either dead or rapidly dying. “What happened here?” she asked. “Not enough water? Blight?”

  The servant turned back to look at the place she indicated. “Oh, that. Unfortunately, those particular cuttings proved unsuccessful. They had to be expunged. I’m afraid when it comes to the master’s disappointments, vengeance cometh speedily.”

  Ember frowned and paused, staring at the scraped dirt. For a moment, it reminded her of a graveyard. She almost expected bony fingers to push up through the soil. Jack took her arm and gave her a reassuring smile. With him at her side, her fears seemed somewhat silly. She wrapped both hands around his elbow and followed along.

  Yegor took them into the house, throwing wide the heavy doors, and Ember was surprised to see cats draped over every table, chair, rug, and mantel. “Oh, my!” she said. She had always adored the creatures, and they her.

  Clearing his throat, the man said, “My master is somewhat of an ailurophile. He finds felines quite beneficial. They keep out harmful spirits, you know. And this island chain attracts quite a lot of them.”

  A lovely slate-gray cat with onyx eyes rubbed his head against Ember’s leg. She stretched out her gloved hand to scratch it behind the ears. Others meowed and rose from their positions of leisure. Soon Ember had at least a dozen surrounding her, all meowing and begging for attention. Their bluster soon rose so much that Ember lost her balance, reaching out to Jack to steady her.

  Yegor hissed, and the cats screeched and darted from the room. “That’s quite enough,” he warned, though the room now appeared empty.

  They passed by a few rooms—a dining room, a solar, a great hall, and a set of stairs leading to an observatory and the airship dock. The next set of doors led to the surgery and laboratory, but Yegor was firm that they were off-limits unless they were escorted personally at the doctor’s orders.

  “Here we are,” he said. “This is the seraglio, where the ladies will stay. Men are not allowed in these chambers, so you are certain to feel entirely safe and comfortable.”

  He told the women to rest and recuperate and they would be fetched for dinner at precisely eight o’clock by the clockwork timepiece, or, if they preferred, after four turns of the hourglass, a relic the doctor had picked up and used as a decoration for those ladies who spurned modern technology.

  Once the door was closed, both Dev and Jack frowned as Yegor locked it with a key kept on a chain around his neck.

  “Why have you locked them in?” Dev asked.

  “I assure you, it’s for their own protection. I shall show you gentlemen to your rooms now.”

  Jack, Finney, and Dev all looked at one another, a silent message passing between them, but they said nothing in the presence of their guide. They quietly followed Yegor up a flight of stairs to the gentlemen’s quarters, where they too were locked inside and given the same invitation to dinner.

  “What do we do?” Finney asked.

  “We wait,” Dev said. “And watch. The doctor is doing us a kindness to allow us to stay—he’s never extended this courtesy to anyone I’ve known. I’m sure this is simply a part of his eccentricity. Besides, Frank has spent many days in the doctor’s care and he’s no worse for wear.”

  Jack’s eyebrow shot up, especially when he noticed that the windows in their rooms all had bars. It didn’t matter to Jack; he and his pumpkin could squeeze out easily enough. It was the boy he was worried about.

  Delia and Ember didn’t even notice that their doors were locked, the rooms were so sumptuous. When the invitations to dinner arrived, along with large boxes full of clothing, they were happily surprised. Ember pulled the card from the gilt-edged envelope and read:

  Welcome, most honored guests!

  Please join me for an intimate dinner on the Neptune deck.

  I’ve arranged for extra clothing, as I imagine much of yours was lost at sea.

  Please inform me if you need anything else during your stay.

  Sincerely,

  Dr. Monroe Farragut

  Jack stared at the clothing lying across the bed with a frown. Since he didn’t need clothes to keep him warm or even boots to protect his feet, he usually gave his attire very little attention. New clothing appeared at the crossroad when he desired it. The fabric was often simple and, for the most part, mimicked the styles of the area where he was assigned to work. He shunned wigs when they were in fashion, and if he found something unappealing, he simply left it at the crossroad breach and eventually it disappeared.

  The only items he insisted on acquiring for himself were his pocket watches, his greatcoats, and his boots. He loved his boots, and no footwear he’d tried on as replacements felt quite right.

  His greatcoat was the one item he’d had specially made. The buttons and fasteners were one of a kind, and he’d been inordinately pleased when Ember had noticed them. He wasn’t one to really care about style or fashion like the vampire, but the coat was a symbol of who he was, and his memory of sharing it with Ember was one he cherished. Jack took comfort in the idea that even after the fabric became moth-eaten and threadbare, the buttons would survive the passage of time. It would be the only sign of his having lived, of what had become of the erstwhile mortal boy called Jack, consigned to a life of roaming the countryside with his lit pumpkin.

  Picking out only the simplest choices of the garb their host had sent up to them, Jack set aside his other well-used items and hoped they would be cleaned rather than tossed aside. Deverell seized upon the flashier items, which left Finney with choices that fell somewhere in between.

  While the other two men bathed and dressed, Jack took the opportunity to snoop.

  Finney’s notebook was something he found deeply fascinating. He leafed through pages and pages of notes and found quite a few pertaining to him personally, beginning back when Ember had first told him about her guardian. He laughed at some of the young lad’s observations and was so enthralled with Finney’s plans for new gadgets that he didn’t notice the boy’s return.

  “Like what you’re reading, then?” Finney asked as he toweled his shock of red hair dry.

  “You’re quite inventive, you know. I looked among Dev’s things too, but found nothing as interesting as this. Your thoughts on the skyship nets are noteworthy.”

/>   “Yeah. It’s easy to have an epiphany when ghosts are trying to eat your face off.”

  “I wonder if it would work.” Finney had postured the idea of using a retractable net lit with witchlight to scoop up the ghosts like fish rather than trying to plow through them. “The question I would ask,” Jack said, “is what would you do with the ghosts once you had them?”

  Finney shrugged. “Take them to Ember, I suppose. Then she can help them move on when she has enough energy to do so. Working in small batches would be less draining.”

  “How litigious,” Dev said, emerging from the washroom and knotting his cravat. “What Jack isn’t telling you is that Ember’s ability is entirely unique. Even so, no witch worth her salt would ever waste her days in the stygian clouds helping those beyond help.”

  “Ember would,” Finney said quickly.

  “Perhaps,” Dev acquiesced. “But tell me, young lad, why Ember should. Don’t you think there are many more important things or, dare I say, people—living people—that Ember might devote her days to?”

  Frowning, Jack stared into Deverell’s arctic-blue eyes and said, “Ember should be able to carve out a life of her own design.”

  Dev gave the lantern a wide smile, the tips of his fangs protruding. “Yes,” he agreed. “She should.”

  The vampire smoothed his hair back, carefully tied it, and placed his hat atop his head. His suit was impeccable. Every detail from the waistcoat and cape to the chain of his pocket watch and the cuff links at his wrists spoke of elegance, sophistication, and privilege. The man was also tall, handsome, and well spoken.

  Jack wasn’t so taken in by Dev’s outward show of poise. He could read the vampire’s heart. See all the way through him to his blood-filled bones. The vampire was all bluster and show. Dev’s heart held a secret despair, something he believed Ember could fix. They weren’t suited for each other, in Jack’s opinion. Ember deserved more than to be tied to a man who thought he needed her to fix him. Even if Dev believed he could make her happy—which, to be fair, Jack had read the truth of in Dev’s aura—the lantern didn’t think it would last for long.

  The knock on the door signified it was finally time for dinner. They followed Yegor down to the drawing room, and then the manservant left them alone there while he escorted the women.

  There was a sound at the door, and all the men turned to see Delia and Ember come into the room. Delia was a beautiful woman in her own right. Her long black hair was drawn up into a comely arrangement, with curled tendrils brushing her bare shoulders. She wore a red dress trimmed in black with a pleated ruffle and a black outer corset.

  The black bustle was something Dev had not seen her wear before. Her blue eyes, just a shade sunnier than Dev’s, flashed as if she knew what he was thinking: she loathed bustles. But Dev’s eyes didn’t linger on his sister overlong; instead, they sought out the petite, curvy girl entering behind her.

  Ember’s dress was a bit simpler in design than Delia’s but it was no less appealing. The sea-green blouse wrapped around her neck in a halter style, twisting in such a way that it accentuated her figure without revealing even an inch of décolletage. Her waist was cinched tightly with a corset of the same color, embroidered with starfish, seashells, and other underwater creatures. The skirt was simple and straight, so the eyes were drawn to the corset and the skin of her arms, bare from the top of her long golden gloves all the way to the neck. The green hat that sat jauntily on her head was trimmed in black, gold, and peacock feathers.

  When Ember greeted the gentlemen, Finney’s Adam’s apple bobbed so vigorously as he sputtered and wet his lips that she just laughed. Dev’s eyes roved over her form like she was sitting atop a platter of desserts and he couldn’t wait to pluck her off the tray and taste her. She flushed red.

  Jack’s eyes, however, were warm—a dove-gray that looked at her as softly as the cooing bird’s feathers. He held out his hand, and when she placed her gloved hand in his, he bent over it, pressing a kiss to her fingers. She cursed the glove then, wishing his lips had touched her bare skin instead. “You look lovely,” he said simply.

  “ ‘Lovely’ is too poor a word,” Dev chimed in. “She’s ineffable.”

  Ember’s eyes darted between the two men when they both offered their arms. Instead of choosing one over the other, she said, “Finney? Would you mind? I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Straightening immediately and grinning as widely as the pumpkin floating just behind his head, Finney held out his arm, and Ember slid her hand through it. Dev’s dark expression made Delia laugh. She was still laughing when Jack offered to escort her. She happily accepted, and the group made their way outside.

  Yegor took them down to a wide glass deck sitting on top of the lagoon. Tall columns sparkled with pale witchlight that warmed the deck and lit the area. What they could see of the night sky was obsidian and full of stars. When Ember looked up, she gasped. Flickering fields of purple, blue, and pink spilled across the canopy, advancing and receding like water. Then she noticed the same thing happening in the lagoon.

  Through the glass floor of the deck, she could see the metallic fish swimming. They flickered with a luminescence powerful enough to be seen through the dark water. Dr. Farragut’s cats lurked in shadowy corners, alert and watchful, and when fish came close enough to the surface, a paw would lash out and pat the water. They sat and waited for their mysterious host.

  They took their seats, and a moment later the doors were thrown open to reveal their host. The doctor’s slate-blue waistcoat strained at the buttons as it tried to encompass his portly belly, and when he handed his top hat and gloves to his servant, his thick crop of charcoal-gray hair, muttonchops, and long, tapered fingers were revealed.

  The doctor flashed the group a welcoming smile and approached the table. “How very good to see you all,” he said jovially. “You cannot guess how delighted I am to have such a variety of dining companions this evening.”

  He walked up to each person in turn, taking their hand and peering into their eyes as he greeted them.

  “Deverell Blackbourne,” he said when he reached the vampire. “I would imagine you living a life of bliss far from here in the mortal world.”

  “Yes. I suppose the last time I saw you, I was escaping with my witch. Thanks to your timely assistance, we made it.”

  “And where is your lovelier half?”

  “She…she’s dead,” Deverell said slowly. “Burned at the stake.”

  The doctor clucked his tongue sorrowfully. “Oh, my. My, my, my, my, my. How vastly unfortunate.” The man clapped Dev on the back a bit too vigorously for someone who’d just heard something that unpleasant and moved on to Delia.

  He clicked his boots together, took her hand, and bent over it, touching his lips briefly to her skin. “My dear captain. How beguiling you look this evening. I’m so glad to hear the hidden submersible was a success.”

  “Yes, it was. We wouldn’t be here talking to you if it hadn’t been for the designs you put in Frank’s head.”

  The doctor looked around dramatically. “And where is the old boy?” he asked. “I should very much like to see him.”

  “He’s working repairs tonight. You’re meeting with him in the morning. Isn’t that right?”

  The man’s brow furrowed, but then he smiled distractedly. “Oh, indeed. Yes, yes. I’d be happy to hook him up to the machines and see how everything’s functioning.” He turned next to Finney. “Hello, young man. I say, that’s quite a color of hair. Haven’t seen hair like that since…”

  Pursing his lips, the doctor took a pair of spectacles from his pocket and slid them up his nose. He looked Finney up and down. “Are you a mortal, then, boy?”

  “I’m human, if that’s what you’re asking,” Finney replied, taking his own glasses off and replacing them with his goggles. He flipped lenses up and down, studying the doctor as much as he was being studied.
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  “Fascinating,” they both said at the same time.

  The doctor chuckled and gestured to Finney’s invention. “May I?”

  Finney handed him his goggles and the doctor slipped them on, putting his own back in his pocket, before quickly adjusting the various knobs. “How interesting!” the doctor said. “If I’m not mistaken, you were trying to see my aura.”

  “I was,” Finney answered.

  “And did you see it?”

  Finney frowned. “No. Not exactly. It was a bit…indistinct.”

  “What a marvelous contraption,” he said, handing back the goggles. “It’s quite a feat for a mortal man. Especially one of your age. Tell me, are you at all interested in metallurgy?”

  “I’m interested in a variety of things. Though I’ve heard my world is considerably behind yours technologically, as of late I’ve been working on an automaton to harvest crops.”

  “Have you, now?” the doctor replied, a delighted smile on his face.

  “I’m sure it’s crude compared to what you have here in the Otherworld.”

  “Oh, to be sure, to be sure. But still, to do that on your own? I sense a lot of promise in you, young man.” The doctor glanced over at Ember, giving her a discerning look before cutting his eyes back to Finney. “A lot of promise.”

  “I should very much like to visit your laboratory,” Finney added.

  “Absolutely. Yegor will arrange it. Yegor,” he called loudly as if the man was hard of hearing. “You must give the boy a tour of the lab.”

  “Yes, master,” Yegor replied.

  The doctor stopped and turned to his servant. “Yegor, how many times must I say it? You are to call me Doctor, not master.”

  “Of course, Doctor Master.”

  Sighing, the doctor approached Jack. “Ah, now here is the man of the hour. Good heavens, I haven’t had a lantern at my table in…well, in far too long. You are welcome, good sir.” The doctor reached out his hand and left it there awkwardly until Jack surrendered his. “If it’s not too impolite, might I ask where you keep your ember?”