The Odin Inheritance (The Pessarine Chronicles Book 1)

by Victoria L. Scott

  “Aren’t you?” Hypatia asked in a rhetorical tone. “Surely you’ve figured that out by now, university girl.”

  I had, but not in a way I understood. I dropped my hands from my head. “How, precisely, am I different?” I asked.

  “You are consecrated and an Heir.”

  “Which means what?” I pressed.

  “At the moment, frequent attempted abductions,” she said with a tired shrug.

  I clenched my fists and tried to control my frustration. “I can’t control elemental forces. I can’t read minds or project thoughts. I can’t make people disappear. How is it, then, that I’m different?”

  Hypatia crossed her arms, the sleeves of her dress folding over and blending into the body of the dress in a swirl of brilliant color. “You really don’t see it, do you?” she said. “How interesting.”

  I ran through everything I could think of that might qualify as something that made me different, and all I came up with was: “Dart throwing? That’s what sets me apart? But that’s nothing like what you do—“

  “—yet,” Hypatia finished.

  I swallowed and thought furiously. “Have you been Enhanced so you can control rainstorms and lightning?” I asked.

  “What, like the men I killed? Heavens, no.”

  “Are you a witch or sorceress of some kind?”

  “Faerie stories,” Hypatia scoffed. “You should know better than that.”

  “Then, what are you?” I asked, frustrated, dropping my hands. “Please—you know this isn’t the first time people have tried to abduct me. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen things I couldn’t explain. I don’t understand what’s going on, and it seems to me it’d be better if I did.”

  Hypatia sighed. “I am a Facti, as Andrew is. We work as a force for good.”

  “So you said. Tlaloc is an ancient pagan god, then?”

  “Tlaloc is a rain god of the Aztecs. That gives me the ability to manipulate storms as you saw here. Surely Andrew mentioned his connection to the Moon? Khonshu is a god of healing. He employed those skills to heal your fractured skull. Surely he told you that.”

  “He did,” I said. I crossed my arms across my chest. “I’m afraid it didn’t go well.”

  “Ah. He suggested you should leave Cambridge, I take it?”

  “Among other things,” I admitted. “I refused.”

  “The Obscurati won’t stop trying, you know,” she said, then grabbed my arm and leaned in to speak quietly in my ear. “You stand at the cusp of your destiny,” she said, her tone portentous. “Be careful.”

  I frowned. She’d said many things, but I found myself still mostly in the dark as to who or what I was, or what she was. “That was singularly unhelpful,” I pointed out. “I’ve no idea what you mean.”

  Hypatia dropped my arm and scratched her left ear. “I know. It sounded better when I rehearsed it in my head, but it can’t be helped.”

  I threw my hands up in exasperation. “So I’m just supposed to muddle through with next to no information?”

  “You’ve done a pretty good job so far. I’ve found most of life is just ‘muddling through’, as you put it. You’ll have more information than you want or need soon enough.” She looked at the sky. “Storm’s abating. Must be off.”

  “Will I see you again?”

  “No idea, though I am keeping an eye on you. Whether I’ll need to make as dramatic and admittedly ostentatious an appearance as this again, I don’t know. Just remember what I said... and trust Andrew Michaelson. He’s a good man to have on your side.”

  I put my hands out to stop her from leaving. “Please—”

  “Good luck,” she said and with that, she faded away into the rain.

  “Bloody Hell,” I muttered, staring at the empty space Hypatia had occupied, feeling very much like a drowned rat.

  At that moment, Hugo fluttered to a stop at my feet. He shook himself vigorously, spraying me with water droplets, but since I couldn’t be any wetter I didn’t scold him.

  “Thank you for your timely intervention,” I said, bending down to rub his head. He squawked agreeably and stepped closer so I could pet more of him. His feathers were sleek and wet, but soft.

  I sighed. “Let’s go in, shall we? I should check on Dr. Sanburne and Mrs. Tirel, then get my coat and brolly and head back to Towson House to dry off.” Hugo nodded. Together we headed into Sanburne’s office.

  Chapter Thirty

  My time with Dr. Sanburne and Mrs. Tirel was brief. I introduced the injured doctor and Mrs. Tirel to Hugo, who received a ginger snap for his trouble and refused the offer of tea. Dr. Sanburne had been unconscious during my fight with Dennis and Abe, while Mrs. Tirel had been tied to a chair in the kitchen, so neither of them knew what had happened in the street.

  They wanted to make a police report, with Dr. Sanburne, holding a cloth with ice on his damaged face, reminding me of the article in the Times from breakfast as the reasoning for it. He pointed out the ruffians had looked like the picture in the Times, and the authorities had to be informed as to this new wrinkle on the difficulties with the Enhanced in England.

  Dr. Sanburne rose to make the call to the police station, and I rose to head back home over their objections. I claimed fatigue and asked that they send the police by Towson House tomorrow for me to make my report. I gathered my coat and umbrella, whistled to Hugo, and he and I left the doctor’s office. As I headed down the street on the lookout for a cab, Hugo flew above me and I wondered what to do next. Much as I hated to admit it, the smartest thing would be to contact Andrew and have the Facti get me away from Cambridge, since I didn’t know when the next kidnapping attempt would occur, and I wasn’t certain I’d escape unharmed and free a third time. I rounded a corner, hailed the cab I saw, and chewed my lip as the driver took me back to Towson House and I pondered my future. What would I say to my parents and tutors? Where would the Facti take me? Would I ever take the Tripos exam and start my business?

  I alighted from the cab to find another cab standing in front of the house, loaded with two large trunks. Hugo dropped himself onto my shoulder gracefully as I recognized one of the trunks as my own.

  My mother, wearing a fashionable light grey silk dress, a travelling cloak, and a black feathered fascinator perched on the side of her head, met me at the door. Her right foot tapped the wood floor, a sure sign of impatience.

  People said I favored Mother in my looks rather than Father. We both had green eyes, red hair and were of a somewhat petite size, so I saw their reasoning. In most other respects, we were completely different. Mother paid a great deal of attention to what was right and proper for persons in our station in life. I cared more for pursuing life in an airship. She visited and corresponded with all the right people, attended all the best social gatherings, had impeccable manners, and had very little patience for those who didn’t. I rarely used my title, knew my manners were not as impeccable as my mother’s and hated society gatherings. Despite her lack of height, she exuded great presence and was every inch a duchess. The only way anyone knew I was the daughter of a duke was if someone told them, since nothing about my aspect or presence indicated nobility.

  She was a force to be reckoned with. I mostly just reckoned with her force.

  Standing in the doorway and taking in my bedraggled, soaked form, my hair a disaster, with no gloves on and a large black bird on my shoulder, Mother’s expression went from annoyance to shock.

  “Good heavens, Ariana!” Mother exclaimed with uncharacteristic emotion. I must have looked very bad indeed. I braced myself for the next onslaught.

  “With your face all banged up and as damp as you are, you look like you’ve been drowned twice with some horrible sea creature and a bathing machine!” Mother stepped forward to get a closer look. “Is that the cut from the bash to the head you took? I must say it looks prodigious. I hope it doesn’t leave a scar.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. No doubt a scar would affect my marriage prospects, whi
ch was yet another reason why I wished to avoid marriage.

  “What the devil happened,” Mother continued, indicating my wet clothes, “and what in the world is that bird doing on your shoulder?” I opened my mouth to respond, but she beat me to it.

  “Nevermind,” she said, stepping away and waving her hand in dismissal. “You can tell me on the way. Up to your room spit spot. Make yourself presentable and stow that bird somewhere. They’ll not allow it on the train loose like that.”

  On the way? Train? My heart froze. “Mother? With respect, why are you here? You’ve not come to take me home, I hope,” I said earnestly. “I’m feeling much, much better. Honestly.” I would have danced a hornpipe at that point to convince her not to take me home. I didn’t want the Obscurati to threaten my parents, and I had no idea how to explain my current predicament to them. If I told my parents magic was real and I’d seen it used, they’d have me locked up.

  Mother looked up as if asking the Almighty for patience. “I sent a letter, dear. Didn’t you receive it?”

  I shot Hugo a look. He had the decency to appear embarrassed and started to inspect one of his feet. “No, actually,” I said, turning my attention back to Mother. “What did it say?”

  “We’re off to Scotland.” She sighed. “Since you weren’t here when I arrived, I had the upstairs maid pack your trunk though I suppose you’ll want to gather a few of your mathematics texts yourself. The cab awaits. We’re loaded up and will be on our way once you’re ready.”

  I gaped at her. Scotland? What if someone tries to abduct me on the way? How am I to tell her people have already tried to kidnap me twice? If someone like Hypatia came to my rescue, how will I explain their supernatural abilities, particularly when I don‘t understand them myself?

  She sighed. “Close your mouth, Arianna, my dear. It makes you look unintelligent.”

  I did so, mind reeling. If I told her what’d really been happening, she’d pull me out of school, assuming that too much math had unhinged my mind. What am I going to do?

  Mother tutted. “Come now, child. We don’t have a great deal of time. You need to go up to your room, change, grab a few of your silly books, and get back down here. We have to make the seven o’clock train.”

  “Scotland?” I ventured, stalling. “Whatever for? What about my classes and the Tripos? Surely it could wait?”

  “It cannot wait. We must go now, and we’ll be back in a few days,” she said. “I’ve already informed your professsors.” She shooed me toward the stairs. “Go on now. Quickly!”

  “But – “

  “But what, my dear?” Mother responded, her patience waning.

  “What if... something bad... happens?” I finished weakly.

  “Then we shall deal with it,” Mother said, as if there were no other possible answer. “We’re members of the peerage in an Empire that spans the world. We come from a long line of strong personalities and personal successes which have culminated in our current high social and political status. I dare say, should there be problems, those problems have far more to worry about from us than we do from them.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Good heavens. Do you really believe that?” I asked.

  Mother pointed at the stairs. “Absolutely. Go. Now.”

  I made my way up to my room. The perch for Hugo sat by my desk, and he flew over to take up residence there. Millie had left out a change of clothes for me, choosing a navy blue skirt, light blue shirt, and navy blue jacket to wear. She assisted me in changing my clothes and combing and pinning up my hair. My book bag sat on the bed, a bit dirty, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

  We worked quickly to get me ready for the trip. While Millie did my hair, I wrote a quick note to Max, explaining that I’d be unable to meet with them and why. Millie promised to deliver it. Then she offered to go to Cora’s room to retrieve Hugo’s cage, helpfully dropped off by ‘that American bloke’. I shooed Millie off on her errand.

  Quickly, since I wasn’t certain how long I’d be alone, I opened my lower right hand desk drawer. I pulled out the two knives Cora had given me and quickly lifted my skirt, sliding one blade into each boot. I’d never thought to use my throwing skills to attack another person, but without knowing what awaited us, it seemed foolish to leave the knives behind. I wished I had more than two, but they were better than nothing.

  I dropped my skirt, hiding my boots and the knives. I shut the right hand drawer and opened the left, pulling out my box of gadgetry tools and supplies. The brooch and bracelet sat on the top. The spider-like hair clasp hadn’t survived the encounter with Dennis, unfortunately. I applied my remaining infernal devices to my shirt and wrist as an extra layer of defensive armament and tucked the box into my bookbag. This was what Hypatia had meant by ‘muddling through’, I supposed.

  I was double-checking the contents of my bookbag when Millie returned with a birdcage for Hugo. He hopped into it agreeably, then leaned down and seemed to read the newspaper lining the floor of the cage.

  “Nice,” he croaked in a graveled tenor, and both Mille and I jumped back in surprise.

  “Hugo talks?” Millie said in delight. “Well, I’ll be! What a clever bird!”

  I narrowed my eyes at Hugo. “Yes,” I agreed, re-evaluating my pet raven. “A clever bird, indeed.”

  I said my goodbyes, closed my bag, grabbed it and my coat, while Millie took Hugo in his cage, and we returned to Mother by the front door. She looked me up and down.

  “I don’t understand why you favor such dark colors,” she said, “and that ensemble is a year out of date. What do you do with your allowance that you’ve got last year’s styles on?”

  I couldn’t tell Mother why my outfit was that old, and I’d decided to leave the new clothes Aunt Miranda had given me behind. “I can go change – “ I offered.

  “No time. I suppose you’ll have to do. Perhaps on our way back from Scotland we can do some shopping and get you proper fashionable dresses.” She looked at Hugo in the cage. “Must we take the bird?”

  “Yes, Mother,” I said, bracing for an argument. “He’ll be fine in the cage, surely.”

  “Oh, all right,” she said, waving at the door for us to leave. “Come along.”

  I desperately wanted to know why we headed to Scotland but knew it was pointless to ask. Mother would tell me in her own time. So, as we rode in the carriage to the train station I listened patiently as Mother told me all about recent happenings in London though her account seemed to consist primarily of weddings. I made the appropriate interested noises at the right places but didn’t really keep track of who had married whom.

  As she spoke, though, I found myself looking at Mother in light of Aunt Miranda’s revelations about the miscarriages she’d suffered. It had to have been awful for her and Father in a way that was unfathomable to me. I wondered if her focus on my future, or at least the future she believed I should have, was based, somehow, on the losses she’d suffered. Unlike my dead infant brothers, I had a future. She wanted it to be the best future she could imagine.

  That realization made my eyes water a bit. My heart squeezed in understanding of my mother’s motivations, even as it broke knowing that my hoped-for future was far removed from what she wanted for me. What would she do if she knew what I‘ve been though over the past few days, I wondered. My life had been in danger. Had Laufeson or the Enhanced ruffians succeeded, I could have disappeared without a trace and Mother would never have known what happened to me. I found I was glad the Facti were on my side, if only so that Mother wouldn’t lose me.

  Mother’s voice droned on, unaware of my concerns. I looked at Hugo, who returned my gaze with what seemed to be sympathy though I suppose it could have been boredom. Eventually, he took the coward’s way out, settling down to sleep. I, unfortunately, couldn’t follow his example. I made sure my face showed an appropriate level of polite interest and continued to nod as the carriage took us to the train station.

  Chapter Thirty-One

 
The train station surged with activity and people coming and going. Oddly, there were many police officers standing around the station obviously watching for signs of trouble. People looked tense and nervous. Mother hailed a porter and moved to make the arrangements for our trunks while the carriage driver unloaded them. I stood near the carriage to keep an eye on the luggage, Hugo’s cage on the ground at my feet. He was awake and watchful just as I was. I looked around anxiously, holding my bookbag by the strap over my right shoulder. A few news carriers stood at the far end of the station, waving papers and shouting though I couldn’t make out what they said over the din of the carriages, people, and trains.

  “Pastry for the train, miss?” came a timorous child’s voice to my right. “Or maybe fer yer bird?”

  I turned and saw a girl, perhaps nine or ten years old, holding a tray out to me with small, somewhat limp pastries on it. I saw her look with interest at the cut on my brow and the bruising around my eye, and then remember her manners, forcing her eyes to look away. Her clothes were clean if worn, and her brown hair hung in two braids on either side of her head. Her face was drawn and there was a smudge of dirt on one cheek. Her deep-set brown eyes pleaded with me to buy one of her pastries. It was obvious she was new to selling such things to travellers and had been less than successful.

  “I don’t need a pastry for the trip,” I said and watched as her face fell, “but I will pay for some information if you’d care to oblige me.”

  The girl’s countenance became suspicious. “I ain’t gettin’ anyone in trouble with the Peelers,” she said, sticking out her chin. “I ain’t that kind o’ girl.”

  “You’ll be getting no one in trouble,” I said. I reached into my bookbag, plunged my hand into my reticule, and drew out a sixpence, showing it to her.

  Her eyes widened in hopeful surprise.

  “Just tell me why all the Peelers are about, and what the newsboys are saying,” I said.