Into the Ether

by Vanessa Barger

  “Behave, or I’ll have to use this.”

  His warning was unnecessary. My head swam at the sudden movement and I staggered towards the open maw of the slightly worn steam carriage that waited for us. The driver sat in the front, studiously avoiding looking in our direction.

  The knife pressed into my back as I hesitated before the entrance. I struggled to breathe past the panic rising to swamp me. His fingers pinched my wounded hand and I nearly screamed. My head whipped around to glare at him. He nodded towards the carriage. As much as I didn’t want to get in the carriage, I couldn’t push Justin any further. He meant what he said; my throbbing hand was proof enough.

  My steps were awkward, and I ended up rolling into the carriage. Tears stung my eyes as my elbow cracked the corner of the seat. Slowly, I got one knee under me then pushed myself into a seat. It was a strange position, but I was seated.

  Justin climbed in after me, slamming the door shut and rapping on the roof twice. With a jerk, the carriage began to roll into the London gloom. I recognized a few of the shapes as we got started and realized that we weren’t very far from the museum.

  I studied him and my heart sank at what I saw. Somewhere along the way he’d become the street criminal we’d all tried hard not to become. He searched the night fog for anyone who might be following. His body was crowded into the darkest corner of the interior, as if the mere touch of gas light would give away some deadly secret.

  I shifted, trying to get more comfortable. The gag bit into the corners of my mouth and I fought to keep my tongue away from the dirty cloth. Whenever I lost the battle, stale sweat and filth made my stomach heave. My wrists burned, chaffed and sore in the ropes twisted around them. When I got out of this, I promised to give Justin a few scars to remember me by.

  “Stop fidgeting and it won’t hurt so much, Gennie.” Justin stayed on his side of the hired hack and watched me. The sharp point of his knife flashed in the gaslight filtering through the dirty glass windows. I contemplated trying to surprise him in the confines of the carriage. That plan I discarded. I would probably impale myself by accident instead of getting the upper hand. With the way my luck was going, it wouldn’t be surprising.

  The view outside the windows grew more and more foggy. The carriage slowed, and I wished for a free hand to turn the handle of the door so I could roll into the street. I moved in the seat, thinking to lean against the door but Justin’s head whipped, his gaze following me.

  “Don’t be stupid. We both know you can’t get out of here unless I allow it. Just sit back and relax.”

  My fingers twitched as I imagined wrapping them around his bobbing adam’s apple and squeezing. I wiggled my hands again, wincing as I scraped the tender flesh of my burn. The light bandage was not meant to protect the healing wound from this sort of treatment.

  Despite the lateness of the hour and the fog, our driver seemed to know where he was going. Before too much longer, he pulled up in front of a large townhouse and coaxed the horses to a stop.

  Justin leapt down and reached in, snagging my elbow. I sat, rooted to the seat. The mist flowed around the home before us, creating an air of menace it didn’t need help to achieve. I supposed many thought it quite a fine place to live, but it seemed oppressive to me. Might’ve been the situation, but I imagined the lit windows as huge eyes, and the black door a yawning mouth waiting to devour me.

  “Don’t make me come in there after you, Genevieve. You won’t like my methods.”

  I stared into Justin’s face, distorted by the shadows. The cruelty in his face had never been there before. Or had I just failed to notice?

  While Justin fidgeted on the sidewalk, I slid from the carriage. He kept a firm grip on my elbow until both of my feet touched the ground. Then he jerked me closer to his side and nodded to the driver, who set off.

  Justin threw an arm around me as he led me up the walk and then, just before we began to approach the door, he veered right. I found it difficult to split my attention between where he led and the proximity of our bodies. Every place his body pressed against mine, my skin crawled. He betrayed us. The people who looked up to him for guidance and protection. The one I’d trusted. The boy who’d been a catalyst for Terry’s death.

  My throat ached with the scream that lurked, coiled at the base of my throat. Frustration skittered up and down my spine, twitching and uncomfortable. If only I’d been more careful, I could have avoided this.

  Justin pulled us through the neat, trimmed yard and around a corner. It wouldn’t do for a couple of ragamuffins like us to be seen entering through the front door. I stumbled through the grass and Justin’s hold on me tightened to the point of pain. His fingers bit into my biceps and I growled. The gag wouldn’t allow for anything else. He just flexed the offending digits and hissed an order to keep quiet in my ear.

  The servants’ entrance was less impressive, and with a quick series of knocks, we were admitted by a dour-faced man. He looked me over as if Justin had brought a side of beef to be inspected. He wasn’t pleased with the quality.

  “You are expected. Follow me,” he said.

  Justin yanked me forward, sliding his arm to clutch my elbow rather than keep me tight against his side. I would have sighed with relief if I could have.

  The hallways were bare and white, and the butler led us through the tight corridors as if escorting foul vermin. I’m not sure he didn’t wrinkle his nose as he opened a door leading into the main part of the house. His stiff posture and sour pucker of lips didn’t fade when he continued through the lavish-paneled hallway. A few more moments and we stopped at the entrance to a study, with walls lined in leather volumes and heavy wooden furniture. Three men conversed inside. Spiros leaned against the mantle, while the other two men reclined in overstuffed burgundy arm chairs.

  “Excuse me, sir,” the butler interrupted them.

  I would have bet my shoes that he, when not trying to be a stuck-up snob, had an atrocious cockney accent that would have made a sailor blush. But for now, he sounded almost as upper crust as a lord.

  A man rose from the chair facing the fire. He was not as tall as Spiros, and had a barrel chest and weathered face that indicated fireplaces and elegant gatherings were not his usual cup of tea.

  His dark eyes were like shiny, jet beads in his face, and the smile that wreathed his cheeks was genuine. I broke into a sweat at the sight of it.

  “At last we meet!” He clapped his hands together, looked me over, and tisked Justin. “Really, such restraints were necessary? Please, release my friend.”

  Justin didn’t want to. That was obvious from the reluctance with which he sawed through my bonds. He removed the gag and I rubbed my mouth. If I’d been able to whisper something in Justin’s ear, I would have. But the stranger watched me with sharp eyes and too friendly a smile.

  “I’m Lord Kreios, and you, I believe, are Miss Genevieve Bond. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you.”

  I let him bow over my hand, though his grip was tight. No doubt an attempt to intimidate me. I resisted the urge to wipe my palm on my skirt when he released me.

  “I’m afraid,” the words came out hoarse. I licked my lips, cleared my throat, and tried again. “I’m afraid that I don’t feel the same way.”

  He laughed, though I felt as if something in his demeanor grew more dangerous. He reminded me of a snake. Tightly coiled, waiting for just the right moment.

  “Ah, a young lady with spirit and honesty to boot. Come, my dear, have a seat.”

  Every step of the way, and it was only a few, my entire body screamed at me to turn tail and run. But Justin stood behind me, and Spiros watched from the other side of the room, smirk firmly in place. He knew what I was thinking. Anger burned in my gut and I longed to claw the smugness off his features. It felt as though I’d been backed into a corner, and I didn’t enjoy the sensation.

  Lord Kreios motioned to the chair opposite him, now vacated. I took it, lowering myself to perch on the edge of the cushion. He l
eaned back in his own, crossing his ankles in front of him, and picked up a brandy snifter. Never before had I been so acutely aware of my state of dress. Against the plush surroundings, my soiled, worn dress stood out like a sore thumb. All part of the plan, I guessed.

  Lord Kreios swirled the glass, sniffed the amber liquid inside, and then sipped at it. Looking at me over the lip of the crystal, he found his moment and struck.

  “You may be interested to know, Genevieve, that your friend is not dead.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  My breath left in a rush of air that made my chest ache. I rubbed my palms across my knees, licking my lips and trying not to appear as affected as I felt. “What friend?”

  His chuckle rolled through the room like thunder. “She’s much better than you let on, Spiros.”

  He inclined his head, the smirk still in place. “She has many hidden talents.”

  I bristled, but bit back the retort that danced on the tip of my tongue. I was not going to rise to their bait so easily. If they wanted to get me worked up, they were going to have to try harder.

  “Come, let’s not play games. I know you and the boy, Terry, are close.” His gaze slid to Justin and back to me. “From what I was told, very close.”

  I focused on a whorl in the bookshelf behind his head. “Terry is my friend.”

  The brandy snifter crashed to the side table and Kreios leaned forward. “You will look me in the eye when you speak to me.”

  I jumped at the sudden change in demeanor, meeting his dark gaze head on. He held my eyes for a moment, then relaxed again, nodding. “Better.”

  “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

  “Of course you don’t. It’s complicated.” He sipped again at the drink. “You’re meant to do one thing and one thing only. From what I understand you haven’t come very close to achieving your goal.”

  Fatigue worried at my frayed nerves and I struggled not to roll my eyes. My fear was beginning to recede, overshadowed by the riot of emotions churning in my chest. “I hate to be a disappointment, sir, but I don’t follow you. I’ve been through quite a lot today, so I’d appreciate it if you could be a little more specific.”

  As soon as I uttered the words, I wished I could recall them.

  Spiros made a choking noise. I couldn’t tell if he was laughing or horrified, but I didn’t turn to look at him. Kreios’ face hovered between amusement and chagrin, until his mouth finally tilted in a smile. Relief washed through me.

  “I don’t generally enjoy your type of repartee, but I find you rather amusing. It’s good that I do.” He fell silent, one blunt finger tracing the rim of the glass cradled in his hands as his gaze traveled over my clothing.

  I resisted the urge to shiver. He studied me the way a scientist studies an interesting bug they’re about to pin to a board. He rose and grasped the end of a long tapestry pull near the corner of the mantle. Not more than ten seconds later, the door to the room opened again, the butler stiff and sour in the entry.

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “Take Miss Bond to the Blue room and have a bath drawn and fresh clothes brought.” He looked me over again and he extended a hand.

  I stood, aware I was being dismissed. “About Terry…” I started.

  Kreios shook his head. “This conversation will have to wait until you are well-rested and more yourself.”

  I resisted the urge to protest. To demand that he tell me what he knew about Terry. He extended one hand. The polite response required me to give him my injured hand, and I found myself reluctant to do so. When he raised an eyebrow, I conceded and lifted the soiled bandage.

  I was surprised to find his touch light as he unwrapped the bandage with two fingers and threw it into the fire. Then he turned my hand this way and that, studying the wound. I flinched when he drew me nearer to the fireplace. The heat buffeted my sore flesh and the hurt pulsed up my arm to the elbow. Keeping the feeling off my face took effort, and I could feel moisture beading on my upper lip.

  “Where did you get this?” Kreios asked.

  Not wanting to speak of Thomason to him, I shrugged. At my silence, he applied a slight pressure to my fingers. I bit my lip and winced. “I had an unfortunate accident with a portable boiler at the museum.”

  He watched me a few seconds more, as if he sensed my artistic interpretation of the truth. When he released me, a tremor of relief moved through my body.

  “Follow Henry. He’ll have a bath drawn and send a maid up to help dress your wound.”

  Justin made a sound of protest, but was silenced by the look Kreios shot him.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, and then swept out of the room on Henry’s heels.

  ****

  Henry didn’t say a word as he showed me up to the room. It was just as blue as the name implied. Powder blue walls and white accents swam around me.

  “Wait here while I send a maid to attend you.” Henry said with a frown.

  “Thank you.”

  He left, closing the door behind him. I waited for the scrape of a key in the lock and I wasn’t disappointed. Kreios wasn’t a fool, but it was an unnecessary step. He had information about Terry, and I wouldn’t leave until I found out what it was.

  I flexed my injured hand, grimacing at the ache that radiated from my palm. I doubted anyone’s treatment would be as welcome as Colonel Worthington’s. I sighed, started to sit on the edge of a round brocade chair, and stopped myself when I caught a whiff of fetid air. I reeked more than I realized. Despite my dislike of Lord Kreios, I didn’t feel so inclined to transfer the scent to a room I would likely be confined to for a while. Instead I paced in front of the white marble fireplace, where flames snapped and hissed.

  A timid knock on the door preceded the arrival of the promised maid. She entered, one arm balancing a tray covered by a white, linen cloth. Her mousy brown eyes took me in with a mixture of sympathy and caution.

  “I’m Mina. Mr. Henry sent me to dress your hand and take you to your bath.”

  I smiled, but her gaze slid anywhere but to mine. She moved away from the door, motioning with her free hand that I should follow her. She led me to a luxurious marble bathroom with shining, metal fixtures and a huge tub filled with steaming bubbles. Lavender swirled through the air and flirted with my nose, making me all the more aware of the disarray of my clothing.

  “If you’ll throw your things over the screen, I’ll have them laundered for you.”

  Her lips seemed to have trouble forming the words and I slid behind the lacquered screen in the corner, stripping out of my clothing with relish. As soon as each item was flipped over the top, she snatched it. I suspected I wouldn’t see any of it again. A white robe appeared over the lip of the dark frame and I slid into it.

  “I’ll be back to fetch you in a half an hour, miss. I’ll tend to your hand then.”

  I listened for the door and then slipped from behind the partition, shedding the robe and taking a tentative step into the bath. The liquid was warm and soothing, and I sank into the bubbles with a sigh. Even the twinge of pain in my hand couldn’t steal the pleasure of soaking away the fear and dirt that clung to me.

  When she came back, she held a large ewer in her hands. Setting it down on the lip of the tub, she picked up the linen towel from the tray she’d left and uncorked a slender bottle, poured a thick substance into her hands, and then massaged it into my head. I didn’t protest. The scent was light and floral and made me want to relax into the warm water.

  “His Lordship says to send his regrets, but he cannot meet with you again tonight. You’re to breakfast with him tomorrow.”

  My fingers curled into my good palm. More waiting. I knew it was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. “I’m sure that will be fine.”

  She rinsed her hands in the water and I swore I heard her draw a breath to say more. If she did, she thought better of it, pouring the ewer of water over my head while I ran my good hand over it to get the soap out.

>   Mina held out the robe and I stepped into it, trying to still the blush that stole over my cheeks at the thought of being naked, even for those brief moments.

  “Take a seat at the vanity, and we’ll see what I can do with your hand. Did you wash it well?”

  I padded to the chair and nodded as I sat. She picked up the tray, now revealed to have several small pots and a wad of soft white bandages on it. Kneeling next to me on the floor, she gently examined the hand, turning it this way and that in the lamplight. Despite my initial thought that she was very young, she seemed to know a great deal about what she was looking at.

  “You’ve had something very good on this hand.” Her nose hovered over the puckered flesh and she sniffed. Her nose wrinkled. “Pungent, but effective.”

  I resisted the urge to smell my hand. I’d washed it thoroughly, but Colonel Worthington’s paste was stronger than I thought.

  She dipped two fingers into a short, squat pot and dabbed the thin cream on my hand. I hissed as it burnt for a second and then went numb. She continued to dip her fingers into the different jars, coating my hand in more goop. Less smelly, but the same idea. At least this time I couldn’t feel her fingers. The first cream had done its job well. When she was finished, she laid several squares of cotton padding over the wound then bound the entire thing. I had little movement of hand, but I felt like it would last longer.

  Judging by the assessing look Mina was throwing from the corner of her eyes, she knew as well as I that I wouldn’t be staying long.

  “Thank you. I appreciate the help.”

  She nodded. “Just don’t do anything silly with it for a few days.”

  I chuckled. “No guarantees.”

  She didn’t laugh, but I was only half joking.

  Mina followed me back to the room, where she stoked the fire and turned down the bed. I stepped behind the screen, shucked the robe, and slid into a flowing, silk nightdress that had been left for me.