Did she need to tell the Consortium about this one? He could be hers forever. Just think of the sweet magic they could make together once he submitted to her will.
Almost in answer to her thoughts, the man roared and yanked at the chains again. One of the spokes of the chair gave way and shattered.
The violence of his struggle galvanized her into action. Yes, he would be hers. She would keep him all to herself. He would be her little secret.
Another chair spoke broke as the man struggled and Clothilde watched on, her mind whirling with possibilities. He needed taming. Allowing him free rein while her plans were still forming would not do. But later might be a different matter. Yes, later, when all she had set out to do had been achieved, this man would rule by her side. That was certainly why he had been sent to her like this.
Quickly she stepped up to him and placed her hands on the sides of his temples. She was suddenly grateful for the little bit of extra power she had taken before coming down here.
“Now hold still and this will all go better for the both of us,” she said. She summoned all she had within her and plunged her energy into his head. The impact of their spirit-selves colliding was like running face first into a rock wall. She gasped and reeled, but took a breath and plunged back into his psyche again.
He roared and she felt him straining against her. Another chair spindle cracked and they both fell to the ground.
Then quite suddenly, she broke through his defenses. And in an instant, they were both swirling inside his mind. But this was no gentle, graceful dance. Everywhere she looked, he slammed against her, blocking her view.
He was protecting something, hiding it from her, and it was taking all his strength to do it, she realized with a growing sense of excitement.
She peered past his swirling barriers, deeper and deeper into the dark recesses of his mind. She had never encountered a man whose psyche was so layered. It was utterly breathtaking.
He was a warlock, she noted with equal measures of apprehension and excitement. And his power seemed to be bound and tightly strapped down by a very strong spell.
Clothilde gasped as she watched him struggle to release his power from its restraints. He was fighting her with every fiber of his being, straining with raw effort of will against the bonds.
It’s an effort to hold him with his power bound, she thought. What would happen if he freed himself? And why would one so powerful seek do this to himself? It was a mystery she had no time to unravel.
The remainder of the chair cracked again and he rolled over, partly covering her with his body. She wasn’t going to hold him for much longer. But she wanted him. The thought of him belonging to her was utterly irresistible.
She wanted to lose herself inside his mind where he would reveal all his secrets to her, but she daren’t wait any longer.
She let go of him and returned to her physical consciousness to gather herself. Outside, thunder rumbled and bolts of lightning coursed through the building.
Clothilde reached up for the lightning, which had been steadily building up around them, and focused all of her power on him.
There was an almighty flash of purple light. She felt the warlock’s mind fill with the darkness she sent. Black and viscous, like hot tar, it slid through him, obliterating all thoughts and memories before it. And then, just before everything inside his mind went dark, Clothilde thought she caught a glimpse of an image of a woman, but it was gone before she had time to take it in.
His body went limp; all that made this man was extinguished.
Gently she rolled him onto his back. His handsome face was pale but relaxed, as if he were asleep. The only detectable sign of life was the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
“Hush now, my dearest. It will all soon be better,” she murmured against his cheek.
“Emilian!” she called.
He was in the room within moments, as if he had been waiting just outside the door.
“Help me get him onto that table,” she said.
Emilian helped her lift the sleeping man onto her operating table.
“Make sure he is strapped in properly,” she ordered. She was not going to take any chances. Not now that she had found him.
“Leave us now,” she said to Emilian once the man had been secured. “I don’t want to be disturbed. Is that understood?”
“Yes, mistress.” Emilian bowed and closed the door after him as he left.
Clothilde found herself humming softly as she started unbuttoning the man’s collar and shirt. As she had hoped, the wall of chest that was revealed under the layers of waistcoat and shirt was broad and strong. Gently she ran her fingers over the fine sprinkling of chest hair that adorned it. Yes, it was a fine chest that would hold its new heart beautifully.
She allowed herself one more lingering look at the beautiful angles of his face before setting to work.
“You were made for me, dear one,” she murmured. “And yet, I do not know your name.” The man did not—could not—answer. “But you will be mine. And when you awake we can both choose new names for ourselves. Just you wait and see.”
She walked up to one of the cabinets and unlocked it. Inside was the polished case that the Clockmaker had given her. She opened the case and carefully selected one of the clockwork hearts nestling within the purple velvet.
Back at the table, Clothilde carefully lined up her surgical instruments in a row on the table next to her. For once, this was going to be a labor of love and she wanted to take her time. She would make sure that all the incisions were perfect.
“Yes, you will be beautiful afterward. Not like the others,” she murmured.
Slowly the scalpel slid though skin and muscle, separating bone and cartilage as she worked. And as she worked, she started humming to herself. It was a lonely, sinister tune from her childhood.
“Just think of all the beautiful dark magic you and I will make together one day, my love,” she whispered. “All we need to do is free you. And once you are free, we will be together forever,” she said as she raised her bloodied hands in order to complete the next step. “I will be the only one who holds the key to your heart.”
And all the while, the thunder and lightning roiled outside.
CHAPTER 14
Elle sipped the nutmeg-laced milk Mrs. Hinges had brought her as she stared into the fire. Outside the rain sifted down in soft relentless sheets into the inky blackness. Tonight’s storm was fiercer than usual. The skyline of the city was illuminated each time the lightning flashed across the sky.
She shivered as the draft from one of the casements whispered against her skin. There was something ill in the air tonight. It was something dark and ominous, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what, but it was there all right.
“Is anything the matter, my dear?” the professor said. They were in the small drawing room.
“Apart from the fact that my husband is missing and that I was arrested today?” Elle said with a little more force than was necessary.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” the professor said.
“Sorry, Papa. It’s been a fraught day. I did not mean to be short with you.”
“Never you mind, my dear. But do tell me what is on your mind. Sometimes it helps to discuss a matter. You know, two minds are more likely to find a solution than one.”
“Police Commissioner Willoughby is definitely hiding something,” Elle said. “And there is nothing as dangerous as a powerful man with a secret.”
“You are not wrong on that count. But was it really necessary to antagonize him enough to arrest you?” the professor said gently.
“But that’s exactly my point, Papa. I did nothing to provoke him. Locking me up was nothing more than a warning. He wants me to understand that he won’t stand for me interfering in his business.”
The professor sighed and puffed on his pipe. “Your uncle was not amused.”
“Well, I am not amused by Uncle Geoffrey either. He’s so … so judgmen
tal.” Elle said. “And if the truth be told, I don’t even really care about the commissioner’s business. The only thing I am interested in is finding Marsh.”
“It’s possible that Willoughby may really know nothing,” the professor said.
“I very much doubt that.” She set her cup down on the mantelpiece. “I have some business to attend to. Please excuse me, Papa.” She kissed her father’s cheek.
“Where on earth are you going at this time of night?” the professor said with a look of alarm.
Elle smiled. “I shan’t leave the house, I promise.”
“That is exactly what I was afraid you might say.”
“I have to look for him. I cannot just sit here doing nothing,” she said.
The professor sighed. “Very well. Go and do what you must. Just remember that we are all here to help. Don’t shut us out.”
“I won’t, Papa. I promise,” Elle said, pausing at the drawing-room door. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” the professor said.
Upstairs, Elle opened up the secret room and set about lighting the candles in the chandeliers and sconces. Soon her sanctum was glowing in a soft warm light. She picked a velvet cushion off one of the benches and placed it inside the mosaic circle. No one said anything about discomfort being a requirement for being an oracle and the pillow would help against the chill of the stone floor.
She stepped out of her kid leather slippers and into the circle.
Around her the voice of the spirit was silent. So they had not returned as she had predicted. The voices of oracles past were clearly not happy with her either. “Well, you are simply going to have to join the queue of people who are displeased with me. Right behind my uncle Geoffrey, my husband and that pilot who lost his ship to me,” she said.
There was no answer.
She took a deep breath and focused herself as she settled down on the cushion. She concentrated for a moment until she found the barrier that divided Shadow and Light. Her breathing slowed and she felt the first stirrings of her Shadow-self separating from her physical body. She frowned and concentrated on maintaining the connection, but she was apprehensive, skittish even. She had never done this completely on her own before. Marsh had been just outside the door, keeping guard over her while she was vulnerable. He always seemed to be there for her. Wasn’t it strange that she had never noticed that about him?
The last thought fled from her mind as she was met by a sudden rush of aether. Quicker than a thought, she was propelled through the barrier and into the Realm of Shadow.
Around her was only darkness. She concentrated on imagining the place she wanted to visit and she felt herself shift with alarming speed until she landed with a thump on the ground.
The last time she was here, she had not been alone.
On their wedding night, once they were alone in dark, Marsh had pulled her into his arms and together they had slipped into the Shadow and a golden meadow had risen up around them almost instantaneously.
“I’ve been wanting to come back here for the longest time,” he said to her.
She felt her heartbeat accelerate. “So have I,” she whispered.
“And this time, there is no need for restraint. What do you say, Mrs. Marsh?”
She gave him a wicked smile. “I should say that I agree.” The last time they had met in this place, they had not been married. And there were many things that held them apart. This time things were very different.
“I have something for you.” Marsh raised his hand.
Elle looked up at him in surprise. On his palm lay a wedding band. “I thought you said that we were to wear no wedding bands,” she said.
“I may have told a small lie there. I know it’s not quite the fashion, but I want the whole world to know you are mine and that we belong together. See, I have one too.” He opened his other hand and there, on his outstretched palm was a second larger ring, almost identical to the first.
Both rings appeared to be made from a white metal that shone brighter than silver. When she looked more closely, she saw that ring was actually made up of many fine strands, intricately woven together to form a band. The smaller ring had tiny sparkly stones threaded onto the metal.
“It’s beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it,” she said.
“I asked for one of the wyrd-weavers to give me a strand of silk. Yours has flowers from this glade woven into it. It thought they would be pretty.”
“Wyrd-weavers?” she said.
Marsh laughed “The three sisters. Three women; half maiden, half spider. One weaves the future, one the present and one the past. Together they weave and spin the intricate web that determines the fate of each and every living thing. Adele helped me find a goldsmith who would forge these for us. You would be amazed if you knew some of the acquaintances that fairy has.”
“Nothing about Adele would surprise me,” Elle said.
“These rings are forged from the same strand of silk. Even though they are two circles, they are forever joined as one. Just as our fates are. Look.” He held up the two rings and Elle saw the fine strand shimmering between them.
“When worn with intent, the wearers are joined together and nothing, save their decision to be severed, can ever break that bond.” His expression grew serious. “And I never want to lose you,” he said.
She smiled up at him. “And I never want to lose you either.”
“This is to show you that no matter where we are in the world, we will always be able to find one another. What do you say?”
Elle lifted the ring off his waiting palm and slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand. As it slipped over her knuckle, she felt the faint tremor of Shadow magic move though her as the ring fastened itself to her. “Together forever,” she whispered. “I love you.”
Marsh slipped the bigger ring onto his finger and as he did so, Elle felt the strange sensation of something locking into place.
“The bond between us is now sealed. And it is more permanent than any promises that may have been made in the Realm of Light.”
Elle simply nodded, for she was too caught up in the moment for words.
“Forever,” he whispered as he lifted her hand and kissed it.
“For as long as we both shall exist,” she answered, finally finding her voice. Then she lifted her mouth to kiss him.
Elle’s entire body shook from the sudden pain she felt at the memory of that night. It ripped through with a physical force that dragged her back to the here and now.
She sat up and blinked. The candles had burned out and she was lying on the floor with her arms around the velvet pillow.
She sighed and rubbed her face. So much for her search efforts. Somehow she had managed to direct her powers into the past rather than into the future. This was certainly something new. Not very helpful, mind.
Somewhere deep inside the house, she heard the clock chime. She counted the sounds silently until it reached seven. Was it really seven o’clock in the morning? She felt as if she had closed her eyes only a few moments before.
Elle stood up and slipped out of the secret chamber, taking care to close the panel behind her. She was cold and her muscles ached from sleeping on the cold floor.
Outside the darkness had made space for the first murky light of dawn. This morning the swirling fog was so thick that she could hardly see the street down below.
But through the shadows, she spotted a funeral carriage with two perfectly matched black stallions pulled up outside the house. Elle squinted through the murk. The doors of the carriage bore the red insignia of two dragons facing one another with a sword between them.
Elle let out a little squeak of delight and ran to her dressing room to find some clothes. Thanks be to the wonders of speedy modern travel, she thought.
The Baroness Loisa Belododia had arrived in London.
A commotion had already erupted outside the drawing room by the time Elle reached the bottom of the stairs.
/> “Madam, I must insist that you go to your rest now,” she heard Caruthers say.
“What nonsense! Do you see any sunlight? Yes? No? Because all I see is fog and rain in this place. Now get out of my way before I lose my temper and decide to have you for my lunch,” a woman said in an accent that was a tad heavy on the Rs.
Elle opened the doors to find Loisa Belododia standing in the middle of the big drawing room, hands on her hips. She was dressed entirely in the most exquisite black crêpe de chine. The hem and sleeves of her were artfully ragged with wisps of delicate handmade lace. In addition, she was covered from head to toe in a long black veil of the sheerest chiffon to ward against any stray shafts of sunlight.
“Loisa!” Elle rushed up to her and hugged her friend. “You came! But at this time of day? How on earth did you get here so fast?”
Loisa waved a dismissive hand that made her veil ripple. “Yes, it is disgustingly late, but here I am. I was en route to Paris to do a bit of shopping when they telegraphed your message to me on board, so I took the first berth to London that I could find. It was third class too.” She shuddered. “See, these are the things I do for my friends.” The baroness pressed her shrouded ruby lips against Elle’s cheeks, once on each side. Then she looked over her shoulder at the maid who was hovering by the windows. “Oh for goodness’ sake, girl. Close those drapes. Do you want me to turn to ash? If I do, you are the one who will have to sweep this beautiful Aubusson.” She tapped the rug with her fine silk slipper.
Poor Edie quailed. Elle let go of Loisa and set about orchestrating the closing of the heavy drawing-room drapes to seal out the faint light of the drizzly morning outside.
She lit the spark lamps just as Loisa raised her veil. The Nightwalker looked tired and there were dark rings under her beautiful eyes, but she was smiling.
“So what is so urgent that you bid me to come to London at this most wretched time of year? That infernal passenger airship nearly went down over the channel with the high winds.” Loisa took off her gloves and hat and handed them to Edie who curtsied and left the room as fast as she could. “Darling, you look pale. Have you been sleeping properly? And where is Hugh? I need to have a word with that man for mistreating you like this.” The Nightwalker spoke in a steady stream of questions, which was very unlike her usual charming and composed nature. Elle noted the slight look of worry in her eyes.
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