by Emma Newman
It felt like someone had punctured Charlotte’s heart. He loved her. It was so obvious. Just thinking of her made his eyes shine. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Is she a Fine Kinetics magus, too?”
“She was,” he said softly, and she realised with horror that she’d misunderstood. It wasn’t their friendship that had ended. “One of the most talented I’ve ever met. You remind me of her, sometimes.”
The slight twitch of a smile threatened to break her heart. Charlotte wanted to ask when and how, but even she wasn’t so selfish. “What happened to her?”
“We became suspicious of certain . . . practices within the Society and we decided to investigate. The more we learned, the angrier she became. She wanted to blast through it like a storm, clear out the worst and force the Society to rebuild. I was the more cautious one. I held her back, constantly. In more ways than one. Then one day she lost her temper and threatened to expose someone very high up in the Society.”
He stopped, leaving Charlotte hanging for his next words. “What happened?” she prompted.
“They killed her.”
With him facing away from her, she couldn’t see whether he was weeping, but his voice sounded strained.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “And they let you live?”
“Oh, they had no idea I was involved. We made sure of that. Neither one of us ever acted in a way that could incriminate the other. It was her care that saved me. And ever since I’ve been left with such knowledge that would be enough to make any man rage into the wind, and yet I am utterly powerless to do anything about it.”
“Because they’d kill you?” She frowned at his nod. “But why would it be any different for me?”
“Because if we can keep you outside the Royal Society, Miss Gunn, they can’t kill you the way they killed her.”
“I don’t understand.”
He plucked another blade of grass. She wondered if he needed something else to focus upon, to make the conversation easier. “They do something to us, to stop us from turning wild. Whatever that is, it enables them to kill us. They don’t even have to send someone to do it. They don’t have to be in the same room or even the same city. One moment she was talking to me and the next . . .” He tossed the blade of grass away. “. . . she was dead.”
“Are you sure it was them if—” His glare cut her off. “I’m sorry, of course you’re certain.”
His regard softened. “I will do everything I can to keep you free of their power, Miss Gunn. But the one thing I will not do is stand by and do nothing if you fully turn wild. I’ve seen what it does and I could not bear to witness you suffering like that.”
“I’ll try harder,” Charlotte said. “I’ll fight it.”
She wasn’t sure if he was convinced, but he gave her an encouraging smile at least. “I know you will. And there’s hope yet. This has only just happened. Unless this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a ghost?”
A memory of the room the debtor’s cage was in, the first time she saw it, returned to her. There had been a man standing in there who’d ignored her when she’d tapped on the window. Could he have been a ghost? “Would it make a difference if I’ve been seeing them for a long time?”
“I’d be more concerned. Have you?”
His worry was so touching. “No,” she said, pushing the memory away. “But I will tell you if it happens again.” She held the piece of paper out to him again. “Please may we talk about this, and what I’m to do? I can’t bear the thought of Ben waiting for me. And that awful blackmailer will be expecting me at eleven bells, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Well,” Hopkins said as he took the torn out page, “I think the easiest way to deal with that cad is to never go back there again. He doesn’t know your real name and there’s little chance of him seeing you again.”
“But I have to help Ben.”
Hopkins didn’t respond, distracted by the symbols on the paper. “Good lord,” he said, eyes widening. “These were on every machine?”
“All the ones I could check. I assume it’s on all of them. What do they mean? Some of them reminded me of that cage mechanism.”
Pressing his fist against his lips, Hopkins nodded. “Miss Gunn, did you find yourself more tired today after working the looms for the whole shift?” When she nodded, he waved the paper. “These symbols are the cause, not just the heat. As you worked the loom, a portion of your . . . spiritual energy, for want of a better phrase, was stolen by magic worked into the device.”
“Stolen? I don’t understand.”
“These ones here, at the side, they were embossed into the drive belt, yes? They send that energy up to the line shaft. I’d wager there are sigils on the line shaft to carry it to the final destination. Imagine it’s like tiny parts of your soul being actively pulled from you and sent up the line shaft in small, regular amounts.” He tapped his fist against his lips. “It seems an honest day’s labour is not enough for the Dynamics magi.”
Charlotte thought of the other workers and how exhausted they were by the end of the day. It enraged her. “It’s disgusting. No wonder everyone is so weak and unwell. But where is it being sent? What is it being used for?”
“I would imagine it’s being stored—it must be, given the number of workers there. Some of it is probably used by the . . .” He trailed off, and Charlotte finished the sentence in her mind.
Used by the magi working the line shaft. Ben had looked so strong, so well, and she’d thought it was simply that he was finally happy and had a direction at last. Purpose. She shook her head. “Ben can’t possibly know. He’d never support something as barbaric as this.”
“I thought he looked very well,” Hopkins said. “Did he explain his improvement in health?”
Charlotte didn’t like Hopkins’s tone. “He didn’t need to. He simply got better. He’s happy, that’s all.” She stood up. “You need to take me back to Manchester. He’s waited long enough.”
Hopkins stood, pocketing the paper so he could roll up the blanket. “We need to discuss our next steps.”
“Well, I have to tell Ben. He needs to know what’s happening there so he can put a stop to it.”
“That’s out of the question! How can you explain your knowledge to him? It would endanger both of us.”
“But he needs to understand how awful the mill is before he fully commits to running it!”
“Miss Gunn, there’s every chance that this is something done in all of Ledbetter’s factories. How loyal to him is your brother?”
That gave her pause. “My brother is a good man,” she said firmly. “I have every faith in him condemning this as strongly as we do.”
She started off for the carriage, Hopkins falling into step alongside her. “Miss Gunn, I think you need to consider this more carefully. If you tell him, and he is loyal to Ledbetter, you’re forcing him to choose whether to obey his master or respect his sister. Which do you think he is more likely to do?”
Doubting Ben was simply too much to bear. So she said nothing.
“Miss Gunn. Charlotte.” His hand caught her arm and she stopped, her breath seized by his contact. “You need to face the possibility that he will side with Ledbetter, and if that happens, you will be in danger.”
“Do you have such little faith in my brother?”
“Perhaps it’s overwhelmed by a surfeit of care for you.”
She blushed. Damn her ridiculous face! She was certain there was something she planned to say, but it escaped her. Fumbling for some words, her gaze fell upon the paper poking from his pocket. “Would you be willing to explain those symbols to me?”
“If you give me your word that you won’t break into Ledbetter’s estate and carve them into his furniture.”
Was he joking or making a suggestion? The slow arching of his eyebrow made her laugh.
“Good lord, you actually considered it!” he said, and the blush deepened. “I’ll show you in the carriage. But I beg you to not reve
al your knowledge to your brother. Will you promise me that?”
She nodded. They climbed back inside and he was true to his word. It was all quite simple once he’d explained it, and her mind raced, fuelled by the new knowledge. “That cage . . . that’s how it killed people, wasn’t it? That mechanism sucked the life out of them all in one go, whereas the looms take a tiny amount each day.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“But how do you know this?”
He twisted the ring on his right hand. “It’s something I’ve been investigating for some time.”
She made the connection. “That’s what you and your . . . friend were . . .” A brief nod was all she got, but it was enough. “That’s why you hate Ledbetter so much.”
“Oh, there are many reasons for that, my dear.”
They shared a smile. She went back to studying the symbols. “If the looms take a tiny bit of someone’s life, and that one there makes sure it can’t be more than just a tiny bit, what would happen if someone died whilst they were working a loom?”
“An interesting question, Miss Gunn. Do you think there’s a connection between this and the ghosts in the factory?”
Nodding, she leaned back. The motion of the carriage, coupled with staring at the paper, had made her feel nauseous. “I saw a wisp above the loom when it was being destroyed. Is it too much of a leap to connect the two? Can ghosts move objects? Smash things?”
“I have no idea. But it’s an interesting theory. Remind me of what that ghost lady said about the ones in the mill.”
“She said they just kept screaming. And that they didn’t listen to her. But she listened to me. I thought she was real, in fact. She didn’t look like a ghost. She looked like a normal person. She just kept repeating herself. That was the only odd thing about her. And the fact that she died a few days ago, of course.”
They shared another smile, this one tinged with a hint of guilt that they could find humour in something so morbid. “I find the difference interesting, if the ghost is to be believed.”
“I heard them screaming. I believe her. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. I’m not going mad, am I?”
“Turning wild can drive you mad, not the other way round,” Hopkins said. “Poor comfort, I know. The wisp you saw, above the loom, did it look like a person?”
“No. It looked like . . . steam from a kettle, but moving with purpose. What if the machines stole the part that keeps them . . . intact? Like the ghost I spoke to. She was intact. And she died in that bed.” Charlotte shuddered at the thought of it. “Oh, I have to sleep in that bed tonight.”
“You most certainly do not,” Hopkins said firmly. “You will stay in a proper hotel. And if your brother does not arrange it, I will. Agreed?”
She nodded, already feeling guilty about the other ladies in her dorm who didn’t have a handsome magus to look after them. “If the symbols were changed, so they took more than just a sliver, couldn’t they absorb the wispy ghosts in the mill?”
“If your theory is correct, yes. Of course, you’d have to destroy the symbols afterwards, so they don’t kill the person who works it the next day. And you’d have to work the loom and somehow trigger an incident.”
Charlotte snapped her fingers. “I know how to do that! Pain. It’s pain that triggers . . .” She thought it through. “Oh. I think I understand. The ghosts there may not be as intact as Betty was, but they’re angry. They sounded tormented . . . I think they’re attacking the looms because they don’t want more people to be hurt and killed like they were. They’re trying to protect their fellow workers.” She clasped her hands together, disturbed.
“But they can’t protect them,” Hopkins said gently. “Only the living can do that. And these ghosts have killed more people by accident. It has to be stopped.”
“Can you write down which symbols I’d need to change and how?”
He pulled a pencil from an inside pocket but didn’t write anything straight away. “Miss Gunn, we need consider this very carefully. If you solve the problem at this mill, there won’t be any pressure upon Ledbetter to improve them. There are people who are trying to achieve that. I spoke to one of them yesterday, in fact.”
“Are you suggesting I don’t do this?”
“I just—”
“Because I must. The people who work there are at risk, and if the incidents don’t stop, that awful Paxton will use them to get my brother transported to Australia. I’m going to fix the problem, and then once Ben’s position is secured, he can put a stop to this foul process.”
Hopkins groaned. “He isn’t going to change anything about the way the mills are run, because that is dictated by Ledbetter and he is the one behind all this! You saw the cage, you’ve seen these symbols! This is what he is, a thief, and one apprentice is not going to change anything.”
Charlotte folded her arms. “We’ll see about that. Please show me how to do it.” When he hesitated again, she said, “Please, Magus Hopkins. I’ve made friends there and I feel bad enough about leaving them behind. I have to make sure that they are safe, as well as my brother, and this is the only way I can.”
He started to draw. Charlotte could hear the city’s thrum outside the carriage again. Ben would be beside himself by now.
Hopkins handed her the piece of paper. “Change this one to that and this one to that and it should do as you say. But remember, it will take any spiritual energy close to the loom, so you must run as quick as you can when you set it off. Once it’s taken the excess energy, destroy the loom with your Dynamics, at a distance.”
“What if I can’t control myself afterwards?”
“I have every faith in you, Miss Gunn. Remember your marque. Here, draw it out whilst you can and look at it just before. I shall be in room twenty-five at the Grand Hotel all evening. If you run into any difficulties, get to me as soon as you can. Even if you fear you’re turning. I will make sure you’re safe. If all is well and your brother does the right thing and puts you in a hotel, send a message to me at the Grand. Say . . . ‘The delivery of your cheeses will be made tomorrow.’”
“Cheeses?”
He shrugged. “It’s the most harmless thing I can think of.”
She folded the paper back up and tucked it into her dress. “Thank you, Magus Hopkins.”
He took her hand and kissed it, his eyes flicking up to look at her as he did so. “Be careful, Miss Gunn.”
Chapter 10
AS CHARLOTTE PICKED HER way back through the filth of the alleyway, she tried to think of a way to talk to Ben about the mill without incriminating Magus Hopkins. Remaining silent on the matter of the symbols on the looms was out of the question; she had to tell Ben what he was really getting into. But how could she broach it without getting anyone into trouble?
She had to explain to him what was causing the incidents, not only so he could protect himself against Paxton, but also to ensure that none of the innocent workers were going to be wrongfully prosecuted. She had the feeling Mags was a socialist, but Charlotte wasn’t prepared to say anything about that. She agreed with Mags and there was no way she was going to endanger any efforts to improve working conditions.
By the time she got to the cottage it was almost dark. Charlotte knocked on the door, checking the street for any signs of someone following her. She couldn’t see anyone. The door opened and she stepped inside. She didn’t even have a chance to get to the front room before Ben had slammed the door shut. He embraced her fiercely.
“I’ve been beside myself with worry! Why are you so late?”
“Sorry. I had to rest after my shift, I was so tired,” she lied. “And then when I did set out, someone from the mill followed me, so I had to put them off my trail. I got lost. I’m so sorry.”
“Following you?” Ben went to the front room window and peeped out from the edge of the curtains. “Who?”
She had no idea who’d been following her before, but it was likely to be either Dotty, Mags, or the blackm
ailer. She didn’t want to mention any of them. “I don’t know. A man. I got away, though, and I’m certain he didn’t follow me here.”
Ben closed the curtains and moved the lantern to the centre of the room, setting it down between a new wooden chair and the armchair. “Well done. Oh, darling, you do look worn out. I feel terrible. Do you have any news?”
“I don’t suppose you have any of those buns?”
He fetched a small bundle. After a bun and some more ginger beer, she felt better. She ate and drank quickly, pressured by his impatient fidgeting.
“I’ve heard that Paxton believes it’s a Latent,” he said, unable to wait any longer. “Do you agree?”
“No, it’s not a Latent.”
“You seem very certain.”
There was suspicion in the way he looked at her, and it stung. “Ben, Paxton is an idiot who’s desperate to pin this on someone who isn’t powerful enough to fight back. He accused my friend, and it was only when another loom was destroyed that he realised it couldn’t be her, because she was with him when it happened.”
“And where were you?”
“In the mill. Ben, why are you looking at me like that?” Had the blackmailer mentioned something to him already? No, surely not.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Ben said.
“Like you don’t trust me.”
He sighed, leaning forwards with elbows on knees, resting his head on his hands. “I’m sorry. Ledbetter gave me a dressing down this afternoon. He’s in the city and he wants answers.”
