My half-truth along with a look from my sister was enough. He squeezed by us and ordered us to take shelter with the other curious passengers peering out from their compartments. He left the carriage to investigate the next one.
The moment he was gone, Mr. Kent gave up all pretenses of subtlety and began repeatedly shouting his question, “Tracker! Where are you?”
We got no response in the first carriage, but when we crossed over into the next one, a muffled voice answered. “In this compartment—oh goodness me!”
We found a nervous young man in his twenties, his face round and skin a deep umber, with a fidgety energy about him. He was standing by the other door to his compartment. It was open, leading to a long drop onto the London streets that he did not look too excited about experiencing.
“Mr. Adeoti,” Miss Chen said, looking at him warily.
Recognition crossed the tracker’s face, and he held his hands up in defense. “Miss Chen, I’m sorry, these were Captain Goode’s orders. Please don’t—”
“Do you know him?” Mr. Kent asked Miss Chen.
“Yes. From Society missions,” she answered. “He was the one who found people before Miss Grey.”
“Did Goode take control of the Society of Aberrations?” I asked. Mr. Kent repeated my question.
“Yes,” Mr. Adeoti answered, his large eyes darting between us all as though he was trying to figure out who among us would be killing him.
“And what is he planning?”
“He—he said he is going to protect everyone with powers.”
I hesitated, the answer throwing off my line of questioning. It wasn’t just revenge he wanted, then.
“And uh … what did he say about the rest of the public?” Mr. Kent asked.
“He said they’re going to be enlightened tomorrow.”
The train lurched violently and a loud squeal filled the air as the brakes were put on. The conductor must have noticed first class had been left behind. The carriage rumbled and shuddered to a stop, and the compartment fell silent. I was sure we were all picturing the same thing in what Captain Goode considered “enlightened.”
Mr. Kent looked at our group and then out the window at the surrounding rooftops. We had not even gotten out of central London.
He sighed. “Well, I take it this is our stop, then.”
Chapter Four
“THIS BETTER NOT be a den of thieves,” I said.
“It’s not,” Mr. Kent said as he knocked on the front door to a crumbling house that fit in with the other buildings around us. The street was dotted with squat houses in yellow brick, and a skinny railway curved over the rooftops, bringing people in and out of London. Lambeth wasn’t exactly the most fashionable area, but after the exhausting fight and our hasty escape from the train, I was willing to settle for anything. As long as it was as discreet as Mr. Kent claimed.
“And not a brothel, either,” I said.
“It’s even better than that,” Mr. Kent replied with a wink.
Oh Lord.
But then the door opened to an unexpected but familiar face.
Tuffins allowed himself one astonished blink before greeting us. “Mr. Kent, Miss Wyndham, Mr. Braddock. My … most sincere condolences.”
“Thank you, Tuffins. I am sorry for all the unexpected events,” Mr. Kent said. “Including this intrusion. But, well, I recalled your mother runs a boarding house, and we were wondering whether you have any vacancies for, hmm … nine of us.”
Tuffins looked out over our shoulders to the two waiting carriages on the street.
“Miss Kent is with us,” I added. “She is safe.”
He maintained his full butlery composure, but I could see the slightest hints of relief flooding his body. His hands relaxed their hold on the door. He let out a long-held breath. His jaw unclenched. It was the happiest I’d ever seen him. “I will inform my mother and return to fetch your belongings.”
“Oh, no need, we have none,” Mr. Kent replied, waving the notion aside with his metallic hand. “But if you could set up a room appropriate for a guest we’d really rather not escape? Something secure. Perhaps odd and threatening?”
“Yes, of course.” The fact that Tuffins didn’t even bat an eye was the final reassurance I needed that this was the right place.
We went back to the carriages to get the rest of our group. While Mr. Kent and Miss Chen escorted Mr. Adeoti to his room, I paid our drivers with the last coin I had left. I didn’t know how far Mr. Kent’s funds would stretch, but I tried to take my cue from Tuffins and remain calm as we climbed the stairs and entered the boarding house.
The inside of the house was completely at odds with the tired, worn exterior. Rugs that didn’t quite fit together spread across the wooden floors. The walls were covered with a strange assortment of images. Landscape prints sat next to advertisement bills, which sat next to detailed sketches of insects. There was no discernible pattern—just an overwhelming enthusiasm for everything.
We made our way across a narrow hallway, past the main staircase, and into a cramped dining room decorated in more mismatched choices, from the styles of all the chairs to the trinkets lining the fireplace mantel. A moment later, Tuffins came downstairs with Mr. Kent, Miss Chen, and a stout older woman who was dressed exactly like the rest of the house: hair in an older style, green glass earrings shining brilliantly, her dress all manner of patterns, and sturdy boots on her feet. Tuffins cleared his throat and gestured to the woman beside him but found himself quite interrupted by a vicious hug.
“T-Tuffins, you-you’re here. You’re alive.” Laura clung to him as if he’d disappear if she let go.
If Tuffins was at all put out, he didn’t show it in the least. “I am most thankful to see the same is true of you, Miss Kent.”
Behind him, the older woman looked around the room with a wide, slightly flustered smile, overwhelmed by all her guests and trying to decide how to welcome us.
Tuffins helped her with the decision. “Miss Kent, may I introduce you to my mother, Mrs. Eleanor Tuffins?”
Laura looked up, her eyes red and astonished, as if she’d never considered Tuffins could have a mother. She unlatched herself and made a deep curtsy.
But Mrs. Tuffins would have none of that. She waved away the curtsy with warmth. “Oh, Miss Kent, I’ve heard so much about you.” She pulled Laura into a hug, briskly rubbing her back and tucking back her hair. She looked at each of us with so much concern and true feeling my lip began to tremble despite itself. “I’m so sorry to hear what’s happened to you, my poor dears. But you are welcome here as long as you need. All of you.”
Tuffins proceeded to make the introductions, and Mr. Kent helped fill in the gaps, after which Mrs. Tuffins was eager to get us settled.
“Goodness, it’s been so long since I’ve had guests,” she said, her face red and shining. “I haven’t shown anyone around in months.”
“Most of the lodgers left last year when two of the factories nearby closed,” Tuffins explained to us.
“And someone insisted I sell this and find a small home for myself. But if I had,” she said, shooting her son a fond look, “I wouldn’t have had room here for all of you.”
“It was shamefully shortsighted of me,” Tuffins put in.
Mrs. Tuffins gestured around the room. “Well, my dears, we will have all our meals in here. Our breakfast is at seven, lunch at noon, and dinner at six, though of course we can alter that if it does not suit?” She made it sound like the most important possible question, and we quickly assured her the times were amenable. The brilliant smile was back on her face immediately.
“I imagine you all must be very hungry. I’ll have the cook prepare some tea and cakes now.” She squeezed Laura’s shoulders and gently led us down a hallway toward the back of the house. She opened a door at the end of it leading to a small, well-kept garden. “The garden, as you can see, is quite modest, though we do get lovely ro—Oh! And this is Soot. He’s the head of the household.”
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br /> A very fat and very friendly black cat slipped in, nuzzling against our legs as he made his way through our group. Laura managed to pet him once before he continued on his way, leading our tour back inside to a small, colorful side room.
“Now, you are welcome to use this parlor whenever you wish,” Mrs. Tuffins said. “We have all sorts of books, a writing desk for letters or studies, and there’s an old pianoforte in the corner for those of you that are musical. I’ve sure some of you sing beautifully.” She chucked Laura under the chin a little.
“Well, I don’t like to boast.…,” Mr. Kent said.
Laura made a little choking sound, and I was quite convinced she was about to laugh until she burst into tears instead.
“I didn’t think it was that bad of a joke,” Mr. Kent muttered as he fumbled through his pockets for a handkerchief.
“Oh my poor dears, this isn’t at all what you need now, is it?” Mrs. Tuffins shook her head regretfully. “Let me show you your rooms, so you can get some rest. Sleep always makes things a little better.”
“We are so thankful that you have room for us.” Rose took Mrs. Tuffins’s arm and smiled gratefully. The older woman dimpled and reddened as she patted Rose’s hand. We followed Mrs. Tuffins, winding out of the other parlor exit and up the main staircase.
Laura sniffled into her handkerchief as her brother guided her up behind us. “She’s … just … so … nice,” she whispered in between sobs.
It was impossible to argue with that, and I could feel my own eyes pricking a little. Every warm and welcoming part of Mrs. Tuffins and her house that was more a home was a reminder of everything we’d lost. Of places to which we could never return. Of people we took for granted.
“We have four rooms on this floor and two rooms above,” Mrs. Tuffins said as we reached the first-floor hallway. “Some of you may have to share. I hope you won’t mind terribly.”
A scrabbling sound came from behind us. Emily was telekinetically dragging a small piece of scrap fabric across the floor while Soot diligently stalked it. Laura had stopped crying, watching the cat wait to pounce on its prey. The girls and cat wandered into the first bedroom, and Mr. Kent closed the door halfway, to keep the powers out of sight.
“Not a problem at all, Mrs. Tuffins. I would be happy to share with Miss Wyn—”
“I can share with Miss Chen,” I cut in, seeing Mrs. Tuffins’s eyes go wide at Mr. Kent’s joke. I glared at him but smiled at Miss Chen. After all, I was the only one she knew even a little. “Rose, you can share with Catherine—”
“Evelyn, is it all right if I share with you, actually?” Rose asked, looking tense in a way I couldn’t quite read. “I feel I’ve bothered Miss Harding enough the past week.”
“I—yes, of course,” I said, glancing at Catherine and Miss Chen. “Do you two mind sharing?”
Catherine looked a bit confused but covered it with a smile. “Of course not.”
“I rarely break the ceiling when I wake up these days,” Miss Chen reassured Catherine. She glanced back to me. “But what about … uh…” She gestured at Sebastian, and everyone’s eyes followed.
Right. Hmm.
Mrs. Tuffins looked rather concerned, and Mr. Kent hastened to assure her. “It’s just … Mr. Braddock snores. Terribly,” Mr. Kent explained, looking at me for assistance but then continuing on, making everything worse. “I think the only thing for it, Miss Wyndham, is for me to bunk up with you, while Mr. Braddock sleeps alone.”
That was too much, even for the kindly Mrs. Tuffins. She looked properly scandalized. Everyone tried to jump in, offering worse and worse excuses. I groaned, the hallway suddenly feeling rather crowded. In everyone’s haste to reassure the poor woman, Sebastian slipped back toward the stairs.
He managed to get nearly all the way downstairs before I caught him by the wrist.
“Sebastian. Please,” I said.
He looked smaller than me, standing three stairs down, held back only by my grasp on him. He was already shaking his head, preemptively disagreeing with whatever I had to say.
I said it anyway. “It will be all right. You and I can stay near each other—perhaps even—”
His voice came softly. “They are going to get hurt.”
“More people are going to get hurt if we leave,” I said, squeezing his hand, trying to make him feel the power between us. “I promise. I’ll be near.”
“You were near when I killed that man on the train.”
“You did not kill him.”
He shook his head. “You don’t know that.”
“I do. We weren’t standing there for a full thirty seconds listening to you kill a man. That would have been … well, it wasn’t.”
“How long was it?”
“I—Twenty … one seconds. I’ve started counting whenever I see you make contact with someone,” I said, slightly omitting the fact that I had only now started. “You only knocked the man out, which in turn, saved all seven of us. So you can subtract that from the number you are undoubtedly keeping in your head.”
He pursed his lips and said nothing but looked a little redder.
Of course he was really keeping a number. “What is it?”
“One hundred and thirty-two.”
I frowned at him. “The newspaper said one hundred twenty-two.”
He sighed and scrubbed at his face. “Victims from before.”
“Then you should include people you’ve saved from before,” I said. “You could cut it in half for all the people you saved from Dr. Beck.”
“That was only eight people,” Sebastian said stubbornly.
“Eight? That’s absurd. You can’t just—” I stopped. And sighed. What was I doing arguing with him about this? This was the last thing he needed.
“Well, one hundred twenty-four before today, then,” I said encouragingly. “And after this morning on the train, it’s one hundred seventeen.”
“One hundred and nineteen. I can’t count you and Mr. Kent again.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes, these rules are terrible!” I said. “If you’re counting that way, then by saving me, you also indirectly saved everyone I’ve saved—I’d estimate that to be about sixty.”
“You can’t do that,” Sebastian said, looking as frustrated as I felt, and it suddenly, loudly occurred to me … this was what he needed. Arguing meant he cared about something. Yes, that thing he cared about was the number of people he’d killed, which he was using to continually torment himself. But that was still better than the vacant gaze. A count meant there was still hope.
“Too late, I already did,” I said as tartly as possible. “The total is fifty-nine now. Sorry.”
“Ev—the ball … it’s my responsibility.” He was almost pleading with me now, as though he wanted me to agree that this was all his fault.
Too bad.
“It’s just as much mine,” I said. More so even. I was the one who chose Rose over everyone else. “And I’m always going to be near, whispering the right number in your ear until you can’t remember the wrong one. Now come with me.”
I tugged him back upstairs, pulling ineffectively at him until he finally relented and followed, a warm, heavy presence I could feel at my back. I shook my head a little, feeling even guiltier.
I managed to get Sebastian back upstairs without pulling his arm off, where Mr. Kent, Tuffins, and his mother were waiting.
“Everyone’s getting settled. You and your sister are in that room,” Mr. Kent said, pointing to the one across from Laura and Emily. Then he pointed to the room next to it, anticipating what I planned. “And Mr. Braddock will be in that one. I’ll take the room with the prisoner upstairs.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kent,” I said. “And Tuffins, Mrs. Tuffins, I don’t know what we’d do if you weren’t here.”
“Well, we are. So please tell me if you need anything,” Mrs. Tuffins insisted, looking much more composed. Perhaps Rose had managed to convince her there was nothing improper going on. “We’ll let
you know when the tea is ready, dear.”
Mr. Kent stared at Mrs. Tuffins with the deepest appreciation. “Tuffins, if I had known your mother was such a paragon, I would have come to live here ages ago.”
“How sad that I never mentioned it,” Tuffins said, as dry and measured as ever.
Mr. Kent clicked his tongue and disappeared upstairs, while our hosts went down. I took Sebastian to his designated room and sat him on the bed against our shared wall. He did not protest, just looked up at me warily through his dark lashes.
“For as long as you’re in here, I’ll be canceling your power out. No one is going to get hurt. Just tap the wall; I’ll be on the other side.”
I took his hand in both of mine, like it was some sort of sacred object, and set it on the faded floral wallpaper. I slipped out of his room and into the one next door. Rose had taken the bed farthest from Sebastian’s room, by the window, and was sitting with her arms around her knees, watching the street. I shoved at my bed, wincing at the screeches it made, until it bumped up against the shared wall.
I climbed atop it, running my hand along the wall, feeling nothing and more nothing, until I knocked. A knock answered back and I slid my hand over till I found the current of our powers.
It worked. I could actually feel him through the wood. The sensation was muffled to a degree lower than when we touched through fabric, but it was still there, it still caught my breath, and it was still undoubtedly Sebastian.
He didn’t move away and neither did I. I held my hand there for a long moment, before the silence behind me got unnerving. I turned around on the bed, leaning my back against the spot, letting the hum warm my whole body a little.
Rose was perfectly still, gazing out the window with that same lost, vacant gaze that Laura had. I didn’t know what to say to her now. I’d already promised her we’d be safe at home after we deposed the head of the Society. I’d agreed to leave London and not even an hour had passed before we had to turn back into the fray with no real plan of which to speak.
“Rose, I’m—”
“I’m sorry,” she said, stealing the words from the tip of my tongue.
These Vengeful Souls Page 4
