These Vengeful Souls

by Tarun Shanker

  Meanwhile, Mr. Kent was busy removing the cloth stuffed into Mr. Jarsdel’s mouth. “All right, Mr. Jarsdel, first question. Would you like a bowl of soup?”

  “No,” Mr. Jarsdel huffed. “Not from you.”

  “Well, I’m out of questions,” Mr. Kent said.

  “Ask him where Captain Goode is,” I said.

  Mr. Kent looked at me skeptically, but he asked anyway. “Where might we find Captain Goode?”

  “At his home,” Mr. Jarsdel said with a contemptuous, or woozy, tilt of the head.

  “And where is that?” Mr. Kent asked.

  “37 Lowndes Square.”

  Belgravia. So close to my parents’ home. I unconsciously balled my hand into a fist.

  “I think we have everything we need then,” I said.

  “Evelyn, no, we already discussed this,” Catherine said firmly.

  “Discussed what?” Mr. Kent asked.

  “Her idea is to find Captain Goode and attack him from a distance,” Catherine answered.

  “Oh.” Mr. Kent frowned. “We’re definitely not doing that again.”

  “We’ll have an actual plan,” I argued. “The other ideas are worse.”

  “Ask him about the murders,” Catherine said. “There’s a connection.”

  “Who have you killed in the past week?” Mr. Kent asked.

  Mr. Jarsdel raised his head and answered with a smile, as if he were remembering fond memories. “Thomas Cox and Laurence Snow.”

  “That’s it?” Catherine asked. “Lord Bell was killed in a fire at the colonial office. That wasn’t him?”

  “Who killed Lord Bell?” Mr. Kent asked.

  “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

  “Fine, why did you try to kill Sir Thomas, Lord Snow, and Lord Lister?” Mr. Kent asked.

  “Captain Goode sent an order,” he answered simply.

  Mr. Kent sighed. “Why did he order you to kill them?”

  “Said he wanted to kill aristocrat types to protect the Society.”

  Of course. “That clears things up for our list then,” I said pointedly. I knew I was sniping at Catherine, but I couldn’t help it. Not when we could actually do something.

  Catherine glared at me. “Is there no other connection between them?”

  “Yes. They’re men,” Mr. Jarsdel answered Mr. Kent unhelpfully.

  Mr. Adeoti cleared his throat and approached the prisoner. “Perhaps I can find something more. Miss Chen, would you mind tearing off his collar?”

  Miss Chen took a few steps closer to see the collar clearly and ripped along the seam with precision as Mr. Adeoti pulled it away. He sat on the bed and closed his eyes to read the piece for information.

  “You should see if there’s a way he’ll join us,” Miss Chen suggested to Mr. Kent. “Maybe he’s being coerced.”

  “Do you want to kill us?” Mr. Kent asked Mr. Jarsdel.

  “I do,” he said groggily. “I’ll do it one day.”

  Mr. Kent rubbed his brow. “Would you consider joining us against Captain Goode?”

  “No,” he answered. “The lot of you can go to hell.”

  “Do you have any friends or family?” Mr. Kent asked.

  “No, they’re all dead,” Mr. Jarsdel answered.

  “Is there anything we can do to persuade you to help us?” Mr. Kent asked.

  “No, nothing,” Mr. Jarsdel replied.

  “Why are you so committed to working for Captain Goode?” Mr. Kent asked.

  “He keeps my power high,” Mr. Jarsdel answered. “Higher than it’s ever been.”

  “And what if I said you could achieve the same thing on your own with hard work?” Mr. Kent asked.

  “I’d say I don’t care,” Mr. Jarsdel growled, the white glow radiating off his skin and dying again as he started coughing.

  “Ah, yes, I see, very effective power there,” Mr. Kent taunted.

  “It will be,” Mr. Jarsdel said. “When I am burning you from the inside out.”

  Mr. Kent’s eyebrows shot up, and he turned to us. “I think he would be a very negative presence on this team.”

  “Mr. Adeoti, did you find anything?” Catherine asked, tapping his shoulder. “Mr. Adeoti?”

  That snapped him out of the trance. “Only … confirmation,” he said, taking long blinks, shaking his head, trying to collect himself. “He was taken to Captain Goode’s residence after the police released him, so that is accurate. And he’s … quite angry at us.”

  “He’s made us aware of that,” Mr. Kent said. He paused and sniffed the air. “Does anyone else smell that?”

  Sebastian was the first to react, pushing Mr. Kent out of the way and diving down behind Mr. Jarsdel’s chair. Thin plumes of smoke had risen in the air. He had been trying to slowly burn through his restraints.

  “One of his fingers got loose,” Sebastian said, covering Mr. Jarsdel’s hands with his jacket, smothering any errant flames. “I need more rope.”

  I handed him the remainder, which he used liberally to wrap each of Mr. Jarsdel’s fingers together, along with his whole hand. Even between Mr. Jarsdel’s weakened state and the extra precaution, sleeping in the same house as this killer didn’t seem any safer an option than my proposal.

  “We can’t start our own prison up here,” I said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “We can’t let him go,” Sebastian said, tightening the ropes.

  “We’re not giving him to the police again,” Mr. Kent said.

  “Then we should act now while his information is still accurate,” I said.

  “What information, Evelyn? All we have is an address,” Catherine said. “Mr. Kent, ask him how close Captain Goode needs to be to shut off your powers.”

  “I don’t know,” Mr. Jarsdel answered Mr. Kent.

  “Ask him whether he needs to see you or whether he can sense your power.”

  “I don’t know,” Mr. Jarsdel answered again.

  “Ask him who Captain Goode’s bodyguards are.”

  “Miss Fahlstrom is always with him,” Mr. Jarsdel answered.

  “And anyone else?” Mr. Kent asked.

  “I don’t know” was the refrain. “I only saw them once.”

  “And you want to go attack him without knowing any of this?” Catherine asked, barely concealing her exasperation. “We all stayed behind to stop the murders. Not to take unnecessary risks and be the next victims.”

  “I’ll help,” Rose said.

  The room was silent for a moment before protests came from Catherine and me, our other argument forgotten.

  “Rose, you don’t need to—”

  “I said we’d find another way.”

  “Please, I want to,” she said, quieting us. She glanced at Sebastian. “This is the only way to learn how it works.”

  She took a few steps closer to Mr. Jarsdel. I felt myself moving closer in case he tried to do something again.

  “Mr. Kent, will you ask if I might change his mind?” Rose asked.

  Mr. Kent nodded. “Mr. Jarsdel, Miss Rosamund very much hopes you’ll join us. Would you help us for her sake?”

  “I—No…” Mr. Jarsdel said, with the slightest hesitation.

  Mr. Kent pressed on it. “How do you feel about Miss Rosamund?”

  “She’s the only one of you I can stand,” Mr. Jarsdel said.

  “Then why won’t you reconsider?”

  “Not going to trade that power even for a pretty girl!” Mr. Jarsdel replied.

  “Perhaps it needs a lot more time,” Mr. Kent said, glancing back at Rose.

  “There may be a way to speed it up.” Mr. Adeoti cleared his throat. “There isn’t much specific information about the charm power, but there are general patterns to how all the powers operate. I suspect there’s a weak effect with presence, but perhaps speaking or direct contact will be stronger.”

  “I see,” Rose said, biting her lip, thinking to herself. “Mr. Jarsdel, do you not feel any guilt for the lives you’ve taken?”

&n
bsp; “They were a threat to us,” Mr. Jarsdel answered, even though Mr. Kent wasn’t asking the question.

  Rose paced a few steps back and forth in front of our prisoner. “I understand, but I … I can’t help but imagine one of them having a fight with his wife that morning. Maybe they parted furious at the other, but it softened over the course of the day as they both realized the misunderstanding and their mistakes. By the time it was evening, they would have been counting the minutes, eager to see each other, to apologize, to appreciate each other. But then you found the man on his way home and ended his life, while she spent the night awake, waiting. It makes me sad to imagine there might have been things that were never said.”

  “I hope that wasn’t the case,” Mr. Jarsdel said, his voice breaking a bit. He still looked angry, but it wasn’t directed at anyone. “I don’t wish to make you sad, Miss Rosamund.”

  Rose glanced back at Mr. Kent for his assistance. He took a moment, clearing his throat multiple times. I could feel a lump in my throat on Rose’s behalf myself.

  “Mr. Jarsdel, the invitation still stands. Would you like to join us now?” Mr. Kent asked. “To ensure Miss Rosamund’s happiness?”

  Mr. Jarsdel looked genuinely torn. “No … I’m sorry, my loyalties are elsewhere.” He turned to Rose. “Perhaps you may be able to join the Society of Aberrations. Then we might protect you.”

  Rose closed the distance and stood over Mr. Jarsdel. She held her hand out and circled him, trying to find the most harmless place to make contact. She finally stopped behind him and settled her palm on the top of his red head. It would have made a very strange portrait.

  “Will you join us now?”

  “I … I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  I gaped at Rose and Mr. Jarsdel. He wasn’t a convert, but the progress was astounding. How much more time until he would do anything for Rose’s sake? Until he wanted to protect her so badly he would give his life for her, like Mr. Hale and Camille did?

  “This may take some time,” Rose said. “Would someone fetch me the newspapers from downstairs? I’d like to read them aloud to Mr. Jarsdel.”

  We spent the rest of the day like those quiet ones in Bramhurst with Mother in the morning room. The ones where Rose and I would spend hours doing needlepoint, drawing, or whatever else a young lady was required to learn to charm a man. Except here, we were skipping straight to the point.

  Catherine and Sebastian stayed in the room to help watch over Rose, while Mr. Adeoti and Miss Chen moved to the parlor to study more objects of Mr. Jarsdel’s. I spent the time attempting to practice Miss Chen’s techniques to raise my power, but it was impossible to concentrate as I imagined Captain Goode escaping us again and again.

  Rose’s reading and contact made more progress. Every hour, Mr. Kent returned to ask a series of questions testing our prisoner’s loyalty, and by lunchtime, Mr. Jarsdel agreed to join us in protecting Rose. By teatime, he would kill anyone to protect Rose. By dinnertime, he was quite certain that he would die to protect Rose. And by bedtime, Mr. Jarsdel was adamant that he would do anything for Rose.

  Mr. Kent seemed to enjoy testing the limits of what anything meant.

  “Would you live out the remainder of your life in the wild among a herd of goats if it would keep Miss Rosamund safe?”

  “Of course I would.”

  “Would you put on an angry expression, dress in multicolored clothing, wear a pastry on your head, and rob ships at sea, calling yourself the Irate Pied Pie Pirate for Miss Rosamund’s protection?”

  “Yes.”

  Rose trembled next to me, politely trying to contain a massive yawn.

  I took her arm away from Mr. Jarsdel. “All right, even that isn’t keeping you awake. It’s been a long enough day; you should rest. Catherine, will you take Rose down? Mr. Kent, these pressing questions can wait for tomorrow.”

  “We need to be prepared for all possibilities,” Mr. Kent argued.

  “Right. Such as Miss Molly’s girls being mad at you for stealing their trunk. Do you still need it?”

  “Oh no. I guess I’ll have to go back to the brothel again to return it. What a shame,” Mr. Kent said unconvincingly. “Mr. Braddock, help me with this.”

  Sebastian glanced at Mr. Jarsdel and me with concern.

  “I’ll lock the door and be right behind you,” I said. “Mr. Kent, ask Mr. Jarsdel if he plans on hurting me.”

  “Mr. Jarsdel, are you planning on hurting Miss Wyndham?”

  Mr. Jarsdel shook his head. “No, of course not, she’s helping protect Miss Rosamund.”

  “There you are,” I said.

  That seemed enough to satisfy Sebastian. He took up the other end of the trunk and headed down the stairs with Mr. Kent, behind Rose and Catherine. I wrapped a blanket around Mr. Jarsdel as I waited for all the footsteps to recede all the way down to the next floor. The room finally empty and silent, I whispered a final question to Mr. Jarsdel.

  “If I told you I had a plan to get rid of Captain Goode tonight and keep my sister safe forever, would you help?”

  Mr. Jarsdel looked at me as if there was only one obvious answer. “Of course.”

  “Good,” I said. “Then be ready.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I STARED AT the ceiling, listening to the creaks and aches of the boarding house, waiting for everyone to fall asleep.

  Rose did almost instantly. It was understandable—she had had a brave and exhausting day confronting her power and trying to understand it. I could just make out her form on the bed across the cramped room, her limbs neatly tucked into a little C shape. Her slow, deep breaths barely ruffled the hair splayed on her pillow.

  Sebastian took a little longer. I traced patterns on the wall, feeling the sensation move lower and lower as our hands tired. I could picture him on the other side, his eyebrows scrunched down low, hooding his eyes that wouldn’t shut. Nightmares were waiting for him, but I hoped there were dreams slipping in to remind him of the good he was doing, of the people who still cared for him.

  As the buzzing finally left the wall, I removed my hand and shoved my thin sheet off, restless and anxious to finish this. It would be for the best. No one else’s lives would be risked. Captain Goode would be less prepared in the middle of the night. The least amount of people could get hurt. All this really would take was one shot and one person to take it.

  I slung a leg out of bed before I could lose my nerve. Rose’s even breathing skipped and I froze. Slowly it found its rhythm again and I slid gracelessly out of the bed, landing louder than I would have liked. Rose did not even stir. She had always been a heavy sleeper. I padded across the floor and eased our cabinet open, pulling out my traveling coat, my veil, and my hat. I picked up my boots in one hand and continued to tiptoe to the door.

  I gave her one more look. Even in the relative darkness I could see her forehead furrowed, her lips tight. I hoped when Rose and Sebastian woke up, all our problems would be solved. I hoped I’d see them smile again.

  Slowly, I creaked up the flight of stairs to the second floor, pausing and listening intently to the odd snuffles and night noises coming from the bedrooms to be sure I was not marked. With the click of my key, the door opened on Mr. Jarsdel, sitting where I left him, his eyes blinking and adjusting to the dark room.

  “Be very quiet,” I whispered, unlatching the blade to my dagger fan. I started cutting the rope that confined him to the chair. “You will do anything to protect Miss Rosamund?”

  “I will,” he answered, nodding sluggishly, still sick from Sebastian’s effects.

  “Including killing Captain Goode?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well. If you’re lying to me, I’ll kill you.”

  The ropes loosened and he stood up slowly. No flashes of light. No mad dash to the door. I lowered my dagger from his neck and draped my traveling coat over his shoulders to cover the hands bound behind his back. I didn’t trust him enough to remove those restraints yet.

  I locked
the bedroom door behind us and kept a hold on Mr. Jarsdel as he led us back downstairs, the faintest glow from his body telling us where to step in the darkness. Stair by stair, holding our breath, we made it to the ground floor. The front door was in sight, a few paces down the corridor. A sigh of relief escaped me.

  And got caught in my throat. Mr. Jarsdel shut off his glow upon seeing a faint light coming from the parlor. Someone was still awake, and we had to cross the threshold.

  Dammit.

  I squeezed in front of Mr. Jarsdel and signed for him to wait there. I got to my hands and knees and crawled, trying to envision the layout of the parlor. One settee was right by the door, facing away from it, but the other was positioned perpendicular, so they would see something in the corner of their eye. Unless I was hidden by the first settee. When I reached the door I paused for a long moment. I lay down fully and began to inch myself across the floor, using my heels to propel me, while Mr. Jarsdel stared down at me.

  I inched some more. Finally I was across and no one had spoken or called out. They were either facing the other way, engrossed in a book, or simply not looking down, as I had hoped. I got to my feet so slowly, it reminded me of the child’s game where one pretended to be a living statue. I was about to wave Mr. Jarsdel over when Miss Chen spoke, stepping out not from the parlor but from the darkened dining room.

  “You are very odd.”

  “Erm—oh, I didn’t realize you were awake! I was … getting a glass of water,” I fumbled, trying to keep her eyes on me.

  “Hmm. And getting a glass required slithering along the floor?” Her American drawl was more pronounced at the late hour. I could just see her arms folded as she leaned against the wall in the dark.

  “I was … inching.”

  “Oh, my mistake.” I could feel more than see her raised eyebrows that accurately indicated she believed nothing I was saying.

  “All right, if you must know, I was off to have a tryst.” The lie burst from me in the hopes of embarrassing the both of us and cutting the conversation awkwardly short. Of course, it had the opposite effect on Miss Chen.

  “With Mr. Jarsdel?” she asked, stepping out into the corridor. Already knowing he was there.

  “How did you know—”