Echoes of Aether

by Gail B Williams

  There was the clatter of shoes on the stairs, then Jade’s head appeared above the banister. He grinned at his sister as he came into the room. “How are you feeling?”

  “Absolutely fine. You?”

  “Well, I’ll have to make another gate post to replace the one I bent on that man’s skull, but other than that I’m fine.” He pulled his hand from his pocket and opened it to her. She gasped at the sight of the clear glass crystal in his palm. “I used your notes to polish it to the exact specifications. I hope that’s acceptable.”

  “Acceptable?” She took the crystal and held it up to the light. “Oh Jade, it’s perfect.”

    

  Jade looked at her and Amethyst felt her stomach turn over. Lunch was hours ago, and she was still worried about what had happened before. And after. Maker and Great-Aunt Flora had kept watch over them all afternoon, a brave act on Maker’s part given the obvious displeasure of Violet. Finally, he’d had to retreat, and Great-Aunt Flora needed a nap before dinner. Now Blanchard was checking in on them frequently, Amethyst felt she might scream if she saw him nonchalantly strolling through the quadrant one more time. More pressure hammered on her with the protection than the threat. She trusted Jenson knew what he was doing, but she remained uncomfortable with it.

  The knock drew her attention to the door.

  “Blanchard, we’re fine,” Amethyst called through.

  “Glad to hear it,” Jenson said as he walked in, closing the door behind him. “Here you go.”

  She looked at the offered tankard of milk, and frowned, then looked up at him. Now he frowned.

  “You said to meet you here at five o’clock with a tankard of milk.”

  She glanced at the mantle clock. Good Lord, five already. She turned back to Jenson. “Well, it’s five o’clock and that’s a tankard of milk, but I didn’t ask for it or you.”

  Confusion spread around Jenson’s features, it looked like he was trying to catch a memory he couldn’t reach. “I’ll just leave this here then.” He placed the milk on the desk and backed up a step.

  “It that the receiver?”

  He focused his attention on the machine on the desk where the transmitter had originally sat. The crystal of prismatic glass sat prominently in the top slot where the rose quartz had originally been set.

  “It is.”

  “Ready to go?”

  The noise she made was somewhere in the spectrum of denial and agreement.

  “Didn’t you just say it’s ready?” Jade asked.

  Her bottom lip went firmly between her teeth. She nodded.

  Jenson pointed to the receiver. “This looks finished.”

  Eyes wide and unblinking, she nodded again.

  Now he was frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  “What if it doesn’t work? What if I’ve done something wrong and I just make things worse? What if I actually lose Stephen for Edwina forever?”

  “What if you do nothing and Stephen is stuck forever?”

  She watched Jenson as he stood up straight and slipped his hands into his pockets. His jacket was unbuttoned, and it pulled back revealing the neatly buttoned waistcoat and clean white shirt. He’d changed since their altercation on the green. He regarded her with every ounce of seriousness he could muster, which with him was quite a lot.

  “Look what you did last time you had to.”

  Jade frowned and looked at her. “What did you do?”

  “I’m not allowed to tell you.”

  Jade pointed to Jenson. “But he knows?”

  “He was there.” She turned to Jenson. “And that was different.”

  Sighing, Jenson put his hands on her upper arms.

  “No, it wasn’t,” he said softly. “You worked out the technology. You flicked the switch. You made the last-minute adjustments that saved the day. And you’ll do it again today. I believe in you.”

  Her throat felt unnecessarily dry while her eyes were a bit too watery. Especially when Jenson leaned down to kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear.

  “I trust you.”

  A frisson of… something she wasn’t sure how to define rippled through her and made her smile as he stepped back. Without another word, she stepped up to the desk and flicked another switch. The receiver started to hum gently.

  They waited.

  “Is that it?” Jade asked.

  She looked at him and shrugged. “It’s about all I can do.”

  “What does Stephen think?”

  “Oh, good Lord!” Amethyst hadn’t even thought to ask the fractured man. She grabbed up the modified goggles and looked around the room. “Oh, come on Stephen, where are you?” She continued to move around the room until she spotted the multi-layered image that was the man himself in a chair beside the occasional table. Even without focus she could see the dejection. “Stephen?” She asked, desperate for him to look up at her. “Stephen, did I forget something? Do something wrong?” Because having that receiver on wasn’t actually doing him any good.

  The colours shimmered like an opiate nightmare, turned her stomach even as fear clenched it with icy fingers. Stephen shook his head. Finally, he sat more upright and shrugged his shoulders, looked away from her. It seemed he couldn’t bear to look at the woman who had failed him. Slowly, the goggles began to descend.

  “I failed him.”

  “Did you?” Jade was by her side, wearing another set of goggles and pushing the goggles in her hands back up.

  Looking through the glass she saw the repeated figure of the man again. On his feet now, pointing at the wreck of his transmitter, hands and fingers repeatedly pushing toward the transmitter. Jade turned to her.

  “What’s he mean?”

  She looked back trying to read the knowledge she lacked in her brother’s eyes. She felt rather than heard Jenson moving to stand behind and between then. He reached around Amethyst for the goggles and brought them up, bending enough to put his eyes on a level with Amethyst’s, so they could both look through. Look at the man who was still pointing to the transmitter.

  “Bifurcated.”

  Amethyst turned her head to look at Jenson; his closeness was having unexpected and undefinable effects on her innards. “Sorry?”

  His eyes were dark, his cheeks flushed. With an intake of breath, he stood straighter, further away. It gave her some clarity.

  “Well, isn’t the point of a receiver to be transmitted to?”

  She stumbled toward a conclusion. “Both have to work together?”

  The crack was Jade slapping his forehead. “That’s it. It’s a journey. There has to be a start and a finish point. Stephen was lost because there was a problem at the start point, and we only have a finish point. We need both.” He moved to the desk and turned the receiver off. “We need to get both working.”

  “Build the bridge for him to walk across?” Amethyst agreed.

  “But that‒” Jenson pointed to the destroyed transmitter “‒ is a wreck.”

  “True.”

  “No,” Amethyst said, forcing the goggles fully into Jenson’s hands. “Not really.”

  Could it be that simple? She moved over to the side of the workshop and opened a cupboard, then moved other things aside until she found what she was looking for. She picked up the single loop Tundridge transmuter and continued to rummage. Yes, the Ayoade flute.

  Moving to the wrecked machine, she called Jade to her. “Do you think you can pull the transmuter out?”

  Her twin reached in as she gathered tools and the wires that would be needed, and a new aetheric power cell too. Jade strained and pulled.

  “Oh no.”

  The two men turned to Amethyst.

  “The crystal.” She pointed to the prismatic crystal she’d put in the receiver. “The design relies on the resonance factors of the crystal, so I need the original quartz for the transmitter. But that was lost in the explosion.”

  “Won’t the crystal from the receiver do?” Jade asked.

  “It’s po
ssible, but the original would be preferable.”

  “Looks like that?” Jenson pointed to the prismatic glass crystal. “Only of quartz?” Amethyst agreed, surprised by Jenson moving around the desk. He pulled the top drawer open and reached inside, pulling out her notes and putting them on the top to look through the rest of the contents, reaching deep inside to the back of the drawer to grab something. He pulled the thing out and came around to face her again. “I found this when I was doing the original search of this room.” He held up a crystal between thumb and forefinger. “I had no idea what it was, so I just put it in a drawer.”

  She took the crystal and looked it over, rubbing the surface. A bit of pressure and the smoky colour came away in her hand. The smile grew. “This is it.” She looked to Jade who was still struggling with the transmuter.

  “Let me try,” Jenson offered and stepped up to the machine. His strain was smaller, he gave it a tiny wiggle and the thing came away in his hand. “You must have loosened it,” he told Jade as he stepped away.

  Stepping up, Amethyst checked the couplings; they looked tight enough. Holding the transmuter against them, she saw the left hand one needed to be drawn in, something she accomplished with just a little effort. With the transmuter in, she fitted the flute and then the crystal. She looked it over and tapped her nose. Was she right?

  “Stephen says that’s it.”

  She turned to look at Jade, who was looking through his goggles again. “All right,” Jade went on, “he’s standing there nodding his head off.” He removed the goggles. “Let’s try this again.”

  “Stephen, this might work better if you stand right next to the transmitter as you were before.” Amethyst said to the air, then she switched the transmitter on, nodded to Jade and watched him switch the receiver on. Just like they used to when they were children, she and Jade lifted up their hands and offered each other crossed fingers.

  The humming was two soft hums that quickly began to sync together. Jade and Amethyst put on goggles to see if it was having any effect on Stephen. The lack of focus was starting to shift together. Even as they watched, the colours converged, the ghostlike figure began to take on form.

  It all seemed to be going well, then Amethyst saw a shadow form behind Stephen. As if he were pushed, the shattered image of the man jerked forward and fell to his hands and knees, whole and solid again.

  Aether shimmered in the air, sparked, crackled. A hand, small and white, reached out and yanked the crystal from the receiver. The machine clanked and stopped. A zing of feedback raced to the transmitter, it popped, and all went quiet.

  “Milk.”

  The word was forced out in a raw previously unheard northern accent. Amethyst jolted into action, grabbed the tankard of milk Jenson had brought in and knelt beside the shivering man, helping him to drink, gulping down the white liquid with the strongest kind of hunger. He finished it in one. Sighing with relief when the tankard was empty, and he was done.

  “She was right, I needed that.”

  “Who was right?” Amethyst asked.

  Stephen looked at her. Suddenly he shifted and had her head clamped in both his hands as he looked at her. Really looked, close and enquiringly. “You’re Amethyst.”

  She nodded, then he pulled her to him, kissing her hard on the lips. “Thank you.” Suddenly he was up and running. “I have to see Edwina.”

  Amethyst was slack-jawed at she looked up at the two men who also watched Stephen run from the room, then turned back to her. Wiping the smear of milk from her lips, she stood up.

  “Can anyone explain that?”

  “He’s happy to be back and wanted to go see his wife?” Jade offered.

  “No, that.” She pointed to the receiver. To the missing crystal.

  “Nope, never saw a thing,” Jade said.

  “Well, I did,” Jenson admitted. “A hand reached out and took the crystal.”

  “You saw that?” She needed confirmation and it seemed he was honest enough to give it.

  He nodded. “I wasn’t looking through prismatic glass, and I saw it.” He looked Amethyst over. “What’s more, I saw you on the green after everyone else was gone. You told me to bring that milk here.”

  Amethyst shook her head. Though clearly, they had needed it.

  “She can’t have,” Jade insisted. “We left together, and I’ve been by her side the whole time since.”

  Chapter 53

  After what had happened in the workroom, the temptation to stay and try to explain the inexplicable was great, but crime stopped for few men and Jenson was one of the few men determined to stop it. He was certain that between them Blanchard, Jade and Arthur could look after Amethyst well enough, and if he was able to stop the protest, it was just possible that she would no longer be under threat.

  He’d found Deeping Hallows, used one of Monty’s horses to ride there, and tethered the animal out of sight but within easy reach. There wasn’t much to the Hallows. An old church, small with a round tower, and a massive graveyard for such a small village. Of course, there was a pub. There was always a pub. He headed for that.

  The whiny tones of an upper class accent carried more than the bass of the working classes. The fact that Jenson recognised Lord Montgomery’s voice did nothing to dampen his curiosity. He slowed, worked out where the sound was coming from. The side of the pub. Sauntering now, Jenson carefully moved towards the building. Despite the hour there was plenty of light. He trod carefully enough to know they wouldn’t hear him coming, but there was no way he could hide in this evening sun.

  Alleys were wider here than in London, and he’d get a better view, more time to be sure. Not that he needed time. The sight of Vostock pushing Montgomery against the wall, the thin lord looking surprisingly frail and white as a sheet, wasn’t unexpected.

  “I want Amethyst Forester. Get her to me or I will take the price out of your hide.”

  Well, that was clear enough. And not a new development. Jenson carried on past, moved to lean against the front wall of the pub, next to a windowsill that held a half drunk jar of beer. To any casual observer, that pint would be his. Tipping his head down he lounged and strained to listen to the conversation around the corner.

  “I can’t. That bloody Inspector has her locked up tighter than a nun’s – urgh.”

  “Don’t insult the faith, you worthless piece of shite.”

  That was surprising from Vostock.

  “My employer, the man you owe everything to, wants Forester and you’re going to get her for me. I dun’ care if the whole of the police force is between you and her. You get her and you get her tonight.”

  There was a grunt and a scuffle as Montgomery was dropped and scrambled to his feet.

  “I can get her for you.” That voice surprised Jenson; Willimena Chalmers.

  A glance around told him no one was looking his way, a bloke stumbled out of the pub to collapse on the far edge and puke his guts up, but he stayed crumpled away from Jenson. The Inspector shifted and looked around the corner. Now Vostock had Willimena in a willing clutch, his tongue down her throat. Monty looking on with hate-filled eyes.

  Jenson moved back around.

  Interesting development. And a worrying one. He had no idea what Willimena thought she could do. It left him in a quandary. His instinct was to get back to the house and warn Blanchard, make doubly sure of Amethyst’s safety.

  There again, Blanchard was in charge while Jenson was out of the house. He’d been clashing with Blanchard on and off for years. The man was clever, capable, and strangely loyal. Especially to Maker. And Maker was loyal to Amethyst, something Jenson didn’t want to think about. Importantly, the valet may have cleaned up his act, kept on the right side of legal, but he hadn’t lost that underlying killer instinct that had seen him at the top of the boxing circuit for years, illicit or no. Blanchard had been set a task that he would perform to the best of his substantial ability. Besides, Amethyst couldn’t stand Willimena, the young woman wouldn’t get clos
e enough to Amethyst to do what she’d promised. He hoped. He had to hope because he needed to know what the plans were for tomorrow. He had to stay here and there was no way to get a message to Blanchard. It was odd to find he was comfortable to trust a man who, a few years ago, he had been keen to arrest.

  Time to move on.

  Shrugging deep into the thick black coat he’d taken from the man in Monty’s cellar, pulling down the similarly purloined cap, he strode up to the bar like he owned the place; which fitted right in with just about every other arrogant, swaggering muscle-head in the place.

  Gut rot beer, stale sweat, flatulence, soiled sawdust and gin that could ruin more mothers than childbirth. The assault was as good as a punch on the nose. The beer was more head than substance and he’d seen better samples after an all-night bender, but everyone was drinking it and he had to fit in. He leaned on a bar that would be eschewed by an unfastidious sow and pretended to sip.

  The bar was full of men talking loudly and beating their chests with how they were the biggest, or bravest, or strongest. Bar room bravado. What he needed was a better idea of what was really going on. He knew that the Royal Barge would travel tomorrow, passing this latitude sometime in the early afternoon. There were any number of routes that could be taken. There was no guarantee that the Queen would come within sight of this area, but he had to be prepared.

  He looked around. Judging by the artist’s impression he’d seen, he identified James Peterson on the far side of the room, then he accidentally caught the eye of a man talking to him. Couldn’t be. Only it clearly was. Rhett Lagina. One of the Queen’s Own. He was one of the few members of that secret office that could be identified, because he often had to work liaison with the police, which was how Jenson knew him.

  He had Lagina’s attention, so he stood, tipped his head and moved to the back of the building. Outside, he headed towards the woods, the place where the smell told him the latrines were situated. It was no surprise that in a few moments, Lagina was beside him.