Venomous Secrets

by Anne Renwick

  “And where would you have preferred I stalk my prey?” Helena countered, arms crossed. “In the northern wilds of Scotland? Packed on ice and hauled home by steam train?”

  “You ought not have hunted at all.” Lady Saltwell huffed. “It is you who drew all the unwelcome attention down upon us. You should have followed the plan. Dr. Oakes would have provided, as he did before.”

  “Cadavers?” Helena spit back. “Dead from one disease or another? With what chance of success, when my carefully chosen, prime specimens fail to work?” She flapped a hand at Dr. Thrakos. “Had I not located a scientist of our homeland, my daughters would never have been born.”

  “Fresh extracts naturally provide the most potent effects,” Dr. Thrakos said. “This time they will also be free from the effects of any venom.”

  “Does it matter?” A scoff, a noise emerged from the back of Lady Saltwell’s throat. “Conception is only a beginning. Not one of your offspring has drawn breath for more than a few minutes. You proclaim your superiority yet, over and over, the biological failing is yours alone. Enough. Accept that you will produce no queen.”

  Lady Saltwell pulled on simple ankle boots, then stood to don entirely different attire, a dull brown dress that would turn no heads. Perfect for blending in crowds while evading authorities.

  “Sisters,” the nanny interjected, her voice soft. “We arrived on these foreign shores with but one purpose in mind, revenge. That has been accomplished, our actions rewarded beyond our wildest dreams. Now we must turn our attention to the future and our homeland.”

  “If prematurely,” Lady Saltwell bit out. “Who is Helena to decide for us the time and place to end Lord Saltwell’s life? At the engagement ball of our business partner? With half of the ton present? But for her needless drama, the Queen’s agents would never have been placed on our trail. She’s a fool.”

  A low moan sounded. Cait’s eyebrows drew together. Had they not accounted for everyone in the space?

  Jack extended the handle of the mirror yet farther, angling for a look at the alcove beyond the mad scientist. The image reflected back showed two shoe-clad feet upon a gurney, toes pointed toward the ceiling.

  She swallowed. Were these the fresh victims to which Dr. Thrakos referred? At least one was still alive. She loosed her TTX pistol and held it at the ready.

  “We’ve discussed this.” A steel rod threaded through the nanny’s words. She laid her infant back in the pram and buttoned her jacket. “Repeatedly and at length. Lord Saltwell intended to reveal all. To see your marriage invalidated, your children disinherited. Instead, Helena ensured he died knowing exactly what we’d stolen from him.”

  And what was that? Cait raised her eyebrows at Jack and lifted a palm upward.

  Jack shrugged and shook his head. No idea.

  Lady Saltwell blew out a long breath as she rose, smoothed her skirts and picked up the carpet bag. “Come with us, Helena. It’s not worth the risk.”

  Cait nudged Jack in his side. TTX darts?

  He readied his weapon, but held up a finger. Wait.

  “Not without one final effort,” Helena pouted. “I’ll not abandon my chance at achieving what was thought impossible.”

  “Ladies.” Dr. Thrakos turned, holding a vial of viscous fluid aloft. “How can you begrudge her one more attempt at a miraculous birth?”

  Helena snatched the vial from his hand. “How is this enough?”

  “I harvested but one.”

  “Not both?” Helena’s voice was petulant.

  The madman chuckled. “I left him one stone, a reminder that we’re not to be crossed.”

  “Fine,” Helena huffed. She tucked the tube of testicular extract behind her corset, cradling it between her breasts. “Finish with the woman. There’s little time to waste.”

  Woman? Cait mouthed.

  Jack stretched his arm out, extending the tiny mirror as far as he could manage.

  Suddenly, he jerked backward, catching Cait’s hand to drag her back into the storage room. Pain from the asp’s bite surged, but only mildly so. A small price for renewed immunity.

  “It’s Aubrey and Lady Mildred,” he breathed into her ear. “Gagged and bound upon the gurneys. Laid out as if for—”

  “Surgical sacrifice?” she whispered back, lifting her weapon. “I’ll target Lady Saltwell and Dr. Thrakos. You aim for the murderesses.” The pinched expression upon his face worried her. “Unless your eyes…”

  “They’re fine.”

  She pressed a finger to the crease between his eyebrows. “What are you not telling me?”

  “It’s a headache, nothing more.” He pulled her hand away, dropping a quick kiss upon her palm. “By now, I’ve every expectation that your brother will have the building surrounded. One dart each to slow them down—I’ll not risk the lives of the unborn, lamia or otherwise.”

  Cait nodded. “Let’s move.”

  They slid sideways down the hallway, took aim, and fired.

  She hit her targets. Lady Saltwell in the shoulder, the mad scientist in the hip. Jack’s first dart caught the nanny’s upper arm, but Helena spun away, and his second missed its mark.

  Kraken claws.

  There was a blur of motion.

  Helena, almost too fast for human eyes, struck Jack upon the head. A moment later, a horrible screech assaulted her ears as an arm wrapped about her neck with preternatural strength.

  Cait kicked and clawed as Helena yanked her backward into the laboratory leaving Jack in the dim hall, motionless upon the floor, blood trickling from his mouth.

  With her lungs deprived of oxygen, only Cait’s mind could scream.

  “Go,” Helena ordered her sisters. “Take the children and flee. They are first priority.”

  Lady Saltwell and the nanny had been quick to jerk the darts free. Regretfully, the poison scarcely slowed their movements. Lady Saltwell pulled open a door—what must be the front entrance—and the nanny pushed the pram through.

  Gone.

  And there was little hope that Logan would recognize either of them.

  “You,” Helena hissed in her ear. “The woman who refused to die.”

  She shoved Cait away, slamming her shoulder into a wall. Flashes of light danced across her field of vision as she slid to the floor, hands at her throat, dragging in great gasps.

  Helena dropped both TTX pistols upon the laboratory bench in front of the gaping Dr. Thrakos. “Harvest their organs as well.”

  “Not the snake charmer’s.” The mad scientist shook his head, plucked the dart from his leather vest and set it aside. “Antivenin. Remember I explained how—”

  “Yes, yes.” Helena flipped a hand. “A blood product capable of counteracting my own venom. It’s why she didn’t die that night in the carriage.”

  “If anything, her pituitary extract would thwart your efforts.” Dr. Thrakos slid his eyes to Jack’s prone form. “Even his is of questionable value.”

  “If we’ve no use for the woman…” The lamia snatched up a TTX pistol, took aim and fired, once, twice and a third time—three darts into Cait’s chest. “There. Problem solved.”

  Cait collapsed in a heap as a familiar numbness spread across her body.

  Cogs. Shot with her own weapon. Breathe in, breathe out.

  It would be a minute or two before she could move. She slid a glance in Jack’s direction and caught the faintest of movements. Good.

  “Hurry up,” Helena grumbled at the mad scientist. “Or I’ll handle the extraction myself.”

  “No.” With a regretful glance at Cait—no doubt Dr. Thrakos regretted losing another chance to bleed her dry—the mad scientist staggered toward Lady Mildred. Though unconscious, she still breathed. “I’ve made adjustments to the programming cards and want to verify the algorithm.”

  With an unsteady hand—courtesy of the small amount of TTX poison that had made it into his system—he lifted a brass device resembling an oversized metallic insect and began to fuss and fumble over t
he cipher cartridge.

  There was a strangled shout and leather heels kicked at the metal gurney in protest. An effort followed by a pained moan.

  “I imagine it does hurt, Aubrey,” Helena snipped. “At least you’ll survive. Your bride, on the other hand…” She clucked her tongue. “No worries. You may be partly unmanned, but there are many silly, overbred girls who will overlook such a deficiency in an effort to secure a title.”

  Lord Aubrey’s trousers had been yanked to his knees, exposing hairy legs. Between them, he clutched a thick wad of blood-stained cotton.

  Cait cringed.

  Jack’s brother was wide-eyed and fully awake and clearly in much pain. An entire testicle removed without benefit of an analgesic? A cruel way to treat the lord who’d provided the financial backing for a Lamian-based enterprise.

  He was, however, guilty of shielding a murderess, while Lady Mildred, innocent of all wrongdoing, was about to pay with her life.

  Beneath her skirts, Cait flexed her fingers and toes, then arms and legs, confirming the full return of movement. Her shoulder throbbed as she braced her arm, shifting her feet in preparation for a mad leap.

  From the corner of one eye, she saw Jack move. Though appearing to lay insensate, he was now some five feet closer.

  Dr. Thrakos flicked a lever, spreading the sharp-tipped legs of the device wide, then lowered the mechanical insect onto the woman’s face with deadly, surgical precision.

  This? This was the device Jack wished the Thorntons to modify for his personal use?

  Then again, the tumor threatened more than just his sight.

  A low buzzing began.

  Lady Mildred was about to lose her pituitary and her life. Cait snapped her fingers, and Jack’s eyes popped open. With a quick tip of her head at Helena, she mouthed, Now!

  She shoved herself onto her feet at the very moment Jack did the same, both of them rushing at full speed, intent upon stopping the procedure.

  Again, the lamia moved like quicksilver. With a twist and a turn, she slithered beyond their grasp, hissing. Cait and Jack crashed into the metal gurneys, sending them careening into the wall. Aubrey roared in smothered pain. Lady Mildred whimpered as the contraption affixed to her face ripped free and fell to the floor. Momentarily safe, if an awful way to return to consciousness.

  Howling, Helena snatched up the broken pieces of the pituitary extractor and stuffed them into a canvas bag. “Enough!” With a backhanded swipe, she knocked the cage holding the morphophídian creatures onto the floor. Its latch snapped and the lid popped open. The irate serpents wasted no time effecting their escape.

  “No!” Dr. Thrakos cried. “How could you? They’re priceless!” He dove, scrambling across the floor, reaching for his creations. “Help me catch them, I beg you.”

  Cait ignored the snakes, concentrating her full attention upon Helena. The lamia feinted left, then right, her movements swift and serpentine as she darted for the door.

  As she passed, Cait flung herself onto Helena’s back, wrapping her arms about the lamia’s neck, praying her weight would slow the woman.

  “Jack,” Cait cried. “Shoot her!”

  The lamia bit her arm.

  “Ouch, you monster!” Cait bellowed into the woman’s ear. “Have you learned nothing? Your venom is powerless upon me. Jack! Jack?”

  With a hiss, Helena spun about, heaved herself backward and slammed Cait into the wall, aiming to further damage her injured shoulder—and hitting her mark. Her left arm was losing strength. Any minute her grip would fail.

  Jack sidestepped writhing morphophídia and the frantic Dr. Thrakos to lunge for the TTX weapons. He snatched one up, took aim at the lamia’s chest and fired.

  Zwing. At last the welcome sound of an air-powered dart releasing.

  Thwack. The dart hitting its mark.

  Helena howled and threw Cait against the wall once more, a final attempt to divest herself of the clinging weight. Pain burst over Cait’s shoulder, and she fell.

  Canvas sack in hand, Helena fled, slamming the laboratory door closed behind her. Jack threw it open, but she was already gone.

  Dammit.

  “Help!” Dr. Thrakos howled. “I’ve been bit!”

  He fell to the ground, a deadly dose of venom pumping through his veins and arteries. In the chaos, two morphophídian serpents had slithered off to a shadowed corner. But the third had extracted revenge for a life of imprisonment with a fast strike to the mad scientist’s arm. Fangs still sunk into flesh, the creature stared at her with slitty, defiant eyes.

  Corpse candles.

  Jack cursed. “We have to save him. Think of all the information stored inside his skull.”

  He was right. There really was no choice.

  Muttering, Cait grasped the base of the morphophídian’s head and forced its jaws open, prying it free. With both hands, she gave a sharp twist, breaking its spine, ending its miserable life, and reducing it to nothing more than a curious, uncanny specimen fit for a brief dissection before an afterlife of confinement floating in a formaldehyde-filled jar.

  “Pull up his sleeve,” she ordered Jack.

  He propped Dr. Thrakos against the cabinets and tore his sleeve from wrist to shoulder.

  In the distance, she heard shouts ring out.

  “Here!” Jack yelled.

  “Go,” she said. “Find them. I can handle this.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Jack ran down the hallway, calling to the approaching agents. “We’re down here! Beneath the boiler room!”

  All blood had drained from Dr. Thrakos’ face, leaving him pale and waxy with a growing sheen of cold sweat. “Heart racing,” he gasped. “Breathing… a struggle.”

  Her sympathy for his plight was in short supply. Still, her pulse picked up its pace. This would be the first time her hypothesis was put to the test.

  Oh, how the tables had turned.

  Dropping onto her knees beside Dr. Thrakos, she cracked open her refrigerated case and tugged out a vial of antivenin and a syringe. She filled the barrel and tapped the syringe, dislodging air bubbles.

  With dead eyes, she stared down at him. “You mentioned half-siblings of mine.”

  “Will tell you,” he wheezed. “If I live.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” She wrapped rubber tubing about the mad scientist’s arm and set about locating a vein. “Or I’ll find a way to reunite you with your remaining morphophídia.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I’d certainly try.” The hollow needle slid into the mad scientist’s vein, and she depressed the plunger, injecting every last drop of the antivenin into his system. “In a few minutes,” she said, “you should feel a lessening of the bands about your chest, then a slowing of your heart rate.”

  But her words fell on deaf ears. The mad scientist had fallen unconscious.

  Sighing, Cait set about retrieving his escaped creations.

  Moments later, hard shoe leather clanged on the rungs of the metal ladder that led downward from the boiler room and agents, chests heaving, burst into the room, her brother in the lead.

  “Ten minutes too late for taking Lamian prisoners.” Cait sat back on her heels, securing the latch that would keep the two remaining morphophídia safe within their cage. She waved her hand. “Allow me to introduce two venomous creatures and their creator, one Dr. Thrakos.”

  Lady Mildred began to cry, and Aubrey renewed his garbled shouts.

  Familiar Romani curses fell from Logan’s lips as he took in the scene before him. “Everywhere you go, destruction follows.” He sighed. “But at least no one is dead.” His eyes darkened as they fell upon the mad scientist. “Yet.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “He escaped?” Jack all but shouted, incredulous. “How? I watched the man pour half a bottle of brandy down his throat.”

  “Not to mention the empty laudanum bottle on his bedside table,” Cait added, frowning. “But it’s possible he dumped its contents, then played dead, c
ounting upon us to leave him alone.”

  Black leveled them both with a narrow gaze. “One way or another, you were fooled. While Agent Jackson stood guard at the new Lord Saltwell’s door—in full view of all other doors connecting to his suite—the gentleman managed to climb out a window and shimmy down a rain spout.”

  Implying complicity with the lamia.

  Had Carruthers slipped away to sound the alarm? Would he aid and abet the three women in their flight from British shores? Where on Earth might they have planned to meet?

  The three of them stood together—outside of the Reptile House entrance and beneath the night sky—pondering the implications of their discovery and the next steps that ought to be taken.

  Jack swore. “How many agents are searching?”

  “As many as I can spare,” Black said. “Guards watch the entrances to various train stations for his wife and children. For the man himself, they wait at his club and a few of his other known haunts. That’s all we have, given your brother refuses to cooperate.”

  Jack had slid the gag from his brother’s mouth. “Where have they gone?”

  “You,” Aubrey had gasped. “Forever on hand to ruin everything.”

  “Is that any way to talk to someone who saved your lives?”

  “Mildred’s.” Aubrey had glared. “Not mine.”

  Further proof his brother cared only for his own skin.

  Jack had snorted. “That may well be true. Have you seen the equipment Dr. Thrakos kept on hand?” He’d lifted a glass jar of needles, given it a shake. Metal clinked against glass, kicking up a fine dust of dark material. “Dried blood? Certainly not the cleanest of sharps and sutures. A few stitches might have stopped your bleeding, but chances of an infection are through the roof. Your other nut might yet rot and fall off.”

  “Fix this,” his brother had hissed through clenched teeth.

  He’d shaken his head, slowly. “This is far past fixing, though mitigation might yet be an option.” He’d dropped the jar of needles onto the gurney. Right beside Aubrey’s head for closer inspection. “Carruthers is the reason you’re in this mess. Your testicle was sacrificed to augment his bedroom performance.”