The Silver Skull (The Elemental Web Chronicles Book 2)

by Anne Renwick

  “Before Warrick experiments upon your sister,” she agreed. “And that device must be returned to British soil while you still have hope of a pardon.” She dried her face with a towel. “Wei visited me. Here, in our room, when we were separated. She came through the window to deliver my reticule.”

  “The window?” He listened to a tale of rock climbing and canvas wings. Did the girl have no fears?

  “Perhaps Wei might send a message for us. It’s clear she has no love for her uncle.”

  “No.” Ian shook his head. “We must exit Germany as we arrived. Without any of our countrymen knowing we crossed its border.” But first he needed to discover where his sister was being held.

  His sister. He closed his eyes. There was much to discuss, much to plan. Even with such threats hanging over their heads, he’d found himself enjoying Olivia’s company while Elizabeth endured Warrick’s ministrations. Never before had a woman distracted him so. Her appeal was an inescapable magnetic field, not that he had any desire to resist its pull.

  “What of the guardsmen?” she asked. “Is there any hope for them?”

  “Unlikely. Osteosarcoma is not, to my knowledge, treatable, though I intend to try. Warrick did hint at a possible cure. If we can discover what he is about, perhaps we can help the guardsmen. In the meantime, while we search for a way to leave this crumbling pile of rocks that passes for a castle, we must convince the count that we are following his orders.”

  “The osforare apparatus.” Her voice was tense.

  “Yes. If we’re to succeed, you will need to work at my side.” He paused. “Your fear of blood, of needles and pain…” Her back stiffened. “I’m sorry, but we must discuss it.”

  Placing a hand atop the table to steady herself as she turned, she lifted a bloodless face to meet his gaze. “There’s not much hope, I’m afraid. Ever since I found my brother broken and bleeding upon the ground, watched what he went through in an attempt to piece him back together…”

  Her brother’s legs, broken during a tragic fall. He’d heard the story, seen the contraption her sister Amanda had created to restore her brother’s ability to walk. A distressing process to witness even for the most unshakeable of surgeons. It explained her fear of heights and blood.

  “My process is nowhere as invasive,” he promised. He used needles, not knives. “And we will apply anesthesia to dampen any pain.” He reached out a hand to steady her when she swayed. “There is a way to overcome hemophobia, but it will take practice.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “PRACTICE.” That didn’t sound promising. Already her head wobbled upon her shoulders. Though she’d rather enjoyed “practicing” at being his wife, there was no choice but to move on to blood. And needles.

  Ian took her hand and led her to the stool beside the stove. “Let’s see if there’s any hope of heat.”

  A few smoldering embers allowed themselves to be coaxed back to life, but even as flames danced before her, cold seeped deeper into her skin. “Perhaps I ought to sit upon the floor?”

  “A logical precaution.” His voice held all the emotion of an executioner.

  Lowering herself to the floor, she buried her face in her hands. “Your bedside manner needs much work,” she groaned.

  He crouched before her and tucked a lock her hair behind her ear. “You seemed to be enjoying my bedside manner earlier.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it again, that wicked grin she’d first teased out of him at the start of their voyage. It wouldn’t last long. It never did. After all, their situation was far too serious—but that smile transformed his face from serious scientist to heartbreaking rake.

  Her heart stumbled, then picked up its pace. Why did she feel such a strong attachment to this man when all he’d done was kiss her senseless?

  Fanning the attraction that sparked between them was a dangerous proposition.

  Understanding dawned. This was why female field agents were all widows. Prior experience with men must allow them to keep their wits about them. To seduce a man, yet not hand over their hearts. To maintain focus at all times.

  For she had not wanted Ian to stop. If his hands gripping her waist atop layers of silk and steel could kindle such desire, what would it feel like to have them touch her bare skin?

  Ian pulled her hands from her flaming face. “There. See? Already the blood has returned to your face. Arousal is one way to raise blood pressure.”

  “Not nice. You turned me down,” she reminded him. “I only wanted to suggest an alliance with… certain benefits.”

  “Not nice, perhaps.” His dark eyes flashed. “Yet enjoyable. I’ll not deny my attraction, Olivia. You’re a captivating woman. I want you. A bit too much. But you deserve better, and I’ll not ruin you.”

  Ruin? An interesting concept among the ton. Men placed such value on a woman’s virginity. It was, in her line of work, a considerable asset for a young female societal liaison to be able to present herself as unspoiled by a man’s touch. All the better to draw a target’s attention. Given the men she’d been tasked with enticing, that had been a factor in her favor.

  But now? Ian’s flirtations, his kisses, convinced her she was missing something wonderful. “I’ve been gone from the airship for over two days,” she countered. “The damage to my reputation is already done.”

  That last part was a lie. Her parents would be furious, but Mother would have concocted a likely excuse. For if the truth were discovered, the gossip would never die down, and Father would have no choice but to send her into premature retirement. Still, unless she could complete this self-appointed mission with honor, they would never trust her with a mission again.

  If she could help prevent an army of unbreakable German soldiers from threatening Britain’s shore, she might—might—be able to salvage this situation. Perhaps the Queen herself might be moved to intercede on her behalf. And Ian’s.

  “Perhaps.” Ian abruptly rose, his smile gone. “I think, for now, that we had best focus on the present situation and revisit such… societal concerns should we manage to leave this castle alive.”

  It was becoming harder and harder to think of him as a target. But he was both an unauthorized and a forbidden target. A scientist and a former agent who—rightly—suspected her motives.

  He was also a man.

  In this their mutual attraction would work to her advantage. It had already sparked a protective instinct to keep her close, to keep her safe. She would return the favor for it was impossible to think of him as a traitor. He was a man placed in a difficult situation, a nearly impossible situation, and she would do her best to see him—and his sister—safe.

  Yet they could be in this castle together for days, weeks—maybe even months—before help arrived. They could end up spending a lot of time together in that bed. Flirting she knew, but anything beyond? All her life she’d been carefully chaperoned and steered in the direction of distasteful gentlemen. For the first time Olivia wanted… more. And it was almost within reach.

  Cogs and gears. What was wrong with her? Being alone with this man clouded her mind. The door could open at any moment. It was time to prepare for the tasks that lay in her immediate future, for a day of distasteful laboratory and medical procedures. If there was to be any hope of her becoming a full-fledged Queen’s agent, it was time to confront her greatest weakness.

  “Very well,” she agreed. “You said there is a cure for my blood phobia. Lest you plan to kiss me each time I grow faint, I assume there is another method to raise my blood pressure?”

  “There is.” He shoved the last of their allotted coal into the stove. “Your reaction is not uncommon, quite understandable. Though there are psychological reasons for your fear, the solution I offer is based on simple biological facts.”

  Good. The last thing Olivia wanted to examine in excruciating detail was the day her brother had plummeted from a balcony, nearly ending his life. She knew the basis for her phobias. Her sisters had overcome their issue
s by joining forces to invent a cure. They’d fixed Ned. Amanda had even caught a spy in the process. But what had Olivia accomplished with all her training and skills? Not a single thing.

  That needed to change. Immediately.

  “When you see or think of blood, your unconscious mind feels threatened and decides that the blood might very well be your own. A sudden and significant fall in your blood pressure causes you to faint, dropping you to the ground—the safest position for a bleeding individual—thus ensuring sufficient blood flow continues to your brain.”

  As Ian spoke, his tone changed, reminding Olivia of the times her sister had attempted to lecture her on basic scientific principles. She tried not to grind her teeth. “That seems reasonable.”

  “Not if the blood is not your own.” He began to pace. “If you are, in fact, uninjured, then fainting places you at the mercy of your environment, one you can no longer control. I need to be able to depend upon you. There will be needles. Then there will be blood.”

  She swallowed convulsively. “That word…”

  “The trick is to increase your blood pressure, something that can be done by tensing and squeezing your muscles, preferably the larger ones, whenever you start to feel weak.” He stopped pacing, all his intensity focused into his gaze. “Try it now. Make fists. Tense your arms. Your calves, thighs and buttocks.”

  What a marvel that he could say such words aloud, casually and without innuendo. The embarrassment of this situation alone sent her blood pressure soaring, but she did as he asked.

  “Good. Like that. Now hold for ten seconds.” He waited. “Then relax for twenty seconds. Repeat.”

  She huffed. “If it is as simple as that—”

  “Not simple, Olivia. Because now comes the difficult part.” He crossed the room to snatch two pillows from the bed and returned to drop them on either side of her. “I need you to make the osforare apparatus fully operational. The count is likely to demand a demonstration. So I am going to describe what it is and what it’s supposed to do in great detail.”

  All those needles. Her head spun.

  “Look at me.” He snapped his fingers. “Focus. If you faint, we’ll repeat this again and again and again…”

  She lifted her chin and clenched her fists. “Just get on with it.”

  He nodded. “Originally, we thought to provide Elizabeth with a definitive cure, to fix all two hundred and eight bones of her body. To do so, we set about altering osteoprogenitor cells. Unfortunately, years of work demonstrated—in rats—that if one attempts to manipulate those cells residing within the marrow of the bone, cancer is the final and fatal outcome.”

  “As Warrick demonstrated in humans,” she said.

  “The man’s ethics are all but nonexistent. Avoid him.” Slicing a hand through the air, Ian began to pace again. “So I changed tactics. Elizabeth’s bones break easily. The bones of those individuals who guard the Queen’s safety and welfare are frequently broken. Therefore, rather than attempt to remodel the entire skeletal system, I decided to focus upon the break itself, to create mature, differentiated cells that would replicate quickly, but only for a short, defined period of time. They rapidly repair the break, then die. But because they have such an ephemeral lifespan, they must be delivered directly to the location in which they are required.”

  “And the osforare apparatus is the means by which you propose to deliver them.” Her stomach threatened mutiny.

  “Yes. The apparatus is built primarily of a new chromium alloyed steel designed to resist corrosion. A metal alloy that is both strong and light and easily cleaned.” He paused a moment, judging her reaction. “The many joints the osforare apparatus possesses allow it to wrap about or fold over the skin and muscle that covers nearly every bone in the human body.”

  She breathed in, she breathed out.

  “The apparatus is an experimental device.”

  “You’ve never used it before?” Her jaw unhinged.

  Pain flashed across his face. “I snatched it away from my laboratory while it was still under construction. It’s not even complete. Its punch cards are little more than hypothetical programs. Making it fully functional is a task that now falls to you.”

  She stared at him. Helping him to perfect and deploy an experimental medical device on foreign soil on behalf of foreign soldiers would also make her guilty of treason. As her presence was unauthorized, any missteps on her part would come with more severe punishments. Did she dare assist? “Are the cells themselves fully functional?” she asked, not certain if she wished to hear an affirmative or negative answer.

  “They are, but…” Ian pressed a thumb to his lips.

  “Rats?” she guessed.

  “Yes. I have proven the concept in rodents, but not humans. The Queen decided that while the Rankine engineer constructed the device, my time and attention was better directed elsewhere.”

  “Marriage?”

  He glanced at her sharply.

  Shrugging a shoulder, she offered no apology. “Every single unmarried lady of the ton—and every mama—is aware of your recent social activities.”

  “Are they? Most debutants made their excuses and sought the retiring room upon my approach.” His tight voice told her he’d not been immune to the sting of rejection.

  “Consider your chosen profession.”

  “And the disaster that is my estate,” Ian snapped. “Yes, it was strongly suggested that I turn my attention to marriage and the need for a male heir.” His eyes bored into her. “You are, Olivia, one of only two women to actively vie for my attention in that regard.”

  “I don’t recall suggesting actual marriage,” she said, meeting his steely gaze. “Nor offering to provide an heir. But out of curiosity, who was the other woman?” The countess flashed to mind, but Olivia pushed the ludicrous thought away. Katherine had married last Season.

  His eyes flashed as he turned away. “I can generate those mature cells here—in human form—but only as a last resort. Regardless, the osforare apparatus must function. Once clamped about the injured bone, tension springs will uncoil. Multiple needles will simultaneously pierce skin, muscle and connective tissue en route to bone. Blood vessels will be compromised. There will be leakage.”

  Cold sweat broke out over Olivia’s skin. Suppressing a moan, she clenched every muscle in her legs. In her arms.

  “The program, using a feedback loop, must ensure that the springs do not drive the hollow points into the bone itself. Rather, the needles must rest gently upon the surface of the bone where a thin tissue, the periosteum, resides. It is there that my modified human osteoblasts will be created and begin their work.”

  Olivia’s vision grayed about the edges, and it flitted through her mind that there would—necessarily—be more “practice.” She chose the left pillow.

  Chapter Twenty

  IAN SCOOPED OLIVIA from the floor and regretted that smelling salts were not among the contents of his medical supplies, when he heard the snick of a key in the lock.

  “Wake up.” He patted her cheek. “We have company.”

  Olivia groaned.

  The door swung open and in rolled a steam maid carrying breakfast—clear broth and brown bread—and the steam valet bearing yet another gown for Olivia.

  The guardsman standing at the threshold looked uncomfortable. “Is she ill? Or,” he cleared his throat and lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, “perhaps with child?”

  Ian sighed. “We’ve been married but two days.”

  “Not everyone waits for the wedding,” Olivia needled.

  The guardsman’s face reddened.

  “Overacting,” he muttered into her hair.

  In retaliation, she nuzzled his neck.

  He might have set her down upon her own two feet a bit too forcibly. Not that she seemed to care. Pressing a hand to her empty stomach, Olivia fell upon the tray of food as if she’d not eaten in days. Which, Ian reflected, was a distinct possibility.

  “Dress quickly,” th
e guardsmen urged them. “You are to visit Fräulein Elizabeth.”

  At last. After the previous night’s events he’d worried the count might refuse him the right to visit his sister. He ran a hand over the stubble upon his face, regretting the loss of his razor as he walked to the wash stand.

  As he tied his cravat, Ian caught the reflection of the guardsman in the mirror. Unobserved, his stoic expression had fallen away. The man looked as if someone had shoved needles beneath his fingernails. Did he worry about the lumps upon his jaw? Or did the man regret something else? Was Ian’s reunion with his sister to be overcast with new threats and demands?

  Together, they stepped out the door. Olivia walked before him, following the guardsman who led them through the maze of interconnected rooms, corridors and stairs, this time toward a distant corner of the uppermost reaches of the castle. With each step, dread coiled tighter in his gut. It wasn’t lost on him that Katherine had loaned his wife a sapphire blue gown much like the one she’d worn the day he’d proposed. He expected he was to read between the many ruffles, but whatever message the countess intended to send was lost upon him. Regardless, it didn’t bode well.

  The cry of a terrified woman echoed down the long stone hallway, yanking him from the quagmire of his thoughts. A cry he recognized.

  “Elizabeth!” Ian pushed past Olivia and the guardsmen, following the sound of plaintive whimpers. Slamming the door open against the stone walls, he burst into the room rushing past a number of staring faces, focused entirely upon his sister.

  “Halt!” A guardsman’s arm shot out, wrapping about Ian’s neck as he lunged forward, forcibly stopping him from approaching his sister.

  Behind him, Olivia gasped.

  A portion of the turret had been sectioned off into an alcove, one fitted with iron bars and a stout metal door. Inside, his sister lay on her stomach, stretched out upon a narrow bed. Her ankles were bound by thick rope to the footboard, her wrists—one in a plaster cast—to the headboard. Two thin linen sheets were draped over her body, parted in the middle to expose the bare flesh of the posterior curve of her hip.