Innocent Darkness

by Suzanne Lazear

  Complete darkness blanketed her. She took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind of the many thoughts crowing her head. Closing her eyes, she took another deep breath as weariness consumed her.

  “Well, well, fell asleep, did we?” Dr. Martin disapproving tone made Noli’s eyes fly open. He stared at her with his unnerving beady eyes. He always seemed to look at her as if she wasn’t wearing any clothes,

  “I … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Her entire being braced for the worst.

  “Don’t worry, Magnolia. I won’t tell … this time.” His voice held sinister notes that made her tremble inside.

  “However, you’re not supposed to be sleeping.”

  “Yes, Dr. Martin.” She sat up and he helped her out of the brass box.

  “Be a good girl and run along. Miss Henderson is waiting for you.”

  The crack of a whip echoed through her mind.

  “Thank you, Dr. Martin.”

  His hand caught her wrist. “What do we have here? An unauthorized piece of jewelry? Do I even want to know where you hid this to keep it from Miss Gregory?” The doctor’s beady eyes sparkled with delight as he fingered the pendant around her neck, which had worked its way out from under her dress, his hands brushing lightly and deliberately against her tightly corseted breasts.

  “Please, Dr. Martin.” Her knees shook under her thin, grey dress. What could she tell him? “It’s an amulet to protect me against the ill effects of aether.”

  “You fear aether yet aren’t afraid to hoverboard?” A bushy white eyebrow rose.

  “My father disappeared here in San Francisco right after the earthquake. He’s an engineer. His whole team disappeared.” She hiccupped. “They say the aether caused it.”

  “You’re trembling. You fear aether?” His expression softened. Once again, he tried, and failed, to appear fatherly.

  “Of course.”

  Nodding, the doctor tucked it back into her dress in way that sent shivers shooting up her spine. He smiled an unnerving smile, eyes crinkling sinisterly. “I see. I’ll permit it for now. Certainly we don’t want this fear to over stimulate you.”

  Relief washed over her like spring rain. “Thank you, Dr. Martin.”

  “Take some deep breaths, and go on to Miss Henderson.” He made her inhale and exhale deeply, then watched as she left in a way that left her feeling sullied.

  Noli fell into a tiring routine of chores, lessons, and abuse, of rough sheets and shapeless clothes. Her muscles always ached from hard work and whippings, and she continued to fall asleep in the sensory deprivation box.

  Findlay possessed two saving graces that kept her from curling into a ball and refusing to get up. Charlotte was the first. They could seldom talk, but all she needed was a smile, a stolen whisper. They did laundry together, laboring side by side, putting clothes though the hand-cranked washers and hanging sheets up on the line. It allowed them to talk on occasion.

  Charlotte’s family grew tobacco in Georgia. Technically an orphan, her aunt and uncle raised her. She claimed she’d really been sent to Findlay because her aunt found her “inconvenient.” Whenever she spoke of her uncle, the light went out of her eyes. Privately, Noli wondered if that was the reason she wasn’t in a hurry to leave.

  The second saving grace was gardening. Unlike many of the other girls, Noli didn’t mind weeding or tending the garden for hours because she could be outside among the plants. The matron left her alone as long as she worked and didn’t dally.

  The rose garden in the back corner quickly became her favorite. The first few days Noli missed it, thinking it the wall to the estate behind them, instead of a separate little garden. Fragrant, climbing rosebushes, not yet in bloom, grew wild around the stone walls, mixing with ivy and honeysuckle. This concealed the hidden garden from the rest of the grounds and the fence dividing it from the house next door. Faery lilies, rosebushes, sweet peas, foxglove, bluebells, lady slippers, milkweed, and fragrant herbs like thyme, lambs ear, and lavender filled the garden with fragrance and colors. The whole place seemed wild and abandoned, which only added to the garden’s magic feeling. She could practically see the faeries dancing among the blossoms.

  Magic? Faeries? Bah. She sounded like V, all fancy and no practicality. They were far too old to believe in such nonsense. But he’d like this place and she could see him coming here to read one of his dusty old tomes.

  A giant oak tree stood guard in the center of the garden, reminding her of her own faery tree back in Los Angeles. A sharp pang of homesickness shot through her. No tree house hid among the foliage, but an old rope swing dangled from a branch. Someone had once loved this place. The tree’s huge branches made for perfect climbing. Ivy and honeysuckle festooned the trunk, adding to its magical appearance. A ring of toadstools circled it.

  Her hands itched to climb the tree, but memories of Miss Henderson’s whip made her legs burn at the mere thought. Hoyden-like behavior would earn her extra private lessons.

  Instead, she cut bouquets and brought them into the house to arrange in vases in the front hall, the fancies sewing room, and Miss Gregory’s office. She’d been praised for her thoughtfulness and skill at arranging. Good—a reason to go back often. She had no desire to tame the wild garden, but the roses certainly could use some attention.

  “Miss Gregory?” Margaret’s voice cut through the soft din, her thin face flushed, eyes gleaming with spitefulness. Inwardly Noli sighed as she focused on yet another bowl of bland food. Ever since Margaret realized Noli and Charlotte were friends, she’d tortured Noli, too. She’d make stains on her clothes and fuss when Noli couldn’t get them out. Track dirt in on clean floors. Claim to be allergic to the flowers. Find fault with the way Noli made her rickety cot.

  “Yes, Margaret?” Miss Gregory looked up from her conversation. She, Miss Henderson, and Miss Nelson, sat at the head of the table. Next came the fancies, the blues in the middle, new girls at the end.

  “I believe Magnolia has an illegal piece of jewelry. A necklace.” Margaret smirked. “New girls aren’t permitted jewelry.”

  Noli writhed in embarrassment in her hard wooden chair. How did Margaret know? She’d been so careful to keep it hidden.

  Miss Gregory’s eyes narrowed as she looked down her pointed nose. “Does she? Thank you, Margaret. Magnolia Braddock, come here.”

  Margaret beamed, probably imagining her reward for telling.

  The fancies continued their inane conversations, completely ignoring everything else around them. The blues whispered clandestinely as Noli left her seat, making her way shamefully to the head of the table. None of the greys spoke, since they weren’t permitted to speak unless spoken to at meals, but Charlotte flashed her a worried look.

  “What is this?” Reaching out, Miss Gregory grabbed her pendant and yanked it clear off her neck, breaking the chain in the process.

  Noli tried to maintain a facade of calm. Anger—or tears—wouldn’t get her anything but extra lessons and punishments.

  Miss Gregory clucked her tongue. “I’m disappointed in you. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Miss Gregory, this isn’t a piece of jewelry but an amulet to protect me against aether. I’m afraid of it, you see.” She kept her voice soft, and eyes downcast as she told the headmistress about her father. “They say the aether did it. Dr. Martin said I could keep the amulet for now.”

  “Did he now?” Miss Gregory blinked in surprise. Her chin jutted out. “If you’re lying, it’s the water room for you.”

  “Rosemarie, please fetch Dr. Martin,” Miss Gregory ordered.

  “Yes, Miss Gregory.” In a flurry of pale blue skirts, she got up from the table and left.

  While they waited, Noli stood while everyone else ate; enduring hard looks and smirks, especially from Margaret. She got a compassionate look from Claire. Claire never made any outright overtures of friendship, but she’d never been mean and occasionally passed on small bits of advice or warning.

  Dr. Martin fi
nally entered the room. He inclined his head. “You called, Miss Gregory.”

  “Indeed.” Standing, she handed him the broken pendant. “Magnolia Braddock had this. She claims it’s a medal to protect her against aether and you permitted her to keep it.”

  Noli prayed with all her might that he told the truth.

  “Why, yes, Miss Gregory. I did permit Magnolia to keep her amulet.” His unnerving, beady eyes looked Noli up and down in a way that seemed highly inappropriate. A knowing smile played on this thin mouth. He turned the gold sunburst over in his sweaty, meaty hands.

  “You did?” Miss Gregory’s thin lips pursed together.

  “Indeed. She has a deep fear of aether—and this city. I didn’t wish her fear to impede her initial treatment. I decided it would be better for her overall adjustment for her to keep it until we are ready to deal with her deep-set fear.” He smiled at Miss Gregory. “But what god-fearing woman isn’t a little afraid of aether? Plenty of ladies wear protective amulets.”

  By the look on Miss Gregory’s face, she wasn’t one of them. Her lips formed a hard line. “I see, Doctor. I know you wouldn’t allow such a breach of rules unless you found it absolutely necessary to aid her course of treatment. Next time, please inform me.”

  “Why yes, Miss Gregory. It must have slipped my mind.” He handed Noli the broken necklace. “There you are. Will that be all?”

  “Yes, that will be all.” Miss Gregory’s lips puckered as if the words tasted bad.

  He left the room. Charlotte shot Margaret a triumphant look. Noli tried to keep her expression bland as she made her way back to the table, belly unknotting. She’d won, but she knew there’d be a price to pay for her small triumph.

  As soon as Noli sat, Miss Gregory clapped. “Lunch is over, ladies.”

  Her belly rumbled in protest as she looked forlornly at her half-filled bowl. With a sigh, she followed the girls out of the room, still hungry. She’d be punished if caught eating anything out of the vegetable garden.

  “Good job,” Charlotte mouthed.

  Carefully, Noli knotted the broken ends of the chain together; it now barely fit over her head. She tucked it back under her dress.

  Claire stopped her on the way to the garden shed. She probably wanted her to tend to the vegetable garden or pick something for the cook.

  “Watch out for Margaret.” Claire’s blue eyes darted around nervously. “She didn’t get in trouble, but she didn’t get a reward either. She might try something.”

  She hoped Claire’s warning proved incorrect. But she had a suspicion it wouldn’t.

  “Quinn, I need a new sigil.” Steven sat hunched over the desk in the library working on his lessons. Quinn was many things to his family. Right now he played tutor. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask many questions.

  Tall and pale with naturally silver hair, Quinn had an air of dignity about him, though he didn’t look older than twenty. His eyebrows arched. “How exactly did you manage to lose it?”

  It wasn’t that he regretted giving it to Noli, but he didn’t look forward to explaining, either. They weren’t exactly easy to procure. It would be simpler to say he lost it, but if his father discovered he’d lied and given it to Noli … well, only the Bright Lady could help him then.

  “If I don’t tell you, you can’t tell my father,” he replied instead.

  Quinn gazed at him with sharp eyes the color of flint. “I’ll get you another, but you have to pay attention. What has gotten into you?”

  He hadn’t anticipated Noli’s absence to affect him so much. But it had. According to her mother, he couldn’t even write her. “I promise to try.”

  “Good. Now, let’s get back to our lessons.”

  Once again, his mind wandered to Noli and that dreadful place. Should he hope she did well or poorly? Not that it would change anything either way. He just hoped she was safe.

  Seven

  The Spark

  Should we go for a walk?” She shot Kevighn a winsome smile. Her name was Annette, or was it Maryanne? He couldn’t remember. Whatever the mortal called herself, she was charming, curvaceous, and flexible. Very flexible.

  Truly, he should be out hunting and not drowning his sorrows in opium and women. But after the last missive from the queen, he needed to indulge briefly. Essentially, the message read if you don’t find a girl soon, I’ll find someone else who can.

  Few possessed the ability to see the Spark in mortals, but he wasn’t the only one. He just happened to be good at tracking and seducing young women and stealing them away.

  Well, he used to be.

  There weren’t fewer girls with the Spark in the mortal realm. They were more wary of running away with him, especially with all this emphasis on virtue and chastity. What nonsense.

  Also, after Annabelle, he simply lacked the motivation.

  “Briefly, if you wish.” He’d rather take the harlot back upstairs. After perhaps.

  They walked outside, the afternoon overcast. She carried a lace parasol like fine lady. To give the strumpet credit, she didn’t prattle on as they strolled around the gardens of the Red Pearl, his favorite opium den.

  “Poor girls.” She jerked her chin towards the other side of the tall fence.

  Two girls in grey silently hung laundry on a line. The tiny one had freckles and red hair. The other possessed a mop of chestnut curls and eyes like steel. They were about the age he usually stole. The land preferred girls who hovered on the brink between child and woman.

  Personally, he couldn’t fault the land for her good taste.

  “What precisely is this place?” he asked.

  “They take willful girls and beat them until they become submissive, fine ladies.” Taking her fan, she fluttered it. “Horrible, terrible, place. I know the cook. The doctor there is creepy. He seems to enjoy his job of treating the girls a little too much.” She shuddered slightly, making her large bosom shake in her tight, pink, dress.

  A place where they actually sucked the life out of young girls in their prime? Terrible. He never claimed to understand mortals.

  The girls on the other side of the fence continued to hang laundry. The eyes of the girl with the redhead went alight with mischief. She whispered something to the other girl and grinned. They both laughed. Kevighn winced as if the sun came out from behind the clouds.

  The Bright Lady herself seemed to smile upon him. Both girls possessed quite a bit of the Spark. One of them shone with it. With them so close he couldn’t tell which one. Either would do. Maybe he’d bring both. After all, how hard could it be to lure girls with the Spark out of a place designed to drain them of just that?

  The next day Kevighn strolled along the grounds of the Red Pearl alone hoping to get a glimpse of those two girls again. No laundry hung on the line. He continued walking along the fence, even when it became stone. Near the end he began to feel something surprising, pleasing, and startling all at the same time.

  Things just got better and better.

  He went to the back corner of the property and the stone gave way to fence again. The power grew so thick he could practically taste it.

  Ivy, roses, and honeysuckle covered the bars of the fence. Quickly, he pushed some to one side so he could see in. Ah, a fine faery garden if he ever saw one. Someone had planted all the right things. In the center stood a bone fide faery tree ringed with toadstools, gleaming with power. Tiny wood faeries flitted around.

  Oh, it wasn’t just a faery tree, but an old portal to the Otherworld. Not used in years, it had gone wild. Wild gates could pose a danger. Its very presence offered so much potential.

  Hearing movement in the garden, he peered through the foliage. A flash of grey caught his eye. The girl positively shone as she pruned the roses, unaware he watched.

  Faery trees drew those with the Spark. Wary mamas warned their girls about such dangers. Even children’s poems held such warnings. Once he’d seen girls with a skipping rope, chanting mama said I never should, play with pixies in the wood
.

  With bated breath he continued to watch her as he read her Spark. Piling her arms with flowers, she seemed oblivious to the wood faeries flying around her. One spied him and Kevighn placed a finger on his lips. The mortal turned and he saw it was the girl with the mop of chestnut curls and steel eyes. Putting her nose into the flowers, she breathed deeply and glowed.

  He drank in her power, her potential. Oh yes. She’d do nicely.

  Now he had to plan his next move.

  Eight

  Stronger Measures

  Something was wrong with Charlotte. She’d been quieter than usual and had avoided all attempts at conversation. They stood outside in the summer sun hanging the wash. Noli wondered if her unusual silence had to do with being told if she didn’t make better progress, she’d be sent elsewhere, since stronger measures hadn’t worked.

  Charlotte confided that strong measures included a hand-cranked box with brass spoon-like paddles producing something called an electroshock.

  “Why do you continue to fight them?” Noli had asked. “If I don’t, they win. Besides,” Charlotte’s green eyes lost their glimmer. “I don’t want to go home. Beatings, treatments, even electroshock are nothing compared to my uncle.”

  Charlotte had been right; Noli had adjusted to the hard work and beatings. She missed her mother terribly, the quicker she progressed the quicker she could see her— and V—she missed the fussy old bodger, too.

  She missed her books though she’d managed to recover Nicomachean Ethics which had been in her valise left in the sitting room that first day, and read in secret. In public, she devoured the inane prattle of Harpers and Godey’s simply to have something to read.

  When they finished hanging the laundry the matron who supervised them appeared. “Cook would like me to gather some thyme,” Noli lied. “May I bring Charlotte with me?”