The Spiritglass Charade

by Colleen Gleason

  I bolted upright and was out of bed by the time Pix’s feet were on the floor. Tonight he was hatless and garbed in close, black clothing. But he wore the false sideburns once again and his collar was turned up high to obscure his face. For some reason, that really aggravated me. He was always hiding, stealing about, and covering himself.

  “What in the blooming fish are you doing here?”

  I thought I knew the answer. But the square, palm-sized device I’d slipped from his overcoat last night was well hidden. And not in my bedchamber. I had unwrapped it from its papers, but I still had no idea what the flat, metal object with metal grommets and curling wires was. A cognog like Mina might have an idea, but I was at a loss. So I sure as Pete wasn’t going to let him steal it back.

  For a moment Pix just stood there. The light glowed from behind him so all I could see was his shape. But I realized I was half-illuminated by the moon and stars—and that my figure was outlined beneath the loose cotton night rail I wore. Blast it. I moved into the shadows, but my insides were fluttering and my palms grew damp.

  All I could think was that he’d kissed me last night. And now he was here in my bedchamber.

  “Did ye ’ave a fine time a’ th’ Lyceum tonight? Chattin’ and dancin’ wi’ the charmin’ Mr. Dancy, were ye?”

  “How did you—never mind. Yes, it was fine. And I’m exhausted. I need to sleep because Mina insists I take over for her at Willa Ashton’s house first thing in the morning.”

  I glanced at the package that had arrived from her, via Mr. Treadwell of all people, earlier today. I’d been too busy getting my hair done to unwrap it or read the separate note Mina sent. Florence was Attila the Hun when we were preparing for a social engagement like the soiree.

  “What do you want?” I demanded again.

  “I thought ye’d be wantin’ a gander at this.” He tossed something onto the edge of my bed.

  It was a scrap of butcher paper, like the one from the Pickled Nurse. It even smelled like pickles. “And so?”

  “Look at it.”

  I had to come into a beam of moonlight to see the fragment. My hair prickled when I recognized the simple sketch on it. A long-legged spider. “Where did you get it?”

  His expression was hidden in the shadows, but his stance was stiff and removed. “It was tossed in m’violin case at New Vauxhall. By your paramour . . . or someone ’oo was wi’ ye an’ ’im.”

  “Ashton is La société?”

  Pix shifted, easing away from the window toward my dressing table. Not even the flash of a teasing grin. But his attention never left me. “Ashton or ’ooever else was at the gathering at Vauxhall.”

  “Are you saying there was a La société meeting the same night of the grand opening? At the Gardens?”

  I’d spent hours combing the place, searching for UnDead. How had I missed them? I looked sharply at Pix. “How do you know this? Right. That paper was an invitation for you, wasn’t it?”

  He shrugged, his silhouette outlined by the cool moonlight. “Ye know better’n t’ask certain questions, luv.” He was next to my dressing table now, out of the moonlight and into the shadows . . . but he made no move to come closer to me.

  I looked back down at the butcher paper, wondering what it all meant. I’d show Mina tomorrow. Surely she’d have a theory—or two. And, as usual, Pix was noncommittal and ambiguous. Blast him.

  “Why do you always wear a disguise? And why do you have to sneak around so much?” I burst out. “Who or what are you hiding from?”

  He became very still. “What makes ye think—”

  “Blast it, Pix. Do you think I’m a complete cloud-head? You can come around regularly and take me off to your hideaway and steal kisses from me, but you can’t even tell me your real name. Or let me see your face in a good light. Your real face. And you sure as Pete can stop using that fake accent around me too.”

  “Fake accent? Oy, luv, me accent isn’t fake.” But his voice was a little tight. “Exaggerated at times, mind, but not fake.”

  Well, that was some progress. “I don’t even know what you look like. For real.”

  “An’ it matters to ye, does it, Evaline, luv? Wot a bloke looks like?”

  “If he’s going to kiss me, then, yes, it does matter.”

  He reached up to his face and peeled away one of his sideburns. And then, still silent, holding my gaze, he did the same on the other side, tucking them both into his pockets. Then he tore off eyebrows—thick, dark ones I hadn’t even realized were false—and, finally, a small piece of rubber that was attached to the end of his nose. The pieces of his disguise were all simple and subtle, but together, they greatly altered his appearance.

  Pix pushed his thick, dark hair out of his face and stepped into a beam of moonlight. I caught my breath. I’d thought he was handsome before, but now . . . “Thank you” was all I said.

  He nodded, still looking at me, then eased back so his face was in shadow once more.

  Struggling for something cool and witty to say, I noticed a faint light out of the corner of my eye. The small package from Mr. Treadwell sat on my chest of drawers. A subtle blue light glowed from beneath its wrappings.

  I wasted no time pulling the papers away. Inside was the spiritglass. It was closed up into the shape of a small brass pentagon, but the light filtered through the cracks. I must have pushed a button or released a lever, for it opened in my hand to reveal the small blue sphere. It glowed enough to throw shadows around the room.

  “Where did ye nick that?” Pix moved toward me for the first time tonight. He was replacing his false eyebrows.

  “Mina sent it to me.” I shuffled through the items on my bureau and found her message from earlier today. Or, rather, yesterday, I thought as the clock struck half-past one.

  Willa has been taken. I know the identity of the perpetrator but dare not put it in writing. You should also have received a package from Mr. Treadwell. It will contain important evidence. If you hear no further word, the worst has happened and I’ve gone after her. The hideaway of La société is in Smithfield, near Ivey & Boles. For obvious reasons, I shall need your particular support. Contact Grayling and ref: Yingling case.

  “Blast.” There’d been no other message from Mina—unless it was in the foyer on the front table. I hurried down on silent feet to check and found the surface empty.

  When I returned to my chamber, Pix was reapplying the rubber piece to his nose while reading Mina’s note. Not a bit of guilt crossed his face, the blooming snoop. I wondered how many of my drawers he’d combed through whilst I was gone—looking for the object I’d lifted from his pocket.

  “You won’t find your curious device in here.” I yanked my wardrobe doors open as quietly as I could. My boy breeches were tucked in the back, as were a pair of comfortable, worn boots that had hollow heels. I dragged them out along with a black shirt and coat. “I’ve hidden it where even a slick-fingered thief can’t find it.”

  “Yer no’ s’bad yerself, luv. I didn’t granny ye diggin’ in me pockets. Granted, I was a bit mollied at th’ time. But ye’d best return it. It’s not somethin’ the likes o’ ye want in yer possession.” The accent was back in full force, the disguise replaced, and the fragile connection between us broken.

  “Right. Of course. More secrets.” I dove behind the dressing screen. “Don’t look.” I tucked the divider around so it made a half circle and blocked me from his view. I could see over the top if I stood on my toes. “In fact, you can leave. Go. Get out of my chamber.” My voice was muffled during this last bit as I shrugged the black shirt over my shift and a self-lacing corset.

  I bent down to yank the breeches on, then the boots. I expected him to be gone when I straightened back up, but he wasn’t.

  “I told you to leave. And I’m not giving it back—whatever it is. Not till I find out what it is.” I finger-combed my sagging hair into a thick, wild handful, then braided it and tucked the plait inside my shirt. Still ignoring Pix, I pulled out the
trunk from beneath my bed and armed myself with stakes, holy water, a knife, and a silver cross. Too blasted bad I didn’t have Mina’s Steam-Stream gun.

  “Good-bye, Pix. I’ve got work to do.” I vaulted out onto the oak’s branch.

  By the time I reached the ground, he was there too. Surprise, surprise. “This way,” he said.

  Parked in a shadowy corner between two buildings was a small vehicle hidden by a fabric cover that resembled bricks. Not quite a cycle, not at all a carriage. It had two large wheels on either side of an enclosed platform on which the driver would stand—or two people if you crowded enough. The steering device was a large circle, like in an automobile. When Pix bent to shift a lever, I saw the distinct flash of a spark.

  Electric, then. Was he trying to get us arrested?

  “Get on.” He shoved a pair of goggles at me.

  “Don’t you want to know where I’m going?”

  “Oi know where yer goin’, luv. T’ check on Miss ’Olmes and make sure she’s in ’er bed, safe and sound.”

  He gave me a little shove and I stepped onto the platform, settling the goggles into place. He followed, closing the door behind us.

  Gad, he was close. It was tight in the small space. A vehicle definitely designed only for one.

  We started off with a jerk. I expected us to trundle along the street, but to my surprise, he turned down a dark alley. The only illumination was a small glow from the base of the vehicle. How could he see where we were going?

  We drove between two very narrow buildings, and directly toward a brick wall. I stiffened when he made no move to slow, but to my surprise, the wall opened. Then we were going down into darkness. The sewers?

  It definitely smelled like the sewers. Musty, crusty, and ugh.

  As soon as the doors closed behind us, the vehicle stopped. There was a gentle click followed by a spark off the tail of the cart. Something rumbled gently beneath my feet and the whole contraption rose as if something inflated beneath us. Pix moved his arm near my waist and a light came on. It beamed into the tunnel ahead, illuminating a thick, glistening river of . . . I’m not sure what. I didn’t want to know.

  “Through the sewers?”

  He chuckled, his mouth very close to my ear. “If them blokes the toshers can do’t, why not us? Now ’old on, luv.” He shifted again and I heard a soft whirr as a clear shield rose from the front and sides of the vehicle. He pulled a lever, turned something, and the faint rumble turned into a pleasant roar as the transport leapt forward.

  We sped through the tunnel. At first I was afraid the sludge would splash up all over, but the shield protected us, and there were hardly any splashes anyway. We zoomed along on top of the water. The ride was surprisingly smooth, and the unpleasant smells from the sewers were lost in the breeze. I couldn’t imagine a faster form of transportation—except maybe Inspector Grayling’s steamcycle.

  We came out of the sewers and the vehicle lowered back to the ground. The wheels turned beneath us as Pix zigzagged through dark alleys and courtyards instead of streets.

  When we arrived in front of Mina’s house, I jumped out before he even stopped. The building was dark. That was no surprise, for it was nearly two o’clock in the morning.

  I hesitated, unwilling to knock and possibly waken the household (although as far as I knew, it was just Mina and occasionally her father; Mrs. Raskill lived in a separate apartment next door).

  Before I could decide what to do, Pix was next to me. He bent at the door and I saw the flash of something slender and metal in his hands. His wrists moved sharply and neatly, and the door swung open.

  “After ye, luv.”

  I’d only been in Mina’s house once before. It took me a moment to orient myself, and I checked the laboratory first. She wasn’t there.

  I came back out into the main area and slipped past the kitchen and through the living space. It took mere seconds to check the bedchambers—both were empty.

  If Mina wasn’t here, she had definitely gone after Willa.

  Ready to leave, I turned to speak to Pix and saw the golden filter of the streetlamp buffeting over the fireplace mantel. Something there caught my eye. I froze in surprise, then walked over. Surely I was mistaken.

  No. I wasn’t. I picked up the photo, staring, unable to believe my eyes.

  Very well, then. That answered one question that had been nagging at me for a while.

  Now I had even more reason to find Mina.

  Miss Stoker

  The Point of No Return

  We walked over to Pix’s vehicle, parked under a gaslight.

  “I don’t even know where La société is.” Desperation made my voice high and tight. “I searched all around last night, but I couldn’t find the vampires in Smithfield. How can I help Mina if I can’t find her?”

  “That, luv, is where I can ’elp ye out. Despite yer mollyin’ things up, I managed t’ smooth thin’s over wi’ me business associates.”

  “You know where they are? Take me there. Hurry! There are lives at stake.”

  Pix looked at me. His expression was filled with remorse, yet I saw determination in his gaze. “Aye, and it’ll cost ye, luv. I must ’ave that packet.”

  I couldn’t believe it. “What the bloody Pete is it? Why is it so damned important?”

  He shook his head. “Evaline. Ye can’t be involved in it. For yer own safety. An’ that’s the last I’ll say on it. Now, ye gi’ me the packet and I’ll take ye where ye wanna go. Or ye can waste the night wandering’ through Smithfiel’, looking fer wot ye canna find.”

  I had no choice other than to agree. Fortunately, my house was on the way to Smithfield. I handed the palm-sized object to Pix with a glare.

  He slipped it in his pocket. “I feel much better now, luv. Ye’ll thank me someday.”

  I doubted it, but at that point it didn’t matter. We were off to Smithfield, where I hoped I wasn’t going to be too late.

  By the time we arrived in the dark alley, I could see the faintest light in the eastern sky. My neck was frigid. There was no doubt of the presence of UnDead. This certainty was something that had been missing when I patrolled the streets of Smithfield.

  Pix approached a heavy cog-and-gearworked door. I gripped my stake and waited. He leaned in, listening closely as he turned cog and gear in a variety of directions while I chafed at the delay.

  Finally, the cagework loosened and the door opened a crack. I turned to him. “There’s no need for you to go inside. I told you, I can do this. Vampires are my specialty. You stay out here and—”

  “An’ ye get all bent up when I tell ye t’stay out o’ danger.” His eyes were dark and furious and matched his tight voice. “Don’ be a bloody mug, Evaline. Ye ’ave a knack fer makin’ me see the red as of late, don’ ye?”

  With that, he shoved past me into the dark building.

  Fine. If he wanted to face a troop of UnDead, that was his blooming choice.

  I slipped in behind him, hefting a stake in my hand. Pix was a dark shadow ahead of me as he moved along like a shadow himself. And why was I reduced to following him? Whatever happened to ladies first?

  A door opened next to me and I hardly had to think about it: My arm pistoned back as the vampire emerged, then slammed forward before he even knew what happened. Poof.

  I grinned as Pix turned around. I dusted ash off my arm as he glanced over me in the dim light. Obviously he was still angry, for he turned and continued on his way. Then I heard low, urgent voices from behind a door and I stopped.

  “. . . Willa!” came through the wall.

  I must have made a sound because Pix was at my side in an instant. I noticed he had something in his hand too: a stake. Well, at least he’d come properly armed.

  I eased the door open and found myself face to face with Mina Holmes and Olympia Babbage.

  “About dratted time.” Mina yanked me into the chamber. “I’ve been here for hours, waiting for you. It’s worse than I thought, Evaline. Most of the b
oys—all the missing boys, including Robby—they’re vampires now. Most all of them have been turned. The rest they use to feed on, and to steal, until they decide to make them UnDead. It’s a band of vampire pickpockets!”

  “What happened to you?” Blood stained her neck and I could see two puncture wounds there.

  “They accosted me and tied me up, then one of the little buggers thought I’d be a good snack. Fortunately, I now know how to escape from binding ropes—thanks to Miss Fenley—and once I was free, I surprised my attackers with a splash of holy water. I escaped in the melee and was able to find where they were keeping Miss Babbage. We’ve been hiding out waiting for you.”

  “Right.” I couldn’t hold back a smile of admiration. “Nicely done.”

  “Now we have to locate Willa and get her out of here.” But Mina’s voice sounded wobbly and her eyes glassy.

  “I have some salted holy water.” I bent to dig in my boot.

  “Later. We must find Willa and escape as soon as possible.”

  “It’s nearly dawn. The sunrise will make it that much easier.”

  I turned to Pix, who had been speaking intently with Miss Babbage. “You know each other?”

  He looked mildly uncomfortable. “Aye. We ’ave . . . business.”

  “Business” again. It took only a moment for it to make sense. All the electric lights in her workshop, just like the ones in his place . . . the gadget he wore on his wrist to open the door to his apartments . . . the floating-driving motorcar . . . They were a match made in heaven. I wondered if he called the pretty blonde “luv” too.

  And kissed her in the shadows.

  “What are you waiting for?” Mina gave me a shake.

  I pulled free. “Follow me. I’ll lead the way.”

  I slipped into the hall without a backward glance at Pix. The others followed. I heard a soft murmur behind me, then Mina tugged my arm. “This way. We don’t want to go toward the main parlor or they’ll see us. And I didn’t get to check the rest of the place. There might be . . . um . . . there could be someone else here. Whom we need to extricate.”