The Eterna Solution
Page 29
They were silent for some time before Spire, his words precise and carefully curated, volunteered:
“I truly wish to return to the Metropolitan force. While our … adventures here have hopefully subdued, there will always be crimes that need a careful eye to solve them.”
Rose took a moment to consider him. He stared up at the beautifully wrought clock as if the tower might provide him a certain benediction. Behind its bold face surrounded by gilding and grandeur, Big Ben began tolling the afternoon hour of three. Perhaps the London icon did just that: bless him.
“What do you think, Rose?” Spire asked.
“Are you asking my permission, Harold?” she replied gently. When he turned to stare deeply into her eyes, he stilled her breath. The breadth of his steadfast, earnest nature was so evident in the rich brown pools of his eyes. The tried, true joy of her heart. She smiled. “You needn’t ask permission, but I am pleased you ask my thoughts. The city needs a man like you, as long as you can bear it. Simply so long as I might assist you?”
“Are you asking permission? You needn’t,” he countered. Then he smiled, continuing. “You’ll be the front. The ostensible leader of Omega. You will see to its maintenance and presence. And yes.” He took a step closer to her, took her face gently in his hands. “I want your assistance. In … everything in my life.”
If it were possible, he would have looked deeper into her eyes, into her spirit, but those doors were already wide open for him. Spire bent his head to kiss Rose ever so softly, the pressure of his lips the most gentle, delicate dance, a reverence so opposite his forceful nature.
After a long moment they drew back, arms around one another’s waists, turning again to the river, standing in silent appreciation of the space between two independent souls, a river they had laid a bridge across, now a partnership over that unfathomable abyss.
Their world stood, and remained, Warded.
EPILOGUE
The Bishops had only just returned to New York from their Parisian honeymoon. Evelyn and Blessing had spiritually cleansed the Eterna offices while they were away, new boards had been laid, and every trace of sacrilege had been removed before anyone else set foot inside.
As Clara and Rupert attended to correspondences in the Eterna offices side by side, Lavinia rang the “neutral” bell at her front desk, indicating that a visitor to the Eterna offices had arrived and her read on the caller indicated that middle tone.
“Proceed,” Clara called down the stairs, offering Bishop a quizzical look, wondering who had sought them out. Perhaps a well-wisher regarding their recent union. She smoothed a lock of hair down over the scars remaining where her ear had been, an unfortunate new self-conscious habit.
Bishop, at the top of the morning, to Clara’s delight, had managed to move his smaller desk, one he had rarely used across the large third-floor open office, over to sit next to her massive rosewood desk, twice the size of his and covered in papers and trinkets. For a woman who loved control in so many aspects of her life, she allowed her desk to be the one area of abandon. She felt it suited the nature of their work. But when receiving company she did feel a little self-conscious, so she rose and stood behind Bishop at his spotless desk, placing a hand on his shoulder.
In walked a man of average height, black hair and mustache trimmed close and corralled by a pomade, dressed in a fine black frock coat, beige waistcoat with white neckwear, black trousers, and shined black shoes—a look that bespoke a man of business. His arched brow was offset by a sharp nose, and dark eyes that were watery in a way that made them look impossibly glassy. Bishop stood upon his entrance, Clara at his side. The man strode forward.
“Senator, my name is Felix Saxton,” the man said, shaking Bishop’s hand. “I’m filling the vacancy in my Brooklyn congressional district, Williamsburg, but I’ve been active in local politics all my life.”
“Rupert Bishop, pleasure to meet you, Congressman Saxton. This is my wife, Clara.” Bishop gestured toward her. He was also careful to add, lest there be any question, “She is my colleague, partner, and fellow director of this program.”
At this, Clara felt her whole being fill with light. He would never put her second, and he would not let marital convention change that status even if society insisted she step behind.
She thanked the heavens and all her lives, which had led up to this, to him. The men of this life, the few there had been, had done nothing but respect her, and that would be perhaps this life’s greatest victory, as not all women were even half so lucky. She remembered to bob her head in the manner of a slight curtsey upon the introduction.
“What brings you here?” Clara asked with a smile. “Are you one of the very rare legislators who know of our existence?”
“I am. I was recently appointed to the Secret Services committee and I’m trying to follow up with any and all ventures under its … wide net.”
It was clear to Clara that Eterna was either suspect to him, curious, surprising, or all three.
“Please do sit,” Bishop said. Clara could tell from the tone of his voice that he was as wary as she. “Shall I ring for some tea or coffee?”
“Either would be lovely,” Saxton replied. Bishop rang for Lavinia to offer amenities.
“I’ll be straightforward with you, Senator, Mrs. Bishop. We’re New Yorkers, let’s not play games. I’m not sure I agree with the continuation of this commission as it was explained to me.”
Bishop blinked and replied evenly, with no hint of worry or defensiveness. “Well, how has it been explained to you?” Clara knew this was hardly the first time he’d been questioned about the commission, even by the few who had ever known about it.
The man’s colorless lips thinned. “It wasn’t. Explained. I happen to prefer transparency in government.”
“As do I,” Bishop replied, “when it comes to matters of direct democracy. When it comes to public safety, that changes the equation. Aren’t you a bit, beg your pardon, and your local political experience notwithstanding, green to have been appointed to a committee straightaway?”
Saxton shrugged and smiled. His watery eyes glittered but he was not in tears nor did he spill one when expressive. “I suppose I am a man to fill vacancies wherever they appear.”
There was an edge to this man that Clara simply did not like. It was no wonder that Lavinia rang him as a “neutral” presence on the bells. There was nothing outright hostile, but there was a sense that this conversation could go either way. Politicians wouldn’t get violent, not directly, but policies could, and laws and restrictions could become all too cutting.
“I have a … proposal for you.” The man leaned forward. “Say you were to add another mission to your docket of immortality.”
“We’ve veered away from the immortality search,” Bishop replied. “Not only was it not fruitful, it was dangerous. Eterna led us instead to providential protections. To pick up any other thread would be unwise.”
“So what, then, does the Eterna Commission do? We can’t have a government office that does nothing.”
“We haven’t done nothing,” Clara snapped. She could feel Bishop’s energy take her by the arm and squeeze as if he’d actually physically done so, encouraging her to keep calm.
“If you followed any of the goings-on these past many months, you’ll realize that there are a great deal of paranormal knots that we tied up. We are here to make sure they stay tied, not frayed, not slipped into loose ends once more,” Bishop stated evenly.
“So you’re not interested in my proposal of an additional branch to your services?” Saxton pressed.
“What did you have in mind?” Bishop countered warily.
“Time, Senator. Look into time.”
Clara and Bishop looked at one another. Bishop remained expressionless. Clara tried to but wasn’t sure she avoided a scowl. Everything within her, all her lives, any part of her body, mind, and soul that was attuned and resonant with her generally impeccable instincts screamed no.
&n
bsp; “No,” Clara said calmly. “As we said, it became clear chasing immortality was chasing death. Chasing time? Similarly imprudent. Unnatural. It would become the undoing of this department and the nation.”
“And you’re certain of this how?” he asked. He took on that tone some men take when they don’t think women ought to speak their mind let alone speak for policy.
Clara smiled icily as she replied. “Were you aware when you stepped across that threshold, Congressman, we deal in the fantastical? The unknowable. I happen to know. By means one might call paranormal.”
“Then my request, more, my suggestion, shouldn’t surprise or meet with objection,” Saxton replied.
“When one confronts the most basic laws that govern humanity, death being one and time being another, one should know that the law stands and is more powerful than human intervention or experimentation,” Bishop stated. “Sorry to disappoint you, sir. I couldn’t in good conscience either work on or support such a venture. Not after what we’ve been through.”
“And what, exactly, has that been?”
“Exactly what that has been remains classified,” Clara replied. “But unsettling things happening of late that you may have read about in the papers? That.”
“Any resolution? Arrests?”
“Yes. And yes,” Bishop replied. “Also classified.”
After what happened to Moriel and the queen not executing him, Clara wasn’t about to intimate that Lady C still lived, lest anyone find her as fascinating or as much of a lure as Victoria had found Moriel. After a private trial, Celeste had been moved upstate to a small ladies’ asylum and kept in solitary confinement.
“Good,” the man said, rising to his feet. “Well. I shall have to find some other obscure department behind closed doors to satisfy the most compelling issue of future centuries.”
“As a fellow legislator, I would advise against that, Congressman,” Bishop said quietly.
“I will take that under advisement, Senator, truly. I do respect you a great deal, have followed your career my whole life. You’ve done a lot of good for New York.” The man seemed sincere enough in this. He turned to Clara. “Mrs. Bishop, take care of him.”
“Of my jobs, that one is my favorite,” Clara assured.
He strode toward the door. “If you change your mind…”
“We won’t,” Bishop and Clara replied in unison.
The man waved at them with a partial smile. “Still, you’ll know where to find me. See you in Washington, Senator.”
His tread sounded down the stairs and after a quiet courtesy to Lavinia and the guards, the front door was closed behind him.
Clara and Bishop turned to one another, taking hands and folding into a long embrace.
When they returned home, they found that a bouquet had been delivered from Lord Black. Around its copper vase hung a beautiful silver compass, with its back inscribed:
To My American Family
There were four flowers in the arrangement. Left to right, they were: flowering almond branches, heliotrope blossoms, a cedar branch, and oak-leaved geraniums. Signifying hope, faith, strength, and true friendship.
At the center of the lush bouquet was a freshly bottled Ward from London, strengthening the bonds of their protective lines. They would devote their lives to tending those lines and making sure that all, from every background and circumstance, would be covered in that care.
“And that is our denouement,” Bishop stated, nodding at the bouquet.
* * *
After a lengthy discussion between its two founders in the pleasant parlor of their new Greenwich Village town house on Waverly, the Eterna Commission, as it had been known, closed its doors that day.
It would be target, suspect, and vagary no more.
What their team, and Omega, would take from it would be their own.
The Bishops agreed that they should, along with devoted friends and colleagues, remain open, available, and amenable to paranormal investigation should it arise or be brought to their attention. Not to mention keep a wary eye on anyone who did manage to set up an office looking into the great mystery of time itself, as everything about that proposition and encounter had filled Clara with great unease.
Clara had spent the better part of her life chasing elusive ideas and grasping at phantoms. It was time for some unmitigated peace.
She took Bishop’s hand. They stared out at the sooty, steamy, ever-climbing skyline.
For a moment she thought to call upon all her past lives, to ask them what to do to be sure this life was lived to the best of its balance and mission.
Instead, she let the idea of her future self begin to set its course. No matter the century, the world would always need beings like her to listen to the old songs, the power of ancient lines, and adjust dissonant notes toward beautiful harmony.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
In this particular Eterna adventure, please forgive me for taking a few more liberties with historical time lines for the sake of iconic imagery than I usually do.
Firstly, the actual time line for the arm of Lady Liberty. While it was indeed showcased in Madison Square Park, it was not dedicated until 1886. At the late 1882 time of this novel, Liberty was being constructed full scale in Paris before being shipped to New York in 1884. The 214 crates sat unopened for more than a year, as the struggle to raise funds was very real; only after the New York World publisher Joseph Pulitzer—a Hungarian immigrant—promised to print the name of every donor in his paper, even if the gift was only a penny, was the necessary money raised.
Secondly, Edison’s involvement with and envisioning of the Kinetoscope was not until 1888. He did, however, have an incredible penchant for stealing other people’s ideas and taking credit, as well as snapping up patents with ravenous zeal.
Thirdly, while Thomas Edison’s Pearl Street dynamos and the Lower Manhattan grid were very real, and there were indeed booster stations for Edison’s plant all around Manhattan, there was never one exactly inside the bridge. There was an additional plant below the Brooklyn Bridge on the Brooklyn side.
A special thank-you to my editor, Melissa Ann Singer, for allowing me this wild journey of “boundlessly creative gaslamp fantasy”; thanks to Thom Truelove for extensive research help, to critique partner C. Wormwood for keen discussion, to my agent Paul Stevens for keeping such a good eye on me, and to you, dear reader, for journeying with me. Happy Haunting!
Please join us for Miss Violet and the Great War.
Tor Books by LEANNA RENEE HIEBER
The Eterna Files
Strangely Beautiful
Eterna and Omega
The Eterna Solution
Perilous Prophecy
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LEANNA RENEE HIEBER’s novel, Strangely Beautiful is a foundation work of gaslamp fantasy and the winner of two Prism Awards. Her other novels include The Eterna Files and Eterna and Omega. Hieber has been a finalist for the Daphne du Maurier Award. Rarely seen out of Victorian garb, Hieber lives in the New York City area. Her travel and appearance schedule and other news can be found at www.leannareneehieber.com, or sign up for email updates here.
www.leannareneehieber.com
twitter.com/Leannarenee
www.facebook.com/LRHieber
www.instagram.com/leannareneehieber
leannareneebooks.blogspot.com
Thank you for buying this
Tom Doherty Associates ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Tor Books by Leanna Renee Hieber
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE ETERNA SOLUTION
Copyright © 2017 by Leanna Renee Hieber
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Alejandro Colucci
Cover design concept by FORT
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-3676-7 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-2927-5 (ebook)
eISBN 9781466829275
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
First Edition: November 2017