“You’re such a good friend,” I mumbled. “Remember how I used to scream at you? When I first came back?”
He darted a sharp look my direction but didn’t speak.
Being this tired was rather like being tipsy. It seemed to have done away with any inhibition I had. The words just tumbled out. “It was only ‘cause I was scared, you know. But you didn’t give up.”
“Hmm.”
“Dunno why you stuck with me, but I’m glad.” I had no idea why I was saying all this, other than that it was too much work to hold it in. My brain felt soupy and melodramatic. It was like my arms and legs had turned into taffy, languidly stretching and draping over everything.
Raymond’s face grew pink. He looked down at the papers on his desk. “You really are tired.”
I gave him a loopy, sideways glance. “You’re the only chap I’m not afraid of.”
At this, he met my eyes. I flinched a little because, whether or not he could see into my soul, for the first time I felt like I was seeing into his. Deep tenderness. Hope. Wariness. Amusement. Even sorrow.
For a heartbeat, the classroom faded away. His eyes wrapped me up in their gentle depths.
Muted giggles across the room broke the moment. I blinked and looked away.
“Thea told me about last night,” he said quietly, peering down at our notes.
“When did you talk with Thea?”
“After she escaped from McCrone, we sat in the courtyard for awhile waiting for your messages.”
“I’m glad she had company.” I risked peeking at his face again, not sure what I was hoping to see.
He was looking at me, too. Our eyes met, then his slid away again, his ears reddening. “So what’s the real story about your face? I saw Delphine earlier, and she’s scratched up as well.”
Our teacher was walking down the aisle toward us. I sat a little straighter and pointed to our notes. “Another reason for Shakespeare authorship is that he was a friend of Ben Jonson and acted in some of his plays. But that’s not a very strong reason, is it?”
Raymond shook his head, looking very studious.
As soon as the teacher passed, I dropped my voice again. “Delphine caught me and we fought.”
He whistled softly. “You mean I missed a cat fight? I missed one with you in it?”
“And I may have pepper-sprayed a rozzer.”
“You what?” He sat upright, staring at me.
“Shh! I haven’t told Thea yet.”
“Damn. We missed all the fun.”
“Indeed.”
“So when are you getting Delphine expelled?”
I sighed. “I’m not. I promised not to.”
“You promised her?”
“No, someone else.”
“Who?”
“Can’t tell you. But don’t tell Delphine I made that promise. I can still threaten her with it.”
He slumped against the seat back, laughing. “Wait a moment. I need to start taking notes. Who knows what, what’s secret, and who can tell what to whom. I might need a diagram to sort it out.”
“Hush, you cog.” I slumped across my desk as far as I could in a corset and gave way to a little yawn. My hand splayed limply over the crack between our desks. “I’m so tired.”
He shifted forward, resting his hand on his notes, just inches from mine. I watched him from half-closed eyes. He kept looking at my hand, his mouth tightening. His fingers edged closer.
Suddenly, I felt a little more awake. Not tense, exactly, but alert.
He lifted his palm, fingers outstretched toward mine. Stopped. His hand dropped back to the desk. Flicking my eyes to his face, I saw him swallow.
In that moment, something shifted inside me, like a long-locked door creaking open to let in a sliver of sunlight for the first time in years. Maybe it was a sunbeam full of dust motes, but it was light nonetheless. It was warm. Golden. It made me feel alive.
I closed the distance between our hands. Shaking only a little, I linked my pinky around his.
His skin was warm and smooth. Male. And I wasn’t terrified.
He sat motionless. I didn’t look at him, only at our joined fingers. Such a small, insignificant touch to anyone else. But for me, it might as well have been scaling a mountain.
And he knew it. Slowly, carefully, he squeezed my finger between his pinky and ring finger. The smallest hug in the world.
I pretended nothing was happening, but inside I was celebrating.
Just then, the classroom door opened. Raymond and I broke contact and sat up straight. A small second-year apprentice crept in. Looking at the floor, she gave a note to our teacher, curtseyed, and hurried from the room. I grinned. We final-years weren’t that intimidating, were we?
“Miss Mellor,” the teacher said. “You’ve been summoned to Master Fenrey’s study immediately.”
My heart leaped. This was the message I’d been waiting for all day. The rest of the class jeered and hooted. Raymond gave me a puzzled frown.
“What happened last night that you’re not telling me?”
“Can’t tell you,” I said.
He gave me a wry smile. “I’ll add it to the list.”
When I arrived at Master Fenrey’s large study, Delphine was already there, along with Nadine, Master Fenrey himself, Sir Ebenezer Black—the president of the Theatrical Guild, a rozzer—
And Dietrich Wolff.
Master Fenrey ushered me into the room and showed me a chair. Nadine’s face was red and swollen, like she’d been sobbing. Delphine was as pale as a sheet of paper. Presul Wolff looked grim. Sir Black stood by the window, his arms crossed and a mulish expression on his face. I ignored the rozzer. They always looked the same—sour and grumpy.
This was nothing like I’d expected. I didn’t even have to pretend to be confused.
Master Fenrey kindly explained the situation to me, and I gasped and looked frightened in all the right places.
“So what are you going to do?” It was an authentic question—I couldn’t come up with any reason why we were all gathered.
He gestured to the rozzer. “Inspector Whitley is in charge of the Peacock case. They’ve studied it for weeks. If Dame Fairchild is indeed the next target, the most likely timing of another attack is four weeks from now.”
My eyes widened. “That’s opening night of A Captain’s Courage. Empress Antonia will be in the audience.”
“Exactly,” said the rozzer. “We’ve noticed a pattern with the previous attacks. All three murders have been during an opening night when Her Majesty has been in attendance. The bodies are hung from the catwalk with a peacock feather stuck in them. The problem with stopping the Peacock has been that the empress attends an opening night somewhere nearly every week. Obviously, an attack doesn’t occur at each one. We’ve discussed putting a security detail backstage at every theater the empress attends, but that’s not a long-term solution because it would only alert the Peacock and force him underground for a time. We need to catch him, but it’s difficult when we know so little about him or where he will strike next.”
“So why doesn’t the empress stop attending performances for awhile?” Presul Wolff asked.
Sir Black turned a baleful glare his direction.
The inspector looked insulted. “Her majesty does not bow to the schemes of a murderer.”
Not even to save the life of a performer. It figured. Theater might be the highest expression of Empire culture, but the most famous stars ranked far under even the lowest aristocrat in the nation. The ones with magic were only slightly less disposable than those without. If it were nameless stagehands being murdered, chances were good that there would be almost no investigation at all.
So much for the Jewel of Society.
I shuddered. No wonder the others all looked ill. I couldn’t even let myself think of Nadine being murdered. I’d lose my mind. I looked at Master Fenrey. “Maybe the empress won’t bow to the schemes of a killer, but you could cancel the performance.”
He glanced at Inspector Whitley and Sir Black again. “Both these gentlemen have been in communication with the empress, and her wish is that this threat be treated seriously and every effort made to capture the murderer. This tip is the first break they’ve had in the case, and if it proves to be accurate, it could be a huge step forward. The show is going on as planned. Only we will be working with the police force to set a trap for the Peacock.”
“What if the source was mistaken?”
“Then we would be no better or worse off than we are right now.” Master Fenrey’s voice was hard, determined.
This whole situation was exploding beyond my control. “You have to protect Dame Fairchild.”
He nodded, his face grave. “Of course. We’ve just been discussing a plan for that very issue. The empress, the inspector, Sir Black, and I all agree—Dame Fairchild is far too valuable to the theater and to the empire to risk her life.”
“I am not—” Nadine cut in.
Master Fenrey held up his hand. “Yes, you are. And there’s no use arguing it any more. You will not be performing that evening. You will not be anywhere near the theater.” His gaze softened, but he still looked intense. “You will be someplace safe, comfortable, and surrounded by the best guards we can find. I won’t risk you. I simply won’t.”
“So if Dame Fairchild isn’t performing,” I said, “the Peacock won’t show up, will he?”
Master Fenrey grimaced. “He will if he thinks she is performing. We’re going to have a vicimorph impersonate her playing her role, and we’ll have officers hidden backstage to try to spot the Peacock before he can commit another murder.”
“And what if they fail? You’ll be sending her to her death!” Nadine’s eyes were bloodshot and glittery with tears and anger.
“As I said earlier,” Sir Black said, his voice smooth and detached, “better to risk an apprentice than a full-fledged Guild member, especially one who draws the size audiences you do. Children much younger are sent to the mines and work in factories. Their lives are risked all the time. We coddle our apprentices too much. They should be grateful to have a chance in life. To do their duty for the empire.”
I smothered a gasp. Everyone knew Sir Black was a cold-hearted bastard who only cared about money, but I never thought he’d be so blunt about it. The rest of his statement hit me. “Wait—you said an apprentice?”
Master Fenrey looked vaguely ashamed. “This will only work if we have someone who can impersonate Nadine using vicimorph magic.”
“But I thought a vicimorph can’t impersonate a real person who is still alive.”
“They can’t, not exactly. But if they are familiar enough with the person and skilled enough, they can come very close. Close enough that with a costume and make-up, a vicimorph should be able to impersonate Dame Fairchild in the role of Julia, and the audience won’t know the difference.”
I was starting to get a very, very bad feeling about this. Master Fenrey knew about me, but surely they weren’t asking me to…I couldn’t even voice the question. I just stared at him, my heart quaking.
“The only non-Guild member able to do that,” said Presul Wolff, his gentle voice reaching me through the fog of my fear, “is Miss Birdwell.”
Relief left me dizzy. I sank back into my chair. “Of course,” I whispered. “Delphine. Dame Fairchild is her mentor. They spend much time together.”
“Don’t sound so happy,” Delphine snapped at me.
“It’s wrong to endanger an apprentice’s life!” Nadine twisted a handkerchief in her hand. I could feel the heat of her anger even across the room. “I will quit before I allow this to happen. Master Fenrey, you should feel ashamed even to think of it.”
“You have a contract, Dame Fairchild.” Sir Black took one step away from the window, his tone threatening.
“I don’t care! You can put me in prison, you can do anything you want. But I won’t have this!”
The room erupted in arguments. I wanted to put my head under the cushions of the seat and block it all out.
“I’ll do it.” Delphine’s quiet statement cut through the noise.
Silence. Everyone stared at her.
“I will,” she said again. “Sir Black is right—it is my duty, and I am the best fit for the job.” She turned to Nadine. “You can’t break your contract, not when I can do this. You have to let me. And if it works, we’ll all be safer.”
Nadine reached out her hand, and Delphine grasped it. Not even I could feel jealous in that moment. She was agreeing to do what I couldn’t—save Nadine’s life. And maybe many others’ as well.
“I’ll help,” I said, without even knowing what I meant by it. I thought quickly. “She’ll need some sort of protection. You can’t just put her onstage as killer-bait with nothing for defense.”
For the first time, the inspector looked interested. “Of course not. But neither can we give her any of our weapons.” He held up his prosthetic arm. “And there is no time to train her in the use of a gun or knife.”
The ideas flooded into my mind now. “True. She’ll need something that will blend into her costume and be easy for her to use. I can design that. I’m very talented—technomancy.” Well, more or less, but I wasn’t going to say so. I hurried on, “Give me materials and equipment, and I’ll do my best to keep her safe.”
I couldn’t believe I was volunteering to work with Delphine. But it would be immoral, unthinkable, to do anything less. I might hate her, but she was still a fellow apprentice. Sir Black might think we were expendable, but I wouldn’t let one of my own be put in harm’s way, not if I could help it.
Master Fenrey placed his hand on my shoulder, his face beaming. “Miss Mellor, that is precisely why we asked you to join the meeting. I could not think of a better, more creative person—Guild member or apprentice—to trust with this task. Thank you.” He nodded to Delphine. “And you, Miss Birdwell, have the heart of a heroine.” His voice grew thick. “I cannot thank you enough.”
I glanced at Delphine, uncomfortable with our suddenly emotional theater director. She met my gaze briefly, then looked away.
Master Fenrey coughed and then strode to his desk, as in charge as ever. “Here is how we shall proceed then. Miss Birdwell will be assigned her own presul for the show—Presul Wolff—so that she will have his entire focus and attention to work their magic. Presul Wolff will oversee rehearsals with Miss Birdwell and will work with Miss Mellor on designs of some defense devices. He will also coordinate directly with me and Inspector Whitley on the security plans for the show. Inspector, I assume you will be in direct communication with Her Majesty about all this?”
The rozzer nodded.
“One more thing—the three of you must begin today. There isn’t a moment to lose. And you must not tell anyone about the plan. Word must not get out or it could ruin all. Keep up with your classes, your normal activities. No one must suspect anything.”
Delphine glanced at Nadine, a deeply worried look on her face. I realized why—she’d have to give up her job at the Coggled Noggin in order to have time for secret rehearsals.
Nadine gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed the hand she was still holding. “I have something else to suggest as well,” she said.
Master Fenrey nodded. “Of course.”
“When a Guild actor takes on a particularly dangerous role—one that requires a stunt or stage combat, for example—Guild rules require that actor to be paid a bonus. What could be more dangerous than this? Miss Birdwell deserves to be paid at least double the bonus a Guild member would get.” She glared at Sir Black. “We are not a mine or a factory. We are the theater, and our apprentices are not slave labor to be thrown away.”
I wasn’t sure how much that bonus actually was, but from Delphine’s shocked expression, it must be a decent amount. Sir Black looked like he might refuse for a moment, but Master Fenrey stared him down. Finally, he gave a curt nod.
“Double the stunt bonus—but only if the Peacock
actually shows up and makes an attempt on her life.”
And if she survived. He didn’t have to say it, but he clearly was thinking it. Disgusting man.
Master Fenrey clasped his hands together. “That settles it, then. It’s nearly dinner time. The three of you will meet afterwards to begin your work. We have only four weeks.”
Four weeks of working with the man whose magic terrified me and the girl I hated most in the world. Four weeks to save the woman who was probably my mother. Four weeks to stop a murderer.
I rubbed my hand across my face. Four weeks was too much.
Four weeks was not nearly enough.
Chapter Nine
At the dining hall that evening, supper was awkward. Raymond and Thea—along with all our other friends—wanted to know why I’d been called to Master Fenrey’s study. I mumbled some reply about working with Nadine on something and that I couldn’t talk about it. I had a feeling I didn’t fool Raymond or Thea, but the others all seemed impressed that Dame Fairchild had asked my help with a secret project.
Knowing what that project really was made me lose my appetite.
As soon as I could make my excuses to Raymond and Thea, I rushed off to get ready for my first meeting with Presul Wolff and Delphine. I didn’t bother changing out of my apprentice uniform, but I did take my hair down from the bun and braided it loosely over my shoulder. By now, I was so tired that just the walk to the presul’s office left me out of breath and a bit lightheaded.
The offices for presuls and other directors were on the top floor of the theater complex, tucked back in the maze of stairways and wooden-floored corridors high above the main stage. I loved how no one would guess from the public areas of the theater that this backstage world even existed.
Chains of Silver: a YA Theater Steampunk Novel (Alchemy Empire Book 1) Page 8
