by J. Stone
“I’ve got another idea,” Pearl said, looking down at the book Viola had left with her.
Chapter 23. Alice’s Dilemma
Though she’d learned a great deal about the kind of woman Viola truly was and what she had done to acquire the power she now had, Alice still wasn’t in a position to use it against her. No one would believe the word of a bounty hunter like Vincent Rourke on its own, so she needed more. If Crowley had still been alive, she would have turned to him for aid, but given his demise at the hands of the Ankalaran assassin, she was on her own. Perhaps she didn’t have to be though.
In her younger days as an operative, Alice was mentored by a woman named Ingrid Underwood. She had taught Alice a great deal about not only being an operative of the Reclamation Bureau but also of how to be a faithful servant to god. Alice’s zeal for biosynthesis had in large part come from her mentor, and it had served her well in the years since. When she had been stuck, Ingrid was there to help her find a way forward. She had retired some years prior, but since Ingrid had left the bureau, Alice had visited her on occasion. She decided that the time had come to once again make that trip.
Alice needed to cross over to the Albion District, where Ingrid had a home. The roads were smoothly paved, and the buildings were more widely spaced. The whole area was comprised of upscale businesses and ludicrously expensive homes, which Ingrid could not have afforded on her own. As part of the operative retirement package, she had been given one of the large homes for her years of service to the empire. The reward was certainly fitting for everything that was asked of an operative, given the inherent risks associated with the occupation.
It being so far away and nowhere near where the trains ran, Alice had decided to hire a taxi. She preferred not to take the vehicles, finding them to be claustrophobic, noisy, and quite dirty with all the fumes they released. Regardless, it was the fastest and easiest way there. Coming to a stop outside her mentor’s home, Alice paid the driver, giving him no tip whatsoever.
Ingrid’s house was centered in a row of seven homes, each three stories tall and all connected together into a single building. Alice approached Ingrid’s front door, which was adorned with a large metal knocker. The design was in the shape of a face with the loop hung through its mouth. She took the knocker and rapped it against the door several times and then waited for a response from Ingrid. The door soon swung open and Ingrid stood inside, quite surprised to see her.
Her dark brown hair was mostly tied back behind her head except for bangs that covered her forehead down to her eyebrows. Since Alice’s last visit, Ingrid had begun to acquire a few stray gray hairs, as she had aged. She wore a black, leather jacket with brass buttons clasping it closed. Below that was a long and loose, crimson red skirt. Despite her age, Ingrid still carried herself quite well, looking like she could still hold her own as an operative if need be.
“Alice?” she asked. “Is that really you? They told me that you had died.”
“I did,” Alice replied rather plainly. “I was brought back.”
Raising her hand to Alice’s face and gently placing it on her cheek her finger traced the half-smile scar. With sad eyes, Ingrid said, “Such wounds… And what caused your eyes to fade like this?”
“I am lucky to be back at all,” Alice said, placing her hand atop Ingrid’s. “I was in pieces. This is the best they could do under the circumstances, I’m afraid.”
“No matter your condition, it is good to see you again,” Ingrid replied. “Come in.”
“Thank you, Ingrid,” Alice said, following her host inside and closing the door behind her.
Ingrid guided her through the home and into a small sitting room near the back windows. A collection of chairs were arranged in a semi-circle toward the view outside.
“Please, take a seat,” Ingrid said. “I was making tea, would you like a cup?”
“That would be lovely,” she replied.
Alice took a seat, looking out into a small park at the back of Ingrid’s home. Seeing any kind of natural vegetation in the city was rather rare, which must have further increased the cost of homes in the district. After a couple minutes, Alice’s mentor returned with two cups, handing one to her and saving the other for herself. She joined Alice in a seat across from a coffee table and took a sip of her tea.
“I’m sorry to pry, but how are you even alive?” Ingrid asked. “Being run over by a train isn’t exactly the kind of injury that you get back up from.”
“I’m sure you’re familiar with Fiona Newton,” Alice said.
Ingrid nodded. “The woman took control of me when the Carrier Plague escalated.”
“Well, loathe as I am to admit it, it is thanks to her that I live,” she explained. “When she drank my blood, I was slowly revived. After the connection to her was finally severed, I was healed through a serum developed by Abigail Hart.” She pulled out a vial to show Ingrid.
“And that stuff kept you together?” Ingrid asked.
“It’s regenerative in nature,” Alice answered. “Rebuilds me when I am injured. I had actually just started using it before the train.”
“Hart always did make some amazing concoctions,” her host acknowledged. “You’re not suffering any side effects are you?”
“Not exactly what I would describe as such, no,” Alice replied.
Ingrid raised an eyebrow at that answer. “And what does that mean?”
“Easier to show you,” the operative suggested. Creeping from below the hem of her dress, she exposed one of her tentacles, raising it up, so Ingrid could examine it.
“Tentacles?” Ingrid asked, leaning forward and examining the tendril. “God has bestowed upon you an amazing gift.”
“They have proved quite useful,” Alice agreed, sipping her tea.
“The only other person I’ve seen with tentacles like these was Lord Reverend Blackmoore,” she said. “But these are much better.”
“They’re instinctive,” Alice explained. “I don’t even have to directly control them, though I can. If I need something they’ll just automatically work towards that goal.”
“And Hart was responsible for this, hmm?” Ingrid asked.
“To begin with, yes, but Councilor Crowley made some adjustments after my return,” Alice explained. “I can make dozens more than I used to now.”
“They do seem quite remarkable, but I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss your health with an old operative,” Ingrid began. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I’m not sure you’ll want to put yourself in a position to help me, but I don’t have anyone else to go to since Councilor Crowley’s death,” Alice explained.
“Yes, I heard about that,” Ingrid replied. “But listen, Alice, you have always been like a daughter to me. Anything I can do to help, I will.”
“Thank you, Ingrid,” she replied. “It’s about Viola Arkmast.”
“I can see why you’re worried I wouldn’t help you,” Ingrid said, narrowing her eyes.
“Yes,” Alice continued. “I don’t believe that she is a worthy heir to her mother’s empire. I’ve uncovered some truths about how she came to power, but they’re not enough to unseat her. I need something else.”
“May I ask why you think that’s necessary?” she asked.
“Her views do not match those of Cultwick,” Alice explained. “There is no place for any religion beyond that of biosynthesis in the empire. Our new empress wishes to poison us with the heathen practices that were purged during the Purification.”
Ingrid smiled. “It is good to hear that you have not abandoned the church. How is it you think I can assist you, Alice?”
“I’ve begun to have a suspicion about Viola’s birth,” she said. “I don’t know where it came from. Maybe something to do with being connected to Fiona’s mind. Having access to all those memories that she had after drinking the archive blood. Wherever it came from, I think there is a secret about Viola’s birth that might help me. You were aro
und since before she was born. I hoped you might remember something that would help me.”
“I do recall Viola’s birth being fairly peculiar,” Ingrid suggested.
“How so?” Alice asked.
“I can’t once remember seeing Mary Elizabeth pregnant for one,” she replied. “Viola was just there one day. It could have simply been kept a secret or there could have been something else going on.”
“Why would they hide her pregnancy?” Alice inquired.
“Only reason I can think of was to avoid any threat to the child’s birth,” Ingrid explained. “There were plenty of threats to the empire during those years. Someone might have targeted the child in an attempt to end the Arkmast line.”
“I suppose,” Alice said. “But you said for one, was there something else suspicious?”
“Viola didn’t have a normal doctor looking after her when she was born,” Ingrid answered. “Rather it was a renowned transcriber, Dr. Ezra Hale. Do you know him?”
“Only in name,” Alice replied.
“He’d worked on some amazing things before that,” Ingrid explained. “In short, there was no reason that a man like him would deign to take care of a healthy newborn baby, heir of the emperor or not. Either there was something very wrong with Viola when she was born, or they were experimenting on their own child.”
“Is Dr. Hale still alive?” Alice asked.
“As far as I know,” Ingrid answered. “Unless the Carrier Plague took him.”
“Then I have to go talk to him,” she said.
“I’ll drive you,” Ingrid offered.
“You don’t have to do that, Ingrid. There’s no reason you need to get more involved than you already have.”
“You shouldn’t have to be alone on this,” Ingrid said. “And I won’t make you.”
“Thank you, Ingrid,” Alice said. “You’re a… wait, you have a vehicle?”
“Came with the house,” she replied, standing up and gesturing for Alice to follow her. “I know you abhor all things mechanical, but they do have their purposes.” Ingrid guided Alice outside the home and to a community garage nearby where the large contraption was parked. Showing her in, Ingrid asked regarding the vehicle, “So, what do you say?”
Unlike the taxis that littered the city landscape, Ingrid’s vehicle was completely covered, driver included. Additionally, the engine was concealed under the hood at its front, routing the exhaust out the back. The color of the exterior was a simple glossy black, while the interiors were a dark gray. The seats were made of leather and looked much more comfortable than those she was used to from the taxis.
“It certainly appears to be better than the taxi I had to take to get out here,” she replied.
With a laugh, Ingrid said, “I should hope so. Cost the empire quite a few coins, I imagine. Come on, get in. Ezra doesn’t live far from here.”
“You’ve been there?” Alice asked, as she opened the vehicle’s door and stumbled inside it.
“Once,” Ingrid answered. “Before my retirement, I had to go to him for some questions.” She switched on the ignition, which erupted in a shaky roar. “He was unreliable then and that was some years back. Don’t get your hopes up as far as his ability to be a witness goes.”
“What exactly do you mean by unreliable?” she asked.
Ingrid hit the button on a remote control on the dashboard, and the garage doors separated outward. “His mind was going. Had difficulty remembering who he was sometimes, much less what he had worked on over the years.”
“I see,” Alice said.
Ingrid placed her foot on the pedal, and the vehicle began to accelerate forward. She had to admit that it was a smoother and more comfortable ride than what she had expected. Regardless, she was not ready to change her opinion on such things just yet. The church was very clear on its stance towards chromesmithing - that being that they were entirely inferior to transcription.
Ezra’s home truly wasn’t very far from Ingrid’s, and after a few minutes in the transport, they had arrived. Turning off the ignition, Ingrid opened her door, and Alice followed suit.
“This is it,” she told Alice.
“They clearly know how to treat retirees,” Alice pointed out, taking in the grandeur of the rows of homes that were set up like Ingrid’s had been.
“You just have to live long enough,” Ingrid said.
They walked up to Ezra’s front door, which had a similar knocker to that of Ingrid’s home. Alice banged the metal against the wooden door several times and waited for a response. She was about to knock again, when the locks finally began to clatter from the other side. Opening the door was a decrepit old man that rivaled some of the ancient men in the clergy that had found ways to prolong their lives. His face was full of liver spots, and he was unable to completely close his mouth. Inside it, he didn’t have all his teeth, but he smiled wide all the same. His eyes were void of all color and stared forward without any true recognition for the sights he took in.
“Dr. Ezra Hale?” Alice asked.
“Cullen? Is that you?” the feeble man asked her, not seeming to be able to clearly see her or even hear what she had said.
“No, sir,” she answered, speaking louder. “I am Operative Alice Page and this is Ingrid Underwood, sir. We have some questions--”
“A woman, eh?” he said. “I thought you were Cullen. He’s my only visitor these days. Takes care of me, he does.”
“Who is Cullen, sir?” she asked.
“Why, he’s my son, of course,” he answered. “Come in, come in. It’s been so long since someone came to see me.”
The old man left the door open and began to totter back towards the living area. Ingrid, meanwhile, held Alice back for a moment.
“That’s what I mean, he’s doesn’t even have a son,” she informed her.
“Hmm,” Alice simply muttered.
The pair of women followed Ezra into his living area, where he sat down. They followed suit, sitting on a couch across from him.
“Sir, we would like to talk to you about Viola Arkmast, if that’s alright,” Alice said.
“The child?” he asked.
“Yes, Mary Elizabeth’s child,” she answered.
After a few moments, he seemed to come to some realization and grumpily replied, “They’re still growing. Not ready for extraction yet.”
“Extraction?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
“You know I’m not supposed to talk about that,” the doctor replied. “He’ll have both our hides, he will.”
“Who’s that, sir?” she asked.
“The emperor of course,” he said. “Joseph Arkmast.”
It had been years since the late emperor had died and his wife took the throne. Alice realized though, that they might be able to wrangle some facts out of him, if he thought it was still that time period.
“You can trust me,” she replied. “I won’t say anything if you won’t.”
“Well,” he said with a smile. “I always was a sucker for a pretty woman. The emperor has me developing a series of artificially created embryos. Apparently the empress is quite sterile, you see.”
“Viola wasn’t born of Mary Elizabeth,” Alice said, turning to Ingrid.
“That’s not enough,” her mentor replied. “She may not have been a traditional birth, but there is no way she isn’t a genetic descendant of the Arkmasts.”
“You’re right,” Alice said with a frown. Looking back to Ezra, she asked him, “What do you mean by series of embryos? You created more than one?”
“Of course,” he answered. “Emperor Arkmast wanted to have options.”
“What happened to all the other ones?” Alice asked.
“The emperor ordered me to dispose of all the others,” Ezra replied, diverting his eyes in shame.
“Ordered?” she repeated. “You didn’t, did you?”
“I… I couldn’t kill them all,” he said. “I had to save one. I’ll raise him as my own, I will.”
“Viola has a brother,” Alice said, mostly to hear herself say it. “You said Cullen was your son?”
“Cullen?” he asked. “That’s a good, strong name. If I had a son, I might be inclined to name him that.”
Alice looked to her mentor. “It seems that Viola isn’t the only heir to the throne. I have to find this Cullen.”
Chapter 24. Ryn’s Birthday
Erynn woke up early that morning. Many, she realized, would look forward to celebrating their birthday, but it had been a long time since she had done that. Not since her mother and father were there to make her a cake and give presents. Rowland and Germ had, of course, tried over the years, but Erynn simply never wanted to partake. The memories were too painful.
Instead, she developed her own tradition for the yearly event. Since her birthday only served to remind her of her lost family, she chose to take that day to visit them. When her parents died, they were quite poor, and that was even more the case when her brother was taken away by the lottery. They didn’t have the money to be buried properly and were interred away from one another in a government-run graveyard. When Rowland took her in though, he was generous enough to have them moved, so that they could be together in a private plot. The act was one of the kindest things, she could recall him doing for her.
Ever since then, Erynn had taken the day off each winter to visit their tombstone and tell them what she had done with the year. Though it often felt bitter, there was happiness there too. She never felt closer to them than on this anniversary.
Creeping out of bed, Erynn was careful not to wake Pearl. She felt bad about leaving her without an explanation, but it just seemed easier to deal with her birthday on her own. They’d shared nearly every morning together since the return to the mansion, and while she greatly appreciated their routine, she felt that this superseded their breakfast together.
Judging by the howling wind outside the windows, it would be a rather chilly day, so Erynn dressed in several layers before heading out. Her first stop was to be a nearby flower shop. Each year she would buy a bouquet of hellebore flowers and place them at the grave. The pale green flower had been her mother’s favorite, and there were often hellebore decorating many of the rooms of their home.
