Bennet comes to stand beside me. “What does that mean?”
Instead of Jeremy, it’s Nell Golden who answers, her voice sharp. “The Olympiae Club killed our mother. You are not the only people who want justice for their actions.”
Her words stun us into silence, but I have to ask, “Why? Why did they kill your mother?”
“Because she knew something they did not want her to.”
Carolina looks between her husband and the Golden siblings, “And what is that exactly?”
“How to disable their Weapon.”
“And how to construct a replica,” Ernest adds. “Although they weren’t aware of the latter.”
“Did she tell you where it was kept?” I ask, hope rising that we’ll be able to quickly, easily remove this world-destroyer from the Olympiae.
Nell smiles bitterly. “It used to be in a vault in the countryside but it was moved a week before her death. She never found out to where it was taken.”
“There seems to have been a lot of that going on,” Jeremy sighs, shutting the journal.
Ernest demands “A lot of what?”
“Held back information, secrecy, suspicious happenings—and a great deal more coincidences than I like. Your mother was a physician, was she not?”
“She was.”
“This Weapon they have is more than we think it is. Why would a doctor like your mother have information about such a thing? I can understand why William would be involved—the thing would need to be invented and designed by someone—but a doctor?”
“What are you getting at, Jeremy?” I ask.
“I have no idea. Something about it is important. We know the Weapon is designed to burn whatever happens to be in its path, but it would help if we knew how exactly the device works or—hell—what the damned thing even is.”
Ernest fixes his jaw. “Talking about it won’t do anything, will it? We should be going.”
“You’re right,” Jeremy agrees sheepishly. “The carriages should be ready.”
“What about me?” I ask.
Jeremy looks at me seriously and I feel the weight of that gaze like a tangible thing. “Do you honestly think you’re well enough to come with us? Could you defend yourself should we run into any trouble?”
I walk up to him and lower my voice so only he can hear. “Honestly? No. But I can’t let my sister go into something like this alone. I won’t lose her as well as my father.”
He nods, his eyes filled with understanding. “Come on, then, let’s get going.”
***
Honour
11:18. 01.10.2040. Forgotten London, Shepherd’s Bush Zone.
We’re let out of work early today, heightening the excitement for the celebration later.
Tia’s in the living room when I get in. She acts as if I’ve caught her doing something she shouldn’t be, but I can’t work out what—all she’s doing is writing a letter. I think it’s some kind of goodbye to John and Thalia.
“You’re early,” she says. It sounds like an accusation.
I lower myself to the floor, not feeling like sitting in John’s chair or Thalia’s and Wes’s sofa.
I expect her to lecture me but she chews her lip instead. “You look tired.”
“I am. With working all the time, and with what I’ve done to Thalia and John … it’s just—well it’s not easy.” I drop my eyes to the floor. “I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself. It’s my own fault.”
“Honour,” she whispers, sliding off the sofa to kneel beside me. “I’m sorry—for what I said.”
“Don’t apologise for the truth. It needed to be said.”
“No. I was harsh. The way I said it was wrong.”
I close my eyes. “Doesn’t matter.”
She pulls her knees to her chest and leans against my shoulder. I pointedly ignore the lump in my throat even. I feel like I’ve got my sister back, even if it’s just for this minute.
“I’m sorry, Honour,” she whispers suddenly, seriously. “I’m so sorry, for everything I’ve done.”
I peel my eyes open to look at her—an effort when my body is telling me to sleep. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I know.” She smiles but her eyes are full of misery. “I know I haven’t. That’s the worst thing. Everything feels wrong but I know it’s right.”
“Tia—”
“Sorry, I’m talking nonsense. It’s just … everything.”
“I know.” I put an arm around her and she collapses against me.
As soon as the celebration is over and the extra Officials have been shipped away, I’m getting us out. We’re not going to be here for whatever States is planning. I’ve been too focused our family’s loss that I’d forgotten the importance of getting out of F.L.
Again, I’m hit by the wanting, the need to warn Forgotten London. But I can’t. I’m just one person.
***
Branwell
11:26. 01.10.1878. London.
We take three carriages between us, which I thought was unnecessary until Jeremy told us the Goldens didn’t come alone—they brought several of their men with them.
The Golden family have always been in the business of illegal trading; a result of which involves them keeping a large number of ‘men’ on their premises for security purposes. To an adversary they’d appear intimidating and dangerous—safer to stay away from—but our families have been entwined throughout history, so to us the Goldens are simply friends. The last generation—my grandfather’s family—had separated themselves from the Golden family due to a conflict of interest—also known as my grandmother—but my father and Ernest’s father became acquainted when they were boys and the friendship began again.
Along with Ernest and Nell Golden, seven of their guards, my cousins, my sister, and I rattle along the cobblestones in our carriages towards the obscure address in Holborn. It’s busy at this time, almost midday, and shouts and voices fill the streets along with the sounds of carriages and merchants’ wagons rolling along the cobbles. It’s almost deafening where large roads intersect—especially Holborn Circus. I lean my head against the side of the carriage and watch people march importantly down the street to shops in the tall, curving buildings.
My shoulder throbs. I wrapped it up as tight as I could manage, not wanting anyone else to see how wide the cut actually is, but it would have been better if I’d had help. It’s starting to hurt already but I force myself to ignore it. The pain will fade as it did before.
“How far away are we?” I ask to distract myself.
“Five minutes or less,” Jeremy tells me. “Ernest and Nell will ride right up to the house but we’ll stop a minute or so away to make our intentions less conspicuous.”
Bennet reaches across to clasp my hand. “How will we know when to go in? Will they send a signal?”
Jeremy shakes his head. “Far too risky. We’ll enter through a door at the back of the house a short while after.”
“And that isn’t risky?” I almost laugh. “Anyone could catch us.”
“And what if this is the location of the Lux?” Carolina snaps. “Jeremy did his best with what we had. Be grateful we have a plan at all. If it were left up to you, you’d go storming in the front door and get us all killed.”
Her words hit closer to home than she realises. I lean back against the window and say nothing.
“Did you have to be so harsh?” Bennet hisses to our cousin.
“What does he expect? There’s hardly a safe way to trespass.”
“And we shouldn’t acknowledge the danger, is that what you are saying? Should we skip hand in hand into the building without a worry?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Bennet.”
“Don’t you be ridiculous. Why is finding the Lux so important to you? You never cared for my father before he died. Why do you care so much now? Or is it not about him—is this simply another task for you to prove to yourself that you’re every bit as capable as a male? Well you’
re not—and running headfirst into a confrontation like you did with Morelock is only proof of it.”
“Bennet!” Jeremy says, shocked, but that doesn’t stop her. I turn my head away from the streets to see Carolina’s jaw set, her pale face flushed, and my sister’s eyes blazing. Is this grief? Is this what it does? Why does it hollow me out instead of filling me with anger?
In a low, vicious voice, Benny says, “When are you going to accept the fact that the Lux is gone for good, and nothing you can do can possibly change the fact of it?”
Carolina says nothing.
“Is that what you really think?” I ask Bennet, something in me dying. “The Lux is gone? Our search for it is futile?”
“Yes,” she whispers, not looking at me. “I’m sorry, Bran. I know the Lux was important to our father but if it’s gone, it’s gone. Without telling the police … what can we do? We should be concentrating on living our lives. Moving—” She struggles to finish. “Moving on.”
“It matters,” I whisper, “because it is what our father wanted. I thought you would understand that. And more than that, the things the Olympiae can do with it powering their weapon … I can’t be responsible for sitting back and letting that happen.”
The carriage begins to pull over by the side of the road and I throw the door open and leap out before it has a chance to stop. I wobble but land on my feet and press on, hunching against the chill air. I can see where the Golden’s carriage is heading and I follow it down a quieter, if not entirely quiet, street.
The Goldens’ carriage rolls up to a tall terraced house, and I stay around only long enough to see that it’s the central house in the block before I go around the back. The rear door is unlocked and I’m not sure whether to sigh or smile because they’re expecting us. I drag a hand through my hair. Whoever lives here knows that the meeting with the Golden siblings is only a decoy. Why else would they leave the door open? They are inviting us inside.
I could go right into the house by myself but I’d probably die. So I sit on the back steps, tense, my hands in fists, and wait for the others to come.
I don’t know if Bennet means what she said—but is she right? Is the Lux lost forever, no matter my father’s wishes? I always thought it would take a long time to find it—years even—but I thought we’d have some solid information by now, something to point us in the right direction. All we have are useless blueprints, business documents that talk of incomes and outlays, and very little else.
I thought we were on the right trail with the paper Carolina found—the one that told her of Morelock’s residence—but after dissecting it for a few moments, Jeremy said it was useless. A distraction, something conveniently left behind to be found should someone go searching. And we fell directly into the trap.
My guess is we were meant to die then, that Morelock’s purpose was to take care of anyone who might approach them. But that only assures me the Lux and whatever these people are doing with it is important—enough that they’d have us removed from the picture. And that only serves to make me even more determined to continue what we’re doing, no matter how futile this house searching is.
Bennet can do as she pleases, but I won’t give up on the promises I made. I told my father I would hide his work and I failed. I’ll get them back, no matter how long it takes.
“Bran?”
Jeremy, Carolina, and a number of strangers stand in front of me. It’s a second before I place them as the Goldens’ guards.
“Where’s Bennet?” I ask, rising.
Jeremy looks at me sadly. “I sent her home. This is taking its toll on her.”
“The door’s open,” I say instead of discussing my sister. A tight pain has set up shot behind my ribs. “They’re expecting us.”
Carolina exhales, distaste twisting her mouth. “Then let’s not keep them waiting.”
She charges up the stairs and inches the door open. Jeremy runs after her and the rest of us follow warily.
A butler not much older than me waits for us in the kitchen and beckons us into a parlour with a smile. I’m suddenly glad for the guards. We find Nell and Ernest on an opulent sofa looking entirely lost. A man, leaning casually against the mantelpiece, watches us file into the room with thinly veiled amusement. He laughs aloud at the appearance of the guards.
“Expecting a fight?” he enquires. “I’m incredibly sorry to disappoint you, but you won’t be getting one.”
All my breath goes out of me. I’m suddenly very, very glad my sister went home.
“Who are you?” Jeremy asks, raised to his full height.
“That doesn’t concern you. What does concern you is what I’m about to tell you. Sit.”
Too afraid to refuse, I perch on the edge of a damask chair and Carolina and Jeremy join the Goldens on the sofa. The guards stand at the back of the room, looking every bit ready for war. All the while the man watches us with sharp, beady eyes.
I’d place him at thirty five but he has the kind of face that could be a decade younger or older. He’s dressed in a strange style; no tails on his jacket, no flourish of common decoration save for thin strands of gold running vertically through an otherwise plain shirt.
“Your quest to find the Lux is doomed,” he says with another smile. “I promise you you’ll never find it. I’ve hidden it a long, long way from here where it will fulfil its most hidden potential and change history for the better.”
I almost speak—what does he mean change history?—but a voice at the back of my mind tells me I should let this man speak if he wants to give up all his secrets.
“The Weapon is a different thing altogether, and I have no idea why you’re looking for that. You shouldn’t even know about it.”
“How do you know what we’re looking for?” Carolina asks sharply.
He chuckles. “Do you honestly think you can trust everyone in that big house you’re staying in?” He turns to me. “Do you think you can trust everyone in your employment? Don’t assume people won’t divulge even the most harmful piece of information for the right price.”
“You’re a liar,” I say through clenched teeth. My heart pounds so hard, so fast. Anger, fear, anger, fear.
He shrugs. “I sure am—but not about this. You have a little snitch in your house.”
Jeremy tenses. “A spy?”
The nameless man rolls his eyes. “Call it whatever you want, the fact is still the same. One of your servants is an informant, a puppet of mine. And if you don’t give up this pointless search … I might have to pull a few strings and see what happens.”
Jeremy stands up suddenly, his face red and fuming, but his wife pulls him back down. He looks as if he wants to say something, and heatedly, but Carolina’s hand on his arm is keeping him back.
The man by the fireplace looks pleased, smug. I want to kill him but I’m too conscious of how this could turn violent—how quickly I could die—to move more than an inch. “Anyway.” He waves a hand. “I don’t have long to stay and chat. I’ve a new world to organise, destroy, rebuild—et cetera.”
The cord holding me back snaps, anger beating fear in their battle. “Where are my father’s inventions? What have you done with them?” Not what are you doing to do?—what have you done? All the things I feared would happen, all the nightmares I told myself to keep me going, keep me looking for the Lux when I wanted to lie down and give up—people killed, mass murders, cities crushed, the world in ruins, the world at war—flash before my eyes again, but this time it’s worse. The way he talks ... he’s already done it, whatever horror he’s unleashed on our world. It’s too late.
He sees the hopelessness in me and shakes his head. “They’re in a faraway place—one you don’t, and never will, have access to. As for what I’ve done with them, I have changed the world. No, no, that won’t do.” He shakes his head, dramatic. “I’ve saved the world. From itself, from its own people.” He examines the wide sweep of the fireplace, the flowers in the middle. “Do you know,” he says, “
how many advances there have been this past decade? Thousands. And only the smallest number of them has been revealed to the public. In my new world, all the inventions, all the information, all the resources—everything will come to us. We will have everything we deserve.”
“By ‘we’ you mean The Olympiae Club?” Jeremy says sharply. “Only the best for your new world, is it? What will you do with the rest of us?”
The man tilts his head, a spark of anger kindling in his eyes. “The rest of the world was unworthy.”
“Was?”
He smiles. Smiles. “I didn’t use the past tense for the hell of it. The Olympiae was formed for the betterment and progression of humanity. This is humanity progressing—this is the new world. A world populated with only the deserving and those smart enough to serve us.”
Carolina’s expression is dark, her hand white where she grips Jeremy’s. “With you at the head of this new world, I assume?”
“Who better to lead them into the future than me? I did form The Olympiae Club after all. I did all of this for them. You could have been a part of it if you’d have asked. Your good breeding would have been welcomed.”
“I’d never be one of you. You are men playing God.”
The man shakes his head, grinning now. “No, we are Gods. Our world is the new Olympus.” He looks at Jeremy, at Ernest. “You could have had the sorry remnants of the world falling at your feet as they fall at mine.”
“This world will never fall before you.” Jeremy snarls and leaps up from his seat. A flash of silver is in his hand, a knife he’d had concealed. He drives it into the other man’s chest but it passes through.
“I don’t need this world, and I’m sorry,” the bastard says with a smirk, “but I can’t stay. I have a limo and an empire waiting.”
Around the knife, and with a grin still on his face, the image of the man flickers and disappears. The knife comes away without blood, and the man, the founder of the Olympiae, is gone.
“How the devil did he do that?” Ernest gasps, his mouth hanging open.
“We should leave,” Carolina whispers, pulling Jeremy away from the space where the man stood.
The Forgotten Page 14
