“Lord Rose isn’t the type to move on. We ruined his plans and he surely thinks we caused his death.” His eyes trailed to Emmeline as he spoke, but it was easier to leave her in the blurry portion of his vision where he could ignore her derisive scowl. “Besides revenge, I think he’s after something.”
Emmeline’s eyes widened, feeling Cassandra’s gaze boring into the side of her face. They need what the grimoire possesses. “What could he possibly be looking for?”
“He came to get this.” Reaching into his satchel, Immanuel withdrew a brass ball ringed and etched like an astrolabe. His thumb stroked the button that triggered the spring, but he thought better of it. “I don’t know what it is. After he tackled me, he felt around for it in my bag. He definitely wanted it. Whether he was looking for me or the device, I don’t know.”
“May I see it?” Cassandra asked.
Immanuel eyed her for a moment, fighting the urge to hand the ball to her. There was something quietly reassuring about her, and her openness stood starkly against Emmeline’s darkened countenance. He would have trusted Cassandra with anything without fear of retribution or ridicule. Meeting her gaze, a smile crossed her lips, and he handed over the device. Cassandra turned it over in her hands, tracing the intricate series of lay lines with her eyes. Without hesitation, she pressed the spring and the top popped open with a soft click. Pressing it again, the levels of orbits rose. The onyx piece spun on its axis, stopping beside a piece of sapphire. Cassandra’s face lit up as she gestured for Emmeline to step closer. The black piece rotated in time with her movements, eliciting a cocked brow and deep frown from Emmeline.
“I haven’t seen one of these in years. They’re exceedingly rare, you know.”
“You know what it is? I figured it was some sort of astrolabe or compass.”
“In a way, it is. It’s a vivalabe. If calibrated correctly, the person using it can supposedly align themselves with the spirit world.” When Immanuel’s brows furrowed in confusion, she continued, “See all the different colored balls? They each represent a type of energy, almost like elements. If you know what type of energy you’re looking for, it can help you see the unseen.”
But why would you need to? Immanuel wanted to ask, but instead said, “What about when it isn’t calibrated with the spirit world?”
“You just need to know what you’re looking for. It picks up energy of whoever is nearby. People who can see things like me and Emmeline, we can be tracked. See?” She held the vivalabe out and moved her hand in a slow circle causing the white, blue, and black stones to swing in their orbits. Her eyes flashed between the piece of quartz and Immanuel’s form. “Well, it seems you have as much energy as we do. You’re the white one. How fitting considering your surname.”
“That’s quite strange. I don’t feel very energetic,” he said, his cheeks burning at her bright eyes upon him.
Cassandra closed it and dropped it into his palm, her fingertips brushing the myriad of scratches and pinpricks. Squeezing the cold metal tight against his skin, he silenced the itching burn. At least now he knew what the device was and what it did.
“But why would anyone want it?”
Cassandra shook her head, a tendril of brown hair dancing against her cheek. “Nothing good. I would keep it somewhere safe and out of sight.”
Immanuel nodded, his eyes trailing into the greenery beyond the line of trees, but he was far inside his mind. Gnawing on his lip, he felt the vivalabe grow heavy in his hand. Were they after him or the device or both? Sometimes things look for us. But why him? Why would it want him? For a brief moment, he saw himself following the familiar paths to the Serpentine he strolled at lunch. The carved ball hurtled through the air before disappearing beneath the water’s surface with a satisfying splash. He could rid himself of the blasted thing and go home. If Peregrine asked, he would say he lost it or sold it, but he couldn’t have it in the house. He couldn’t put Adam at risk if someone should come knocking when he was at work.
“Are you all right, Mr. Winter?” Cassandra asked, noticing his sudden pallor.
“He’s fine, Cass. He’s always like this.”
Immanuel ground his teeth, the vivalabe popping open at his tightening grip. Cassandra shot Emmeline an exasperated look, but she didn’t notice as she picked at her cuticles.
“Miss Ashwood, would the vivalabe be safer with you or at the London Spiritualist Society with Emmeline?”
Shooting Emmeline a pointed glare, Cassandra replied, “No, we have had some thefts at the society lately, and I wouldn’t want to chance it. Besides, I’m sure it will be perfectly safe in your care. You protected it once. Sometimes these things come to the right people.”
He released a hoarse laugh that sent a shot of pain through his ribs. “You’re the second person to say that. You would think the thing had a mind of its own.”
Immanuel stared up at the sky as it greyed and the wind rustled through the trees. Their leaves rolled onto their bellies, awaiting the rain at the first hint of its sensuous perfume. As the sun disappeared behind the clouds, the shadows around them deepened, and he quickly stuffed the vivalabe into his bag. Breathing away the aches and pains, he looked up to find Emmeline staring at him, her eyes commanding him to take the path back home. Maybe he should, lest darkness and irrational fear sink in.
“Well, I guess I should let you go before the storm comes. My flat-mate should be home from work soon, and he will worry if I’m not there.” Straightening to his full height, he stood before Emmeline. Her sharp, owl eyes bored into his sockets. “I know you don’t believe me, Emmeline. I wouldn’t either if I were you, but please, take care. I pray to god I’m wrong.”
Before she could respond, Cassandra stepped forward to take his hand. “Be careful, Mr. Winter. Don’t be a stranger.”
A faint smile crossed his lips. “I won’t.”
As Immanuel Winter ambled down the path and disappeared the way they came, Cassandra turned to Emmeline with a reproachful frown. “You are incredibly rude.”
“And?”
“You’re going to end up an old maid with no friends if Lord Hale finds out how you really are.”
“Well, he isn’t going to, is he?” she spat, switching her heavy bag to her other shoulder.
Cassandra shrugged, slipping her arm into Emmeline’s. “Tell me, where did you get that hideous— I mean, unique purse?”
“Now, who’s the rude one? If you must know, I have errands to run.”
“Oh. Would you like company?”
Gooseflesh rose along Emmeline’s arm, traveling across her breast at the skimming stroke of Cassandra’s nails against her forearm. She closed her eyes as drops of rain pattered down. They dotted her eyelids, leaving the taste of earth in her mouth. There was still time. She could still go home or to the Dorothy with Cassandra and forget all about the rich confines of the Eidolon Club, or the brown and green flecks within Lord Hale’s eyes.
Tightening her grip on the bag, she pulled from Cassandra’s grasp and veered down the nearest path. “No, I think I’ll go alone.”
Chapter Fifteen
Bewitching
Standing on the doorstep of the Eidolon Club, Emmeline released a tight breath. Was it fear that coiled in her breast and stole the air from her lungs? But what set her heart racing certainly wasn’t. She was one threshold away from becoming something more than just a medium. If she couldn’t succeed in the Spiritualist Society on her abilities alone, she would find a place where she could. Her mother hadn’t taught her to be weak, to cower and sink into the hierarchy under the guise of respect. She was a woman imbibed with generations of power, and she would not go into obscurity quietly. Raising her hand to knock, the door swung open. Emmeline peeked through the crack but saw no one on the other side.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” she called as she slipped inside, shutting out the rain. “Lord Hale?”
Emmeline walked to the crackling hearth and rubbed her hands until the dampness’s hold loosene
d. If there was a fire, someone had to be there. The book weighed heavily on her arm, and for a moment, she considered putting it down until a panicked voice in the back of her mind shot out a dozen what-ifs. What if it catches fire? Or what if someone takes it when you aren’t looking? A silent laugh climbed up her throat. Maybe she wouldn’t mind that.
“Emmeline, what a pleasure it is to see you on such an abysmal day.”
She turned at the polished, familiar voice and found Claudia trailing along the grand staircase as forlorn as a specter. Her previously bright features and quick movements had been replaced by a dull pallor, and in her gossamer white gown, her bronze hair had tarnished. Her gaze flickered over the garish bag hanging on Emmeline’s arm before returning to her face.
“Are you looking for Lord Hale? He isn’t here yet. But if you would like to stay and wait for him, we can speak instead.”
Emmeline glanced toward the window and the rain beating against the pane before returning to the green of Claudia’s eyes and the sensuous curve of her lips. How many men had wished for that invitation? When Emmeline nodded, Claudia waved for her to follow her up the stairs.
“Where is everyone?” Emmeline asked, keeping her head down.
“Most have gone to their country estates for the summer by now. Only a small group of us is left in London.”
As they made their way up the spiraling steps, Emmeline tried not to stare into the depths of the oil paintings lining the walls. All were darkened with smudged shadows and trapped or dying men. Bodies lay bleeding and ravaged on a battle field only inches from her eye as Claudia unlocked a room on the staircase landing. Emmeline feared that if she should hazard a look, she would find men being run through or see oil paint blood spurt from wounds while she stood helplessly, too real to do anything to stop it.
Beyond the door was only darkness. With a flick of the switch, the chandelier overhead buzzed to life, casting crystalline prisms across the carpet and curtains. The parlor was as big as Emmeline’s bedroom yet appeared larger with its high ceilings and decorative wainscoting. On the far wall was a set of shut double doors that Emmeline imagined led into a sumptuous bedroom with silken pillows atop a tall four-poster bed. Claudia gestured for Emmeline to take the armchair across from the chaise where the lady stretched out. The undulating light from the window traced the curves of Claudia’s form, pulling Emmeline’s eyes away from her host’s face.
“I have been hoping we could speak alone. I do love Cecil, he is my nephew after all, but it’s so nice to speak with a woman. We’re different. A man would never understand what we go through, and there’s always a shortage of women here.”
A smile crossed Lady Rose’s lips, her eyes running over Emmeline’s form and lingering on her strigine eyes. Emmeline should have seen the resemblance sooner. Though Cecil’s hair was darker, he and Claudia shared the same ochre locks and mossy green eyes. Their faces retained little in common, but with a smile gracing her lips, Emmeline could see past the slyness of Claudia’s features to see the full curve of Cecil’s mouth that haunted her dreams. A knot tangled in Emmeline’s stomach under the woman’s stare. Claudia was the queen with Cecil as her heir apparent. There was no mistaking who pulled the strings, but how far did her reach extend? Had it been she who sought to bring her into their ranks?
“Do you know why there are so few women?” Claudia asked, scattering Emmeline’s thoughts.
Emmeline’s lips locked. She knew the answer—or at least part of the answer—but to say it was pointless. She shook her head, pulling her bag across her lap and covering it with her arms.
“Marriage. It’s something we must contemplate very carefully when we are in a position of power. We aren’t pulling ourselves up in the world, Emmeline. We’re already there, but you must remember that a husband can be your closest ally or your greatest enemy.”
Emmeline swallowed against the dry lump in her throat. Words escaped her as they trailed after the air in her lungs. She opened her mouth before closing it again. “Are you suggesting that Lord Hale—?”
“Yes. My nephew only has eyes for you. It’s obvious to anyone with half a mind. Are you pleased?” she asked, leaning against her elbow and watching Emmeline from beneath her lashes.
A smile swept across her features as she stifled a laugh. “Very, though I should like to hear it from him before I get my hopes up.”
“Clever girl.”
Her lips lapsed into a fitful frown as she asked, “But do you think Lord Hale would stop me from using my gift?”
“I can’t say. Lord Hale and I only recently reconnected, so I can’t say much regarding his character.” Claudia drew in a long breath, arching her back as she raised herself in the chaise to be eye-level with Emmeline. The edge that inhabited her gaze softened with her pouting lips. “I can only tell you my experiences in marriage, Emmeline, and they aren’t happy ones. Seeing you with Cecil reminds me of myself at your age. So full of hope, so full of longing. I loved a young man then, more than I had ever loved anyone before, and I paid dearly for it.
“He had been beautiful then, which made his transgressions all the more forgivable. If he were ugly, I could have called him evil or bad and others would have believed me, yet they saw what I saw in my innocence: a beautiful, handsome young man so full of ambition and promise. What they couldn’t see was the darkness inside him.”
Emmeline sat transfixed as Claudia shut her eyes.
“I wish I had known then what I know now about darkness, but I wouldn’t have believed it. I thought I could fix him. That with love, I could patch the hole and change him for the better. Make no mistake, Emmeline, having a touch of darkness is a very grave matter, but it can’t be fixed. Not by you, and not by me. Darkness is a creature that consumes everything in its path, and by the time you realize it, it’s eaten a hole through you.”
“But Lord Hale doesn’t have that problem.”
“No, he doesn’t, but we aren’t born with it.” Claudia leveled her gaze at Emmeline. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you. Men are afraid of powerful women. We upset their image of the world when suddenly they have to share what they thought they were entitled to. My husband had extranormal abilities, or at least he did until his father beat them out of him. I tried so hard to bring his powers out, but in the end, all he had was strength and that all-consuming darkness, and he used them to keep me from using my abilities. If he couldn’t have them, then neither could I. When they have nothing left, they take what’s ours.”
Her pale green eyes faded to a different time as she said, “First, he tried to beat it out of me, like his father. When that didn’t work, he locked me up like a madwoman. The whole time, I foolishly thought I could still fix him. There’s a reason women like us hide their powers, Emmeline, and that reason is men. My power exceeded his, and I had to be punished for it. He cut me from his life as if I had never existed to remove all reminders of his weakness. You’re the only one who knows besides Cecil.”
Emmeline licked her lips, her suddenly dry tongue sticking to her skin. “How did you escape?”
Claudia’s features gleamed with a fleeting fire. A pulse of energy shuddered through Emmeline’s body, traveling up the walls before shorting the chandelier above their heads in a hail of sparks. Emmeline yelped as the room fell dark. Above her pounding heart, all she could hear was the patter of rain against the panes and roof. Tightening her grip on her bag, Emmeline waited in the silence, fighting the urge to leap from her seat and head back to Wimpole Street as fast as her legs could carry her, but Claudia didn’t move.
Summoning her voice, Emmeline rasped, “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
With a faint shake of her head, Claudia returned to the present and flashed a glinting Cheshire cat smile. Her gaze edged to the shadows beyond the door to the hall and narrowed at something unseen. “Well, it all worked out in the end. My husband is dead, and I’m still young enough to marry again if I so desired. F
or now, I think I will enjoy the freedoms of widowhood. After all, why would I want to expose someone to the darkness I inherited from my husband? At least, I can warn you in hopes that you will be spared.”
Emmeline couldn’t imagine it. Not a word of it. Cecil—Lord Hale—wasn’t cruel. She had seen darkness first hand. She had seen the damage ambition and anger could do to another’s soul, and in Lord Hale, she saw none of that. If anything, he should have worried, for in the pit of her stomach she felt the tug of cruelty, that endless black vacuum as dark and cold as the depths of the sea. In seconds, it could well up, sweeping away all emotions and thoughts of mercy or kindness. She could ignore its cruel claws tearing through her, but at night, as she lay in bed recounting the day, she hated herself and the cruel words or sneers that issued from her lips before she could stop them. Perhaps it was he who should have been afraid of being swallowed up.
A soft knock sounded at the door before it squealed open. Emmeline’s heart leapt into her throat at the sight of Lord Hale silhouetted in the hall’s light. His brow creased with confusion as his eyes ran from the extinguished chandelier to the two women sitting in the gloom.
“Are we holding a séance?”
“No, just a little energy expulsion. The lights will come back on eventually. Why don’t you take Emmeline down to the front parlor, Cecil? She came to speak to you, and I have kept her long enough.”
A conspiratorial smile passed between the two women as Emmeline followed Cecil Hale from the room. She studied his frame as he walked beside her down the hall. He stood below six feet, but his gracile limbs and the pride in his bearing gave him the illusion of height. While he had lost the gawkiness of youth, his facial features had retained their sculpted smoothness. As they passed another hall of private rooms, his fingers brushed hers. They skimmed along the length of her fingers before caressing her palms. A shiver passed through her, and with one swift motion, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the shadows of the unlit passage. Her hand slipped behind his neck, pulling his lips within reach until she could kiss him. In a kiss, she tried to channel every feeling she had when she read her forbidden books or during dreams where he appeared in her bed, but her thoughts fled at the heat that spread between her thighs and crept through her core to tug every hair on end.
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