Judith shut her eyes. Her hand traveled to her lips as if to hold back the tide that threatened to overtake her. After a moment’s pause, she met his gaze. Her brassy hair gleamed in the afternoon light as her eyes grew bright against a tinge of red. It seemed so unlike her. He hadn’t expected to find something soft beneath the hard edge of her regal air, yet she suddenly seemed so human. Reaching forward, she wrapped her hands around his and gave them a firm squeeze. Warmth radiated through his icy pallor.
“You have no idea how special you are,” she said softly, her voice crackling with a sorrowful laugh.
Special, his mind spat. That was his problem: he was too special to be left alone. He loved the wrong sex, he was never masculine enough to be like the other Oxford boys, he cried and couldn’t stop.
She shook her head. “With all that you have been through, all you have seen— You have been put through the flames of hell only to be forged in iron.”
“I don’t understand.” Drawing in a pained breath, he added, “You still haven’t answered my question, Miss Elliott. What abilities do I have?”
“What is the one thing you wanted most?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just tell me.”
Immanuel bit his lip and edged his gaze to the shelves behind their heads. He couldn’t bear to see the questioning looks on Peregrine and Cassandra’s faces. “To live a normal life and get back to how things were,” he gestured to his scar, “before all of that happened.”
“No,” Judith replied solemnly, the word cutting any question of the truth. “What did you really want? What did you repeat every day in that cellar? What did you want?”
Tears burned his eyes. Gathering his strength, he forced out the words. “To live.”
Cassandra looked between them in disbelief. “What did you say?”
“To live. I wanted to live. All I wanted was the possibility of a future outside of pain and darkness,” he cried, wetness itching his cheek. “I didn’t want anything else.”
“That’s your power, Mr. Winter, life.”
Pawing at his cheeks, he rubbed his eyes. “No, I— I can’t—”
“Think about it. You brought the girl and yourself back from the dead with that potion. I’m sure there’s more. There always is. Strange things that you can’t explain. Things so small that you do a double take and assume your eyes have played a trick on you. Once, long ago, maybe you were destined to be an alchemist or merely a talented scientist without ever knowing you were more than ordinary, but fate intervened. Fate has given you a gift you mustn’t squander.”
Immanuel wanted to pull his hand from her grasp but couldn’t. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that seeing the flowers come back to life in his hands had happened. He wanted to believe his life was worth something.
Turning to Peregrine, he asked, his voice thick in his throat, “How did you know? How did you know when I had no idea?”
A foxy grin spread across his features. “We know our own. It’s a feeling, you understand? Like a vibration that lets us know we’re close. Being around practioners… it’s like listening to a tuning fork. Sometimes if you’re quiet enough, you can hear a faint reverberating hum that doesn’t belong to the rest of creation, and you feel it echo inside you. Other times, you just hear the twang and know. We always find our own.”
“What was it with me?”
“A bit of both. You aren’t exactly hard to miss, but then, I tried to be quiet, very hard for me as you know, and I could feel the hum. Sometimes it’s really loud. When you had the vivalabe and came into my office, I thought my bloody ears were going to fall off from the pitch. That’s when I knew it belonged with you.”
Immanuel’s attention trailed to the cold metal bulging in his pocket. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? The vivalabe?”
“Precisely. It was meant to come to me, you know. I heard of its departure from America to England through a friend’s letter. I knew it was going to be in one of those boxes. That’s what the break-ins were all about. I told you about them to scare you away from my boxes, and you still ended up with it.” He chuckled to himself. “Hell’s teeth, I brought it on myself giving you all those boxes to unpack and catalog.”
“The point is,” Cassandra began, shooting Peregrine an exasperated look, “there are people looking for the vivalabe, people who shouldn’t have it.”
“Why? What would they do with it? I thought you said it sees spirits or energy. That doesn’t seem particularly useful.”
“We don’t know for certain what they’re planning, but we think they’re looking for a certain spirit. One whose power can disrupt the balance of nature.”
Sweat rose on Immanuel’s back at the thought. “A spirit?”
“Something not of this world, and to see it, they need a vivalabe and someone to walk in and find it. Nothing is certain yet. There’s a book that they desperately need, and I happen to know where it is. It’s safe for now. I trust its guardian, but we were worried that—”
Before Cassandra could finish, the front door clicked and open. Adam Fenice’s face peered around the doorway, his mustached smile brightening with upon seeing company. Immanuel swallowed hard, fumbling for the right words.
“Adam, my colleagues decided to stop by and see how I was doing.”
“That was very thoughtful. I’m sure it lifted your spirits.”
He gave a weak smile. “It has. This is Miss Cassandra Ashwood. Miss Ashwood, this is my flat-mate, Adam Fenice.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Ashwood,” Adam replied, bringing her hand to his lips with a graceful bow.
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Fenice,” Cassandra said softly, her toffee eyes flitting between Adam and Immanuel.
“And it’s good to see you again, Mr. Nichols. It was very kind of you to pay Immanuel a visit.”
Peregrine looked at Immanuel from the corner of his eye before saying, “After all the chaos, I had to see for myself if he was fit for work on Monday. Couldn’t let him come charging back if he was unwell.”
“Good idea. I know my opinion holds little weight when it comes to Immanuel’s work ethic.” Adam proffered his hand and stared at Judith a moment before his eyes widened at the realization. “Miss Elliott, I didn’t know you were in town. How goes the hunt for a women’s college?”
“As well as one would expect. Well, Mr. Winter, Mr. Fenice, we should take our leave. We’re glad to see you on the mend.”
Rising with Cassandra and Peregrine, Judith locked eyes with Immanuel. The moment their hands touched, a buzz of electricity passed up his arm. When she pulled her hand away, he found a card pressed into his palm.
As Adam cheerfully ushered them out the front door, Immanuel turned the crisp filigreed paper over in his hand. Written in gleaming gold script was an address, and beneath it in pencil were the words Sunday at seven. When he looked up, he found Miss Elliott watching him over Adam’s shoulder.
Her mouth never moved as her voice whispered in his mind, We will speak again soon, Mr. Winter.
Chapter Seventeen
Beauty and Tragedy
As soon as his guests were out the door, Immanuel darted into the kitchen, dumped the icing on top of the cake, and pulled the chicken from the oven in time to keep it from burning. Walking into the kitchen behind him, Adam’s blue gaze brightened as it traveled over the assortment of vegetables and sweets.
“What’s all this?”
“A token of my appreciation,” Immanuel said with a grin. All thoughts of tears had vanished upon seeing Adam. “I wanted to do something to show you how I really feel about living with you. I’m sorry about the other night. I— I wasn’t in my right mind.”
Adam slipped his arms around Immanuel’s waist, pulling him close until his forehead rested against his. In Adam’s embrace, he felt invincible, as if the power imbued in his sigils ran through his lover’s body. His lips reverently grazed Immanuel’s
cheek.
“Don’t ever apologize for that. You’ve been through a lot.” Drawing back, he stared into Immanuel’s bichrome gaze, tracing the dendritic strains of copper that trailed into the remaining blue. “What happened has been bothering me, too. I got upset, but I didn’t mean what I said. I want you here with me. I just want you to be happy.”
“I know.” Immanuel hugged Adam tightly before releasing him with a lingering kiss. “We both said things we shouldn’t have. That’s why I decided to make you a special dinner: to show you how much I appreciate all you have done to help me.”
“Well, it looks fantastic. Have you been at it all day?” Adam lifted the pot’s lid, inhaling the buttery warmth of potatoes. “Did we have these in the house?”
“No, I left right after you did.” Immanuel pictured himself darting out the front door without looking back. “I bought it all at the market and cooked everything myself.”
“Even the cake?”
Immanuel’s face contorted in exaggerated outrage. “Of course.”
“Hadley would be jealous. I think I made out better than she did. She received a title and a handsome husband, but I have a man who is brilliant and can cook. How many people can say that?”
Heat flooded Immanuel’s cheeks.
“You seem lighter today. Are you feeling better?” Adam asked as he gathered plates and silverware.
“For now. It comes in waves. What happened the other night was the crest, and for now, the seas are calm. It never stays that way, but I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.”
Adam opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. Finally, he said, “I hope it lasts for the gala. I’m looking forward to it.”
A ripple of cold dread passed through Immanuel’s form. The gala. There were so many opportunities to do something wrong. Sir William probably didn’t want to look at him after what happened in the storeroom, and there were still a few days left for him to mislabel exhibits or fall further behind on his work. Then, there was the event itself. He could make a fool of himself or he could inadvertently expose Adam as his lover. It wouldn’t take much. A lingering touch of the hand, an accidental kiss or embrace. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ruined it all.
“Are you all right?” Adam asked slowly, watching Immanuel’s eyes fade into the distance.
“Yes, sorry, it’s just pre-gala jitters. My waltz is rather awful.”
“Well, at least you won’t be going through it alone. I’ll be there, as will Hadley and Eilian. You can show us the exhibits you worked on, introduce us to your coworkers, Then, I can finally put faces to all of the names you mention.”
As Immanuel rearranged the plates and bowls to make room for the chicken, his eyes trailed to the vase of flowers sitting in the center. The petals had browned again and curled in on themselves. He made sure Adam was busy preparing their tea before blocking the flowers with his body. Gently stroking the edge of the once blue pedals, Immanuel pictured them alive, blossoming, smelling sweet like they did when Adam placed them in his hands. With each touch, the color invaded the dead tissue and the heads lifted toward the light filtering through the parted curtains.
Was that what kept the forget-me-nots alive inside his pendant? He had assumed it was due to residue from the potion his alchemist ancestors created, but what if it was him? The vial sat against his chest constantly. Was it that constant contact with his body that kept them alive or the desire to preserve one of Adam’s gifts? Adam. Immanuel’s mind rushed to his companion and what he wanted to do with him while his head was clear. Flesh on flesh, knotted together for hours each night. He wondered what his powers were doing to Adam. In his moments of frantic fear, he would do anything to keep Adam from harm, but the thought had to be banished. How would he explain to Adam that his latent magic might keep him young like Dorian Gray?
Immanuel snapped from his thoughts at the sound of Adam’s voice.
“Eilian and Hadley were asking after you.”
His cheeks burned anew as he quickly heaped a third spoonful of carrots onto his plate. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. They had hoped I would bring you along, but I understand why you were ‘too tired’ to come with this morning.” He released a soft chuckle as he sat across from Immanuel. “Eilian was very concerned about your hands. He worried they would become infected from the glass and impede your work.”
“You may report back that my hands are healing well. There are only a few slivers left to fester out, thanks to your sister. How are your sister and her husband? Are they planning to go back to Dorset any time soon?”
Adam playfully reached for the cake, but Immanuel swatted his hand away. “Actually, they’re hoping to go in mid-July for a few weeks to avoid the worst of the heat. The earl has graciously invited us to stay in one of Brasshurst’s guest rooms at any time. We could even go up by ourselves if we wanted. He just said to tell him when, so he can send a servant or two with us.”
“I guess that means we will have to buy bathing costumes.”
“Does it?” Adam shot him a smoldering look.
Immanuel swallowed a laugh and replied, “Mein Gott, you’re scandalous. I, for one, won’t be responsible for blinding old women and little children.”
“I highly doubt either of us will blind anyone. Oh, Hadley also mentioned they might venture to Egypt in the near future, once the weather is cooler over there and the floods have passed or something of the sort.”
“Why Egypt?”
Adam shrugged, popping a forkful of potatoes into his mouth. “The earl has always had wanderlust. I don’t think he’s going there to visit an archaeological site or to check on his company’s investments. From what I gathered, he simply wants to introduce Hadley to one of his favorite places. I’m sure she will enjoy it. James and Eliza went there once and seemed to have a good time despite the heat and sand. They even came back with a mummified head in a jar.” Releasing a laugh, he added, “That’s sounds like something you might do.”
“Probably. Maybe we will return from Dorset with a mermaid to display.”
“So you want to take Eilian up on his offer? I was hoping you would but—”
“But?”
“I wasn’t sure if you would be willing to step away from the museum long enough to go on holiday. Do you think you could get the time off?”
A few days where he could trade London’s rumbling bustle for the rhythmic lapping of the sea might be just what he needed to calm his nerves. “I should. If I can’t get it from Sir William legitimately, I could always cite my ill health. I doubt it will be a problem once the gala is over. It’s not like seals are particularly interesting to the general public… or anyone for that matter.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” Putting a forkful of chicken in his mouth, Adam looked from the plate to Immanuel. “Did you really cook this? You should make dinner more often.” Adam stabbed a second helping and asked between mouthfuls, “So what were you up to besides cooking? Did your friends bring any news when they stopped by?”
Immanuel’s mind raced. Magic. He wanted to cry that they told him of magic and spells. They told me things that make sense. Adam, you must believe it. It all sounds so fantastical, but I think it’s true. His heart sank. But you won’t believe me.
The words hung on his lips, but no matter how he played the conversation in his mind, Adam never understood. He valued logic, facts, and numbers. So how could he talk about magic when Adam thought he was losing his mind when he told him about Lord Rose in the vagrant’s body?
“Nothing much, really.” Biting his lip, he forced a tight grin. “Shall we crack into the cake?”
***
Adam leaned back in his chair, his body heavy with Immanuel’s surprise dinner. A gust of wind hot as breath swept along his temples. Even with the kitchen windows open, the evening was warm enough to make his collar stick to his neck. Behind the fluttering curtains, the sun stubbornly remained despite the late hour, a reminder of the imminent so
lstice. He released a contented sigh. A day that had begun with the tedium of figures had ended far better than he anticipated. Looking up from his tea, he found Immanuel’s light eyes pressing upon him. His pulse quickened. There was an intensity he hadn’t seen since they spent Christmas Eve together in one of the bedrooms in the earl’s home. Beneath the blue fire, there was longing and focus where there was usually hesitance or sadness.
“Are you ready to retire to the parlor? I think I’ll do the dishes later,” Adam offered, gathering the remaining plates and filling the sink with steaming water.
“Let’s go upstairs.” Immanuel’s hand curled around Adam’s arm, his thumb stroking his wrist lightly enough to raise the hair on his arms. The corner of Immanuel’s mouth twitched as he leaned close and whispered, “I want nothing more than to make love to you.”
Adam’s body tightened. “Did you say—?”
Immanuel opened his mouth, but no words came out. Staring at Adam, his brows furrowed as if he had to work up the nerve to repeat the words for a second time.
“Immanuel, are you all right?”
In response, Immanuel’s long fingers skimmed across Adam’s cheek before finding their way into his pomaded hair.
“Yes, it’s— it’s just that for the first time in weeks, months even, my mind isn’t fogged, and all I keep thinking is how much I want to kiss you. I want all the things I dreamed about at Oxford.” Wrapping his arm around Adam’s waist, he pulled him closer until their hips were flush and their ribs met with each breath. “In the two weeks I’ve lived here, I feel like I’ve been watching my life happen, and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of fighting my mind to enjoy anything. I want to live.” He dropped his voice, his breath skimming Adam’s flushed lips as he said, “You have done so much for me. Please let me do this for you. That is, if you’ll have me.”
Dead Magic Page 16
