These Vengeful Souls Page 13

  “His room is right above ours.”

  Damnation and double damn. “Did Catherine wake up?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” Miss Chen said vaguely.

  It wasn’t hard to decipher her meaning. She’d keep quiet if I had a good plan. Unfortunately, in all the time I’d known her, Miss Chen had considered every plan terrible. How could I make this one sound detailed and well thought out?

  “Well, I—”

  “I’m coming with you,” she interrupted. “Let’s go.”

  “You don’t … want to hear my plan first?” I asked.

  “You’re going to blind Goode,” she said. “Simple, smart. Just give me the gun this time.”

  “Oh, I … all right,” I said, handing her the pistol.

  “Thanks.” Miss Chen tucked it away in a small space in her boot.

  While I put on my boots, she disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a rag, which she used to blindfold Mr. Jarsdel as a precaution. I put the hat and veil on him to make the blindfold look less obvious, and when we were done, we guided what looked like a strangely shaped woman outside.

  The night air was cool, soothing, and freeing after the long day in our stuffy rooms. The streets were slick and shiny from an evening rain. We walked briskly to find a busier road, but I didn’t quite have the same fears of thieves and cutthroats leaping out of dark alleys as I used to. Not when I had an actual murderer on my arm to worry about. Within a few minutes, a hansom picked us up, the driver barely giving Mr. Jarsdel a second glance. I gave him the Lowndes Square address, squeezed into the tight space meant for two, and we were on our way.

  “Do you know which house it is?” Miss Chen asked.

  “Not exactly,” I said. “But I know the square well enough. We’ll be able to see everything from the garden in the center.”

  “And where are you planning to attack him?”

  “It depends. Captain Goode’s Constable ceremony was tonight. If he’s not home yet, we’ll have to wait for him to return and Mr. Jarsdel can catch him as he gets out of his carriage. If he is home, I think Mr. Jarsdel will have to meet with him in the drawing room. Either way, Mr. Jarsdel, can you think of a matter that would be too urgent to wait for the morning?”

  “Information about you or Mr. Braddock,” Mr. Jarsdel said.

  “Perfect,” I said. “And you wouldn’t be lying.”

  “Yes, not lying is the most important part,” Miss Chen quipped. “So once he’s blinded, how long until his sight returns?”

  “Two minutes to see outlines,” Mr. Jarsdel said. “Five minutes to see fully.”

  “Ah, then here’s the most important question,” Miss Chen said. “Who gets to do the honors?”

  “That also depends,” I said. “I am fairly certain if Captain Goode has bodyguards, they will be in the room and be affected by Mr. Jarsdel, too. In which case, Mr. Jarsdel would have no trouble killing him. But if a bodyguard happens to close their eyes or look away for some reason, we need to be ready to assist. In which case, you do the honors.”

  Miss Chen scrutinized me as passing gaslight hit my face. “Maybe you should take the gun. I feel guilty about taking that from you.”

  I shook my head. “It’ll be satisfying enough to have planned this. As long as you don’t miss.”

  “I won’t,” Miss Chen said. “But you should at least kick him once or twice.”

  “Of course,” I said. I cleared my throat. “And uh—thank you for coming. I know you wanted to leave London and get away from Captain Goode. And now we’re heading straight to him.”

  “I like simple plans,” she said with a shrug. “Less places where they can go wrong.”

  We spent the rest of the ride in silence. I watched the city go by, watched as we crossed the Thames and passed Victoria Station. My heart weighed a little heavier, my breath came a little faster as we passed my parents’ home.

  I knocked on the roof before we got too close. The hansom came to a stop a street east of Lowndes Square. Miss Chen paid the driver while I pulled Mr. Jarsdel out and led him to the sidewalk. As the cab trundled away, I removed my hat and veil from Mr. Jarsdel and untied his blindfold. The three of us continued onward through the dark, empty street.

  We entered Lowndes Square at Number 50, where Miss Chen broke apart the gate to the communal garden in the center of the square. Using the bushes for cover, we crept down to 37 and watched it through the fence. It should have been an obvious blight on the neighborhood, looming over the street, horrifying the square with its dark inhabitants. Instead, it was tucked in among the neat little row of elegant houses that all shared a likeness with the ones in Belgrave Square. And Captain Goode’s residence looked like a simpler version of my home.

  I hated it.

  We stared for a long moment at the white stucco. Wind began to ruffle the hem of my night rail and the hair at the nape of my neck.

  “Shall we?” Miss Chen’s voice cracked through the silence, as sure and capable as a well-swung whip. She did not look nervous, just determined.

  “I suppose we should.” I eyed the house, wondering if he was in there, sleeping peacefully. “Mr. Jarsdel, are you ready?”

  “I am.”

  I removed his traveling coat and put it on myself. His body had completely healed during our trip. Miss Chen knelt down and eyed his hand restraints. One by one, his fingers were loosened and then his hands were apart, his flame power free and strong. I took a deep breath, trusting in Rose’s power. Miss Chen stayed kneeling behind him, one hand by her boot. He stood up, nodded, and didn’t burn us to death.

  Miss Chen turned her attention to the fence in front of us, breaking apart a small hole for Mr. Jarsdel. As the metal cracked and fell to pieces, a loud clacking came from down the road. A carriage. It turned toward us and slowed to a stop in front of 37 Lowndes. A footman emerged from the shadows and opened the door for Captain Goode to step out. Dressed in uniform, he looked striking and far too proud of himself.

  “Good timing,” Miss Chen whispered.

  Mr. Jarsdel left the garden and crossed the street as Captain Goode started to make his way to the front door. “Captain Goode,” he called. “A moment! I have something urgent!”

  As much as I wanted to watch, I shut my eyes and waited for the flash of light. I counted to five. To ten. Nothing came.

  “Captain, what’s happened?” Mr. Jarsdel shouted.

  My eyes opened to find the street empty, save for Mr. Jarsdel. The carriage, the horses, the driver, the footman, and Captain Goode had all vanished.

  “That … was an illusion,” Miss Chen said in disbelief. “Dammit, this is a trap, we have to—”

  She was interrupted by a loud rumble and a massive blast of water that struck us from behind. The force propelled us through the hole in the garden fence and onto the street. I coughed out the water and tried to climb to my feet, but there was a sizzle behind me and then a searing pain that sent my body into convulsions. Thrashing and crawling away did nothing except earn me more horrible shocks. The weight of the attacker pinned me down, and then they seized my neck, lifted me up, and spoke in a sweet voice.

  “I wonder if I eat your skin, will it grow back?”

  The girl from the prison. The cannibal. Her hair was bright white as if moonlight was hidden in her locks, and her hand around my throat seemed to buzz with energy. She toyed with me like the dead frog in an electric current experiment.

  Mr. Jarsdel was on the ground, eyes open, unable to move, two more familiar faces standing over him. A gaunt, frail man, another one we’d questioned in the prison, the one who nonchalantly talked about the murders he’d enjoyed committing. And a bearded man with a whip of water encircling him. The former bodyguard. Captain Goode had released the whole blasted prison.

  I looked to Miss Chen for help, but she had problems of her own. A tall blond man had her in his hold with a knife to her throat. “Fei, so lovely to see you again.”

  She elbowed him in the gut. “You too, Prat
t.”

  He kicked her legs from behind, bringing her to her knees. “I say, no need for that, my dear. I can put in a good word for you.”

  The door to 37 Lowndes Square slammed, and Captain Goode marched to us with Miss Fahlstrom by his side.

  “Miss Wyndham, I see you received my invitation,” Captain Goode said, seizing my arm. His gaze was severe and stern, the welcoming, fatherly side of him gone. “Do you really think Mr. Jarsdel’s knowledge of my address was a mistake?”

  My rage rose along with my power. “What are you doing?”

  He pulled his left arm out of his pocket to reveal a new hand growing back and taking shape. He’d been hiding it since the ball. “I wanted my hand back.”

  I felt a chill as my power was suddenly cut off when he was done. It was all a trap. He knew we’d go after Mr. Jarsdel and question him again. How stupid could I bloody—

  “Ah!” a yelp came from behind me.

  Miss Chen had her gun aimed at Mr. Pratt’s head now. “You hurt her, you lose your illusionist.”

  “Fei, please, look at the future I had envisioned for us,” Mr. Pratt pleaded.

  An illusion of Miss Chen appeared in the middle of the street. She was wearing a lavish wedding gown and speaking her vows lovingly to Mr. Pratt.

  “There’s a gun to your head,” Miss Chen said. “What part of that suggests I want to marry you?”

  “There’s no need for that,” Captain Goode barked out. “I don’t plan to kill any of you if I can help it.”

  “And you expect us to believe that?”

  “It will make things simpler if you do. You’re incredibly valuable. Everyone with a power is. I hadn’t realized how rare we are until recently. There’s only one of you.”

  “We’re well aware of that,” I replied.

  “What I mean is that there is only one healer,” Captain Goode said. “There’s only one enhancer, one illusionist. As far as our records show, each power is gifted to only one person at any given time. There’s never been two living people with the same power. If you die, I will have to wait fourteen years for your power to emerge in another healer.”

  I gaped at him. “You mean to say…”

  “Your power will be reincarnated,” he said with a nod. “I’d suspected that to be the case, but I could only confirm it when we had enough detailed records from our recent recruits. There, we found the date of death of the predecessor always matched the date of birth of the successor.”

  The only one. I was the only one. How had we not known that before? A flurry of emotions boiled over and I gritted my teeth as it overwhelmed me. How dare Captain Goode keep this from us and then attempt to collect us like rare prizes? How dare—ah. Yes. The realization smacked me across the face. This was about more than just powers.

  “You’re doing this for your brother,” I said. “You’re going to find Mr. Redburn’s successor.”

  Captain Goode gave a stiff nod. “By then, all our powers will be gathered, and England will be keeping the world at peace.”

  “With your daily murders and blaming of others.”

  “I told you before, Miss Wyndham. You can’t save everyone. You always have to make difficult choices. And when you do, people look for a villain. If you don’t want it to be you, then you must give them one.”

  “All right, stop, I don’t care anymore,” Miss Chen said. “I don’t even know why you’re still talking.”

  “Because I want you to know that it is in my best interests to keep you and your friends alive,” Captain Goode said. “And I needed to give Mr. Seward time to put water in your gun.”

  With a growl, Miss Chen aimed at Captain Goode and pulled the trigger, but the gun misfired. Mr. Pratt picked up his blade and slashed her as she tried to fight him for it. A heavy blast of water knocked her to the ground.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, I reached for my dagger fan, tied to my wrist. But by the time I swung at Captain Goode, he was ready.

  “Mr. Dunn, your assistance,” he yelled, my hand again in his grip. He glared at me as the cannibal girl’s grip tightened briefly around my throat. “The wonderful thing about your power is that I don’t even need your cooperation or permission to use it. I can lock you in a box, raise the power, and send you to the sick and wounded without any fuss. You’ll be much more useful.”

  The frail Mr. Dunn approached, removing his gloves. He set his papery hand on mine, and I lost all feeling in my arm. It fell limply to my side, paralyzed.

  The wind was picking up now, swirling the group’s clothes and hair till they looked almost comically evil. And then to complete the scene, thunder rumbled and lightning cracked through the sky. Striking the house right next to Captain Goode’s. Repeatedly.

  They all turned for a moment, distracted by the sudden attack, while I could hear Miss Chen fighting Mr. Pratt again. “Miss Wyndham! Watch—”

  Her warning was drowned out by the winds from what looked like a tornado flying down the street, straight at us. I kicked and yelled and clawed at Captain Goode’s hand, trying to pull out of his grip, out of the cannibalistic girl’s hold on my neck, but it did nothing. The winds tore through our group without a care, hurtling us in every direction.

  I hit the ground hard and rolled into a fence at the end of the square. As the world kept spinning, I clumsily lifted myself up, ignoring the aching in my head. My hands shook relentlessly, and I realized Captain Goode’s glove was still in my fist. At least that was something. Winds and lightning continued to rip through the streets, shattering stone and flinging debris all over, before descending on the house next to Captain Goode’s. It stood no chance, as a growing fire consumed it and the winds scattered its remains.

  “God dammit—” Miss Chen’s voice gasped behind me.

  I tried to find her in the dark, but she was nowhere on the street. The sounds of her struggling led me into the garden, which suddenly looked wilder, untamed. She was trapped in a wall of green, struggling against vines that wound themselves around her ankles. Her power off, she let out a vicious curse and dug her fingers into the thick plant.

  My left hand instinctively reached for my dagger, but I stopped. I knew this power. I had seen it at the Society of Aberrations last month, while Oliver was training. That boy would be somewhere here. Indeed, his head was peeking out of a shrub a few feet ahead of me, only a shock of brown hair and mournful eyes visible. He was too young for this. Just as Oliver was. I felt the fury rise higher in me.

  I ran to him, watching Miss Chen, who had managed to rip off one plant but was now struggling with the errant vine that was wrapping around her neck instead. Still, the boy was so focused on her, he did not notice me until I was right behind him.

  “George, please!” I whispered. “I know you; you’re Oliver’s friend.”

  Immediately, half his vines curled up defensively around him, the other half, sharp with thorns, aimed at me. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  “You don’t have to do this.” I tried to be gentle even as I spoke the words as rapidly as possible. “Come with us.”

  He shook his head, eyes wet. “My friends…”

  My heart broke a little. Dammit. “Just … just say we overwhelmed you. We’ll come back for you. For all of you.”

  He gave the faintest nod as a shout came from the street.

  “Find them!” Captain Goode shouted over the roaring winds.

  I raced over to Miss Chen, her expression confused as the vines released her.

  “Come on,” I said and grabbed her with my working hand. She was bleeding from several wounds, but she still had the strength to walk, barely. I dragged her through the junglelike garden, creeping under trees and in the shadows until we reached the hole she’d made in the gate. As we crossed the street out of the square, I looked back to catch an elaborate lattice of thick and leafy vines covering our exit.

  The loud destructive storm boomed and crackled behind us, our breathing and footsteps the only sounds echoin
g down the long street that I hoped would lead us somewhere safe. Instead, we turned at a corner onto a narrow mews and found ourselves facing Mr. Pratt. Or rather, one hundred Mr. Pratts filling the street.

  I stopped and backed away, looking for another exit, but Miss Chen slipped out of my hold.

  “I knew you missed me,” the hundred Mr. Pratts said at once, each armed with a knife.

  She kept limping toward him, refusing to back down. Her right hand curled into a fist, and she charged at the center one. But at the last moment, she veered to the left and struck Mr. Pratt across the face.

  The illusions all vanished as he fell to the ground, his nose bleeding.

  “The real one’s not as handsome as he thinks he is,” Miss Chen said as I caught up to her.

  Mr. Pratt scrambled back to his feet, ready to fight the both of us. I didn’t know whether the two of us, this wounded, could manage it. Fortunately, I didn’t have to find out.

  A heavy wind blew Mr. Pratt back, and a bolt of lightning struck the ground between us, propelling him into a wooden stable house door. Thunder rumbled, and he looked up over our heads in fear. The mews filled with twenty copies of him, and they all scattered and ran away as more lightning crashed down upon them.

  Miss Chen and I climbed back up to our feet and turned to find a goddess floating down toward us.

  Or at least that’s how my dazed mind took in Radhika Rao, her bright skirts and shawl fluttering as she landed, fog growing and swirling around her.

  “I … Miss Rao … how did you know we were here?” I managed to ask.

  “I did not, healer,” she said, hurrying past us into a clear path through her fog. “This way.”

  I slung Miss Chen’s arm over my shoulder and found her expression matching my own as she stared openmouthed at the formidable woman. We hurried and stumbled after her, toward the busier Knightsbridge Road. As we passed under a gaslight, I could see Miss Rao looked tired, her arms and face covered in patches and bruises. Her right arm was wrapped in a makeshift sling.

  “You’re hurt,” I said.

  “I am aware,” Miss Rao said. “That’s why I saved you. Heal me.”