These Vengeful Souls Page 8

  I made a note to find Soot and hide him.

  As everyone filed out of the room, I hung back and caught Catherine’s hand. “I’m sorry. Is everything all right? I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

  Catherine nodded. “I know. I’m not. I—”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Her voice was higher than usual, and she scratched at her arm uncomfortably. “It’s Rose—I don’t want to add to her distress after all that’s happened. And it’s … just … well, has she said anything to you?”

  I blinked a few times. “About what?”

  “Um, is she perhaps mad at me?” Catherine became extremely interested in the cuff of her sleeve.

  No,” I said quickly, for if anything, Catherine seemed to be the one person Rose wanted to be around. “Why would you think that?”

  “I think she’s avoiding me.” And when she said that, I did recall how Rose had wanted to room with me. Surely that was simply because we were sisters or some notion Rose had about bothering Catherine?

  “I think Rose is glad to have a friend here,” I said, but something made me look again at Catherine. Wild curls of hair were tumbling around her face, not willing to be tamed into a knot. But that was always the case with Catherine, who cared little for appearances. It was the sadness and tension in her eyes that seemed out of place. “You don’t normally worry about what anyone thinks about you.”

  “Yes, well, she’s not anyone,” Catherine said. “She’s your sister and I want to help. I hope I haven’t done anything to upset her.”

  “I truly don’t think you have,” I assured her. “It’s everything else in the world that’s so upsetting. You’re the one other person she knows from before all this powers nonsense. When she first came back, I could tell you were the best person to help her. She just needs time. We all do.”

  She squeezed my hand once and shook out her skirts. “You’re right. I’m being silly. There’s a lot going on.” She stood up straighter, and we followed the others to the parlor.

  Everyone settled in, and I looked for Sebastian, hopeful that maybe Miss Chen’s teaching would be able to help him.

  Only Sebastian was nowhere inside.

  There was a soft creaking from the ceiling, and I paused, realizing Sebastian’s room was right above us. What did he think? We would forget that he was supposed to join us? And was it progress that he was annoyed enough with me to be out of my presence?

  Silly, silly man. I padded up the stairs and found his bedroom door closed.

  I knocked loudly. “Hiding, again?”

  No response.

  “Don’t you wish to control your powers?” I asked.

  Apparently not.

  “It’s the only way we’ll be able to deal with Captain Goode,” I said, hoping it would provoke him into responding. “Well, except shooting him, perhaps. But you seem intent on making me miss my shot.”

  The door opened a crack. “I didn’t want you to take a shot at all,” he argued.

  I was there before he could close it. “Why not?”

  He sighed, his not-inconsiderable bulk useless against my well-placed foot. He let the door open, greeting me with his stormy face and crossed arms. “Because I didn’t want to make everything worse. That’s all I ever seem to do. It doesn’t matter what our intentions are. We have to consider the effects.”

  He had a point.

  “You are right. I’m sorry. But that shouldn’t stop you from training.” He frowned and said nothing. “You cannot possibly be against training. It is the opposite of a harebrained plan.” I knew he was annoyed with me, but I was truly unsure what he could have against learning to control his power.

  He sighed again before beginning to speak haltingly. “What if I … what if I accidentally heighten my power in the attempt to lower it?” He leaned against the doorjamb, his body forming a curved bow, full of tension. He really did have to worry about the worst case in every situation.

  “I … don’t know,” I said.

  His face was turned down so I could only see the curl of hair on his forehead, his lips pulled tight against his teeth.

  I stepped forward so there was very little space between us. His lashes lifted a little, and there was something entirely unreadable in his eyes for a moment. My skin began to itch, and I felt a blush coming on. So I pressed on, ignoring the way the air felt suddenly warm and heavy.

  “I promise you don’t have to do anything. We can just listen to what she has to say.”

  He pushed himself away from the door. Sebastian had never been one for broad smiles, but as he ran his hand across his face for a long moment, I thought I would do anything—anything in the world—to see Sebastian smile again. And I had to continually swat the little voice inside of me that suggested maybe kissing him would make everything better, when I knew very well it would only make things worse. So I offered the one thing I had to make it better.

  “I promise I will be right there with you—no rash or impulsive actions,” I pressed, holding out my hands innocently.

  He eyed me carefully. “And if my power raises—”

  “I’ll be training, too. And I’d raise mine to match yours,” I promised. I would raise my powers to the heavens if it meant Sebastian taking on a little less guilt.

  He didn’t smile, but his shoulders finally slumped in defeat. “Fine.” He gestured down the hall and waited for me to go before him.

  “If anything happens, I am leaving.”

  “I will go with you,” I said. “And if you ever get sick of me, I’ll remove my hand and give it to you.”

  “Please … don’t do that.”

  “Very well, we’ll try it this way,” I conceded, feeling him take my hand protectively as we entered the parlor.

  Rose was sitting on the floor, her skirts arranged artfully in front of her as she gave Miss Chen her full attention. Laura was settled between Emily and Catherine on the sofa, looking small and scared. Catherine reached out to give her arm a little pat, then pulled her over so Laura was leaning against her.

  Sebastian and I settled onto the rug near Rose, and Emily floated over to us.

  “Here,” she said. The bit of fabric she and Laura had been fiddling with at breakfast landed in Sebastian’s hands. He slowly uncurled it to find inexpertly sewn initials at the bottom corner in a bright yellow thread.

  “It’s for your crying,” Emily added, giving him a tentative smile.

  “I…” Sebastian struggled with how to accept this very kind and bluntly given gift. “Thank you, Miss Kane,” he said finally, carefully folding it.

  Emily’s smile became a wide grin and I had to curb my own as Miss Chen began her lesson.

  She cleared her throat and leaned on the fireplace mantel. “Now, I can’t promise everyone here that I know all there is to know about this,” Miss Chen began, rubbing her hands together briskly. “I’ve been doing it for a year and I still can’t get my power as high or low as Captain Goode could, but I’ll try to tell you some of what I learned from those bastards.”

  And so she did. She started by leading us through a series of odd breathing and imagination exercises. “First, everyone close your eyes. Try not to think. Breathe. Concentrate on this room. Listen to my voice, the sounds around us.”

  The logs snapped and popped in the fireplace behind her. The windows rattled from the winds outside. Soot purred softly from Laura’s lap.

  “I want you to remember what it felt like when Captain Goode took control of your powers. Mr. Braddock, Miss Rosamund, there’s a chill that runs through your body when he takes it from you. Try to remember how that felt the first time. Try to remember the cold that settled in the pit of your stomach. The strange lightness, the feeling that something was gone.”

  Her voice wrapped around us as she paced about the room. “Miss Wyndham, Miss Kane, try to remember that warmth your heightened power gave you. The power you felt running through your veins. Try to remember all the possibilities that opened up to yo
u.”

  I closed my eyes and breathed, imagining the blood beneath my skin warming, letting my healing power grow in my gut, pooling into a shimmering orb. The memory of the last time slid into my mind. The desperate fury flowing through me at the ball. The strangeness of Captain Goode’s intrusive touch. The satisfaction of seeing his throat slit and bleeding.

  “Miss Wyndham, I can tell you’re thinking about Captain Goode,” Miss Chen said. “Focus less on murdering him, more on the power.”

  Right. A heavy breath left me. My fists relaxed into gentle non-strangling hands. I peeked open one eye to check on Sebastian. His eyes were shut, his eyelids fluttering as if he were dreaming of something better. He was trying. Despite all his fears, despite London’s opinion of him, despite the vivid memories of Captain Goode and Mae this dredged up, he still found the courage to try.

  And he trusted me to help him.

  I closed my eyes, trying to focus on Miss Chen’s other approaches.

  “Some people try to recreate a moment when they’ve had their powers raised. They recall the smell of the room, the objects they were looking at, the thoughts they had. Others think about the actual experience of using their enhanced powers—the urgency, the strain. I’ve heard others describe it as a switch. I realize how absurd this sounds, but do try to imagine a switch inside your chest, and pull it up or down.”

  I tried again and again, settling into a calm state of mind, letting images, sensations, and switches run through until my mind grew quite agitated, forcing me to start over. Memories of healing my friends did little until the thought of Sebastian stirred something inside me. My heart leapt, my eyes shot open, and then I realized it was my stomach growling.

  Dammit. I should have known I’d be terrible at this.

  At the end of a frustrating two hours, I felt sweaty, numb in my buttocks, and ready to declare the whole endeavor a waste of time. But there was a soft giggle from behind me, and Emily was floating Laura’s embroidery hoop in the air, telekinetically stitching. Her needlework was still rather clumsy and imprecise, but it was the most skillful use of her power I’d seen.

  Next to me, Sebastian was still concentrating, but his grimace was slightly less pronounced. I grasped his warm hand and the current still flowed between us, but it did feel slightly fainter. I looked up to ask what he thought and saw his lips press hard together, as though he were suppressing a sob or smile. I could not say which. His eyes were dark and full of that emotion again, the one I could not discern.

  “Miss Rosamund, are you all right?” Miss Chen asked.

  Those words wrenched me around to find my sister standing by the fireplace, her eyes closed, a shy smile slowly taking form.

  “Yes, I think so.… I felt something small. I thought it was a typical chill, but then I got another and it’s staying there even when I’m warmed.” Rose opened her eyes and met mine. “Ev, I think it might be lessened.”

  I couldn’t help the silly grin that spread across my face, nor the hug I gave her. “That’s wonderful! Though you will have to test it on someone else. I still think you’re the best sister the world has ever known, so I’m not sure it’s really working that well—”

  Rose smacked my shoulder playfully, a giddy smile on her face, color high on her cheeks. “Can’t you just say you hate me a little bit?” she said, giggling, and I was bowled over that such a simple thing could bring such good cheer—especially to my naturally serious sister after everything she had gone through. I had missed her smile almost as much as Sebastian’s.

  “We shall have to ask Catherine,” I said, pulling Rose’s arm under mine and marching her to my friend, determined to cheer everyone up. “Catherine, isn’t Rose quite suddenly less pleasant to be around?” I tried to sound severe.

  Behind her spectacles, Catherine’s eyes went perfectly round as she darted her gaze between us, her tongue poking out to wet her lips.

  “I—”

  “She thinks she might have controlled her power!” I bumped my hip to Rose’s and we both beamed at Catherine.

  “I, well, of course. Yes, much deteriorated.” Catherine gave her a tentative smile. Rose turned a little, blushing, and I laughed.

  Finally, there was a break in the heavy clouds that had been following us since the ball. Miss Chen had warned us this would take some years to perfect, but that didn’t matter. For the moment, at least, my friends were together and feeling a measure of hope, of lightheartedness, a play, at least, at normalcy.

  Then the door slammed open, revealing a dour Mr. Kent and Mr. Adeoti. “There’s been a murder,” Mr. Kent said. “And the word is Sebastian Braddock is to blame.”

  Chapter Eight

  NOT A HALF-HOUR later we were standing in front of a nondescript building, our large, strange group—consisting of Mr. Kent, Sebastian, Miss Chen, Mr. Adeoti, Emily, Laura, and me—receiving plenty of stares. Laura had stubbornly refused to stay at home, saying she was worried her brother would hurt his ankle again. She had looked so terrified to be away from him and Emily that Mr. Kent decided she could come if Emily helped keep her out of the way. And with Tuffins driving the carriage, we could always send her home in a pinch.

  “Oh! I forgot to mention this is a brothel.” With that advance warning, Mr. Kent knocked loudly on the door.

  That explained the stares. “You brought your little sister to a brothel?” I hissed.

  “Kit, you are not to touch anything.”

  From the moment the word brothel left his lips, Laura seemed to regain some of her missing sense of mischief. Her eyes brightened a touch, and I am sure thousands of sensational novel plots tumbled through her head. “This, why, this is … scandalous.” She looked almost delighted. And had never been more right in her life.

  Finally, a voice called out from inside, “Yea?”

  “Hello, I heard someone was murdered here last night. Is that true?”

  “Yes,” the man said and then let out an audible growl. “That’s no business of yours! Get on!”

  “Miss Chen, your assistance would be invaluable,” Mr. Kent said.

  There was a snap on the knob and the door cracked open. Mr. Kent pushed in past the blustering guard.

  “You can’t come in—”

  “We are paying customers!”

  “No, we bloody well aren’t,” I said.

  Mr. Kent smiled at the furious guard and continued inside. “Now, where did the murder occur?”

  “The second floor,” the man answered before he muttered curses and escaped into what appeared to be the brothel equivalent to a morning room or parlor. As we reached the stairs, a lovely older woman emerged from the room, frowning at our group and frowning even more at Mr. Kent.

  “Mr. Kent, what is the meaning of this?” she barked.

  “Ah, good afternoon, Miss Molly,” Mr. Kent said as he ascended the stairs. “Heard you had a murder.” Of course Mr. Kent knew the proprietress.

  Miss Molly followed us up. “You misheard. The body was found farther down the street.”

  “Right where you moved it, I presume.”

  She pursed her lips. “And what is it you want? To blackmail us, I suppose.”

  “Of course not, blackmail is abhorrent. I would never,” Mr. Kent said, his metal hand to his heart. “I’ve come to do good. I was hoping to see where the crime occurred so we might look for clues.”

  “The police were already here, making a fuss and scaring off the gents. I won’t have you further disturbing my … my tenants. Now be on your way.”

  “Deeply sorry, that wasn’t a question. You’ll know when it’s a question,” Mr. Kent said with a chuckle.

  “The police were here, Kent! Get out before I call them back.”

  “You wouldn’t want me to start rumors about the health of your girls, now would you?”

  “No.” Miss Molly grayed a little at that.

  “Good. Then which room did it occur in?”

  “The one at the end that is labeled The Truthseeker.” Miss
Molly glared at him as she answered.

  We all looked baffled by that. “Why does the room say that?” Mr. Kent asked.

  “It’s these powers,” Miss Molly replied, waving the notion off. “My girls thought it would be amusing to dress up like some of those powered folks and play with the patrons. The men last night went wild for it.”

  I pulled Laura to my side and put my hand in front of her eyes as we made our way along the second-floor landing, passing rooms labeled Death, The Enhancer, The Snow Queen, and even one that said The Healer. Oh goodness gracious.

  My face went hot as that door opened and a painted girl stuck her head out. “Oy, Miss Molly, what’s the racket?”

  “Nothing to concern yourself with, dear,” Miss Molly said. “Get some rest.”

  “Which power is the most popular?” Mr. Kent had to ask.

  “Death,” Miss Molly answered. “I had a line down the stairs for that one.”

  Mr. Kent let out a heavy sigh. “Of course it is. People love brooding fools.” Sebastian just looked miserable, and Laura piped up with a series of inappropriate and fantastical questions:

  “Have any dukes fallen in love here and rescued someone to become their duchess?”

  “What about a girl who was disguised as a man and found a runaway sister here?”

  “Do you have a mysterious past and broken heart and are you waiting for your long-lost love?”

  As Mr. Kent was not repeating these questions, Miss Molly did not answer, preferring to glare at all of us.

  At the end of the landing, a blackened door was already half-open. The inside of the room was a mess. Half the contents, along with the walls and floor, were charred black. There was no denying a fire had erupted and been contained in here.

  Mr. Adeoti put his hand on a wall. “Aha. Jarsdel.”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Jarsdel. He has a fire-based ability.”

  “Where would we be without you?” Mr. Kent asked drily.

  “Dead, probably,” Mr. Adeoti answered, sounding relatively unconcerned. “He didn’t really touch anything else in here. From what I can tell, he simply came in, seized the victim, and killed him. He was in another room, however.…”