A Study In Ashes Part 42

They sat in silence a moment, the mood crackling with tension. Then the Schoolmaster stirred. "Well, if we are going to catch him, we have a war to win. And to do that, we must reach London, which is no longer an easy task. The southern armies are already starting north, but advance scouts report the roads are blocked by the Yellowbacks. They were handing out these pamphlets."

He reached into his leather bag, withdrew a handful of leaflets and paper, and tossed them onto the table. Watson picked up the topmost handbill.

LOYAL ENGLISHMEN UNITE!.

The citizens of London are under attack from the REBEL MENACE.

Traitors have rallied under the banner of the VILE PRETENDER hiding under the name of the Schoolmaster, also known as Edmond Baskerville. This man is to be shot on sight for VARIOUS AND HEINOUS CRIMES including the death of his own father, Sir Charles Baskerville, as well as theft, printing libelous doc.u.ments, frequenting houses of ill repute, and pa.s.sing forged pound notes as well as intimate and unspeakable acts.

All roads to and from London have been closed until this dangerous miscreant has been apprehended. If seen, contact the constabulary at once.

Watson threw it down in disgust. The fact that they were calling Edmond a pretender meant that somehow the secret of his birth had been discovered. "This is preposterous. They make you sound like Bonny Prince Charlie come to take back the throne."

"But that's it, you see, Dr. Watson. Most of it's nonsense, but somehow the author of these pamphlets stumbled upon the secret of my birth. That's been kept hidden for more than thirty years."

"But is that not precisely what Moriarty would have gleaned from Sir Charles?" Holmes didn't look up from his perusal of the newspaper that had been at the bottom of the Schoolmaster's pile.

The Schoolmaster covered his face with his hand. "In some ways I thank G.o.d Sir Charles did not live to find out that he had broken his silence. That would have been a crueler kind of murder."

Unknown IMOGEN WASTED NO TIME WITH GOOD MANNERS. SHE dragged Evelina's covers off. "Wake up!"

Evelina sat bolt upright, her eyes wide and round. "Im! What are you doing here? Does Magnus have you, too?"

Imogen put her hands on her hips. "Don't be daft, I'm in your dream. I must have tried half a dozen times to get here."

"I'm so glad to see you!" Evelina scrambled to her feet, throwing her arms around Imogen.

After so long in the clock, the touch of another human made Imogen gasp with relief. She returned the embrace, fighting back the ache in her throat. The comfort of her friend's embrace felt so good, but not everything was right. Evelina felt tense, her muscles braced.

Imogen looked around as she released her friend, taking in the old stone walls. "Where is this place?" She strode to the window, looking out at the sea and down at the drop to the rocks below. "Are you really here or have you been reading Mrs. Radcliffe again?" She turned, her eyes searching the high ceiling and iron-bound door. She half expected an ogre to come bounding in demanding someone to eat.

Evelina's forehead furrowed. "I'm really here. It's Siabartha Castle. I've been kidnapped."

"Kidnapped!"

"It was Magnus, of course. Where are you? I tried to reach you."

Imogen flopped down onto the bed and heaved a sigh. "In Magnus's stupid clock. Anna dragged me there and now I have to kill her if I want to get out."

Evelina sat down beside her, grasping her hand. "If you've walked into my dream, we probably don't have much time. Anna might interfere."

"I don't know about that. I smacked her a good one." Imogen tried not to sound too pleased.

Her friend stared. "That's a side of you I haven't seen."

Imogen squeezed her fingers. "You're stuck here with Magnus. What do you need, Evelina?"

Evelina didn't hesitate. "If you can get to somebody at home, let them know where I am."

"Done."

"And what do you need?" Evelina asked. "You came here for a reason."

Imogen rubbed her face with both hands. "I keep trying to kill Anna but it doesn't work. She says I'm not done with her."

"Then you aren't."

"I don't understand!" Imogen cried in frustration. They were in a dream, but she still felt mortified by the bizarre conversation. I'm talking about killing my sister! Even with Evelina, it was too much.

But her friend took her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Listen. It's not that complicated. You've been sick all your life, so you're used to the idea of coping with your own weakness. You're a good daughter and a good friend, so you're used to the idea of being patient. You obey the rules. You endure. That's your strength. But it's going to get you killed. You have to prove you want to live even more than she does."

"Then what do I do? Mouse and Bird are there with me."

"Excellent!"

"No-disastrous. She caught Bird and tore out his eye."

Evelina's face went white. "What? She did what?"

"I got him free, but ..."

"How?" Evelina demanded.

"With a bomb that shot a long dart right through her, but she got away."

"You attacked her?"

"Of course! She was hurting Bird."

"You defended Bird, but you didn't kill her." Evelina's eyes were serious. "The spirit world looks metaphorical, but it's extremely literal. If you don't kill her with your own two hands, it won't count. And you have to do it because you want to live. Defending friends is wonderful, but you need to do this for yourself."

Imogen bit her lip, thinking of that moment when she could have leaned down and strangled Anna as she lay bleeding. "Why does it need to be that brutal?"

"Because it's exactly the type of thing you don't do well. Forgive me for saying it; you have acres of courage, but not that kind. Anna has set up a game that she's certain you won't win."

Imogen stared down at her hands. They were dirty, the nails torn. Her hands hadn't looked like this since Anna was alive. "How do you know all this? Is this something all magic users know?"

Evelina smiled. "I know you, and I know what you've said about your twin. It's not the wisdom of the ages." She rose from the bed and knelt by one of the trunks stacked against the wall. She lifted the lid and rummaged inside. "I had a conversation with Tobias not that long ago. He was dealing with a dark side of his work he didn't like, either."

"What does that mean?"

"Maybe nothing. Or it means we all have pieces of ourselves to face. Here." Evelina handed Imogen a white-handled knife. "My Gran Cooper gave me this. Next time you have a chance, do your worst."

Imogen started to reach for it, but then pulled her hand back. "I hate her for making me do this."

"Just remember that she's already dead. You're putting a ghost to rest."

Imogen studied Evelina's expression, trying to decide if she meant what she said. "It's getting harder every time I try to end it."

"That's exactly what she wants. Go on." Evelina jogged the knife in the air. "Don't hesitate."

Imogen took it, clutching the ivory handle like a lifeline. The bomb had been easier, because it was less intimate-and that meant Evelina was absolutely right. "I'll do it for myself, and I'll do it with my own hands, but I'm going to hate it."

"That's allowed. You're still you."

Imogen hesitated, knowing she was done but not wanting to leave her friend just yet. "If I put Bird's eye back in, will he be able to see?"

Evelina held out her hand, and a small box covered with colorful print s.h.i.+mmered into existence. She handed it to Imogen.

"How did you do that?" Imogen squeaked, reading the label. It was a kit for resin-based glue.

Evelina smiled, and for the first time she looked like her old self. "It's my dream. I can b.l.o.o.d.y well do what I like."

Southwest Coast, October 11, 1889.

SIABARTHA CASTLE.

5:05 p.m. Friday.

FOR ALL HIS talk about lessons, Magnus kept to himself much of the time, shutting Evelina into the workroom from early morning until late afternoon to read the ancient books that lined the shelves. Some of the tomes she recognized from his study at the Magnetorium Theatre, which answered the question of where that library had gone when he'd left Whitechapel.

The room was bright and s.p.a.cious, perhaps once a lady's solar, and was set up with worktables, magical implements, and alchemical supplies that reminded her more than a little of the laboratory at Camelin, if it had been antique and built for sorcerers. Sadly, none of the paraphernalia appeared to hold the key to her escape-and after days of confinement, and days without the dampening effect of her bracelets, Evelina was restless. She searched high and low for salt of sorrows or any other poison she might drop into Magnus's wine, but there was nothing that would not immediately taste foul. If she'd been there of her own free will-not locked into the cla.s.sroom and rather less in danger of turning into a soul-sucking fiend-she would have been an eager student. As it was, she spent a lot of time pondering how to get away.

Nevertheless, the afternoon found her curled into a chair with a book and a modest gla.s.s of sherry, which had become her one vice in the G.o.dforsaken place. She barely looked up when Magnus entered, but she sensed him pause and note which book she was perusing. "The separation of the soul from the body?" he commented. "That is rather an advanced topic, don't you think?"

This was their routine. He would always interrupt her studies at the end of the day and question her on what she'd read. "I thought this would be acceptable reading since I had finished the work you set for me." Evelina marked the page with her finger.

"Ah, indeed." He sat in the other chair. "It is a fascinating topic. There is a theory that wandering souls are the source of those shadowy figures you dislike so much."

"The Others?"

"They are sometimes called that."

She frowned. "You said they were the opposite counterpart of devas."

"And they are. But who is to say where they originate? I have met those who claim the Others wander the earth looking for a vacant body to leap into. I've never observed it myself, but it is not my area of study."

"Was the Other I saw in my room the other night real, or an illusion?"

"You doubt your own eyes?"

"You're a mesmerist. You can make me see whatever you like. And you're enough of a showman that you made your living making folks pay for those lies."

Magnus clapped his hands together, rubbing them in a mockery of glee. "Ha! Such a compliment you pay me. But let me a.s.sure you that this place is guarded by those you call Others."

It was an answer, but not. Evelina shuddered a little, retreating to her original topic. "I have a friend who has fallen into a deep sleep and will not wake. Imogen Roth."

Magnus's eyebrows rose. "Ah, yes, Serafina's twin. I thought Miss Roth had escaped the Wyvern."

Fresh hatred seeped through Evelina. The sorcerer bore much of the blame for Imogen's plight. "She did, but collapsed when it fell from the sky."

"Interesting" was all he said.

Evelina's temper bubbled. "Is she in danger?"

"Undoubtedly, but I would think squatting spirits to be the least hazard in the netherworld. Her sister's spirit was the very devil, as you well know."

"Can I help Imogen?"

"Perhaps." He waved a lazy hand at a slim black book. "What was your opinion of that little volume?"

Magnus refilled her gla.s.s and poured some wine for himself. Evelina wanted to scream with impatience, but knew she would make more headway by playing along. This sociable moment, too, was part of their daily routine. It jarred because it was false, and because it was not. She was his prisoner, already his victim, but the communion between them held a grain of truth. He had taught her things no one else could.

The afternoon light caught his face, and she could see that where he had been pale before, he was now corpselike. For someone who obviously has so little time, he's being extremely patient with me. That made her more, rather than less, nervous.

"The Latin was a slog," she admitted.

He tutted and sipped his wine. "Perish the intellectual laziness of the young."

Evelina couldn't help a smile. "You haven't had a good intellectual debate since Erasmus, I suppose."

He crooked an eyebrow. "Mind your manners, kitten."

"I read the book. It is a primer for little sorcerers."

"It lays out the rules of their system of magic. Even if you have no ambitions in that direction, it is best to understand how it works."

"It was very well organized," she conceded, deciding it was the only compliment she could stomach. "Clear, concise, well indexed. The section on how to harness death in all its permutations, with subheadings on what to kill and how to kill, it would have done Mrs. Beeton's cookbooks proud."

There was even a separate appendix on the course of potions necessary to awaken the power to drink life from the living-which sounded like a nasty, smelly brew indeed. And I expect he'll want me to ingest that if I'm to be his next Serafina. She was definitely sticking to food and drink she recognized.

"Then tomorrow," he said, "I recommend the next volume. It sets the record straight on the correct use of resurrection spells. Something of a lost art these days, and so important. Correct procedure is the difference between healing and the shambling dead."

Magnus was wearing gloves, but last night she'd caught a glimpse of his blackening nails. Is there a bit of shambling in your future, Doctor? She cleared her throat to force down her rising gorge. "Let me guess. The amount of life force available is a key factor in a successful resurrection."

The look he gave her might have frozen the sherry in her gla.s.s. "Indeed. Perhaps we should break for a rest before dinner. We can resume the practical side of your instruction after that." And he took out the heavy key that would lock her in her bedroom, which was the signal for her to put away her books.

But Evelina wasn't done. "What about my friend? I dreamed of her last night."

"That's not unusual. Often wandering spirits have a way of pestering us. My advice to you would be to put her out of your mind. She has no value to your future."

"She's my friend!"