“If you try to trick me, I swear—”
“Do you want it or not?”
“Get it.”
Charlotte walked across the room to the old safe. She rezzed the code. When the mag-steel door opened she reached inside and took out the dull gray glass object.
“That’s not the Bridewell Engine,” Thelma barked. “It can’t be. It’s just an old paperweight.” She raised the mirror higher. “I warned you—”
“Watch,” Charlotte said softly.
She touched her pendant and pulsed a little energy into the heart of the globe. The dome started to glow. It grew first translucent and then clear. A storm of tiny glass particles fell like snow over the miniature Victorian landscape. Powerful currents of psi swirled in the atmosphere of the shop.
“That’s it,” Thelma breathed. “I can feel it now. Give it to me.”
“Be careful,” Charlotte said. “It’s psi-hot.”
“I told you, I can handle glass energy.”
Thelma seized the globe in her free hand. She gazed into it, transfixed.
“It’s incredible,” she said. “I can feel the power in it. Absolutely incredible.”
“Why is it worth murder?”
“Don’t you know?” Thelma did not take her eyes off the sparkling scene. “This was Millicent Bridewell’s greatest secret. According to the old notebook, this was the device she created that allowed her to infuse energy into glass in such a way that it could be used as a weapon.”
“She used the globe to create her clockwork curiosities?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know that?”
“What?” Thelma seemed distracted by the crystal snow inside the globe. Her face tightened in concentration.
“I just wondered how you know for certain that’s the Bridewell Engine,” Charlotte repeated softly.
“It’s all in the notebook,” Thelma said absently. “That’s how I learned of the existence of the engine in the first place.” A visible tremor shivered through her. She gasped in response and frowned. “It’s incredibly powerful.”
“Yes,” Charlotte said. “How did you come by the notebook?”
“Your aunt found it for me, of course. After I deciphered it I realized that the rumors I had heard were true. One of the First Generation colonists had brought the Bridewell Engine through the Curtain. I told Gaines about it. He managed to locate the refurbished Sylvester doll but not the engine. I took a chance and asked your aunt to find a certain Nineteenth Century Old World snow globe. But she started to ask too many questions.”
Another frisson of intuition sliced across Charlotte’s senses.
“You killed Aunt Beatrix, didn’t you?” she asked.
“As I said, she was starting to get suspicions. My sons and I ran a very profitable business here on the island for several years, selling items out of Looking Glass to mainland collectors. Beatrix never had a clue. All she cared about was her own search for some old artifact she called the Key. She never seemed to miss any of the antiques that my sons removed from her back room.”
“Your sons?”
“Brody and Mack. The two men Attridge just arrested. I’ll see about getting them out of jail later. Shouldn’t be difficult. They’re both hunters, after all. But right now the engine is my first priority.”
“Jeremy handled the sale of the items you stole from my aunt, didn’t he?”
“He was the one with the connections,” Thelma said. “Our partnership worked well until he tried to cheat me out of the snow globe.” She flinched. Her eyes tightened in pain. “It’s getting too hot.”
“I know,” Charlotte said softly. “It’s going to get hotter.”
She heard the back door of the shop open. The shiver of awareness that went through her told her that Slade had arrived. He moved silently into the doorway between the two rooms. Out of the corner of her eye Charlotte saw another, much smaller shadow at his heels. Rex.
But Thelma did not notice. She was staring, transfixed, into the snow globe.
“Why didn’t Brody and Mack use the Quicksilver Mirror on Slade?” Charlotte asked.
“Bah. Neither of them is strong enough to generate killing energy with the mirror. I had them use the automaton, instead. But something obviously went wrong. No matter, I’ll deal with the chief later.”
“I wouldn’t plan on it, if I were you,” Charlotte said.
“Nonsense. I did some research on him when he took the job. It appears that he had some talent at one time but he’s just a burned-out FBPI agent now. According to his parapsych records, he’s deteriorating and will continue to do so.” Thelma started to shiver violently. “What’s happening?”
“Among sensitives, a talent for viewing aura rainbows isn’t considered especially useful,” Charlotte said quietly. “But it turns out that if you’re really, really good at it you can tune the energy in certain objects to resonate with an individual’s aura.”
Dawning horror lit Thelma’s features but she still could not look away from the engine.
“What are you talking about?” she gasped.
“As it happens, what can be tuned to resonate positively can be tuned to achieve the . . . opposite effect,” Charlotte said.
“No. ”
Thelma struggled to unclamp her hand from around the snow globe. When that failed she smashed the object violently against a nearby table. The glass did not shatter. Inside the dome, ominous snow continued to fall over the ancient city of London.
Thelma shuddered violently. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. Her eyes rolled back into her head. She collapsed abruptly, crumpling to the floor.
The engine fell from her limp fingers, landing with a thud. The glass snow disappeared. The dome went dark.
Slade moved into the room, pistol in hand. He crouched briefly to check Thelma’s throat for a pulse. Charlotte watched him, gripping the edge of a nearby table to steady herself. The shock of what she had done slammed through her. Her pulse was skidding violently.
Slade got to his feet, holstered the gun, and pulled Charlotte into his arms.
“It’s all right,” he said into her hair. “She’s still alive, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
Charlotte realized she was getting short of breath. “I wasn’t sure what would happen. There was so much energy in that s-snow globe.”
“What did you do to the globe?”
“Usually I t-tune objects so that they resonate harmoniously with a person’s aura. This time I reversed the p-process. I tweaked the globe’s ccurrents so that they dampened Thelma’s own frequencies.”
He looked down at Thelma. “You flatlined her aura for a time. Long enough to make her lose consciousness.”
“Something like that, y-yes.” She touched the pendant. “It wasn’t until I found this that I realized I might be able to do such a thing. But until now, I’ve never had a reason to actually try it and there was no way to run an experiment. I wasn’t sure it would work.”
Slade whistled softly. “I’ll be damned. You could turn just about any psi-infused antique into a weapon.”
“Yes.”
He smiled slowly. “If word got out what you can do with antiques, it would not be good for your business.”
“That thought o-occurred to me a few years ago. That’s why I’ve never told anyone, not even my own family. You’re the only one who knows.”
He held her a little away from him. “And you’re the only one who knows what I can do with my talent.”
“D-don’t worry, I can k-keep a secret,” she whispered.
“So can I.”
“Great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a panic attack.”
“Breathe,” Slade ordered.
“Right. I can do that.”
Chapter 30
AT NINE THIRTY THAT NIGHT SLADE LOUNGED ON Charlotte’s sofa, phone in one hand, a beer in the other. He propped his ankles on a hassock and watched the flames leap on the hearth while he gave Marlowe Jones a summary of events.