The scientist breathed a shaky sigh and continued down the hall.
The Hackett and Ratford experiments had both been unqualified successes, thanks to what he had learned during his preliminary research in the basement of the Hollister mansion. In the course of that work he had discovered how to calibrate the clockwork devices.
After Hackett and Ratford, he had been satisfied that the devices worked on glasslight-talents precisely as he had theorized. He had been ready for the final experiment, the one that, if successful, would energize his magnificent engine. But everything had gone wrong the other night.
That was always the way with scientific progress, he reminded himself. One had to expect setbacks.
He opened the door of the bedroom. Inside, all was just as he had fashioned it on the night of the experiment. The body of the subject and her personal possessions had been removed immediately after the death, of course. They were not important. What mattered was that he had achieved his goal of igniting some energy deep inside the dressing-table mirror. The currents were quite weak, because Hackett had been weak, but that was not important. What mattered was that he had proven the validity of the theory.
He opened his senses. The mirror on the dressing table still contained a little fire, but the energy was fading rapidly. There was no reason to return again to this house. He had learned all he could from this experiment.
He left the bedroom and went back along the hall, pausing long enough to collect the praying mantis. The device was still frozen as a result of the effects of the mirror, but he knew that status would not last long. The only certain method of ensuring that the curiosity would not activate was to remove the key from the back of the machine. He set about the task cautiously, holding his breath until he had the key safely out. When the mantis was secured he put the key in the pocket of his coat and dropped the curiosity into the canvas bag that he had brought with him for that purpose.
He carried the mantis downstairs. Outside on the street, he walked to the corner and whistled for a hansom. It was only a short distance to the scene of the second experiment, but he did not feel comfortable walking alone at such a late hour. The newspapers were full of stories of hapless citizens who had been set upon by violent criminals at night.
Ten minutes later he got out of the hansom at the corner, paid the driver and walked quickly to Ratford’s address. Excitement and anticipation built rapidly within him. The second experiment was still fairly fresh. In addition, Ratford had been somewhat stronger than Hackett. He was very curious to see if the fires in the glass would last longer.
He opened the door and moved into the kitchen, pausing to absorb the atmosphere.
The first faint, discordant currents drifted across his senses. The atmosphere in the house had been disturbed again. Anger flashed through him. Another ruffian had entered the premises. Really, the rise in crime was appalling. The dragon would have taken care of the problem, but there would likely be a body in the upstairs hall. Disposing of the corpse would be a nuisance.
Annoyed at the thought that yet another intruder had entered the carefully staged experiment, the scientist took out his pocket watch and went up the stairs. At the top he paused, struck a light and listened tensely for the mechanical clink and thump of the clockwork dragon he had left on guard.
He was greeted with a disturbing silence. He looked around, fearful that he might accidentally stumble over the lethal device. But there was no sign of the automaton.
It occurred to him that the weapon might have failed. When all was said and done it was only a clockwork mechanism, and clocks sometimes stopped for no good reason. Holding the pocket watch at the ready, he went slowly along the hallway, searching the darkened rooms. At the far end he was forced to come to the inescapable conclusion: Not only was there no corpse, the dragon was gone.
Panic shot through him. He threw open the door of the laboratory. Everything inside appeared to be untouched, but when he heightened his senses he could detect the faint currents of energy that told him the experiment had been disturbed again, this time by someone who had been capable of overcoming the dragon. Only an extremely powerful glasslight-talent could have managed that feat. Even he could not control the toys without the aid of the pocket watch.
Rage boiled inside him. The vast majority of glass-readers were weak, insipid creatures like Ratford and Hackett who did not begin to comprehend their own abilities. Many actually believed that the images they saw in the mirrors were genuine spirits. But he knew of one who might have been able to survive the dragon long enough to disable it.
He had saved Virginia Dean for last because he had sensed that she was the one he needed, the glass-reader who might be strong enough to ignite the fire in the mirrors of his Great Engine. She had now proven that she was even more powerful than he had realized. Excitement shivered through him.
Two questions immediately sprang to mind: Why had Virginia Dean come here tonight? And had she come alone?
FOURTEEN
Owen opened his eyes when Virginia started to extricate herself from the chair and his arms. He watched her get to her feet, aware of a deep sense of satisfaction that went beyond the physical. She had no notion of how deliciously disheveled and erotic she looked dressed only in her rumpled chemise and stockings. Tendrils of her sunset-bright hair had come free of the pins and tumbled around her shoulders.
She looked down at her stained chemise with dismay.
“Oh, dear,” she said. “It was new.”
“I will replace it.”
“There is no need for that,” she said, quite sharply. “I’m sure it will all wash out.”
Flushed, she hurried across the room, stepped into the pile of clothing and hastily drew first her petticoats and then her gown up around herself.
As if she were putting on a suit of armor, he thought.
He crumpled the handkerchief he had used to clean both of them a short time earlier and put it into a pocket. Reluctantly he pushed himself up out of the chair, closed the front of his trousers and fastened his shirt.
“Virginia,” he said. He stopped. Not certain what to say next.
“Yes?” She concentrated hard on the last hooks of her gown.
He went toward her. “Are you certain that you are all right?”
She raised her chin. “Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“This was your first experience of this sort of thing.”
“Well, yes,” she said. “But that is hardly my fault. Really, society makes it very difficult for a single woman to take a lover.”
“Difficult but not impossible. Many single women find a way around the problem. Why did you wait so long?”
She sighed. “One has to reach the point where one realizes one has nothing left to lose and that there is no reason to save oneself for marriage because it is unlikely that the man of one’s dreams will ever appear.”
“I see.” That certainly crushed any romantic notions he might have entertained concerning the nature of their relationship. She had given herself to him tonight because she had concluded that nothing better was likely to happen along.
“Actually, I did reach that conclusion a few months ago on my twenty-sixth birthday,” Virginia continued. “But unfortunately, the situation did not become any less complicated.”
“Why was that?”
“There remained the problem of employing the right man for the position, as it were.”
“You intended to hire someone?” He had never envisioned himself as a man who was easily shocked, but Virginia had just succeeded in stunning him.
She reddened. “Perhaps that was not the best way to put it. One wants this sort of thing to be accompanied by strong passions, of course.”