“Everything went wrong that night,” Alcina said, her face twisting with fury and remembered frustration. “Jasper and I always intended to kill Hollister, but we did not plan for him to die that night. We wanted him to suffer.”
“And, of course, make a contribution to my Great Engine,” Welch added. “Father was a fairly high-level glasslight-talent. Not nearly as powerful as you, Miss Dean, but certainly strong enough to enhance the store of energy in this chamber.”
“The plan was to kidnap you and hold you in Hollister’s basement until we could arrange to transport you here,” Welch said. “We reasoned that if anyone noticed that you had disappeared, the investigation would get no farther than the door of the mansion. Hollister would see to it that it was stopped at that point.”
“Hollister cooperated because you promised him that he could participate in the experiment, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” Welch smiled. “He was very excited. He even offered to toss in the little whore that he had picked up for his own amusement. Extra fuel, he said. Of course, he did not entirely understand what I meant by the word ‘participate.’”
“But Lady Hollister finally snapped that night,” Virginia said.
“It was something you said at the reading, you stupid woman,” Alcina hissed. “You told her that you saw the ghost of her dead daughter in the mirror and that the girl had been murdered by someone in the household, someone the child feared greatly.”
“Her own father,” Virginia said.
“I’m sure Lady Hollister had long ago guessed the truth, but she refused to acknowledge it to herself all those years. Perhaps the denial is what drove her mad. But that night you ripped through her illusions by forcing her to confront the ghost of her daughter.”
“Well, actually, I don’t see ghosts,” Virginia began.
“She thought you did,” Alcina shot back, accusation ringing in the words. “You were not awake to watch her lose whatever frail grasp she had left on sanity, because at that point you were overcome by the drug I put in your tea. Lady Hollister thought you had fainted. I told her I would arrange to have you sent home in a cab. She went to her bedroom and locked the door. I assumed she was taking her laudanum. Hollister and I got you downstairs. We were about to lock you in one of the cells.”
“That’s when Lady Hollister arrived with the kitchen knife,” Virginia said. “She stabbed him in the tunnel outside those cells.”
“Hollister was taken completely by surprise,” Alcina said. “So was I. By the time Hollister realized that his mad wife intended to murder him the knife was already in his chest. I won’t ever forget the look on the bastard’s face. Lady Hollister fled back up into the house. As he lay dying, I told my father who I was and that Jasper and I were going to inherit his entire fortune.”
“But then you panicked and ran.”
“I had no choice. I was afraid that in her madness Lady Hollister would summon the police. I did not want to be questioned by the authorities. They might have learned my real identity. I might even have been considered a suspect. There were no witnesses, aside from myself.”
“How did I end up on the bed in the mirrored room with Hollister’s body?” Virginia asked.
“I have no idea,” Alcina said.
“I think that’s enough chatter for now,” Welch said. “Let us be off, Alcina.” He leaned down to remove the keys in the three clockwork weapons. “We now have one minute to reach safety.”
Alcina was already at the door. She opened it quickly and rushed out of the room. Welch followed, yanking the door shut. There was an ominous, muffled click when he secured the lock on the other side.
“I am so sorry, Mrs. Crofton,” Virginia said quietly. She used her free hand to open her chatelaine purse. “I should never have allowed you to involve yourself in the investigation.”
“Nonsense. I’m the one who made that decision. What’s more, I’d make the same decision again.” Mrs. Crofton sighed. “But in hindsight, it would have been nice to have been able to take along a pistol when I went to see the Hollister housekeeper.”
“The Sweetwaters favor knives,” Virginia said. “They are also fond of lock picks.”
She took out the pick that Owen had given her and went to work.
Mrs. Crofton watched her intently. “Are you skilled with that particular device?”
“I’ve only had a few lessons,” Virginia admitted. “But it appears that manacle locks are very simple in design.”
She heard three ominous clicks. The tail of the scorpion twitched. The eyes of the praying mantis glittered. The spider’s jointed legs creaked.
Cold energy shivered in the atmosphere.
There was a fourth click. The manacles parted and fell to the floor.
The energy from the three clockwork weapons was heightened rapidly.
“Dear heaven,” Mrs. Crofton whispered. “What is that terrible sensation?”
“Glasslight,” Virginia said.
She jumped to her feet and kicked over the praying mantis. The device toppled onto its side. The terrible chill from the remaining two curiosities was so strong now that she could scarcely breathe. She managed to topple the spider and then the scorpion.
But all three machines continued to respond to the presence of the human auras. The mechanical legs thrashed rhythmically. The glass eyes rattled in their sockets, pouring energy into the atmosphere as they attempted to fix on their targets.
Flames leaped in the mirrors, so powerful that even Mrs. Crofton could perceive them. She stared into the looking glasses, horrified.
“Oh, damn,” Virginia said.
“The room is on fire,” Mrs. Crofton said, and gasped.
“It’s paranormal fire, Mrs. Crofton. I think the energy from the curiosities is fueling it. For now the flames are still trapped in the mirrors, but I do not know how much longer that will be the case. Come, we must get out of here. Hold on to my hand. Whatever you do, don’t let go.”
Mrs. Crofton needed no urging. She took a tight grip on Virginia’s fingers.
Perhaps “death grip” was the most appropriate description, Virginia thought. They started toward the door.
The cobalt urn began to glow an eerie shade of blue.
“What’s happening?” Mrs. Crofton demanded.
“The energy in this room is so strong now, it is activating some of the artifacts.”
Virginia picked up a glass vase and hurled it at the mirror that concealed the door. The looking-glass panel cracked, splintered and fell to the floor, revealing the doorknob. Virginia seized it with her free hand.
“Locked,” she said. “I’ll need both hands. Keep a grip on my shoulder, Mrs. Crofton. Do not lose contact.”
She went to work with the pick. The mirrors burned around her.
FORTY-TWO
“Something has gone wrong,” Alcina said. “I can sense it.”
“Nonsense.” Welch examined his pocket watch. “I have calculated very carefully. Miss Dean is dying at this very moment. Her energy is being infused into the mirrors. You can sense the power because there is so much of it, but that is a good sign. It means that my Great Engine has begun to ignite. I have achieved what the ancients failed to accomplish, an astonishingly powerful alchemical furnace that will deliver up the secrets of the paranormal.”
They were standing together in the library of the mansion, awaiting the conclusion of the experiment that was taking place on the floor above. Welch was beside himself with excitement. He had waited so long for this moment, he thought, overcome so many obstacles. Now, at last, success was within his grasp. By dawn he would be the master of alchemical power beyond description. The arrogant Joneses of Arcane would be forced to bow to his superior talents. Royalty would be dazzled.
But the true prize was beyond measure. He was certain that the energy trapped in the mirrors could do more than bring him great wealth and power. It would do what Sylvester Jones’s formula had failed to achieve. It would enhance his paranormal senses, and if the ancients were correct, that enhancement would add decades to his normal life span.