Owen turned to search the darkened street. The small movement cost him his balance. A great gray fog was enveloping his mind. He would have gone down to his knees if Matt hadn’t caught his arm.
With Matt’s help he made his way the short distance to the weapon. It resembled a lady’s hand mirror of the sort one might see on a dressing table. It was lying facedown on the paving stones. He started to lean over to pick it up and spotted the black velvet bag nearby.
“Hand me that sack,” he said.
Matt scooped up the bag and gave it to him. Owen crouched and gingerly picked up the mirror. He thought he felt a faint shiver of energy when his fingers closed around the handle, but his mind was so muddled now and his senses so unresponsive that he could not be certain. Careful to keep the glass aimed downward, he inserted the artifact into the velvet sack and tightened the strip of leather that bound it shut.
He reeled again when he tried to get to his feet. More footsteps sounded in the lane. He turned his head very cautiously, afraid he might humiliate himself by fainting dead away. His vision blurred, but he saw two people running toward him. Well, Virginia was running, he thought. Tony was loping casually alongside.
“Owen.” Virginia rushed forward. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” he said automatically. Then he realized that was not true. “No.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” He thrust the velvet bag into her hand. “Take this. It’s a weapon of some kind, a looking glass. The nature of your talent means that you are probably more qualified to handle it than any of the rest of us. But be very, very careful. It has blinded my senses, perhaps permanently.”
“ No,” she said. “They will revive.”
He smiled a little at her fierceness and opened his arms to fold her close. But the black night closed in and began to seep through him.
Somewhere in the darkness he heard Virginia calling his name, speaking to him in that same bracing tone.
“I will not let you go, Owen Sweetwater. Do you hear me? You must not leave. I will not allow you to leave. Hold on to me.”
He thought he sensed her hand gripping his, but her voice grew fainter as he sank down into the bottomless depths. In the end all was darkness.
THIRTY-THREE
“ Do you think Uncle Owen’s psychic blindness will be permanent, Miss Tate?” Tony asked.
“I have no way of knowing,” Charlotte said. She closed the heavy volume she had been reading and glanced uneasily at the black velvet bag on top of the chest of drawers. “According to my research, the Quicksilver Mirror is capable of blinding the senses permanently and even causing death. The power of the device, however, is directly related to the psychical strength of the person who wields it. The stronger the talent, the more radiation the mirror emits. Conversely, the amount of permanent damage that is done to the victim’s senses depends on how strong the victim is, psychically speaking.”
“Owen will recover,” Virginia said. She tightened her grip on his hand. “He is strong. I can feel his energy. He just needs time to heal, that’s all.”
They were crowded into her small bedroom. Owen was tucked into the bed. Matt and Tony had placed him there after carrying him back from the lane. He was in a profound but restless sleep. Mrs. Crofton had decreed that he be covered with only a sheet because he was feverishly hot. Virginia knew that the fever was psychical in origin, a result of the severe injury that had been done to his senses.
She had not let go of him since he had collapsed, unconscious. She dared not let go. She sensed that the link between them was his best hope. Her intuition told her that he was drawing on her strength to mend his shattered senses.
She had dispatched Matt to fetch Charlotte with instructions to bring all of the books on mirrors that were housed in the bookshop. They needed to know more about the strange hand mirror. Nick Sweetwater had arrived with Charlotte and the books. Virginia had been startled to see the two of them together at that hour of the night, but there had been no time to ask questions.
Mrs. Crofton loomed in the doorway, a steaming mug in her hand. “I have made a pot of coffee, as I doubt that any of you will get much sleep tonight.” She looked at Virginia with her usual forbidding expression. “I brought some upstairs for you, ma’am, because I knew you would not be leaving this room for a time.”
Virginia smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Crofton. I appreciate that.”
Mrs. Crofton dipped her chin in minimal acknowledgment of the gratitude and set the mug on the nightstand. She looked at Owen.
“He is still feverish,” she said. “I’ll bring some more cold washcloths.”
“Thank you,” Virginia said again.
Mrs. Crofton turned and stalked out of the room.
Nick watched her leave. He was clearly awed. When she was on the stairs, he turned back to Virginia. “Your housekeeper is extraordinary. You have two men guarding your house. You rush off into the night with no explanation. You bring an unconscious man into your bedroom and invite several people to join you. And yet she shows no signs of being alarmed.”
“As I have told Owen, Mrs. Crofton is a gem of a housekeeper,” Virginia said. “But I fully expect her to give notice at any moment.”
“She doesn’t appear to be about to do any such thing,” Nick said. He turned back to Charlotte. “Is there anything more about the effects of the Quicksilver Mirror in that book?”
“Only that the device was crafted in the seventeenth century by an alchemist.”
Nick frowned. “That means it dates from the time of Sylvester Jones. I wonder if he made it.”
“I don’t think he had anything to do with it,” Charlotte said. “According to this book, the alchemist was a woman who called herself Alice Hooke.” Charlotte took off her glasses and polished the lenses with a handkerchief. “The only reason I was able to find out as much as I did concerning the history of the mirror in such a short time this evening is because I had already done a considerable amount of research on the subject of looking glasses.”
Virginia glanced at the black velvet bag. “Another mirror has popped up in this case. That cannot be a coincidence.”
Nick looked thoughtful. “I agree with you. It is too much to believe that yet another powerful weapon based on glasslight would show up in this investigation unless there was some connection. But the Quicksilver Mirror is quite different from the curiosities. It is much older, for one thing.”
“And is not a clockwork toy,” Virginia said.
Charlotte tapped the large leather-bound tome she had been reading. “The mirror is much older, so we know it was not made by Mrs. Bridewell. But I agree, there must be some link to the case.”
Nick frowned. “The mirror is a dangerous and no doubt valuable artifact, yet someone entrusted it to a common street ruffian to use against Owen this evening. Someone was very desperate to get him out of the way.”
“Well,” Charlotte said, “I’m afraid all we can do at the moment is wait and see if Mr. Sweetwater is strong enough to recover from the effects of the mirror.”
“He will recover,” Virginia vowed.
“We might have a better notion of his chances if we had some idea of just how strong the attacker was,” Charlotte said.
“We have no way of knowing that now that he is dead,” Tony said.
“He was certainly powerful enough to do serious damage with the damn mirror,” Nick said grimly.
Virginia gave him a sharp, reproving glare. “The one thing we know for certain is that Owen defeated him. That means Owen is the stronger of the two.”
Nick, Tony and Matt exchanged glances. None of them spoke.
“What is it?” Virginia demanded. “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at each other that way?”
Nick cleared his throat. “We don’t really know that Uncle Owen was the stronger in terms of talent, Miss Dean, not for certain.”