“How long has he been here? How close is he?”
Rathburn shook his head resignedly. “I no longer have the instincts or the powers to know. That is why you must go into the city and find him. He will be there, you know. Amidst the people of the streets and alleyways. Growing stronger from the misery and wickedness of others, as all Transcending souls do.”
St Vinet nodded. “Tonight.”
“Did you bring all that I requested from the Inner Realm?”
Once Rathburn became a mortal, he could no longer return into the protected Inner Realm of the Amaranthine immortals. Dominic touched the case. “I did.”
“Even the vial of Demeter’s tears?”
“She nearly scalped me for taking them, but yes, everything is here.”
“Good.” Rathburn slid a folded slip of paper across the table, past their now-tepid cups of tea. “Here are the formulas. You must mix everything precisely. My hands, they shake. .”
St Vinet read carefully. “This one, with mud from the deepest crevice of the river Styx—”
“Is to Reclaim the Seether. The other, made with Demeter’s tears, is to reverse the effect on any innocents he has claimed.”
An hour later, and the numerous vials had been emptied, measured and mixed and resealed into slender glass ampoules. Dominic tucked most of them into the breast pocket of his overcoat but one remained on the table beside Anson. Just in case. . just in case the Seether came to Winterview. Dominic lowered his hat on to his head. Shadow slashed across his eyes.
He pondered the door, but decided on the window. Standing there, he unlatched the lock, and turned to Anson. “Until tomorrow.”
“Dominic. . we were the best of friends once.”
“Once.” St Vinet clenched his teeth. But his anger faltered. “Still.”
“I must elicit one additional promise from you.”
“Tell me then.”
“The girl. . my nurse. I fear that because of my fondness for her, she may become a target, much as my darling Lavinia did.”
St Vinet shrugged, attempting nonchalance. Nurse Bristol. There was something about her that, in the moment he had looked into her eyes, had stolen his breath. A rare occurrence, that. Clearly she attempted to hide her beauty, but unfortunately, he saw beyond the staid nurse’s uniform and cap, to the jewel which lay beneath. Intriguing. Alluring. He’d instantly wanted more of her, mind, body and soul. But she was a mortal woman, and no good thing could come from falling into a delirium of passion with one such as her.
Rathburn clasped his eyes shut. “I don’t wish for Nurse Bristol to die the same death. I do not know where she goes on these nights, but grasp hold of her trace. Follow her. Find her. Watch over her this night and the next, until this thing is finished. Until I can be certain of her safety, how can I ever pass from this life in peace?”
Dominic did not answer, but he nodded. With his next breath, he changed. Transformed.
In shadow, he descended the outer stone wall of the hospital. Almost instantly, he discovered Nurse Bristol’s trace threaded upon the cool air, as rich, sweet and seductive as currant wine.
She ought not to have drunk of the wine. She’d taken only a few sips, but the sweet stuff already affected her. The night spun about Malise, disorienting her. Disjointed visions flashed through the dark, of yellow-orange gaslight, pale faces and tall buildings. The young man beside her had already tried to kiss her three times but she’d planted her hand against his chest and shoved him away. He had laughed good-naturedly and turned his attentions to Alice, and had been much more successful there. She knew not how long the wagon bounced and creaked and jerked along.
At last the wheels jerked to a stop.
“Come on,” said Alice. “The driver says we get off here.”
They climbed down into the midst of a crowd. Unsteady on her feet, Malise closed her eyes until the spinning stopped. Opening them again, she walked alongside Alice. The three other nurses followed along behind. In the wagon Malise had learned they had all taken rooms at the same boarding house as she and Alice. People danced in the street — young, bright-eyed women with their hair streaming free, and smiling men with their shirts half unbuttoned. There were musicians and magicians. Tom-tom drums thudded and tambourines jangled. The aromas of fresh cakes and roasted nuts scented the air.
“Oh, it’s a street festival,” gushed Alice, clapping her hands. “Let’s see what’s about.”
Malise wanted to be free. To dance like those other young women, and laugh and flirt. Not so long ago, she had been like that. Happy and carefree. She’d married young, a clever young doctor in her small fishing village in Scotland. He’d been handsome and charming, but soon after they were wed, she’d learned of his penchant for violence and sexual terror. Her widowed father, the local schoolmaster, had refused her pleas to return home. He was proud to have a doctor in the family — his status had been elevated in the community. One night, bloodied and humiliated, she’d escaped as her husband slept. She’d begged rides on farmers’ wagons, and stowed away on a train, eventually arriving in London. Her limited knowledge of medicine, gained in the short time living with the monster she called her husband, had been enough to get her the job at Winterview, the first place at which she’d enquired after getting off the train at the outskirts of London. Now, with no references, she had no idea where she would find another position, and quickly enough to save herself from destitution. In this moment she was in no mood for revelry.
She touched her friend’s shoulder. “Alice, you enjoy the entertainments with the others. I think I’ll go on to the room.”
“Go to the room?” Alice’s eyes widened. “It’s early still. Oh, Malise, please,” she begged. “Please stay. I don’t know the other girls as well as I know you.”
Malise relented, allowing Alice to weave her arm into the crook of her own, and lead her into the thick of the crowd.
“Everyone’s going this way,” said Alice.
Two large metal barrels bracketed either side of an alleyway, rusted sides cut into faces, like jack-o’-lanterns. Flames inside them illuminated their triangular eyes and mouths, lined with jagged teeth. Voices in the crowd proclaimed—
Magician.
They passed between the barrels. For a moment, utter darkness consumed them as if they spiralled without foothold into a bottomless crevice. But then light burned in the distance. . embers in the night. Torchlight.
A small stage had been set up with wooden boards and behind this was parked a large enclosed wagon, painted in colours of turquoise and orange. On the side were painted the words, “S. E. Ether & Son” as well as a placard advertising liniments, healing spirits and apothecary services. Several young women, with long hair, tightly laced bodices and saucy smiles bustled in and out of the wagon, accepting coins from the crowd in exchange for an assortment of green and brown bottles and small pouches.
But at the centre of the stage, a tall man in a green velvet great-coat and tall stovepipe hat paced the centre boards. Long, blond hair fell in waves over his shoulders, in shocking, almost naptha-bright contrast to the velvet. With his bright green eyes and high cheekbones, he boasted a lithe, cat-like male beauty.
He moved with his arms extended out to his sides, “—even now, my assistants are filling your orders for our miraculous healing elixirs.” Fervency burned in his eyes. “For those of you who have not yet decided, believe. I beg you to believe. Just one sip of our carefully formulated potion will ease the persistent pain in your intestines and repair the unsteady beat of your heart. Yes. Yes. Come forward good sir.”