A Study in Silks (37 page)

Imogen shrieked, jumping backward in terror. Evelina pushed her to the side, stepping in front, ready to defend her just as she had in the school yard. Evelina weighed the cube in its sling of fine cashmere. She wondered how the entity inside that would feel about doubling as a weapon.

“We can’t go back,” Imogen said, her voice quaking. “It will just outrun us that way, too.”

The thing lunged, snapping fangs that curled up and outside its mouth like tusks. Short, muscular legs churned the air as it reared and lunged again. Evelina ducked, pulling Imogen down with her into the safe space between two piles of crates. The beast lashed its tail, leaving a trail of heat behind it. Evelina could smell sawdust burning. All it would take was the right spark, and the creature would set the whole warehouse on fire.

The tail lashed again, and a small crate crashed to the floor. A clay jar broke open, spraying tiny glass beads everywhere. Evelina ducked, wincing as one stung her cheek. What looked like a giant paw smashed down on the rolling spheres, curved talons emerging from the dark, glittering form. She heard the glass crunch as it was ground to powder.

The urge to flee wafted up from the cube. Run fast, run desperately, run into the jaws of the beast, but definitely run. She wasn’t about to argue.

Evelina began to inch backward, thinking they could sneak out the other side of the crates. Suddenly, hot breath blasted her back. She whipped her head around to find herself staring into the creature’s glowing green eyes. They were slitted like a cat’s. The long, sinewy body was wound over the pile of crates, feet on one side, head peering in the other side.

Evelina’s pulse thundered in her mouth, coppery fear fouling her tongue.

“What do we do?” Imogen was panting, her fingers digging painfully into Evelina’s arm. “What can it do to us?”

Frozen with fear, Evelina could barely move her lips. “The only reason it would be here is because someone be-spelled it into serving as a guardian. If we want to leave, we have to make sacrifice.”

“Such as?”

“I need something sharp. Something metal.”

“I have a hat pin.”

“Something more like a blade.”

“That’s more in your line.”

The next words came out in a croak. “Anything that will slice. I need blood and lots of it, so it has to be more than a poke or a scratch.”

She heard the rustle of Imogen searching. It was ironic, given the amount of gears and wheels and metal debris in the warehouse, that they would be stuck in the one spot without a scrap of anything useful. “I just have my card case.”

“Give it to me.”

Imogen did as she was told. The case was a pretty thing of gold and blue enamel forget-me-nots. Evelina peeled off her gloves, flipped it open, and emptied out the calling cards into Imogen’s hands, spilling them so Imogen had to scrabble to pick them up. Then she snapped off the lid. It was a thin sliver of metal, and the broken hinge was sharp. In one quick swipe, she dragged it deep across the meat of her palm, using all the strength she could muster. Blood welled up in a red gush, and she let it drip onto the floor.

The beast began lapping it up like a cat, the thick black tongue darting.

“Run,” Evelina said in a tight voice, her throat aching with tension.

Imogen ran. Evelina wormed her way from between the crates and followed, the cube swinging in the shawl and banging against her leg. The beast bounded after with a hungry mewl, its back humping as it half ran, half slithered on its stumpy legs.

It was fast. Evelina barely made it across the threshold
before the blare of sunlight stopped it in its tracks. They kept going, putting the length of the alley between them and the warehouse before Imogen had to stop. She was wheezing, the exertion too much for her.

“That. Thing. Was a deva. Like your bird?” she gasped.

“No. It was far more powerful.” Evelina cradled her hand, feeling her heartbeat pulse in the wound. She realized her teeth were chattering, fear finally catching up to her body. “I remember Gran Cooper talking about creatures like that. Some call them demons. Some dragons. I don’t know if either is the right name, but they can be summoned and controlled if you’re strong enough and know the right spells.”

“And they can’t go into sunlight?”

“That’s not it exactly. They’re set to guard something. As long as you’re off their territory, they don’t care, unless …” Evelina looked down at the cube-shaped lump in the shawl.

“You took something.”

Evelina swore, feeling hot, wet tears trickle down her cheeks. “Oh, no.”

The strange, mewling cry echoed through the alley. The dragon was considering its options. What little noise there was in the alley went dead, as if all of London was holding its breath. There was no one and nothing in sight but the singed brick buildings.

She looked around, realizing they had run farther than she’d thought. The smell of baking perfumed the air. It seemed surreal, a homey touch that clashed with the grim, sooty space. Then, as suddenly as it had disappeared, the chatter of excited voices started up from the open door ahead. She cudgeled her brain for an idea. “Isn’t that the back of the tea shop?”

“I think so.”

Evelina grabbed Imogen and pushed her through the open door. “Go straight through the shop to the street, find the carriage, and wait for me there. Don’t argue.”

Imogen gave her a startled look. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll be fine, and I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Why don’t you just run?”

Evelina swore under her breath. “That thing’s not going to stop coming for me, no matter where I go. I can’t leave here without putting other people in danger.”

Evelina gave Imogen another shove, bodily moving her along as she marched through the door after her. Her hand was bleeding again, no doubt drawing the beast with the smell of her blood.

A blast of heat smacked her skin when she pushed through the door, floating tendrils of hair back from her face. Two burly bakers gawped, eyes wide, at the sight of the disheveled Society ladies. Evelina gave Imogen a last shove, sending her trotting through the curtain to the front of the shop.

Evelina stayed behind, glancing frantically around the worktables. In moments, she saw what she wanted—a bag of salt, still half full. She snatched it up. One of the bakers shouted a protest, but she was already in motion, diving back into the alley. The contents poured over the lip of the bag into her cut, stinging hard enough to make her eyes water.

It was an odd weapon, but the only one she could think of to confront the dragon. Evelina wasn’t sure how the salt worked—chemistry or magic or rules of engagement—but it seemed to nullify the energy that kept creatures like the garden devas alive. One sure way to kill earth or fire spirits was to drown them in the sea. An ocean sprite, of course, was a different problem.

She made it back to the alley in time to see the dragon’s approach. In the sunlight, it looked less distinct, like a cloud of thick smoke, but its magic was no less powerful.
This is insane
. For a moment, she considered simply tossing the cube its way and running.

The moment she formed the thought, a wave of panic roiled up from the bundle dangling from her shoulder. It wasn’t her emotion, but Evelina’s knees quivered as the terror struck through to her heart, sharp and deep.

It’s all right. I won’t leave you
. She clutched the shawl, barely resisting the urge to cradle it in her arms to comfort it. She could no sooner abandon it than drown a sack of kittens.

A wave of gratitude rose up, sweet as incense. Tears stung her eyes.

And then the beast was there, rising high on its hindquarters and opening its great, black maw. Energy pounded out from it with excoriating force, as if the magic were a thousand flexible blades designed to flay the skin from her body. Evelina couldn’t breathe as its teeth—now suddenly, horribly solid—gleamed in the sunlight.

The thing’s size made her look up and up and up. She had been afraid, but had forced herself through the fear because she had a job to do. Now all that went out the window. Her legs shook like the bones were dissolving. The fingers holding the bag of salt were losing their power, the coarse cloth sliding away.

But heat from the monster’s breath lashed her face, snapping her back to herself. She had to act, and now, before it destroyed her and then anyone else it deemed guilty for violating its hoard. Evelina stuck her hand into the bag of salt, pulling out a fistful and scattering it in a line between them.

“With salt I bind you.”

Her voice shook, the words seeming to fall to the ground under the weight of her panic. Nevertheless, the dragon drew back with a snarl sharp as ripping silk. Evelina drew in a shuddering breath, backing away just in case the binding hadn’t worked.

It had stopped its advance, but not the attack. Sudden flame erupted from the creature’s throat, blackening the cobbles. Evelina hurled herself to the left, diving into a roll that sent her crashing into one of the sooty walls. She came up on her feet, tripping over the hem of her dress so she staggered into the edge of a stairway.

She’d lost a lot of the salt, and the cube had dropped to the ground. Imogen’s shawl was a lace of smoldering cinders. With jerky, desperate motions, Evelina dug into the bag and hurled another handful of salt.

“With salt I banish you!”

She fell to her knees, screaming the words. Their effect was instant. The giant of smoke and scales and teeth furled inward, contracting more and more, like an ink blot sucked
back into the nib of a pen. Ears and claws and lashing tail were the last to disappear with a feathering of shadow, and then all that was left was a spinning ball of fire hovering six feet from the ground. Evelina blinked, her eyes not quite taking in the sight. The ball throbbed and crackled, making a noise like bacon frying in the pan.

She got to her feet, sweat running from her temples. Warily, she approached the ball. It wasn’t a solid red; there were lights of yellow and orange in it, too. The surface was veined with black, like bits of ash clung to it.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, “but you can’t run around London scaring people. But if I guess right, you had no choice about coming here.”

Like the cube, the guardian didn’t have speech that she could understand, but anger burned there, as red-hot as the thing looked. Who knew how ancient it was or where it had come from? Somewhere along the way, it had been captured and bound by magic to serve the owners of the warehouse.

She emptied the last of the salt into her palm, and sprinkled it over the ball.

“With salt I send you to your home. Be well.”

It vanished with a sound like a popping cork. Then Evelina was standing in the empty alley, dirty and exhausted, her hand shedding blood down the front of her ripped and filthy dress. She turned to look at the back of the tea shop, realizing with horror that the bakers were standing there staring.
Now I’ve done it
.

One shook his head with wonder. “Thank you, miss. We’ve been plagued by that thing for months. All that smoke got into the bread and made it taste burned—but neither the watch nor the vicar would do aught. Told me I was imagining things. As if I couldn’t tell a great fiery lizard right in front of my nose.”

None of that surprised her. The common folk knew magic when they saw it, even if they’d forgotten how to protect themselves. What did interest her was the timing of it: not years or days, but months. What had happened months ago that brought the dragon to this alley?

Far down the alley, she saw the Chinese tailors running
out of the back of Markham’s shop. They were lifting their hands to the sky. She couldn’t tell if they were rejoicing or cursing.

Evelina turned back to the bakers. “I’m sorry, but I used all your salt.”

“A small price to pay for a good service.”

Evelina walked stiffly toward the shop door, pausing to pick up the cube. It was still warm to the touch, but it didn’t burn her hands. “Please don’t say anything about this.”

The baker touched the side of his nose. “Of course we’ll keep mum. We’ve heard about the actress. That won’t happen to you—not on our account.”

The bakers stood aside to let her into the back of the kitchen. She dropped the empty salt bag on the table, nearly mute with fatigue.

The more talkative of the two bakers wasn’t done. “Of course, this is what you get when folks from strange parts move into the neighborhood. All sorts of nasty goings-on. People wandering in and out of that warehouse at the strangest times. Banging like a thousand elves are at work. The tales I’ve heard.”

“Just remember to take them with a grain of salt.” Evelina pushed the hair back from her forehead, then wiped her face with the back of her wrist. Tears. Maybe it had just been the smoke.

The baker made a face. “Salt. Right you are, miss.”

Evelina went through the tea shop and out the front door without looking at the other patrons. She could only imagine them staring at her soiled dress. She knew she’d wither with shame in about an hour, but at the moment she was too tired to care.

WITH HER STOMACH
in a hard ball of anxiety, Imogen watched the front of the tea shop. Her hands were shaking as she clutched the edge of the carriage seat, a thousand awful scenes running through her mind. Evelina dragged out by police constables. Evelina carried out on a litter. Imogen
knew her friend had a knack for finding the oddest kind of trouble, but she had never dreamed of dragons.

I saw a dragon!
She wanted to run and tell anyone who would listen, but knew better. For everyone’s safety, it would have to be a marvelous secret she would carry to her grave.
What an interesting gift she’s given me. Who else would show me something like that?

No one Imogen was likely to meet. Half the time Evelina seemed to hang back, as if unsure of her welcome in the world. It seemed odd in someone who was so capable and so protective of other people. In Imogen’s opinion, the world was a far better place for having her friend in it—with the possible exception of the amount of fretting Evelina caused at moments like this.