Into the Ether (7 page)

 

I didn't see Terry for another three days.
While the delay shouldn't have worried me, I still felt antsy.
A strange feeling
fluttered
in my gut
.
I wanted to leave and find out what was going on, but
after
Terry and Justin's
warnings,
I
knew I couldn't
.
Even if they hadn't
told me to stay away
, I
couldn't have
run off
.
Colonel Worthington
was warm
ing
up to me, and even Walter seemed more relaxed.
And, though I
wouldn't
admit it aloud, I didn't want to leave.
I enjoyed my days at the museum.
The only thing that
could
have made them more perfect would be Terry.

Heat stole up my face at the thought.
Enough of that
.

All the same, relief made my knees watery when I saw him again.
The purple around his eye had faded into a
brown
ring, but th
ere was a new wariness to him
that made my breath catch.
The mischief that had always surrounded his presence like a coat was gone.

“Terry!”

I came from the visitor desk and threw my arms around him.
His arms wrapped around me and squeezed.
His face rested against my hair, and I could have sworn I felt him sigh.

“I'm very glad to see you, Gennie.”

I pulled away and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Not nearly as glad as I am.
When you didn't come back, I worried.”

His eyes drifted away.
“Can we go outside and talk?”

I looked behind me where he stared and saw Thomason's shining form watching us intently as he strode through the room.
I shivered and
nodded.

Terry
grasped my hand and led me outside
. I sat
on the bottom of the steps.
It was a rare bright afternoon, and I reveled in the sun warming my shoulders.
He
flopped down next to me
.
He squeezed his hat in one hand, and ran the other through his hair.
The silence made the air thick around us.
I bumped his shoulder.
“Spit it out.
You
're
making
me more nervous.”

“I can't stay long.
I snuck out to get some information about Elliot and Clarissa.
I think I know where they are, but I'm not sure I can help them.
I wanted you to know that if I disappear for a
while,
” he
drew a deep breath and flicked a glance at me.
“If I don't come by for a
while, don't come looking for me.”

My fingers bit into the fraying tweed of his coat.
“Don't you dare do anything stupid, Terry.
”

He pretended offense.
“Who?
Me?
Never.”

When I didn't respond in kind, his smile faded.
His green eyes held mine with an intensity that made me feel as though someone had just punched me in the gut.

“If something happens, and you don't hear from me after four days,
stay here.
You're safe as long as you stay with the curator
.
I'll
try to get word to you
explaining what I can.”

I sniffed.
Anger and worry mixed into a churning mess in my stomach.
“You don't have to do this, you know.
Heroes don't always fare well in the stories.”

He wove his fingers with mine and squeezed.
“I'll write my own story, thank you.”

“Terry
—”

“Hush.
I'll be back before you know it, and you'll think this whole conversation was a horrible prank.”

I smiled, but I didn't mean it.
Inside my heart pounded and my stomach did flips.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
He was looking for Elliot and Clarissa, and it wasn't going to end well.

He pressed a kiss to my
fingers
, then bounded off the steps,
turned
the corner
,
and
disappeared
into the street.
Four days
was going to take a
long time.

“So, that's your young man then?”
Walter's voice made me jump.

I stood, nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste.
“He's not mine.”

Walter just patted his belly
, staring over my head at the street
.
“If you say so.”

“Why were you spying on me anyway?”
I fisted my hands on my hips.

He chuckled.
“I
wasn't
spying.
You just weren't paying attention.
”

A speculative light glittered in the depths of Walter's dark eyes.
I didn't like it.
Somehow
, I'd given him something to be intrigued and amused about.
While we were getting along better, we were by no means friends.

Unease curled open in my belly and I struggled to keep it off my face.
I slapped on a smile and grabbed my skirts, heading back up the steps.
“Enjoy the day, Walter.
It
'
s lovely out here.”

He grunted and nodded, but didn't move his
gaze
from the spot where I'd been sitting with Terry.

****

It didn't take four days.

Two days after I spoke with Terry,
Colonel Worthington
and I sat down to dinner.
We put our bowls of beef stew on a table I found in one of the empty rooms and scrubbed clean.
It held four chairs, which hadn't seemed unusual to me when I sat down.

Then a knock reverberated through the room.

“Would you get that?”
Colonel Worthington
asked.
He folded his napkin in precise pleats and laid it across his lap.

I opened the door to find Phillip standing in the glow of the newly
repaired gas lamps.

“Phillip!”
I threw an arm around him and ushered him inside.
I'd been feeling guilty and avoided his underground domain since I arrived.

“
Colonel Worthington
, Phillip's come to join us for dinner.”
I said.

Colonel Worthington
didn't look surprised.

I rushed to get
him a
bowl and
dig
out another spoon.
As I sat the food in front of him, I nearly dropped the soup.
In the brighter light of the room, I realized
Phillip had cleaned up
.
He'd
slicked back his dark hair and wore his Sunday best.
Judging
by the crisp creases in his trousers, he'd never worn the suit before.

“I hope you don't mind a little company.”
His smile was a little green around the edges.
I
almost
thought he'd have been
ecstatic
if we'd said we did.

“I'm sorry I haven't been by to see you sooner.”
I tore off a piece of bread and chewed, watching his reaction.

He looked at Colonel Worthington, the fireplace, the floor, everywhere but at me.
My heart fluttered.

“It's all right.
I'm sure
Colonel Worthington
here has been keeping you busy.
And with the new modifications, I've been—
”
a
thump sounded under the table, and I glanced at
Colonel Worthington
, who tried to keep a calm façade.
Phillip
ran a thick finger under the edge of his collar.
I doubt it had much to do with the starch in his collar.

“Anyway, I just thought tonight would be a good night to pay a visit.”

It sounded hollow, even to my ears.
I pushed away the bowl, though I had only eaten a few bites.
“What
'
s going on?”

Colonel Worthington
blinked and wore an expression worthy of a baroque cherub.
“Why would you think something is amiss?”

I snorted.
I couldn't help it.
“Give me a little credit, please.
I love seeing Phillip, but I don't think he came for a social call
.
” I turned to him and balanced my chin on my hand.
“Did you?”

He swallowed the soup that was in his mouth like it
was
made of clay.
A fine sheen of moisture glinted off his face in the flickering light.
“Of course I didn't.
Seeing you was a side bonus.
I had something important to tell
Colonel Worthington
.
I
went
to a meeting today, and I have to give him the news.”

If my jaw hadn't been propped in my hand, it would have been on the table.
“Well.
Then.
I guess it
'
s lovely to see you as well.”

I focused on my stew, my face burning.
How
self-
centered I had become.
I believed he'd dressed up to deliver some sort of horrible message to me.
Relief warred with continued suspicion in my chest.
I tried to ignore the latter.

Ever since Terry dropped by, I'd been plagued with horrible nightmares.
They were beginning to affect my waking life.
I popped a spoonful of beef into my mouth.
Well, I would just have to start working harder then.
If I was tired enough, I wouldn't have to worry about dreams.

I didn't pay much attention to the mumbled conversation
Colonel Worthington
and Phillip were having.
Something about deadlines and getting paperwork and items together.
Mundane things
Colonel Worthington
was always discussing with someone.

I made small talk
when their conversation
lull
ed
, asking about Phillip's brother and how things were going.
He jumped on the chance and told us elaborate stories about Grant and his latest escapades.
While we chatted, after everyone had finished, I cleaned up the dishes.
I'd just pulled the linen towel out to dry pots and pans when Phillip loomed behind me and took the fabric from my hand.

“I'll do it,
”
h
e said.

He cleared his throat as I smiled and sat down.
The atmosphere tensed again, and I twisted my fingers in my skirts.

Phillip threw the towel over one shoulder.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper.
There was sadness and something too much like pity on his face.

My mouth was suddenly a desert, and my hand trembled when I reached out to accept the note.
Somehow I didn't think it was from Spiros this time.

I tried to slip the paper from Phillip's fingers, but he held fast.

“I'm truly sorry, Gennie.”

He released the paper and the familiar scrawl on the front made my heart stop.

It was Terry's handwriting.

 

I held my breath and unfolded the letter.
The writing danced across the page at an odd angle.
He'd been in a hurry when he wrote
it
.
I couldn't help the brief flash of his hands, one bloody, touching the paper as a pencil scratched across the surface.
The ghost of his feelings of panic and sadness lingered.

Gennie,

I didn't have time to leave you a message in the alley.
Stay at the museum.
Justin and Spiros' boss, Lord
Kreios
, cannot be trusted.
What you do about the box I leave up to you, but I don't think you'll be safe, whether you have it or not.
I made a mistake.
Spiros found out, and now I have to run.
If I'm lucky, I'll find you later.

If I'm not, then you should know that my feelings for you go beyond a friend and the confines of this paper.

Terry

The end of the letter grew blurry through my tears.
I pressed the paper to my chest and covered my eyes with one hand.
Air seemed hard to come by.
Colonel Worthington
's hand landed on my shoulder.

“Genevieve, I
'
m sorry.”

“Phillip, do you know where he was headed?”

The large man looked like he
wanted to
cry with me.
He shook his head.
“He only stayed long enough to write the note and ask me to get it to you.”

Tears spilled over, despite my attempts to keep them inside.
“Thank
you, Phillip.
I would have worried even more if you hadn't gotten this to me.”

He nodded once then slipped out the door.
I couldn't blame him.
If I could have escaped so easily, I would have.
But no matter where I went, I knew the hole forming in my heart would not
be left behind
.
Terry had been my friend, and I didn't want to think
about
what else he
might have been.
That hurt worse
.

Thomason appeared in the doorway, holding something in his hands.
His head followed Phillip's retreat and then he looked at me.
The image wavered in my tears.
Colonel Worthington
approached a
nd said something to him
.
The automaton studied me for a few moments, put its package on the table near the door, and then left, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I know it isn't any comfort right now, but at least he had a chance to get away from
this Lord Kreios.”
He patted my shoulder and huffed.

I buried my face in his waistcoat and squeezed.
Only later would I question the amount of venom in his words when he said Lord Kreios' name.
I wanted to ask how he knew of him, how he knew any of this, but I couldn't focus on anything other than Terry's words.
He started to say something else, but I pushed away and rose, swiping at my face with one hand.

“I need to wander for a
while.
I'll be back later.”

“You will come back
?”

I nodded and headed to the door.
I reached for the knob, when my gaze fell on the package Thomason had brought in.
Terry's hat lay crumpled on the table.
My fingers curled around the material, and the sobs that had been building in my chest let loose when my fingers came in contact with something cool and wet.
I lifted the hat and a small red stain marred the fabric along one edge.

Colonel Worthington
called out something, but I was already heading out into the galleries.
Pain warred with anger in a battle that made my chest ache with the effort to both suck in air and withhold my own irrational urge to scream.

The marble echoed my steps, but it was the only noise.
Even the artifacts had
gone silent.
I rounded a corner, my hands still clutching the hat and the letter to my chest, when I saw Thomason's eyes in the darkness in front of me.
The hole in my chest opened further and something deeper snapped.

“You metal monster.”
I ran, skidding to a stop next to Thomason.
He
stood, staring blankly at a large Egyptian statue of a pharaoh.
At my words, he turned.
H
is head cocked to one side and he studied me.

“You had his hat.
What did you have to do with him?
Where is he?
”
My voice echoed around us.
Where silence had reigned before, I could now hear whispers around me like a thousand snakes crawling
through
the night air.
Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes and I gritted my teeth.

I charged.
There was no other way to describe it.
One moment I stood, clutching the hat and note in my hands, and the next my feet were flying across the floor.
My hands opened and the items dropped from my fingers.
I swung at Thomason, my puny attempt at damaging him
glancing
off woolen clothing.

He didn't even move.
There was no sign that I'd even come closer, other than the
brightening of the
perpetual, unnerving glow of his
face
.

Without thinking, I swung my open palm into the side of his face.
Pain flashed up my arm at the contact.
My palm connected to him for only a moment, but it might as well have been days.
Confusing images rolled through my head.
My skin blistered and reddened like fried bacon.

A shriek bounced off the walls around us, and I realized it came from my lips, but did little to stop it.
The thoughts and images
st
r
eamed through my mind,
confusing
and frightening.
I staggered back, holding my hand and taking shallow breaths through my mouth, even as I struggled to push the scenes from my mind.
They made me feel more emotion than I wanted.
But Thomason
moved closer
, and
my weak defenses
couldn't stop them.

His voice, which had been silent to me until now, hissed through my thoughts like a burst of gunpowder.
Remember
.

I shook my head, trying to decide which obstacle to face first, the pain throbbing up my arm, or the faces flashing before me.
Thomason didn't leave me the option.
In a way I still do
n'
t understand, he thrust the memories at me.
The people screamed and smiled and cried through my tired brain, some
haunting and familiar, others I shied from, and still others I knew nothing about.
They moved so quickly I couldn't hold on to any one for
long
.
I knew, deep in my gut, that Thomason had shown me pictures of my parents.
As the memories began to
taper to a stop, I realized
I could
n't
identify my parents.
Fresh tears sprang to my eyes, and
the pain that flashed through me drove me to my knees.

I looked at Thomason, standing so still before me.

“
Why would you show me this?
How can you know?
”

Nothing.
No response.
I shoved all other noise to the side
, focusing intently on the automaton.
Whispers moved from other objects around me, but I brushed them
away
.
All my attention rested on Thomason.

No hissing.
No noise at all.
Listening to him was like getting a taste of being deaf.
Either he couldn't speak and I had imagined it
—a
conclusion
that
made the most sense
—or
h
e would speak only when he wanted.
Anger
boiled
around and within me.
My fingernails bit into the palm of the hand that wasn't throbbing, and I ground my teeth.
If I hadn't already tasted what would happen when I touched Thomason, I'd have smacked him again.
Thomason
had
known my parents.
And he had been involved in my abandonment
six years ago.

My anger had no outlet.
Tears streamed down my face
.
The air around me seemed thick and the walls press
ed
in on me.

One scuffed
,
black boot and the scratched
,
brass stem of a crutch appeared in my field of vision.
I gulped air down, trying to
stop
the flow of tears.

“Come on then, Gennie.
Let's get that hand bandaged up.”

Colonel Worthington
's rough, lined hand reached down and I looked up into his face.

“Things never happen the way I plan.”

His smile was kind.
“I know.
But it makes the rewards that much better later.
Trust me.”

There was
little
comfort in his words for me now, but I appreciated the
attempt.
He hissed when my hand came into view.
“You don't do anything by halves, do you?”

I grimaced and lurched to my feet with his help.
“Of course not.”

Phillip's heavy treads echoed around us, and he scooped me from my
unsteady legs
as if I were two.

Colonel Worthington
picked up the hat and crumpled note and held them out to me.
I took them, and neither of us mentioned how much my hand shook.
I
buried my face in Phillip's shoulder,
fighting more tears
.
I had never felt so
lost
.