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Authors: Amanda Quick

Quicksilver (22 page)

BOOK: Quicksilver
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Nick followed him. “Receptions are boring.”
“I don’t think this one will be.”
“Why? Because it is being held at the Leybrook Institute? I don’t see how that makes it any more appealing.”
“We are not going to attend for the purpose of amusing ourselves. We will be hunting.”
“Huh. I suppose that might make it a bit more interesting. How do you expect to find your killer in a crowd?”
Owen opened the door and went out onto the fogbound street. “By now he will be obsessed with Miss Dean. I do not think that he can spend an entire evening in the same room with her without getting close to her at some point.”
“Obsession is a strange and powerful force,” Nick agreed. He closed the shop door. “It makes people do things that go against logic and reason.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you know, I have not seen you this intrigued by a case in a very long time.”
“It is the most interesting hunt that has come along in a while.”
“It came along thanks to J & J,” Nick pointed out.
“Yes,” Owen said. “I think the agency will become a regular, established client for us in the future.”
“Because J & J and Arcane hunt the same monsters?”
Owen smiled. “I predict a long and profitable partnership.”
TWENTY-FOUR
 
M
r. Sweetwater is going to escort both of us to the reception tonight?” Charlotte emerged from an aisle of bookshelves, a stack of leather-bound volumes cradled in her arms. “Good heavens, Virginia, what do you think you are doing?”
“Trying to find a killer,” Virginia said.
Charlotte set the stack of books on the table. “Does that sort frequent social affairs?”
“Mr. Sweetwater seems to think this one will definitely be at the reception.”
“Why?”
“Because the monster is associated with the Institute.”
Charlotte pondered that briefly. “Well, it is certainly true that everyone with any connection whatsoever to the Institute will attend the affair tonight. Those who don’t show up will be notable by their very absence. But how will you explain him to people at the reception?”
“I had not planned to explain the killer’s presence to anyone.”
“That is not amusing. You know very well I meant how will you explain Mr. Sweetwater? It is one thing to allow people to think that you have agreed to let him study you, but the reception is not a venue for demonstrations of paranormal powers. It is a social occasion. You know what people will say.”
“The awkwardness of the situation did occur to me, but oddly enough, after visiting the scenes of several murders in the past few days and concluding that I may be next on the killer’s list, I find that I no longer care what people say about my association with Mr. Sweetwater.”
Charlotte brightened. A knowing look illuminated her eyes.
“Well, that explains it,” she said, satisfied. “And just when did you plan to confide in your closest friend? I refer to myself, of course.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There is something different about you lately. At first I thought it was the excitement of pursuing a murder inquiry. That would certainly be more than enough to thrill the senses. But I had a feeling that there was more to it.”
“Such as?” Virginia picked up the old book on top of the pile and opened it to the title page.
A Treatise on the Art of Summoning Spirits in Looking Glasses.
“Are these all of the books you have that touch on glasslight?”
“All of those that appeared to contain useful information.”
Virginia considered the stack of books in front of her. “There aren’t very many, are there?”
“Much of what has been written on the subject is superstitious nonsense. I didn’t think you would want to waste time on works of magic and the occult.”
“No, of course not.” Virginia tapped the big book she had opened. “But this appears to be a book on summoning spirits. What is that, if not superstitious nonsense?”
“Like many glass-readers, Llewellyn did not fully understand what he was viewing when he looked into mirrors. That doesn’t mean he did not have some fascinating observations to make. And stop trying to avoid the subject of Mr. Sweetwater. Your relationship with him involves more than the investigation, does it not?”
Virginia sighed. “Is it that obvious?”
“It is to me.” Charlotte smiled. “I have the distinct impression that you are no longer interested in booking an appointment with Dr. Spinner for one of his hysteria treatments.”
Virginia felt herself turning red. “To be honest, the prospect of being treated with an electrical device was always somewhat worrisome.”
“The dangers of electricity are well known.” Charlotte’s smile faded into an expression of concern. “But I think you may be facing another sort of danger.”
“Trust me, I am well aware of the risk involved in hunting a murderer.”
“I am speaking of your liaison with Mr. Sweetwater,” Charlotte said gently. “Do not mistake me. I am thrilled that you are embarking on a glorious affair. Indeed, I envy you. But try to maintain some perspective.”
Virginia raised her brows. “Perspective?”
“You must not lose your heart to Mr. Sweetwater. He will surely break it, even if he does not intend to do so. He comes from a different world.”
“I understand. But really, Charlotte, why should I bother to protect my heart any longer? I will have the rest of my life to recover from a doomed love affair.”
“Hmm.”
Charlotte considered the question for perhaps five seconds, and then she nodded once, emphatically. “You’re quite right. After it is over, you will have the stirring memories. I, on the other hand, will have only the stirring recollections of my appointments with Dr. Spinner to warm my lonely old age.”
“Assuming you do not get electrocuted.”
Charlotte shuddered. “It is an alarming thought, isn’t it?”
“So is the prospect of a broken heart. But at least one survives that sort of thing, or so I’m told. Looking on the bright side, I’m sure there will always be doctors offering treatments for female hysteria to whom I can turn after my liaison with Mr. Sweetwater comes to the inevitable conclusion.”
“And given the amazing progress of modern science, we can no doubt look forward to many more advances in electrical devices of a medical nature.”
“No doubt.”
They looked at each other. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then, as happened so often between them, they both burst into laughter.
“Oh, Charlotte, what would I do without you?” Virginia said. She took out a handkerchief and wiped the tears away from her eyes.
“I would miss you even more than you would miss me,” Charlotte said. She sobered. “Are you absolutely certain that your affair with Mr. Sweetwater will end badly?”
“I think it is the most likely outcome.”
“But the two of you have so much in common.”
Virginia frowned. “In what way?”
“It strikes me that your talents are quite similar.”
“He hunts psychical killers. I see the dead in mirrors. How are those two talents alike?”
“Perhaps not alike but complementary, if you see what I mean. When you think about it, the two of you make a very good team.”
“For goodness’ sake, Charlotte, I would not want Mr. Sweetwater to marry me just because we make a good investigation team. Even assuming he was inclined to do so, it is not enough. You and I have both discussed this matter. We made our decision the night of my twenty-sixth birthday. We will marry for love or we will not marry at all.”
Charlotte grimaced. “It certainly seemed like a very modern, very romantic notion at the time. But sometimes I wonder if perhaps we may have been a bit too hasty.”
“Enough of this depressing conversation. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Such as?”
“I think there is someone who may be able to shed some light on this investigation.”
“Who?”
“Lady Hollister’s companion,” Virginia said. “There has been so much going on in the past few days that we have all but forgotten about her.”
“Why is she important?”
“She may well have been the last person to see her employer alive.”
Charlotte glanced at the copy of the
Flying Intelligencer
on the table. “According to the report in the press, Lady Hollister’s body was found by the housekeeper. The rest of the staff was dismissed the morning after you were kidnapped.”
“In which case the companion is no doubt searching for another post.”
“Yes.” Charlotte’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “I could make some inquiries among the agencies that provide hired companions, if you like. It might take some time, but it shouldn’t be too difficult to find the woman who attended Lady Hollister.”
“That’s a brilliant idea,” Virginia said. “How soon can you start?”
She was interrupted by the tinkling of the bell above the door of the shop. She turned to watch Owen walk into the room. It seemed to her that he entered on an invisible tide of power. The lower edges of his unbuttoned overcoat swept out around him. She thrilled to his presence as she always did, with a stirring sense of awareness.
He was followed by a tall, lanky gentleman in need of a visit to his barber. The long-haired man wore an expensively tailored but sadly rumpled suit. His tie was a shapeless knot at his throat.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Owen said. He came to a halt in the center of the room and inclined his head very formally in Charlotte’s direction. “Miss Tate, I presume?”
Virginia remembered her manners. “This is Mr. Sweetwater, Charlotte.”
Charlotte stared, fascinated, at Owen. “Yes, I know. Indeed, all the Leybrook practitioners are aware of your identity, sir.”
Owen looked amused. “Miss Dean warned me that was the case.”
Charlotte blushed. “You have a certain reputation in our world, Mr. Sweetwater.”
“So I’m told.” He moved one gloved hand toward the tall man in the rumpled suit. “Allow me to present my cousin, Nicholas Sweetwater. Nick, Miss Dean and Miss Tate.”
Virginia and Charlotte both looked politely at Nick, but he seemed unaware of them. He had wandered over to the locked bookcase and was perusing the collection of ancient leather-bound volumes with great interest.
“I say, this collection looks a good deal more promising than I had anticipated, Owen,” he announced. “When you informed me that we were going to visit a bookshop that specialized in the paranormal, I assumed the place would be rife with lurid books on magic and the occult. But I see what may actually be a genuine copy of Wakefield’s
Notes on Alchemy.
”
“It is most certainly a genuine copy of Wakefield’s
Notes,
sir,” Charlotte snapped. “I would not have taken the trouble to store it in that locked case if it was a copy or a forgery.”
“What?” Startled, Nick turned around. For the first time he appeared to notice Charlotte and Virginia. He turned red. “Sorry. Good afternoon, ladies.”
Virginia murmured a polite greeting. Now that she could see him more plainly, she realized that Nick Sweetwater was younger than Owen, twenty-eight or twenty-nine, perhaps. There was some family resemblance, most noticeably in the broad shoulders and lean physiques of the two men. But Nick’s intelligent eyes lacked the dark knowledge that burned in the depths of Owen’s disturbing gaze.
“That particular volume is extremely rare,” Charlotte informed Nick in frosty tones.
“I am well aware of that,” Nick said eagerly. “I would very much like to examine it to determine its authenticity for myself.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Charlotte said a little too sweetly.
“What do you mean? This is a bookshop. I am interested in examining a book that I might wish to purchase.”
“I’m afraid I only allow
legitimate
practitioners of the paranormal and researchers who are known to me or vouchsafed by someone I trust to examine the books in the locked cases,” Charlotte informed him in lofty accents. “Many of those volumes contain dangerous information. I cannot let just anyone read them.”
Nick stared at her, shocked. Then he started to scowl. “I assure you I possess a fair amount of psychical ability. Just ask my cousin, here.”
Owen caught Virginia’s eye. She realized he was suppressing a grin.
“I am happy to verify that my cousin does indeed possess a high level of psychical ability,” Owen said.
“What of it?” Charlotte shot back. “That is not as important as his standing as a researcher. What are his academic credentials?”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll have you know, Miss Tate, that I can read a number of ancient languages, including three or four that are dead, and I have deciphered the codes of several old alchemists.”
BOOK: Quicksilver
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