Supernatural Devices (7 page)

“What are you doing here?”

S
carlett tried to decide how to answer that, and as she did so, she took a closer look at Cecilia. She was every bit as beautiful as Cruces’ sketch of her, and she projected a quiet confidence that was at odds with the frightened young woman who had run from Scarlett so recently before. She sat with her red and yellow dress folded demurely beneath her, though there was something about her gaze that was less demure. It was challenging, with no give to it. Under other circumstances Scarlett might even have thought it a look of pure jealousy.

“Why were you…” Cecilia tailed off, looking to the side as though searching her head for the word. Her accent had a strong Eastern European trace to it, and she quickly called out a few words in a language Scarlett did not know.

The young man who had brought Scarlett there walked over. Cecilia smiled as he approached, and Scarlett had to admit it suited her far better than scowling. She could see why Cruces would have wanted to paint her then.

“Tavian.”

Was that the young man’s name? Scarlett guessed that it must be. Cecilia said a few more words in that language, Romanian, presumably, and the dark haired young man nodded.

“My sister wants to know,” Tavian said, in a voice that carried almost as strong an accent, and which seemed to roll through Scarlett, “why you were following her. I would like to know that too.”

Scarlett thought about pointing out that she would like to know why he had grabbed her and brought her here with no warning, and exactly why he could fly through the London mist like that, but she did not. He had brought her to Cecilia, and that was what mattered. Scarlett was not going to risk asking questions that would only make it less likely to get the answers she wanted. It would be far better to focus on what she needed to know, and leave the rest for now.

“My name is Miss Seely,” she said. “Scarlett. I am here about the time Cecilia worked for Lord Darthmoor.” Scarlett looked from the girl to her brother. How much would Cecilia understand? Ordinarily, Scarlett was good with languages, but she had never had a reason to learn Romanian.

“Lord Darthmoor?” Cecilia stiffened as she repeated the words, her expression hardening once more in a way that made it clear Scarlett had said the wrong thing.

“Please,” Scarlett said, looking at Tavian, “I just want to know what happened. I am not here to cause trouble for your sister.”

Tavian and Cecilia spoke for a moment or two, and Cecilia stood, gesturing sharply as she spoke. Tavian translated.

“What happened is that Lord Darthmoor tried to push his attentions on my sister, and she had to leave before things went any further. She wanted no part of him.”

That did not match with what Cruces had said, but it
did
match Holmes’ assessment of what had happened. Right then, Scarlett could easily imagine Cruces lying to her, trying to seduce his servants, but she had to be sure.

“So you didn’t feel anything for him?” Scarlett asked Cecilia, speaking to her directly. “I know he’s a very handsome man. Very dashing. I know how it feels when he is near you. How it feels like you want to…”

“You?” Cecilia’s eyes flashed. When she spoke again, it was in perfect English. “You think he would want
you
? Maybe he does. Maybe he prefers blonde English gentlewomen to dark haired gypsy girls.”

Scarlett wondered at the ruse briefly, but only briefly. Presumably, it had been to give Cecilia an excuse not to say more than she wanted, and to keep her brother close. Right then though, Scarlett had more immediate problems. If she did not placate Cecilia quickly, she doubted that she would ever see Cruces’ ring. After the last outburst, she had no doubt that Cecilia had feelings for Cruces, so being seen as the woman who had replaced her in his affections would only harm her chances. It was just as well it was not true.

“You think that Lord Darthmoor and I…” Scarlet forced herself to laugh. “Not if he were the last man on Earth.”

“You don’t like men with exotic looks?” Tavian interjected, with a questioning glance at Scarlett. Wonderful. Apparently, placating one sibling would only insult the other, unless she was very careful.

“It isn’t that,” Scarlett said. “If anything, he is very handsome.” That earned her another look of hatred from Cecilia. “It is simply that he is far too forward. Too unrestrained. The man has no sense of decorum at all.”

“So he made an advance to you,” Cecilia guessed, in a tone that made it clear she did not think Scarlett was worth her former employer’s attention. Her brother, on the other hand, seemed faintly amused.

“Could you blame him Cecilia?” Tavian demanded. “Miss Seely is a very beautiful woman.”

Scarlett squirmed with embarrassment while Cecilia took a break from staring at her with hatred to shoot the same look her brother’s way. That solved one question at least. Had Cecilia truly left to try to avoid Cruces, she would not have cared about Scarlett and any relationship she believed the two had. Cecilia’s jealousy fit far better with the story Cruces had told than the one Tavian had given her. Scarlett decided to press it.

“Tell me the truth, Cecilia,” she said. “You wanted more from Lord Darthmoor than he was willing to give you, didn’t you?”

“It was not like that,” Cecilia insisted hotly. “You do not understand.”

“Then help me understand,” Scarlett suggested. “Why don’t you start by telling me why you took his ring? Was it jealousy? A way to get back at him? Or did you simply want a keepsake of him?”

“No!”

“Really?” Scarlett asked. “So would you still have taken the ring if he had cared about you the way you wanted him to? Are you just a thief?”

Cecilia said something to her brother that Scarlett did not understand. Tavian nodded, and then took Scarlett’s hand, bending low to kiss it. Scarlett found herself reminded of the gesture Cruces had used on meeting her.

“I hope, Miss Seely, that I will eventually have the chance to show you that my people are more civilized than the impression you must have formed of us.”

“I never believed otherwise.”

            “For now though, my sister wishes to speak to you in private.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Scarlett managed to say, and in truth she suspected that it was. After all, without Tavian, she would not have found his sister. And Scarlett had to admit he was a most pleasant young man. Tavian left them then, beaming as he went, leaving Cecilia behind to look at Scarlett with suspicion. Even so, Scarlett hoped that this need for privacy meant that the other young woman might be ready to open up to her and tell her what she needed to know.

“Will you tell me more about Lord Darthmoor’s ring?” Scarlett asked. “It must be very important for you to take it like that.”

“It is not his ring.” Cecilia sat down by the fire, folding her arms. Because it seemed that she was unlikely to get answers standing over the girl, Scarlett sat down too. After all her travelling dress had been through recently, a little dirt would not hurt it.

“He says that it is.”

Cecilia shook her head sharply. “He is a liar then, and a thief. And you…”

“I am just here to find out what is going on,” Scarlett promised. “What I said before is true. I really have no interest in Lord Darthmoor.”

Cecilia snorted. “If that were true, why would you even be here?”

“I am here because that is what I do,” Scarlett explained. “I am a detective.”

“You are with the police?”

Scarlett shook her head. “No, nothing like that. But I like to investigate things, and Cruces… Lord Darthmoor, is paying me to investigate the ring.”

“I thought women in London stayed inside drinking tea,” Cecilia said. “Not going around investigating things.”

Scarlett smiled just a little. “Sometimes we manage to do both. Although I might not get many more chances if I do not find out what happened to the ring, you understand?”

“And you will give it back to him,” Cecilia said.

Scarlett considered lying, but thought better of it. Instead, she nodded. “Unless there is a good reason not to.”

“There is a reason,” Cecilia insisted. “The ring is not his.”

“It was in his collection,” Scarlett pointed out, “and you took it from him.”

“Just because he paid for it, that does not make it his.” Cecilia looked momentarily angry again. “He is a plunderer. A thief. That ring belongs to my people. It has been ours for many years. It is the property of royalty, not of some… collector.”

Scarlett had heard that argument occasionally. Some people argued that even what her parents did was wrong, because they took treasures from far off places, removing them from where they belonged. But Scarlett suspected that this was different. Not least because of the nature of the artifact involved. Could it really open doors to other realities?

“May I see the ring?” Scarlett asked.

“You will try to steal it.”

Scarlett shook her head. “No. You have my word. For now, I just wish to see it.”

Cecilia hesitated for a second or two, but finally, she nodded and reached into the folds of her dress. She drew out a purple velvet bag closed with a draw string that was currently tied in a complex knot.

“My knot,” Cecilia explained, “so that I will know if anyone else tries to open it.”

The girl sounded quite proud of the idea, though Scarlett was not sure what would stop someone from simply taking the whole bag. Still she did not voice that thought as Cecilia carefully unpicked the knots. She tipped the contents out into the center of her palm, holding her hand flat but obviously ready to snatch it back should Scarlett try to go back on her word.

In her hand sat a golden ring formed from a double braid of the metal, just as Scarlett had been told to expect. The word
Thura
, for opening, was on the inside. Why there should be Ancient Greek on something supposedly of Eastern European origin, Scarlett did not know. Was Cecilia lying? After all, it seemed to make as much sense that the ring was rightfully Cruces. He had said himself that he was not English. Could he be Greek?

Scarlett did not get chance to make that point to Cecilia, however, because at that moment, a hand clamped over her mouth. She saw the same happen to Cecilia, while at the same time, Scarlett found herself dragged to her feet. Behind her, someone started to chant in a low, sonorous tone. Scarlett tried to turn and see what was happening, but the grip on her held her fast. While the chanting… the chanting was so soothing… so very…

Scarlett found herself quite grateful in that moment for the presence of whoever was holding her. At least that way, it meant that, as she fell into sleep, she did not topple to the floor. She just collapsed into strong arms, already too deeply asleep to care why.

“
S
carlett, wake up.”

At the sound of Cruces’ voice, Scarlett roused herself. It was far from easy. It felt like she was dragging herself upwards from a great depth, and it took an effort to open her eyes. When she did so, she saw that she was no longer in the gypsies’ camp, but was instead in a high ceilinged building with posters on the walls advertising everything from the tailors of Saville Row to devices designed to invigorate the constitution. She also appeared to be laying on a bench. It took her a moment to place the details of the location, but when she did, she sat up to find Cruces sitting beside her.

“This is a railway station,” Scarlett observed.

Cruces nodded. “Victoria Street, to be precise. You took some finding.”

“How
did
you find me?” Scarlett asked.

Gently, Cruces reached out to take her wrist, exposing the inside of it. There sat a small mark in the shape of a crown and an eagle. “My mark. With it, I can track you quite easily.”

“You marked me?” Scarlett was not sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, it had apparently meant that Cruces could find her. On the other, she was not cattle to be branded. Certainly not without her consent. “When?”

“Last night,” Cruces said. “It seemed like a necessary precaution, and I am glad I did now. I should have warned you that Cecilia has a penchant for sleeping draughts and spells.”

Scarlett thought back to the chanting she had heard back in the camp. “No,” she said, “that was not her. Cecilia was attacked too. There were other people there. Men, I think. They were the ones who did this.”

Cruces thought for a moment. “Then you are lucky that this is all they did, and that I was able to find you so quickly.”

“When did you start looking for me?” Scarlett asked. She had not thought that Cruces would care enough to bother. At least not for a day or two.

“Almost immediately after you left the public house, of course. I knew you would not let things rest.”

“And yet you did not find me at the camp?” Scarlett asked.

Cruces looked faintly embarrassed. “I told you that the gypsies like to use spells. One of them wards off certain… categories of people. I could not approach.”

Scarlett started to ask what category that might be, when she looked over to the side, where a news stand stood, selling the broadsheets. By it, she saw a familiar face. Tavian. The handsome young gypsy man stood there staring straight at her, and the instant Scarlett noticed him, he beckoned to her.