Emma Holloway - A Study in Ashes

Now very curious, Hyacinth began drifting through the house, aiming for the intimate sitting room where she’d met with the Violet Queen. That led her down a short hallway punctuated by portraits of reclining nudes, perhaps the chief attractions of the establishment. One might have been a younger version of the proprietress herself.

Hyacinth felt the tickle on her neck that said someone was watching her. Turning slowly, she saw nothing, but heard an eerie clicking. Nerves brought gooseflesh to her arms and she suddenly wished she’d brought a gun. There was a hideous, slavering, huffing sound that made her stiffen.

And then the Pomeranian trotted into view, a menacing puff of cinnamon fur. Hyacinth heaved an irritated breath. It gave a single yap in response. Brilliant . If there was anyone in the house, this creature would give her away.

“Hush!” She crouched and it skittered aside on ridiculously tiny paws. “Oh, don’t be like that.” Hyacinth generally liked dogs better than people, but she didn’t have the patience to deal with this now. She grabbed the thing, gloves sinking deep into the silky coat, and shoved it back into the room it had come from, shutting the door. There was a whine and a scratch, but then it was quiet.

She kept on, and in another few steps she heard voices—a man and a woman. Instinctively, she shrank against the wainscoting, inching toward the sitting room. The paneled doors were shut, but she could hear just enough to recognize that the female was the Violet Queen, speaking quickly. The male voice gave one-word replies—not enough to decide if it was familiar.

Tight with anticipation, she bent close to the door, her ear pressed to the crack.

“You can’t win this, Keating. No one is with you after what you did.”

Finally, the man gave a complete sentence. “That’s quite a different tune than the one you sang a week ago.”

Jasper Keating? So that was the mystery man! And that explained why the servants must have been banished to another part of the house. The Gold King wouldn’t risk having his business overheard.

Hyacinth reached for the doorknob and turned it all the way, making sure there was nothing to catch as she pushed the door open a crack. All of a sudden, the voices were much more distinct.

“You hadn’t blasted half of London then.” The Violet Queen’s voice was harsh. “If you want allies, leave them a bit of ground to stand on. You make enemies when you destroy their livelihoods.”

Hyacinth put one eye to the crack in the door. The pair was standing at an angle, the Violet Queen almost with her back to Hyacinth. Mrs. Cutter was wearing a deep indigo costume, the short jacket stitched heavily with glass beads that glittered with every motion. Keating was close to the mantelpiece, one hand on its pale marble shelf, the other in a sling. His features, usually the picture of distinguished elegance, looked hollow with shadows.

“I didn’t hurt anything of yours,” snapped Keating.

“Of course you did. I live here.”

“Men will always come to your door, Mrs. Cutter.”

She made a disgusted noise. “Courtesans require more than a back alley shag. We are the demimonde, and that relies on prosperity. You are the great financier. What do you think happens when you block the roads, stop trade, and crush half the banks?”

“I hold all the cards.”

“You hold the cards to Armageddon. Enjoy your hand.”

Bristling with anger, Keating took two steps toward Mrs. Cutter. “I’ll take Green’s territory just as I did Scarlet’s.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You plan to stop me? You barely have territory. You don’t have an army. You don’t even have a maker.”

Hyacinth bit her lip, utterly enthralled. There has to be something here I can use to my advantage .

The Violet Queen raised her chin, the picture of hauteur. “I may be a whore, but there are only so many ways I will agree to be fucked, Mr. Keating.” And she reached beneath the short jacket of her costume and pulled a pearl-handled Derringer from the small of her back.

It was small, hopelessly old-fashioned after seeing so many of the makers’ fancy guns. Still, the sight of it caught Hyacinth by surprise, and she gasped. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to distract the woman for a fraction of time. With his uninjured hand, Keating pulled out a slender rod—more of a wand than a proper gun—and fired. A ball of blue light crackled through the air, but the Violet Queen was quick. She ducked out of the way in time for the shot to sizzle against the door Hyacinth still held. The next instant, a chunk of the heavy paneled wood exploded into splinters, raining sharp points down on Hyacinth’s head. She shoved the door away, accidentally catching the other woman in the face as she turned to run. Mrs. Cutter’s eyes flew wide as she saw Hyacinth standing there, clearly seeing another enemy. It was that look in her eyes, guilty and afraid, that startled Hyacinth. She’s done something that she knows has turned me against her .

By then, Keating had caught up. He thrust his strange weapon against the Violet Queen’s temple. “How dare you!”

The woman swore and spun around, clawing at his face. Red lines sprang up on Keating’s cheek, but he barely flinched. Instead, he fired. The Violet Queen flew backward, over the back of the sofa, and slammed into the wall. She fell to the floor, her neck twisted almost completely around. The room filled with the stench of burning cloth and flesh.

Appalled, Hyacinth staggered back into the corridor, trembling starting in her knees and working upward through the rest of her. “Bloody hell.”

Keating noticed her, giving her a sharp look. “Who are you?”

“Miss Hyacinth,” she said automatically. “Governess of one of her houses.”

“I hope you found this instructive,” he said with a curl of his lip.

Bastard . She was still shaking, her skin in a slick, cold sweat—but she knew how to play this game. She’d been the tyrant of the Wollaston Academy for Young Ladies, and head-hunting savages didn’t hold a candle to a crowd of bored debutantes. “I found it liberating,” she said in her best boarding-school drawl. “Madam had been poaching my clients for herself. I’d come to settle accounts, but you’ve done so admirably, sir.” Though really, this was rather more than I’d planned . She swallowed hard, hoping she wouldn’t vomit.

He was studying her now, cradling his injured arm as if the sudden activity had hurt him. “You have admirable nerve.”

“A professional asset.” Her gloves were damp, clinging unpleasantly to her palms, but she forced herself to look him in the eye. “And I only saw as much as you say I saw.”

He put the strange-looking gun away. “I’d rather that wasn’t a necessary consideration. It’s always unpleasant when a friend lets one down.”

And it gives your enemies ideas . She knew that from the schoolyard, too. If the popular girls turned on one of their own, it was only a matter of minutes before the unfortunate victim became the school pariah. And this is where she saw her opportunity. “You are the ally of the Violet Queen. There is nothing to say that position needs to be held by Mrs. Cutter. Her network of informants, her houses and clients, are all still there.”

“What are you saying?” Now he looked almost amused.

Hyacinth edged up to the body, attempting to look more steady than she felt. Her mind whirred frantically, calculating odds, reading every nuance of his expression. She knew how to survive, and much of that depended on reading her marks. “I’m educated and I understand this business. I can help you. I can even cover this up for a few days.”