Emma Holloway - A Study in Ashes

Evelina ventured into the room, glancing at the faces of the others. Their hostess had introduced them all, but she’d already forgotten most of the names. They all looked ordinary, and she was certain none was Madam Thalassa. She sat down gingerly on a settee coated in enough cat hair to knit another kitten.

“It’s very lovely of Miss Barnes to let us use her house,” said a blond woman with a round, rosy face.

“Yes, it is.” Evelina realized that she was rusty at making small talk. Then again, perhaps her sudden awkwardness was that this girl’s pretty features reminded her of poor Mary Jane Kelly, who’d met a terrible end in Whitechapel not quite a year ago. She had been bright and friendly, too. “I’ve not been to one of these meetings before. Can you tell me what happens?”

“Oh, it’s different every time,” the young woman said enthusiastically. “Sometimes it’s a lecture and sometimes it’s a practical demonstration.”

“And tonight?”

“We’re going to try a séance.”

“Who will be leading it, Mrs. Phillips?” Tobias asked. An ambassador’s son, he had a knack for remembering names and titles. A black-and-white feline had taken up residence in his lap and was kneading contentedly.

“I shall,” said a man, who was sitting in an armchair in the corner, chewing the stem of an unlit pipe. He was weathered as a sea captain, with brown side whiskers grizzling to gray. “I’m stepping into the breach, it’s true, but I think I shan’t disappoint.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Evelina. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Wood. Leonidas Wood.”

“Stepping into the breach?” Tobias prompted.

“A confusion of dates,” Wood answered. “The planned guest had the wrong night. Shoddy record keeping is the bane of anything run by volunteers.”

“For shame,” said Mrs. Phillips. “We should be thanking those that donate their time.”

Wood huffed and clamped his teeth around the pipe stem with an audible click.

“I’m sure whatever occurs tonight, it will be of great interest,” Evelina said with all the diplomacy she could muster.

Tobias caught Evelina’s eye. No Madam Thalassa . Disappointment swept through her, suspicion hard on its heels. They hadn’t bothered with disguises or false names—few would recognize Evelina, and none would know her as Keating’s pet practitioner. But had someone known Tobias? Although he had no interest in this type of gathering, the Roth family was well known. Had Miss Barnes left the gathering to warn the guest of honor away?

“There,” said their hostess, bustling into the room. “All details sorted. It’s time we began.”

Everyone rustled to attention. As if on cue, the three cats jumped to the floor and trotted from the room. Tobias brushed at the cat hair clinging to his clothes, but it was a lost cause. Evelina tried not to notice that he’d gone white around the lips. He really wasn’t happy about being there. Poor Tobias. Everyone is afraid of something .

The next few minutes progressed as Evelina expected. The eight members in attendance gathered around the square table, pulling their chairs close. The gas was dimmed, drapes drawn, and a single candle placed at the center of the table. Finally, Miss Barnes closed the door and took her seat.

Wood cleared his throat and hitched himself forward. “Now, if everyone would please join hands.”

Tobias was sitting to Evelina’s right, Mrs. Phillips to her left. The young lady was bright-eyed with interest, but Evelina wasn’t expecting much. Even if someone did summon a ghost, they usually didn’t have much to say.

She took Mrs. Phillips’s dainty hand, and then let Tobias grasp her other. His fingers were long and strong, just as she remembered them. Wood’s voice was no more than a distant murmur behind her unsettled thoughts.

Eventually, she drifted back to the matter at hand. It was the usual routine about spirits of the great beyond, were there any loved ones, and so on. She’d seen the show a thousand times as a child with Ploughman’s Paramount Circus. The theory was that any spirit desiring to speak with a participant could use the medium as his or her mouthpiece—but whether that was true was beyond Evelina’s knowledge. Velda the Glorious—who also charmed snakes—pretended to call the dead, but would pick the pockets of the gullible while they sat with their eyes closed. Evelina’s Gran had read cards, but never traded in ghosts.

Tobias’s hand was turning cold. A pang of concern caught at her; she thought it was too bad he was worrying over nothing. But then again, the entire room was starting to get chilly—no, downright frozen. Evelina snapped to attention, her own magic suddenly on alert. Wood had stopped talking, but she could still see a faint mist where his breath warmed the air.

Who would have thought? Something is here after all . Evelina reached out with her senses, tentatively touching the energy in the room. There were eight normal, healthy presences there, a few burning more brightly than others. So, some of the society members, including Wood and Miss Barnes, probably had a drop of the Blood. Nothing about that was worrisome.

But they were not alone. The darkness in her magic stirred. It wasn’t just hunger; it was the part of her that sensed danger soonest, and it knew instinctively how to fight.

“There is someone here looking for you, Miss Cooper,” Wood said softly. His voice was rounded with a slight lilt, as if he’d come from Cornwall. “The entity says you were looking for her.”

Evelina sucked in her breath, a quick, desperate inhalation. There was only one female she’d been looking for. “Imogen?”

Tobias squeezed her hand hard. “What?” His voice was sharp.

The temperature in the room dropped so low that Mrs. Phillips cried out. The flame of the candle at the center of the table suddenly grew until it was twice the height of the wax pillar and thin as a needle. Evelina’s heart began to pound at the eerie sight. A primitive instinct inside her wanted to snarl and bare fangs at whatever had invaded the room.

The skin between her shoulder blades crept, as if someone was staring at her back. “It can’t be her.” And yet—what other roaming spirit would want to speak to her?

“Steady on,” said Miss Barnes in the kind of voice meant to quiet hysterical children. “No one moves; no one lets go of the hand on either side.”

The candle seemed to be growing dim, a strange dark haze muffling the colors in the room. The crawling sensation over her skin increased, making her shudder. And then it made her think of spiders begging to be brushed away—but that would break the circle.

Mrs. Phillips tugged at her grip, but Evelina just held her more tightly. “No, don’t let go.”

Tobias’s hand was growing clammy, his breath quick. “Im?”

One of the other women was starting to make small, frightened sounds.

“Evelina,” said Wood, the voice his, but not his. There was something too soft about it. “Evelina, I need your help. Something has gone very wrong.”

An eerie sensation filled the room, almost as if they were inside a bubble about to pop. The scent of iris stole past—Imogen’s scent—and for a moment, Evelina believed.

“That has to be her,” muttered Tobias. “She always turned to you.”

That much was true. Evelina had been her friend’s protector, nurse, and confidante. When Imogen had nearly died, it had been Evelina who had literally held body and soul together that long and fearful night. “Imogen? Where are you?”

The iris scent grew stronger. “I’m in—”

The words cut off abruptly, and the sweet perfume turned to the gagging stink of decay.