Amanda Quick - Quicksilver

It occurred to him that the weapon might have failed. When all was said and done it was only a clockwork mechanism, and clocks sometimes stopped for no good reason. Holding the pocket watch at the ready, he went slowly along the hallway, searching the darkened rooms. At the far end he was forced to come to the inescapable conclusion: Not only was there no corpse, the dragon was gone.

Panic shot through him. He threw open the door of the laboratory. Everything inside appeared to be untouched, but when he heightened his senses he could detect the faint currents of energy that told him the experiment had been disturbed again, this time by someone who had been capable of overcoming the dragon. Only an extremely powerful glasslight-talent could have managed that feat. Even he could not control the toys without the aid of the pocket watch.

Rage boiled inside him. The vast majority of glass-readers were weak, insipid creatures like Ratford and Hackett who did not begin to comprehend their own abilities. Many actually believed that the images they saw in the mirrors were genuine spirits. But he knew of one who might have been able to survive the dragon long enough to disable it.

He had saved Virginia Dean for last because he had sensed that she was the one he needed, the glass-reader who might be strong enough to ignite the fire in the mirrors of his Great Engine. She had now proven that she was even more powerful than he had realized. Excitement shivered through him.

Two questions immediately sprang to mind: Why had Virginia Dean come here tonight? And had she come alone?

Owen opened his eyes when Virginia started to extricate herself from the chair and his arms. He watched her get to her feet, aware of a deep sense of satisfaction that went beyond the physical. She had no notion of how deliciously disheveled and erotic she looked dressed only in her rumpled chemise and stockings. Tendrils of her sunset-bright hair had come free of the pins and tumbled around her shoulders.

She looked down at her stained chemise with dismay.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “It was new.”

“I will replace it.”

“There is no need for that,” she said, quite sharply. “I’m sure it will all wash out.”

Flushed, she hurried across the room, stepped into the pile of clothing and hastily drew first her petticoats and then her gown up around herself.

As if she were putting on a suit of armor, he thought.

He crumpled the handkerchief he had used to clean both of them a short time earlier and put it into a pocket. Reluctantly he pushed himself up out of the chair, closed the front of his trousers and fastened his shirt.

“Virginia,” he said. He stopped. Not certain what to say next.

“Yes?” She concentrated hard on the last hooks of her gown.

He went toward her. “Are you certain that you are all right?”

She raised her chin. “Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“This was your first experience of this sort of thing.”

“Well, yes,” she said. “But that is hardly my fault. Really, society makes it very difficult for a single woman to take a lover.”

“Difficult but not impossible. Many single women find a way around the problem. Why did you wait so long?”

She sighed. “One has to reach the point where one realizes one has nothing left to lose and that there is no reason to save oneself for marriage because it is unlikely that the man of one’s dreams will ever appear.”

“I see.” That certainly crushed any romantic notions he might have entertained concerning the nature of their relationship. She had given herself to him tonight because she had concluded that nothing better was likely to happen along.

“Actually, I did reach that conclusion a few months ago on my twenty-sixth birthday,” Virginia continued. “But unfortunately, the situation did not become any less complicated.”

“Why was that?”

“There remained the problem of employing the right man for the position, as it were.”

“You intended to hire someone?” He had never envisioned himself as a man who was easily shocked, but Virginia had just succeeded in stunning him.

She reddened. “Perhaps that was not the best way to put it. One wants this sort of thing to be accompanied by strong passions, of course.”

“One would certainly hope so.”

“Really, it is not at all like hiring a gardener.”

“I’m relieved to hear that. I think.”

Her brows snapped together. “It is not as if there is a wide selection of suitable gentlemen just lolling about, waiting to be picked up like ripe tomatoes in a market. There are so many requirements to be met. And as it turns out, the older a woman gets, the more requirements she accumulates.”

“I see.”

“By the time one reaches my age, the list is very long and one knows that it will be impossible to find the right man. So one must be prepared to compromise.”

He caught her chin on the heel of his hand. “What were your requirements, Virginia?”

“I had cut my list back to include only strong passions,” she said.

“But I failed to meet even that minimal requirement?”

She blinked. Her eyes widened. “Not at all. Whatever gave you that notion, sir?”

“As I recall, somewhere in the middle of the exercise you mentioned that you had been hoping for a transcendent metaphysical experience.”

“But it was transcendent,” she said earnestly. “Exceedingly so.” She waved the issue aside. “Well, perhaps not in the middle, but certainly at the beginning and most assuredly at the end, it was quite transcendent.”

He smiled and brushed his mouth across hers. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear that. Because it was transcendent for me, as well.”

She smiled, radiant and relieved. “Oh, good. I was concerned about that aspect of the matter, what with my limited experience and all. But I am a quick learner, I assure you. I expect it will all get more efficient with practice.”

“Efficiency is not a priority for me.” He whispered another kiss across her mouth and then released her. Turning away, he scooped up his coat and shrugged into it. “I must be off. It is late. You need rest, and so do I.”

“Do you want me to examine the scene of the other glass-reader murder?”

“In due time.” He went to the door and opened it. “After what we learned tonight, my intuition tells me that it is more important to take another look at the mirrored chamber where Hollister died.”

“How do you intend for us to do that?”

“We will go in the same way we got out the other night.”

In the front hall he collected his hat and gloves and overcoat. She opened the door. He went out onto the steps and stopped, aware that he did not want to leave.

“Good night, Owen,” she said softly.

“Good night, my sweet. Lock the door.”

“I will.”

He went down one step and paused. “You’re sure it was transcendent?”

“Absolutely. And very stimulating. I vow, I don’t feel the least bit exhausted anymore. Do you know I was seriously considering taking one of Dr. Spinner’s treatments for female hysteria in order to experience the hysterical paroxysm that his patients rave about? But I very much doubt that his therapy can compare with the sort of transcendence we experienced tonight.”

“Who the devil is Dr. Spinner? And what is this therapy for female hysteria? I have never heard of it.”

“I’m not precisely certain of the details, but evidently it involves an electromechanical machine called a vibrator. It’s a very modern medical instrument.”

“Good Lord. How long has he been offering this treatment?”