Poison in the Blood (3 page)

Chapter Two

For the first time in months, everything around me was calm and serene. I inhaled the wholesome scent of country air and smiled as I walked through the meadow. Wildflowers bobbed in the gentle breeze, dotting the verdant grass with pastels. Leaves rustled in the trees, whispering to each other like mischievous children. I strained to hear the laughter of my children, but I was alone. It surprised me, for it was rare that I had time to myself anymore, but I was at ease. The meadow felt like home, unlike the dull, gray streets of London.

The thought sent a pang of sadness through me—this was a dream, a vision, and as such it would end and I would be sent back to the horrid truth of reality. Determined to enjoy it as long as I could, I continued my stroll. As I neared the trees I spotted one with branches laden with bright red apples, and I plucked one from a low-hanging limb. The familiar scent of the fruit made my stomach roil with a hungry growl, and after brushing it against the skirt of my walking dress I took a bite.

Instead of sweetness, the apple tasted of dry, bitter ashes. I spat it out and stared down at it. Instead of white flesh, the interior was dingy, like snow on the side of a busy road. The color drained from the apple’s skin, covering it in gray. I dropped it, and where it landed on the ground a creeping wave sucked the life and color out of the grass, spreading to the nearby trees and into the meadow. The world around me became dead and silent, and I screamed as the decay slithered up my dress, staining my body to match the surroundings until I stood lifeless, frozen like a marble statue.

“She’s coming around,” Dr. Bennett’s voice announced.

The vision vanished, and my eyes slowly focused on Michael’s concerned face. He had caught me before I could fall, and I was grateful for that, for I did not want the alley’s muck ground into my ball gown, though I wondered if he was allowed to be so near me this soon.

“See, she’s quite well. It’s only a vision, nothing to be concerned about. Now let her go,” Simon ordered. I glanced in the direction of his voice and spotted him glaring at us.

“Not until I’m certain she’s well.” Michael’s voice was calm, but his embrace was cold despite the warm summer night, and it unsettled me.

“I’m all right. I was unprepared.” I leaned upon my husband as I steadied myself, and I took several deep breaths until I was strong enough to stand on my own. Michael reluctantly parted from me and returned to his mentor’s side.

“What did you see?” Miss Dubois demanded.

“A vision. It was quite detailed. Perhaps this is not the best venue to share it in.” I glanced at our audience, which had grown to include several necromancers who were eyeing us all with disdain, and she nodded.

Miss Dubois turned to Dr. Bennett. “If you would please see to the body, I will take Mrs. Black home.”

“
We
will escort her home,” Michael announced.

“You may follow in your carriage, if you wish. As I understand it, in your condition you shouldn’t be allowed to travel in such an enclosed space with her,” she countered.

It was a valid point—his condition was the reason the children and I had been sent away in the first place, and I assumed it was the reason Simon had been staring daggers at Michael for having caught me after my faint.

“I want to examine the body first. We will follow shortly,” Simon announced. Michael frowned but didn’t argue.

“Very well.” Dr. Bennett bowed politely. “Mrs. Black, it was a pleasure to see you again, even under such unfortunate circumstances.”

I smiled at him. “Thank you. You must come for tea.” It would give me an opportunity to do a proper reading. Surely it would set his mind at ease if I could confirm that he and Miss Dubois were compatible. They did seem to work very well together, and I was quite surprised that she did not reciprocate his affection.

Miss Dubois and I walked away in brisk silence as the irritated gazes of both chroniclers and necromancers bored into our backs. The carriage that had brought me was still waiting, and I gave the driver my sister’s address. Her family lived comfortably in a lovely, sedate neighborhood, though her household was more boisterous now with the addition of my little brood. Josephine’s children were older than mine, for she had been married years before me.

“I apologize for the interruption of my husband and his mentor. I wasn’t aware they were even in London,” I said.

Miss Dubois sighed. “I thought this might happen. My meeting with the Scrivener did not go well.”

“You must be brave to have met with him. He frightens me. But you don’t truly believe the killer could be a chronicler, do you?”

“No, but the other councils are not convinced. I feel that a master necromancer is the most likely culprit, but until I find him, every blood drinker in London is under suspicion.”

Including my husband. How long had he been here? Surely not long enough to be considered a suspect. There wasn’t a violent bone in his body, or at least there hadn’t been before his transformation.

Miss Dubois studied me. “I must admit, you are not what I was expecting in a seer.”

“I have never met another of my kind, so I am not sure if there is a typical seer. I have never spoken at length with a guardian before,” I replied.

“Most people don’t, unless they are in some sort of trouble. Please tell me about your vision.”

Folding my hands in my lap, I squared my shoulders and related the details of the dream. Miss Dubois listened with rapt attention, reminding me of my little ones listening to a story. Young librarians take story time quite seriously. When I finished she sighed, looking very much as though she had developed a headache of her own.

“I knew they were lying to me. Damn.”

My brow rose at the curse. “Who?”

“The necromancer council. They must be covering for one of their own. Someone important enough to protect despite his crimes.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“It must be a necromancer. They appear living on the outside, but are dead on the inside, like your apple,” she replied matter-of-factly. It made sense, but my visions are seldom explained so quickly and easily.

“I could determine if the council is lying. I am able to discern the truth of a statement while examining a person’s energy.”

“Even a master necromancer?”

“It works on Simon,” I blurted, and then instantly regretted the statement. Simon likely assumed that I spied on his aura, but I attempted to be as clandestine about it as possible. Miss Dubois’s brow rose, and I cleared my throat with a weak smile.

“Ah. I see.” She frowned as she worried at the lace trimming on the parasol. “Your involvement may create tension with the necromancers. They won’t take well to being questioned by a member of the Order.”

“I am not a member. The Order does not wish me to be involved with them in any way.” I fought to keep my expression neutral and not betray any of the pain the Order’s rejection had caused me.

Miss Dubois nodded. “I understand. Perhaps too well. Mrs. Black, I think you and I will accomplish great things together.”

I smiled, blushing with a sudden swell of pride.
Great things.
Wouldn’t that be marvelous? “What can you tell me of the other murders?”

“I wish to hold off on sharing the details for now, so that you can read Mrs. Harding’s home without any expectations.”

I nodded, for it was a sensible request. We discussed the particulars of my abilities during the rest of the journey to my sister’s home. Miss Dubois wished to understand my magic, and I in turn wished to understand her. I wondered if her straightforwardness was an American trait or a guardian one, but I was not put off by her lack of manners. Perhaps I could tutor her in the niceties of English magician society while arranging a match between her and Dr. Bennett.

We agreed that she would send a carriage for me in the afternoon so that I might examine Mrs. Harding’s home. After that I would have dinner with Miss Dubois in her home, followed by a meeting with the necromancer council in the evening. Michael and Simon would be absolutely livid at the idea, and therefore I had no intention of telling them about it.

When I arrived at my sister’s home I discovered, much to my relief, that she and Thomas were still at the ball. I was hopeful that they were enjoying themselves, but knowing Jo, she was likely worrying about my welfare. Of my three sisters, she was the only one I was close to. Sarah was generally contrary and determined to disapprove of whatever I did, and Mary kept to herself.

I paused in the nursery on my way to my room, beset with a sudden need to ensure that my children were safe. Perhaps I should have pressed Miss Dubois for more information. Dr. Bennett had mentioned the other victims were young women, so surely the murderer was not stealing children. All the magicians of London would have heard about that, for our children are particularly precious to us. During the Burning Times, an unspeakably dark part of our history, we nearly joined the elves in their extinction at the hands of mankind, and as such magicians took extreme care in keeping each next generation safe. Even the meddling Order of St. Jerome hadn’t argued with Michael’s choice to marry me once it became evident that we wished to have children. They seemed quite pleased at the little librarians we had produced.

All the little librarians were a-snooze at this late hour, both my children and my nieces and nephews. As though sensing my presence, my youngest, Robert, stirred in his cot and began to whimper. He was by far the fussiest of my offspring, but he had a right to be, so I indulged him. Both of us were very fortunate to be alive; with the aid of a skilled witch midwife we survived a series of complications that would have killed a normal woman and child. I picked Robert up and carried him out of the nursery with me, cooing soothingly to him.

Before I made it to the safety of my room I encountered Josephine, newly returned from the ball. I bit back an exasperated sigh, but I was grateful for Robert’s presence, knowing she would not scold me loudly in front of the baby.

“Where have you been?” Jo asked, her voice a harsh whisper.

“Out.” I breezed past her and proceeded to my room, and she followed me inside. She took a deep breath in preparation for the lecture, so I handed Robert to her as a momentary distraction, one that would also leave me free to undress.

“Really, Emily,” Jo said. “Have you gone mad?”

“No more than usual. Miss Dubois asked for my aid in her investigation. Would you say no to a guardian?” I removed my gloves and set them atop my dressing table.

“I have the good sense not to speak to one.”

“Of course. You’re a proper librarian,” I said sourly.

Jo sighed. “What would your husband say?”

“Well I’m sure I’ll hear about it when he arrives, but at the moment I do not care. If he were truly concerned about our welfare, he wouldn’t have become a chronicler.”

“You’re being unfair, Emily. It is a great honor to serve the Order as—”

“Spare me another lecture on how it is more important to be a chronicler than it is to be a husband and a father. I have heard it
enough
.” The shrill note in my voice sent the baby into a chorus of shrieks, and I winced. Apparently he had heard it enough as well.

“Then you should be concerned with the welfare of your children. Who will take care of them if something happens to you?”

This time I sighed. “Nothing will to happen to me. Who better than a guardian to ensure my safety?”

“If this Miss Dubois were any sort of decent guardian she wouldn’t need help with an investigation. And whoever heard of a female guardian in the first place? I wouldn’t want her standing between me and a murderer,” Josephine said.

“You’re not invited. For now you need to prepare yourself, dear sister. The Order of St. Jerome is about to descend upon your household.”

“What do you mean?”

“My husband and his mentor are conducting their own investigation of the murders. They will be arriving shortly to scold me.”

Josephine’s eyes widened. “Do they intend to stay here?”

“Doubtful. I hope not.”

I awkwardly unfastened my ball gown and wriggled out of it, setting the garment aside to deal with in the morning. Josephine had her own lady’s maid, but our budget did not afford one, and I had gotten used to doing things myself. I donned a nightgown and dressing robe and reclaimed Robert before his wails of temper developed into full shrieks. My baby wanted only his mother and wouldn’t settle for anyone else, not even Michael. Though I was beginning to doubt that he remembered Michael at all, being seven months old when we left home.

“I should wake the staff and have rooms prepared in case they wish to stay.” Josephine hurried off, wringing her hands.

Robert and I retired to the library to await the arrival of Michael and Simon. When the chroniclers entered I was reading to the baby, because even an infant librarian abandoned his temper when presented with a book.

“Why is the baby here?” Simon asked without preamble.

“Because he is an ill-tempered creature of the night, just like his Uncle Simon,” I replied dryly.

Michael smiled at Robert. “Good Lord, he’s gotten big.”

“He has, but he’s still small for his age. He has quite a way to go to catch up to Jasper and Theodore. How long have you been in London?”