Chapter Thirty-four
P
HAETON SET THE EGGLIKE ODDITY INSIDE A RAGGED OLD PORTMANTEAU
, and stuffed a number of soft rags around the orb. Gaseous trails of life, either seen or imagined, one could never be sure, swirled deep inside the object’s mystifying depths.
A zephyr of whispers and snarls wafted across the pantry. “You’re in a nasty mood.” He snapped the worn leather bag shut.
A pair of disembodied golden eyes blinked. Edvar materialized on the edge of the counter. A swish of slithering tail curled a tight coil around the bony, sullen frame.
“Miss Jones is far better off without us.” The gargoyle cocked his head and hissed at the moan and creak of stair treads
“You here, Phaeton?” Exeter paused for a glimpse at the flat below.
“Caught me on my way out.” He glanced upward. “About to pay a visit to a certain back alley in Limehouse.”
The doctor finished his descent. “Off for an afternoon with Julian Ping or the dream pipe? Perhaps, both?” Exeter eyed the bulging portmanteau. “I suggest your destination is Pennyfields Lane, and you’re to about to meet with The Gentlemen Shades.”
“Bloody schoolyard name for a band of Gothic mesmerists who fancy themselves warlocks.” Phaeton didn’t hold back an impatient sigh. He opened a cabinet and brought down a near empty bottle. “Enough for a dram each.” He handed over a glass. “Who is your sponsor?”
“Gaspar.” Exeter sniffed the whiskey. “Oak and orange peel with a nice bit of smoke.”
“Talisker’s finest.” Phaeton studied Exeter. It was the first time either of them had formally acknowledged the occultist organization comprised of peculiar hominoids and the odd, remnant peer of the realm. “Gaspar Sinclair. The dissipated and delusional Viscount Stuart of Findhorn. Pipe never leaves the hand of that lotus-eater.”
The doctor edged up a one-sided shrug. “I take it your sponsor is Ping.”
“Rather drunk one night, skulking about Pennyfield’s looking for a smoke, knocked on the wrong door.” His mind drifted back to the alley lined with opium dens. “Ping or Jin answered. One can never be entirely sure.”
True to form, the doctor raised a supercilious brow. “And how is that?”
He tossed back his whiskey and set the glass on the counter. “You will find out soon enough, when you are alone with him.” He grinned. “Or her.”
Exeter’s gaze left the travel bag. “And you trust him—or her—with the orb?”
“What would you have me do, twiddle thumbs and wait ’round for this thing to hatch? Or worse—give it to Chilcott.” Phaeton snorted.
The doctor seemed strident this afternoon, troubled. The imposing, stoic man strolled the perimeter of the table and sipped his whiskey. “I didn’t expect to find you at home. Thought you’d be down at the docks, waving bon voyage. Perhaps even sailing off to Cairo with Miss Jones.”
“Alexandria.” Phaeton leaned back against the pantry counter, arms crossed over chest. “And why on earth would you think that?”
“Because, you two are—like spirits, are you not? Among all the beings of the earth and stars, you have crossed paths with the special one, Mr. Black.” Exeter appeared genuinely concerned. “Do you not feel love?”
“I do not wish to fall in love.”
“Ah, Phaeton. It’s too late.” Exeter had the nerve to grin. “You already have.”
He shook his head, eyes darting about under the man’s stare. “I’ll get over it. It is infatuation.”
Exeter frowned. “You could learn something from Anubis.”
“Ha!” Phaeton snorted. “Who couldn’t?”
The doctor was not amused. “Anubis, in his prime, was overseer of the weighing of souls. Is your heart lighter than a feather, Phaeton?”
He grimaced. “I’m damned to hell in this life, why not the next?” The last thing he wanted was to appear cornered—wild-eyed.
No answer, the doctor just stared.
He drained the last drops of whiskey and dropped the empty bottle in the dustbin. “This missing her will only hurt for a while. Pain can be tolerated.”
“What if it doesn’t hurt for a while. What if it hurts for a lifetime?”
Phaeton swung around. “Well, that’s just it. You see what follows me about. What lurks in my pantry closets. She could be injured or killed.”
“The rationale of a frightened little boy. Not a man.”
Phaeton’s eyes darkened, narrowed, even as his jaw clenched.
Exeter backed away. “Shall I remove my jacket?”
His gaze landed on his frock coat hanging on a wall hook. “No sense bruising knuckles. I’ve got a standard issue Webley Mk1 in my jacket pocket.”
If this tête-à-tête was a chess game, Phaeton had just called check. “Miss Jones knows everything. All about Georgette. My obligation—”
“That demon was after Miss Pfeiffer.” Exeter shook his head. “The fact that you were with her, Phaeton, most likely saved her life. Both your energies, under tremendous psychic assault, attracted me to the scene.”
How his jaw got from clamped together to hanging open was behind him. Phaeton clapped his mouth shut. “Left quite a bloody mess for an apparition.”
“Our world, the universe, and everything in it—we all play a part in this very persistent illusion.” Exeter stepped closer. “Georgette always had abilities. No doubt the attack triggered something more powerful. She is gradually learning to control the episodes of transference.” He leaned against the pantry counter beside him. “You owe Miss Pfeiffer nothing more than your continued friendship, Phaeton.”
He studied the man beside him. “You’ve been working with her?”
“Only on occasion, like yourself.”
The doctor leaned a bit closer. “There is really nothing stopping you from accompanying Miss Jones on an ocean voyage. You’re free to go, Phaeton.”
He thought his brain might explode, either from relief or his disconcerting, rapidly rising disquiet. America was gone. “I cannot ...” He hesitated, searching his words, thoughts. Since early this morning, he had existed in a state of utter turmoil, body and brain tied up in knots. She had walked up those stairs and out of his life, in all probability, forever.
“Yes, Phaeton?”
They both stared at each other for what seemed like an eon of time. “Christ, Jason, I miss her beyond words.” Phaeton glanced away. “It’s too late anyway, the
Topaz Star
sailed on the tide.”
“I’m sure she did.”
“Impossible to catch up at this point. Likely there’s also a good breeze along the Thames to tack along with.”
“Very likely, yes.” Exeter sympathized. “Unless ...”
Phaeton choked a bit on the knot in his throat. “Unless?”
“Unless one had at his disposal another ship.” A flash of light sparked in those piercing green eyes. “Something fast and a good deal lighter than air.”
Phaeton blinked. “The airship?”
Deep creases formed to each side of Exeter’s grin. “I happen to be out for an afternoon of aeronautics. Last year, Esmeralda had a large archery target painted on the roof. Makes for convenient access—”
Phaeton stood upright. “That explains how you are able to slip in and out of here.”
Exeter pressed further. “We could chase her down. Waylay her.”
Something swelled inside his chest. “Doubt whether she’s much past Greenwich.”
“Worth a try, wouldn’t you say?”
A million thoughts bombarded at once, but the picture of America, standing at the helm of her ship, wind in her hair, eyes trained on the sea, easily muted a battery of warning, internal voices. With her image locked fast in his heart, the last “no-you-don’t” and “you-bloody-fool” faded away.
He met Exeter’s maddening grin with one of his own. “Always wanted to see the pyramids.”
“Pack a bag and meet me on the roof.” Exeter climbed the stairs. “Quickly, Phaeton.”
Jerked into action, he piled shirts and drawers, trousers and coats into a large traveling case. He slammed the lid shut.
On second thought, he reopened the bag. An irritating bit of snuffling and whining emanated from the bedpost. He gestured impatiently to his slithery companion perched upon a finial. “All right then, jump in.”
An indentation formed among his clothes, a nest between hose and shirt collars.
“Phaeton, are you leaving us?” Lizzie stood at the entry to his room. “I overheard the doctor and Mrs. Parker in the salon.”
Phaeton closed and latched the case. “You’re looking well, Lizzie.”
“Oh yes, sir. Much improved. No sign of fangs.” She bared her teeth, but the smile soon faded. “Will we ever see you again?”
He slouched into his coat. “Not as a paying customer.” He doffed his hat, gripped the suitcase in one hand and the smaller carpetbag in the other.
He slipped past, but not before he kissed her cheek and gave a wink. “Pass that along to the girls for me, Lizzie.”
Phaeton made his way up two flights of stairs and found the narrow door to the attic. A cool, invigorating breeze greeted him as he clamored onto the roof.
“Detective Black. Lovely afternoon for a trip down the Thames.” Mr. Tandi took care of both his suitcases.
Exeter’s man Friday untied the moorings as Phaeton stepped onto the ladder and climbed aboard ship. Exeter stood behind the mysterious globe at the helm of the craft and checked his pocket watch. “No time to lose.”
“And where is your lovely ward today?”
“Off to Oxford. Their latest curriculum for women. Still no degrees offered, as yet.”
Phaeton’s stomach lurched as the dirigible lifted into the air with surprising speed. Gliding over the dome of St. Paul’s, Phaeton turned back for one last glimpse of his fair city. Slanted, golden rays backlit thousands of rooftop chimneys all chugging black soot up into the atmosphere.
Phaeton blinked. The sight brought tears to one’s eyes, quite literally. Rather than linger too long on a city he had come to have great affection for, he changed the subject. “So, your young lady is grown up and off to college.”
“Yes, I will greatly miss her company.”
He could not hold back a grin. “I have no doubt it. Only—”
“Only what?” The doctor’s eyes turned to knives, or something equally deadly.
“It’s just that the casual observer might ... observe, that Miss Chadwick is stunningly attractive, and a bright vivacious young lady. A man would have to be blind not to notice the attraction between you.”
“Mia is not yet eighteen years of age. She is my ward. A responsibility I undertake with a great deal of seriousness.” Exeter took his eyes off the globe and stared. “What are you implying, Phaeton?”
“Look, I believe that’s Greenwich, is it not?” Phaeton clasped his hands behind his back, took a step toward the prow of the gondola, but swiveled back. “Simply put, she adores you.”
A glimmer of something—hope, possibly, mixed with a cloud of confusion in Exeter’s eyes. The doctor tried to protest, then clapped his mouth shut.
“Jason, it’s not as though you’re related by blood. There is a world of possibilities open to you both.” Phaeton winked.
At the bow, he was confronted with a hodgepodge fleet of sailing ships and steamers all making their way toward the channel. He had no doubt he would find her among the tall ships in the broadening section of river.
Too large. Too—foreign. He remembered a jaunty red and white striped jib sail.
“Ho! The
Topaz
!” Phaeton leaned over the bow and squinted. Yes, he was sure of it. “Can we take her down lower?” He looked for Exeter.
No one was at the helm. “Mr. Tandi will steer the airship, while I attempt to guide you down.” Exeter stood right behind him.
Phaeton’s gaze shifted nervously from Tandi to Exeter. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
The doctor grinned. “Take her down low, Mr. Tandi.” The airship made a gentle turn as graceful as a diving bird. “Up on the rails, Phaeton. We’re going to be coming in very low and very fast. Prepare to jump when I say so.”
Balanced on the edge of the bow, Phaeton glanced back at Exeter a bit wild-eyed. “Jump—?”
“You trust me, don’t you?”
Far below he heard shouts from the crew onboard ship. Phaeton turned to see a number of hands scurrying to get a look at the dirigible plunging toward them. Was that America? Hand above her eyes, trying to make out who or what sailed the skies above them. Yes, it was her.
Something foreign, but rather warm and glowing seized his chest. He turned back to the doctor. “This is good-bye then.”
“There is never good-bye for you and me.
À la prochaine fois
, till we meet again.” The doctor’s broad smile crinkled his eyes.
“How is it, all these years—” Phaeton stopped to catch his breath, savor the moment. “You’ve chased off devils and dragons, and now these last two bloody demigods ...”