The Spiritglass Charade (Stoker & Holmes 2)

Miss Kluger shifted the vehicle and braked, driving into a spot beneath a dark, heavy overhang. “You are quite clever, aren’t you?”

“I am a Holmes,” I replied modestly.

“And here we are.”

“And so I shall meet Gadreau now? Your partner—and, I must assume, your lover? The ringleader of this entire operation, and the current leader of La société. Is he expecting us?”

“He’s certainly not expecting you.” Miss Kluger’s tones had become irritated. “But I had to seize the opportunity to remove you when I found you at the house. You are, as you said, a Holmes.”

“I am.”

My companion turned off her vehicle. I turned my attention to the dirt-blackened brick wall looming above us. Clearly, there was a rear or hidden entrance, for the alley was deserted and there appeared to be no other sign of life. The only door was a heavy metal-and-cogged one of sturdy wood.

I maneuvered myself across the seat to follow my captive out of the vehicle once she opened the door. I was prepared for her to slam it closed on me, so I positioned my foot as a blockade . . . but either she didn’t think of it, or didn’t bother to try.

“Just to be clear . . .” I hauled myself out of the vehicle. This was a difficult prospect when maneuvering heavy skirts while training a gun on one’s companion. “I only wish to retrieve Willa, and her brother Robby—who I’ve deduced is still alive—and then I shall leave you to your revolting, blood-drinking société.”

“Is that so?”

“I have no qualms about using this weapon, and I can assure you, the steam that will shoot from it will sear your skin painfully. It’s unlikely you’d expire from the injury, but you’ll be hurting for some time. I want Willa and Robby. Oh, and Olympia Babbage as well. Then I shall be on my way.”

I sincerely hoped I was wrong about my other, deep-rooted fear. That there might be yet another person I would have to rescue. No. I shook my head. He wouldn’t.

Miss Kluger muttered something I took to be a reluctant assent, and I followed her to the door. My heart thudded and I drew in a deep breath as I pulled a heavy necklace from behind my bodice.

I had been prepared for everything so far. My deductions had been spot-on. I severely hoped that wouldn’t change.

She spun three of the cogs in the brass framework that embraced the door. I heard the clicks and automatically counted them, noting the direction she turned each one. It was rather like opening a safe, and focusing on such a mundane thing helped calm my nerves.

The cogs and gears released with a soft groan, then parted in the center of the door. My prisoner pushed it open and I followed her into a dark foyer.

The door closed behind us and I gripped the Steam-Stream gun more tightly. I hoped I hadn’t made a grievous error. And I hoped Miss Stoker would act on my message. Posthaste. The soiree at the Lyceum would have to wait.

Lives were at stake.

Including mine.

I kept the gun pressed into Miss Kluger’s back as she opened a door at the opposite side of the foyer. At once we were admitted to a spacious room.

My first impression was one of red. And heat. Cloying heat. And a heavy, metallic scent. Blood.

The walls were covered with expensive red fabric—velvet, silk, cotton, tapestry—and paintings. I recognized a Rembrandt and what I was certain was a da Vinci, not to mention a number of others. The furnishings were heavy and ornate, made of mahogany, wrought iron, and bamboo. The place would be quite cozy and luxurious if I didn’t know this was the lair of an UnDead. A fire burned in a large fireplace on one wall.

I found it enlightening that vampires wanted heat but could not tolerate sunlight.

Sofas and settees piled with silky pillows littered the chamber. Several bottles of wine and trays of food filled a table on one wall. And sitting in a large, thronelike chair was a man—presumably the Parisian vampire Gadreau. He was surrounded by a group of children—his gang of pickpockets.

Well then. I was going to have to rescue all of them, wasn’t I? I prodded Miss Kluger nearer.

“Bonjour, ma chère. I see you’ve brought us a visitor.” Gadreau didn’t rise from his seat, but gestured with a slender, effeminate hand. He spoke English with an accent. “And who might you be?”

“Miss Mina Holmes.”

We were close enough now that I could see the gleam of his fangs, protruding from beneath his upper lip. A striking man, attractive in an aristocratic way, he appeared to be about thirty years old. However, since he was a vampire, I knew he had to be older in actual years.

“Ah, Miss Holmes. Welcome.”

“I’m here for Willa Ashton. And Robby, her brother.” I scanned the group of boys while keeping an eye on Miss Kluger. Fortunately, I recognized Robby straightaway from his sister’s pictures and drew in a relieved breath. He was here, and alive.

Gadreau’s attention had settled on my chest. “I see you’ve come armed. So to speak.”

He referred to the silver cross I’d hung around my neck. “I always come prepared.”

“Indeed. And you seem to be in possession of someone most important to me.” He gestured to Miss Kluger. “And so if I give you Willa, and Robby—”

“And Miss Babbage.”

“Mademoiselle Babbage as well?”

“Yes. I’ll not leave without them. And the rest of these poor boys. I cannot in good conscience leave them to your evil ways.”

“But truly, Mademoiselle Holmes. You are very strict. How am I to live if I do not have my boys? My little—what do the English call them? My little snakesmen are indispensible to me.”

“I’m certain they are. Your band of pickpockets has garnered quite a reputation here in London as having the fastest and lightest of fingers. I’m certain the credit is all yours, enthralling them and training them as you have—after you abducted them. Or was it Miss Kluger who provided them for you?”

“But of course. I cannot go out in the daylight in search of those best suited for my work. Oui, my darling Geraldine has always had a talent for finding those with slick, elegant fingers and sharp eyes.”

I turned to Miss Kluger in outrage. “Your own nephew? You would have sentenced him to work for an UnDead? Is it not bad enough that you have committed yourself to a life with him, but your innocent nephew as well?”

“It was Robby’s own fault.” She drew up and away from me. “He saw me walking through here—it was the night he’d followed Herrell to his boxing club. Herrell sent him home, and while he was riding in a cab, Robby saw me. He followed me and Gadreau, and by the time I noticed—”