The sound of the wind swirling in the smashed foyer could be heard throughout Hartley Hall. It was a breezy evening with a hint of autumn chilling the house. Certainly it was far warmer than the frozen landscape of Nepal where they had left the grateful Ishwar after he refused their kind offer to return with them. Kate sat staring out at the light of the setting sun through the trees. She preferred the Blue Parlor to the library now because some of the landscape in the rear of the house had survived. The vestiges of the old gardens calmed her. She was also warmed by the sound of Imogen’s soft breathing. Her sister sat on the sofa next to her with her head on Kate’s shoulder. She had drifted off to sleep almost an hour ago. Her little hedgehog curled on her lap, making drowsy snorting sounds. Kate knew she should send Imogen off to bed—tomorrow would be a grueling day—but she couldn’t bear to wake her.
Her thoughts strayed to the last blood test she had run on Imogen. She had incorporated elements of the active substance that Penny had discovered in the key. Kate was convinced there had been a transformation in Imogen’s inhuman blood; it seemed to have changed color to a deeper red. She knew she was on the right path to grasping the biological mechanism of Imogen’s alteration. She was gaining on Dr. White’s knowledge of advanced alchemy. Soon, she would catch him and undo his vile work.
Charlotte lay on the floor near the popping coal grate. She hummed happily and drew pictures. Lying beside her was Aethelred, his warm brown eyes watched Charlotte furiously sketching. The girl needed little sleep. Her fire burned hot at all times. Kate watched the small hand grasping a thick pencil; that hand would soon turn huge and violent and deal out death. It was still an incomprehensible thing.
Kate shoved those thoughts from her head. “What are you drawing, dear? Is it a cow?”
Charlotte looked at Kate with indignation. “A cow? No!” She held up the large sheet, tugging it free from under the dog’s chin. It was the back of a strip of wallpaper from one of the house’s wrecked walls. “It’s Mr. Malcolm!”
“Oh?” Kate squinted at the dark shape. “Oh. Yes, of course. I see it clearly. Is that his … arm?”
“It’s his gun.” Charlotte raised her pencil toward the window like the barrel of a pistol. “Boom! Boom!”
“Shh, dear.” Kate glanced stiffly at her sister, who hadn’t moved. “Imogen is sleeping.”
Charlotte clamped a hand over her mouth, and mumbled, “Sorry.”
Kate smiled and consulted the clock on the mantel. “It’s time for your wulfsyl.” She made a mental note to test the latest batch precipitating in the laboratory.
The girl huffed. “Can I wait for few more minutes?” Wulfsyl was usually the sign it was time for bed.
Kate knew it was best to preserve routine, particularly during chaotic times, but again, she wanted to sit in the quiet parlor with her two girls for a while longer. “Very well. Just a few minutes.”
“Thank you. Who should I draw now?”
“Whom should I draw now? Why don’t you draw yourself?”
Charlotte pursed her lips in doubt. “No. I’m not good at hair.”
“All right. What about Imogen?”
“She doesn’t like it.”
Kate tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I drew her once last winter, but she got mad and tore it up.”
“Was it a mean drawing?”
“No!” Charlotte covered her mouth again. “No. It was nice. It looked like her, and she didn’t like it.”
Kate felt a sharp pang in her chest at the thought of Imogen confronting a drawing of her mutated appearance. She reached up and laid a gentle hand on her sister’s cheek. Imogen stirred restlessly, then settled back against Kate with a sigh.
Charlotte rolled back onto her paper and brandished her pencil. “I’ll draw you and Mr. Simon.”
“All right. That sounds nice.”
Charlotte started scribbling. “Miss Kate, are you going to marry Mr. Simon?”
“I don’t know, dear.” Kate chuckled as she stroked Imogen’s misshapen hand. “Do you think I should?”
“I think you should. He’s funny.”
“Yes, he is funny. But he hasn’t asked me to marry him.”
“He will.”
“Well, I’ll make that decision when he does.”
Charlotte bolted up with sudden alarm. Her face was stricken. “You won’t say no, will you?”
“Calm yourself, dear. Are you that worried about it?”
Charlotte’s lower lip protruded and began to quiver. “If you say no, he might leave. And then what happens to all of us? Where will Mr. Malcolm live?”
Kate tried to lean forward without disturbing Imogen. “Relax, Charlotte. No one is leaving. All of us will live here at Hartley Hall for as long as we wish. You, me, Mr. Simon, and Mr. Malcolm.”
“And Miss Penny?”
“Yes. Her too.”
“And Imogen!”
“Of course. This is our house. We’ll all be together.”
Charlotte let out a great breath and fell back against the wolfhound. “Oh good!”
The door creaked open and Penny appeared. She glanced in but hesitated to enter, as if she was concerned about interrupting a family moment of which she was no part. Kate caught the engineer’s eye and motioned her inside. Penny carried the steel-and-crystal heart of the altar from Gaios’s island.
“Penny,” Kate said with mild disapproval, “are you still working with that thing? You should take a moment at least to relax.”
“This is relaxing.” Penny waved at Charlotte and pointed at the picture. “Nice one of Malcolm.”
Kate rolled her eyes, and asked, “Were you looking for Simon? I believe he’s in the library.”