“She died of scarlet fever. Everybody knows.”
“Everybody knows as much as I’ve told them.” Agrippa went to the cell door and leaned against the bars, looking into the hall. “Gwen was the brightest, most brilliant girl. From the moment of her baptism, I knew she was a miracle. God help me, I indulged her in every possible way. After we found that tapestry, I thought she was the prophesied one.
“But the Ancients called to her. I don’t know how or why, but in her the pull was extraordinary. I noticed her short temper, her sullenness, her questing interest in them. From where had they come? Why? What did they want with us? She grew violent and hot-tempered, read every book on the Ancients she could find. She used her powers to damage objects. She hurt people. She complained of terrible dreams.”
“Dreams?” I sat up straight. “What kind of dreams?”
“Dreams of fog. That’s all she’d tell me,” he said. Dreams of fog, indeed. Dreams of a Skinless Man with an offer, more likely. “It got to the point where I had to lock her in her room. Then, one night, she disappeared.
“For an entire week, I feared the worst. I searched every corner of London, until the day she materialized on my doorstep. She looked feverish and strange, and I put her to bed. Later in the night, I heard a noise—I’d been patrolling her hallway, making sure she did not run again—and I entered her room. It was full of a hellish light, and voices whispered in the corners. The language they spoke wasn’t human.
“She stood with her back to me, facing the window. The mirror shook; the combs and brushes on her vanity jumped. She turned to me. ‘I see now, Daddy,’ she told me, holding out her hands. ‘Daddy, I can see so well now.’
“She held her eyes in her hands. She’d torn them out. Blood ran down her cheeks like tears, and the laughter.” Agrippa paused, cleared his throat, and continued. “At that moment, there came a sound at the window. An enormous black beast, like a stag, pawed to be let in. I fainted. When I woke, the window was open and Gwen had vanished.”
That Familiar with the threaded eyes. It couldn’t be.
“You think I’m on the same path?” My voice was hoarse. Wasn’t I? I had the dreams. I’d used my power against my friends. I was unpredictable. I had felt the temptation to submit to R’hlem. I…
I had refused R’hlem’s hand. I would never give in to him.
“I don’t believe that women should do magic now,” Agrippa said, his tone mournful. “Whether witch, sorcerer, or magician, they cannot be trusted to control their abilities. The dark powers call to them too strongly.”
“I’m not Gwendolyn.” I had made mistakes, but I would never be Gwendolyn.
“Women are ruled by emotion, and when they receive power, they warp themselves to fit it. You can’t help yourself. I’m not doing this because I hate you.” Tears spilled down his cheeks. “I’m trying to save your soul. I cannot allow such a terrible thing to happen to another girl I love.” Love? My throat tightened, my eyes burned. He didn’t love me if he wanted to kill me. “I would rather that you died tomorrow, innocent and pure, than be called into the service of the Ancients.”
“Do the others know?” I couldn’t bear to think of Blackwood smiling at me as he led me off the dance floor to my death.
He shook his head. “They think you’ve been escorted elsewhere for the evening. When it’s over tomorrow, I’ll tell them.”
“And what of Rook?” I clenched my jaw.
“Rook will be fine. I’ll see to it.” But I trembled to think of what might happen to him once his own abilities were discovered. Agrippa tried to take my hands. “Henrietta, I know you can’t understand now, but one day—”
“One day when I am dead?”
“When you are in God’s own kingdom, safe and secure, you will thank me.”
A thought occurred. “Last night when you cried by the fire and said it will be so hard to let me go, you meant to my death. Didn’t you? I thought, stupidly, that you would miss having me in your home.”
“From the moment I met you at Brimthorn, I felt so much affection for you. You’re as dear to me now as any child of my own flesh.” He took my face into his hands and wiped tears from my eyes that I didn’t know had appeared.
“Don’t let them kill me,” I whispered.
He visibly struggled with himself. “One day you’ll understand.”
“I never will.” I pulled back, stifling a sob. “Get out. I can’t talk to you anymore.”
“Listen to me—”
There was commotion upstairs. We jumped at the echoed sounds of shouting through the corridors, of running to and fro. Cursing, the guard unlocked the door and let Agrippa out.
“What’s happening?” I said.
“Hush up,” the guard snapped as he locked the door. He spoke with Agrippa as they moved for the stairs. Agrippa looked back one last time and vanished. I listened to the shouts and shrieks, running, and what sounded like pots and pans clattering to the floor. Mystified, I clutched the bars and waited. Twenty minutes later, my guard returned. He mopped the sweat from his brow and took up his post again.
“What was it?” I said.
“Why don’t you be quiet like a good girl. It’s nothing that concerns you.”
—
THEY HAD PORRIDGE, AND WITHOUT IT I was lost. I twisted my wrists about in the manacles over and over again, but there was no way I could work a hand free.
“You all right, miss? I mean, you don’t need water or nothing?” the guard said, peering at me through the bars as though I were some exotic animal on display. My golden ball gown was perhaps not the normal prison fashion. He smiled as he looked at me in my cage. Something about the expression on his face struck me as being overly friendly.
“No water, thank you.”
“You’re polite. Poor little thing.” He was a young blond man with a bit of a second chin. He leaned against the bars. “You know, they got different ways of treatin’ sorcerers and magicians. Sorcerers, they take the stave and chain ’em, and that’s that. With magicians, they chain the neck to the feet, so that they can’t stand up, and chain the hands behind the back. Gag ’em, too, so they can’t speak. Back in the old days, they’d even cut out the tongue. Master Agrippa ordered you was to be treated like a sorcerer. Very good of him.”
“Yes.” I tried to conceal my revulsion. Why was he looking at me in so familiar a way? “Can you tell me where I am?”
“The Tower of London. This is the magic wing. They built these cells for troublesome magic users hundreds of years ago.”
Another guard in uniform came down the stairs. “It’s my turn,” said a young man with a rough voice.
“No it ain’t. She’s mine for the night. They already told me,” my guard said, sounding annoyed. “Go on.”
“You’re due for a break.”
“Come back in an hour. I’m busy.” After some more hushed words, he sent the young man back up the stairs. The blond guard leaned against the bars. He smiled at me. “You got nothin’ to worry about from me,” he said. “Them others might mistreat you, bein’ a dangerous magician and all. I won’t hurt you.”
“Thank you,” I muttered. His gaze was unsettling.
“Lockin’ up a pretty little thing like you.” He sighed. “What’s the world comin’ to?”
I turned to the wall, considering. He thought I was only a weak, pretty little girl. What had Magnus said about acting? Show them what they want to see, and they’ll believe anything.
Concentrating, I set fire to the bottom of my gown and screamed. The guard threw open the door and helped me beat the flames out. Much to my distaste, I pretended to faint.
“Careful!” the guard said, catching me as I collapsed. He touched my cheek. “Poor, scared little thing, ain’t ya?”
“My powers are so temperamental,” I whimpered.
“How could they harm a sweet little thing like you?” he said, sounding cross. I gave a weary sigh. He lifted me up in his arms, set me down on my cot, and left. I forced myself to lie there for ten minutes, waiting for the right opportunity. “They taught you all this fancy magic stuff?” the guard said, returning to the door.