Pike gave a small laugh; the kind that covered true fear. ‘Because it is not only a weapon. The Trinitas is said to have another use: it can open the door to the place where the Deceivers originate. Perhaps open a door to Hell, if, as many believe, that is where they come from. I think Benchley was set upon finding a way to destroy all the Deceivers at once.’
Helen gasped and Pike nodded his agreement. ‘Yes, true madness. A path that leads to the Deceivers will also lead back to us. Thankfully, there is only one Vis, the power source of the Trinitas, in existence and it is secure. Another cannot be manufactured.’
‘But what is it? Where is it held?’ Helen asked.
Pike shook his head. ‘You do not need that information.’
Clearly, she was to be trusted only so far.
Pike continued. ‘What we must face is the fact that the other two parts of the Trinitas have now been created, and one of them is in the hands of the Deceivers.’
Her fault. She had allowed the Deceivers to get a Colligat. And Philip was here in Brighton too, no doubt searching for the Ligatus.
‘The Grand Deceiver must be piecing together a Trinitas as well,’ she said. The sceptical lift of Pike’s brows drove her forward a step. ‘Do you still not believe that a Grand Deceiver is here?’
‘Considering the source of that information is Lord Carlston, I do not. It seems clear that Benchley was the one attempting to create a Trinitas.’
Helen stared at him, aghast. Men and their vendettas.
‘Even if you do not believe it, you should have all the Reclaimers set upon retrieving the journal,’ she said. ‘Not just me.’
‘No,’ he said sharply. ‘I do not know who has been involved. You are the only one who could not possibly have had a hand in its creation.’
‘You think some of the other Reclaimers helped Benchley?’ It took a moment, but Helen finally came to his true meaning. ‘You think Lord Carlston helped him make it. You think he is involved in this insane plan to open the doorway to the Deceivers?’
‘It takes many years to build a Ligatus, and Lord Carlston was Benchley’s protégé for at least five years before he was exiled under a murder charge.’ He paused, allowing that to sink in. ‘I also know Lord Carlston is suffering from some kind of mental decline. Maybe it is vestige madness, or maybe it is something else to do with the creation of a Ligatus.’ He raised his brows. ‘Perhaps you can tell me more about his state of mind?’
‘What do you mean?’ It was all she could manage through her shock. She could not — no, would not — believe his lordship had anything to do with building such a heinous creation.
‘I think you know exactly what I mean, Lady Helen. Mr Ryder, the former Home Secretary, was also at their recent meeting in London and he recognised the signs: the strange energy, the change in temper, a certain looseness in judgment. He wrote to say he had seen the same behaviour in Benchley at the start of his madness.’
‘He is mistaken.’
‘Has Lord Carlston shown any unreasonable violence? Any lack of judgment?’
Helen gripped her fan even more tightly. ‘I have seen none of that.’
‘I know you feel some kind of loyalty towards Lord Carlston.’ Helen clenched her teeth; the way he said it was so salacious. ‘But you must realise that the Dark Days Club cannot afford another Samuel Benchley. Nor can the world.’
Helen shook her head, drawing outraged breath, but Pike held up a hand, stopping her protest.
‘Yes, yes, I know, his lordship is nothing like Benchley. But neither was Benchley at the beginning. You met him at the end, Lady Helen, and you saw the depth of his insanity. His depravity.’
Yes, Helen remembered the snake-whip madness in the old Reclaimer’s eyes. She also remembered Lord Carlston’s horror at his mentor’s confessed involvement in the Ratcliffe murders.
‘His lordship would never kill a person for some unholy alchemical ritual,’ she said. ‘He condemned Benchley for his murder of those poor people. Besides, Quinn would never stay by his side if he did such a thing.’
‘A diseased mind can warp duty into many strange shapes, Lady Helen. If Mr Ryder is correct, then Lord Carlston is on his way to the same kind of decline as Benchley. Perhaps he started walking the path to such madness at the side of his mentor, before he took Mr Quinn as his Terrene.’
‘I cannot believe such a thing,’ Helen said.
Yet Mr Quinn had said his lordship’s excessive reclaiming on the Continent had been some kind of atonement. Was it for creating a Ligatus and not for failing to save his wife?
‘It does not matter what you believe. You are under order to inform me if he shows any further symptoms. Any aberrations in behaviour. We will not allow another Benchley. Is that clear?’
‘What will happen if he does show such signs?’
‘A rabid dog must be put down, Lady Helen. For the safety of society.’
He bowed and walked from the room, closing the door. The three candles flickered and jumped from the draught, making Helen’s lone silhouette shiver on the wall. She groped for the back of the sofa and leaned against it, unable to breathe past the shock of his words. It felt as if she had been struck in the chest. The journal was a Ligatus, and Pike had just threatened to execute Lord Carlston.
What must she do?
Warn Lord Carlston; it was the first impulse. Yet if she did, it would be a slippery slope to telling him everything. Cold blooded treason. And what if Lord Carlston did deteriorate into something like Mr Benchley? It was a terrible thought, but the possibility had to be faced. Pike was right about one thing: the world could not afford another monster like Samuel Benchley. That must never happen again.
She straightened, the vow giving her some kind of anchor in the wild wash of dread and fear. There was no easy answer to any of this; no way forward that did not place someone at risk, including herself. For now, all she could do was fix a smile in place, return to the salon, and pray that the Deceiver that lived as the Comte d’Antraigues knew what really ailed Lord Carlston, and was willing to make a deal for the cure.
Chapter Thirteen
Helen scanned the crowded salon and found Lord Carlston near the orchestra talking to another gentleman, his eye on the doorway. She watched him note her arrival, bid his companion farewell and start to thread his way across the room. Did he look more strained than he had before? Or was it Pike’s horrifying aspersions conjuring her worst fear? Could Carlston really have been party to Benchley’s mad plan?
‘Lady Helen!’
She turned. The call had come from the middle of a group of young officers. One of them moved aside and Delia came into view. She smiled and waved, disengaging herself from her admirers.
‘Is this not a wonderful party?’ she said, almost dancing up to Helen and taking her hands in an excited grip.
‘Wonderful,’ Helen echoed hollowly. The horror of her interview with Pike still buzzed through her bones. She pulled her hands free from her friend’s grasp in case she somehow transmitted her agitation. ‘Do you think we could sit down?’
‘Lady Helen.’ The smooth deep voice stopped her mid-request, recognition of its owner feathering down her spine.