He was trying hard to reassure her, and for that she should have been thankful, but Ada couldn’t throw off the despair that squeezed her like a corset laced beyond all reason.
She sank down in the very seat her friend had just occupied and ran her trembling fingers over the lacquered arm rests. He’d been right here.
Right here.
She stared out over the auditorium, empty now, but for a few last wisps of white smoke. “It was him, wasn’t it? The one who wants my device.”
Cheeks flushed with anger, Edison glared at the doors to the lobby. “Most likely.”
Ada screwed her eyes shut. Regret swirled inside her, mixing with anger and fear and shame to twist her stomach into a painful knot.
Henry rushed in from the lobby. “They knocked her down,” he said, his voice thick with outrage. “Knocked her straight to the ground.”
“I’m fine.” Nelly followed more slowly. She seemed far more concerned with the streaks of dust on the arms of her white blouse. “Been bashed about a lot harder than that.”
Henry pointed at her reddened cheek. “You just wait until I find those pigs. Think they can strike a lady.” He glared down at the mark on Nelly’s cheek. “I’ll teach them a thing or two about manners.”
Instead of the sharp retort Ada expected, Nelly turned away from him, cheeks lightly pink, a small, secret smile curving her lips.
“See anything of use?” Spencer asked Nelly.
The smile evaporated. “I’d recognize the goons should I happen on ‘em, but they took ‘im off in a hired cab. Nothing outta the ordinary about it.”
Ada let their talk wash over her like waves at the shore, unable to concentrate on anything but Stanton’s fate. Whoever took him had already killed at least twice. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to banish the lifeless face of that poor woman in the alleyway. Even Ravensworth, the priggish sot, had fallen victim.
It was too much. Too much terror. Too much violence. Too much risk for too little return.
“They only took him because they couldn’t get to you,” Edison said.
“He’s right.” Meena patted Ada’s shoulder. “We’ll be hearing from them before the day is out.”
“They’ll want you in exchange,” Spencer added. “And the device.”
“Oh we’ll give them a device.” Edison’s voice was edged with fury.
Despite her own anger at the kidnappers, Ada shuddered. The force of his rage shimmered behind a wall of self-restraint, making it all the more intimidating.
There wouldn’t be much left of anyone foolish enough to have stoked his wrath.
Ada forced herself to breathe slowly, deeply. The league would rescue Stanton. She had every faith in their drive and their extraordinary abilities.
None of which would do a blazing thing to relieve her guilt.
When she discovered her battery truly did work, she’d been so exhilarated, so full of pride. Now those good feelings had soured, turning to acid. Her discovery was responsible for so much danger, so much pain and fear.
She glared up at the automaton resting next to the podium, oblivious to the panic and fear still swirling through the room. How she longed to tear out her battery and chuck the damned thing straight off a bridge.
Chapter 24
Edison set the delicate bell jar on the countertop before he gave in to the urge to smash it, and tried to unclench his teeth. Insisting Ada accompany him to shop for chemicals was proving to be one of his poorer decisions.
If she contradicted him one more time, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from hurling something satisfyingly heavy through the center of Mr. Grimstout’s front window.
Not that the poor shopkeeper shouldered any of the blame for his sour mood.
He hefted a jar of boric acid. Tilting it this way and that, watching the white powder pile up along one wall of the canister before sliding, sandlike, to the other, he considered the best way to construct a flash grenade.
A pocket-sized object that could be lobbed quickly and quietly would have great value as a distraction.
Given what they’d soon be up against, success could hinge on the slightest advantage.
More importantly, he wanted to keep Ada’s mind off of her friend, which was why he’d insisted she join him at the chemical works despite how clear she’d made it that his company was unwelcome.
He watched her frowning over a selection of blown glass beakers. The strain showed in her face, in the downturn of her lips, in the slump of her normally straight, strong shoulders. Strain was eating at him, too, and he’d had his whole life to get used to carrying the burden.
They didn’t really need any more supplies. He had more flash grenades and whistles and smoke-spewing disodorizers than the lot of them could carry. He’d simply thought a distraction might do her good.
Might do him good, if he were honest.
No sense knocking about the league offices with nothing to do but watch Meena and Briar duel with their parasols while trying to pretend he didn’t ache to forget his gentlemanly intentions and sweep Ada into his arms.
Edison set the jar down and stole a glance in her direction. She seemed transfixed by a row of powdered dyes on the shelves behind the counter. Her arms were folded across her chest, her expression grim.
He cleared his throat so loudly he startled the aging shopkeeper who almost dropped the vial in his hands. “I’m thinking about trying potassium nitrate in my flash grenades,” he announced.
“Potassium perchlorate will be more stable,” Ada insisted.
Edison pinched the bridge of his nose. “The nitrate will create higher flames.”
“Fine.” Ada shrugged. “That’s more suited to your style.”
“I have a style?”
Gaze still firmly on the shelf, she snorted.
He narrowed his eyes. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m not suggesting anything.”
“You most certainly are.”
“If you say so.” Ada turned to the shopkeeper. “The potassium nitrate will do, thank you. Three grams should suffice.”
The man nodded and started pouring powder onto the scale.
Edson waved off her order. “Never mind that. We’ll take the perchlorate. Five grams.”
The shopkeeper sighed and set the first canister down, pouring back the portion he’d already measured. His movements swift and precise, he set the scale to measure out the requested amount. Then he paused, graying eyebrows rising toward his receding hairline, and held the jar up in a silent question.
“The perchlorate. Definitely.” Edison answered the unasked query.
“The nitrate,” Ada said firmly, talking over him.
Grimstout set both canisters on the countertop, crossed his arms over his chest… and waited.
“We’ll have both.” Ada glared at Edison as she spoke, daring him to contradict her.
“Fine.” Edison acquiesced. The whole point of the errand had been to get her mind off the trap they were setting. From that point of view, his strategy was working quite well… if not pleasantly.
The shopkeeper hadn’t moved from his spot.
“Both will do,” Edison confirmed.