Sebastian’s grip tightened around my hand, sending a surge of his power through my veins and it was the only thing that kept me certain the other was an impostor. The Sebastian below looked a bit bigger and seemed to wear a more sinister expression, but they looked nearly identical. In the corner of my eye, I could see Miss Chen and Emily glancing at our Sebastian to make sure he was still here underneath the bearded disguise. What in God’s name was going on? Was this the work of another shifter like Camille?
Now with a target to focus on, some of the guards hurried past the stage and aimed their rifles at this impostor Sebastian. He did not break his stride. He gave a lazy wave, and the world rumbled around him. More cries of shock went up, and the crowd pointed upward. The top part of the cracked left tower dislodged itself, but it didn’t fall. It teetered. As if someone was holding it on the very edge, keeping it from tipping over.
“Emily,” I said, desperately turning to her. “Can you stop him?”
“I can’t!” she whispered, her face looking especially pale. “Nothing’s working.”
“Miss Chen?”
“I keep trying to break the ground under him,” she answered, looking grim. “And—oh, that filthy little bastard.” Her eyes began to search the crowd.
“Maybe we can just grab the Que—”
“Not one move!” the impostor yelled, his voice echoing more than it should. “Or the tower will drop!”
The shadow of the tower loomed over the stage, threatening to crush the speakers along with my last remaining idea. We watched helplessly as the impostor climbed up the stage and passed through the flames without any injury.
“We have to do something,” I said, trying to pull Sebastian with me.
“No.” Miss Chen blocked me with her arm. “I’ve seen this before.”
That comment gave me pause. “You’ve seen an assassination attempt on the Queen with someone threatening to drop the Westminster Abbey tower on her…?”
“I’ve seen illusions like this.…,” she replied, scrutinizing the scene with her opera glasses.
“Sebastian Braddock, your reign of terror ends today!” a new voice yelled below. Three figures entered the tense standoff. Captain Goode was fully dressed in his navy-blue military regalia, looking the part of the hero. He stood intimidatingly tall but with a bit of noticeable bulk, like a former soldier who had only recently settled into a cozy promotion. A wave of revulsion roiled through me, and I snarled without quite meaning to. Behind him stood a tall blond woman and Miss Quinn, who extinguished the flames on their side of the stage as they climbed up.
“Captain Goode!” the impostor Sebastian shouted. “You can’t stop me!”
I covered Miss Chen’s glasses. “What do you mean by illusions?”
“There was a sniveling ass named Pratt at the Society who could create people and objects out of nothing,” Miss Chen said, setting the glasses down. “They look and sound real, but if you try to touch them or attack them, you’d simply go through them like a ghost. There isn’t anything of substance to break.”
“So there’s nothing attacking the Queen right now?” I asked. “What about Captain Goode?”
“He’s defending the Queen from nothing—it’s all a show,” Miss Chen replied, putting the opera glasses back up to her eyes.
Back down on the stage, Captain Goode was putting his hands up in a peaceful gesture to the fake Sebastian, trying to slip closer to the Queen. “What is it that you want? No one has to get hurt.”
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” the impostor replied, lifting his hands up, aiming his palms at the Queen. “More people must die, starting with her!”
A bright blast shot out of the impostor’s hands straight at the Queen, but the surprisingly nimble Captain Goode got there first. He took the stream of attacks in the chest, yelling in pain as he shielded the Queen until the impostor seemed to run out of energy.
Captain Goode raised his chin triumphantly. “I’ve shut down your power, Braddock! It’s over!” he declared triumphantly, nodding at his blond friend.
“No! It cannot be!” the impostor Sebastian cursed, falling to his knees.
My mind was reeling, and I smacked at the railing ineffectually. No, no, no. There were too many absurd sights at once to comprehend. It felt like a dream. The powers being put on full display to the public, Sebastian attacking the Queen—and now, Captain Goode escorting her off the stage, looking as noble as anything. This could not happen. I turned wildly to my friends.
“Emily, can you grab Captain Goode?” I asked.
“No, Miss Kane, please don’t do that,” Mr. Kent said, setting his hand down on Emily’s. “Miss Wyndham, we aren’t at all prepared to deal with that.”
“But he’s right there,” I urged. “We have to do something—Miss Chen.”
She gave me a sidelong look. “Tell me you’ve a better plan than lifting Captain Goode up, bringing him close enough to shut down our power, and then dying painfully when the rest of the Society catches up.”
“We’d run,” I said.
“Right. Run then die, and painfully. Sorry, but no.”
Gunshots drew our attention back to the fight. Without his powers, the impostor Sebastian pulled out a pistol and fired several shots at the escaping Queen. With Captain Goode and the nearby guards shielding her with their bodies, she remained unscathed. Not that it mattered, as the bullets were imaginary, apparently.
“Miss Fahlstrom, now!” Captain Goode shouted.
His mysterious blond companion fired electric sparks at impostor Sebastian’s hand from behind, knocking his gun away. She fired more shots that he managed to dodge as he floated back into the air and waved dramatically in the direction of the precarious abbey tower. He waited for a moment, and when it did not come crashing down as intended, he turned to discover that it was now secure again. Miss Quinn had frozen it in place.
The impostor gave an almost inhuman roar as he made his escape. “I will have my revenge, Goode!”
“I’ll be waiting!” Captain Goode shouted back.
Mr. Kent bared his teeth, speaking tightly through them. “I believe I owe the Whitechapel penny theater a formal retraction and an apology. This is by far the worst acting in the entire city.”
“Apparently the rest of this audience doesn’t think so,” Miss Chen replied somberly.
The ridiculous crowd roared as Captain Goode and his companions escorted the Queen back down the pathway toward us. Some even took up a chant of his name.
So this was what he meant by “enlightening the public.” A shiver went down my spine as I took in the sheer number of people around us who believed Captain Goode to be the hero. And Sebastian the villain.
I could not let this stand. I had to do something.
I watched as the Queen, Captain Goode, and his companions made their way back toward the royal carriage, feeling ineffectual and desperate.
“This is bad; this is very bad,” I said, tightening my hold on Sebastian’s hand. “We need to go now.”
There was no argument. Sebastian and the rest of our group followed close behind as I squeezed through the crowd and more bodies surged in to take our perfect viewing location. I burst through the stairway door and flew down one floor, two—
“It’s that … way,” Sebastian said, sounding a bit unsure of himself as I pulled him into the second-floor corridor.
“Come on,” I replied, forcing him to the other end of the building. “We have to get to a window.”
We burst into a crowded parlor, at which point I simply started shoving through people with all my strength. Ladies yelped and gentleman harrumphed as I slipped through gaps and made ones where there were none. Poor Sebastian was trying to keep up while simultaneously apologizing to the people I left in my wake.
“What are you doing?” Sebastian called. “Evelyn.”
I pulled out of Sebastian’s hold, feeling him leave my veins as I made it to the open window. One last solid push through a couple and the clear view of the abbey was there, welcoming me. I leaned out as far as I dared and found the Queen’s carriage waiting two floors below. Captain Goode, his companions, and the Queen were crossing the street to their escape, heads together as Captain Goode spoke rapidly.
I reached into my coat for Mr. Kent’s pistol, the metal wondrously heavy in my hand. I pointed it out the window and closed one eye, taking aim down the tiny barrel, holding my breath, ignoring the gasps behind me. One good shot and I would end this nightmare right now.