These Vengeful Souls (These Vicious Masks #3)

Only Sebastian was nowhere inside.

There was a soft creaking from the ceiling, and I paused, realizing Sebastian’s room was right above us. What did he think? We would forget that he was supposed to join us? And was it progress that he was annoyed enough with me to be out of my presence?

Silly, silly man. I padded up the stairs and found his bedroom door closed.

I knocked loudly. “Hiding, again?”

No response.

“Don’t you wish to control your powers?” I asked.

Apparently not.

“It’s the only way we’ll be able to deal with Captain Goode,” I said, hoping it would provoke him into responding. “Well, except shooting him, perhaps. But you seem intent on making me miss my shot.”

The door opened a crack. “I didn’t want you to take a shot at all,” he argued.

I was there before he could close it. “Why not?”

He sighed, his not-inconsiderable bulk useless against my well-placed foot. He let the door open, greeting me with his stormy face and crossed arms. “Because I didn’t want to make everything worse. That’s all I ever seem to do. It doesn’t matter what our intentions are. We have to consider the effects.”

He had a point.

“You are right. I’m sorry. But that shouldn’t stop you from training.” He frowned and said nothing. “You cannot possibly be against training. It is the opposite of a harebrained plan.” I knew he was annoyed with me, but I was truly unsure what he could have against learning to control his power.

He sighed again before beginning to speak haltingly. “What if I … what if I accidentally heighten my power in the attempt to lower it?” He leaned against the doorjamb, his body forming a curved bow, full of tension. He really did have to worry about the worst case in every situation.

“I … don’t know,” I said.

His face was turned down so I could only see the curl of hair on his forehead, his lips pulled tight against his teeth.

I stepped forward so there was very little space between us. His lashes lifted a little, and there was something entirely unreadable in his eyes for a moment. My skin began to itch, and I felt a blush coming on. So I pressed on, ignoring the way the air felt suddenly warm and heavy.

“I promise you don’t have to do anything. We can just listen to what she has to say.”

He pushed himself away from the door. Sebastian had never been one for broad smiles, but as he ran his hand across his face for a long moment, I thought I would do anything—anything in the world—to see Sebastian smile again. And I had to continually swat the little voice inside of me that suggested maybe kissing him would make everything better, when I knew very well it would only make things worse. So I offered the one thing I had to make it better.

“I promise I will be right there with you—no rash or impulsive actions,” I pressed, holding out my hands innocently.

He eyed me carefully. “And if my power raises—”

“I’ll be training, too. And I’d raise mine to match yours,” I promised. I would raise my powers to the heavens if it meant Sebastian taking on a little less guilt.

He didn’t smile, but his shoulders finally slumped in defeat. “Fine.” He gestured down the hall and waited for me to go before him.

“If anything happens, I am leaving.”

“I will go with you,” I said. “And if you ever get sick of me, I’ll remove my hand and give it to you.”

“Please … don’t do that.”

“Very well, we’ll try it this way,” I conceded, feeling him take my hand protectively as we entered the parlor.

Rose was sitting on the floor, her skirts arranged artfully in front of her as she gave Miss Chen her full attention. Laura was settled between Emily and Catherine on the sofa, looking small and scared. Catherine reached out to give her arm a little pat, then pulled her over so Laura was leaning against her.

Sebastian and I settled onto the rug near Rose, and Emily floated over to us.

“Here,” she said. The bit of fabric she and Laura had been fiddling with at breakfast landed in Sebastian’s hands. He slowly uncurled it to find inexpertly sewn initials at the bottom corner in a bright yellow thread.

“It’s for your crying,” Emily added, giving him a tentative smile.

“I…” Sebastian struggled with how to accept this very kind and bluntly given gift. “Thank you, Miss Kane,” he said finally, carefully folding it.

Emily’s smile became a wide grin and I had to curb my own as Miss Chen began her lesson.

She cleared her throat and leaned on the fireplace mantel. “Now, I can’t promise everyone here that I know all there is to know about this,” Miss Chen began, rubbing her hands together briskly. “I’ve been doing it for a year and I still can’t get my power as high or low as Captain Goode could, but I’ll try to tell you some of what I learned from those bastards.”

And so she did. She started by leading us through a series of odd breathing and imagination exercises. “First, everyone close your eyes. Try not to think. Breathe. Concentrate on this room. Listen to my voice, the sounds around us.”

The logs snapped and popped in the fireplace behind her. The windows rattled from the winds outside. Soot purred softly from Laura’s lap.

“I want you to remember what it felt like when Captain Goode took control of your powers. Mr. Braddock, Miss Rosamund, there’s a chill that runs through your body when he takes it from you. Try to remember how that felt the first time. Try to remember the cold that settled in the pit of your stomach. The strange lightness, the feeling that something was gone.”

Her voice wrapped around us as she paced about the room. “Miss Wyndham, Miss Kane, try to remember that warmth your heightened power gave you. The power you felt running through your veins. Try to remember all the possibilities that opened up to you.”

I closed my eyes and breathed, imagining the blood beneath my skin warming, letting my healing power grow in my gut, pooling into a shimmering orb. The memory of the last time slid into my mind. The desperate fury flowing through me at the ball. The strangeness of Captain Goode’s intrusive touch. The satisfaction of seeing his throat slit and bleeding.

“Miss Wyndham, I can tell you’re thinking about Captain Goode,” Miss Chen said. “Focus less on murdering him, more on the power.”

Right. A heavy breath left me. My fists relaxed into gentle non-strangling hands. I peeked open one eye to check on Sebastian. His eyes were shut, his eyelids fluttering as if he were dreaming of something better. He was trying. Despite all his fears, despite London’s opinion of him, despite the vivid memories of Captain Goode and Mae this dredged up, he still found the courage to try.

And he trusted me to help him.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on Miss Chen’s other approaches.

“Some people try to recreate a moment when they’ve had their powers raised. They recall the smell of the room, the objects they were looking at, the thoughts they had. Others think about the actual experience of using their enhanced powers—the urgency, the strain. I’ve heard others describe it as a switch. I realize how absurd this sounds, but do try to imagine a switch inside your chest, and pull it up or down.”

I tried again and again, settling into a calm state of mind, letting images, sensations, and switches run through until my mind grew quite agitated, forcing me to start over. Memories of healing my friends did little until the thought of Sebastian stirred something inside me. My heart leapt, my eyes shot open, and then I realized it was my stomach growling.

Dammit. I should have known I’d be terrible at this.

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