At the end of a frustrating two hours, I felt sweaty, numb in my buttocks, and ready to declare the whole endeavor a waste of time. But there was a soft giggle from behind me, and Emily was floating Laura’s embroidery hoop in the air, telekinetically stitching. Her needlework was still rather clumsy and imprecise, but it was the most skillful use of her power I’d seen.
Next to me, Sebastian was still concentrating, but his grimace was slightly less pronounced. I grasped his warm hand and the current still flowed between us, but it did feel slightly fainter. I looked up to ask what he thought and saw his lips press hard together, as though he were suppressing a sob or smile. I could not say which. His eyes were dark and full of that emotion again, the one I could not discern.
“Miss Rosamund, are you all right?” Miss Chen asked.
Those words wrenched me around to find my sister standing by the fireplace, her eyes closed, a shy smile slowly taking form.
“Yes, I think so.… I felt something small. I thought it was a typical chill, but then I got another and it’s staying there even when I’m warmed.” Rose opened her eyes and met mine. “Ev, I think it might be lessened.”
I couldn’t help the silly grin that spread across my face, nor the hug I gave her. “That’s wonderful! Though you will have to test it on someone else. I still think you’re the best sister the world has ever known, so I’m not sure it’s really working that well—”
Rose smacked my shoulder playfully, a giddy smile on her face, color high on her cheeks. “Can’t you just say you hate me a little bit?” she said, giggling, and I was bowled over that such a simple thing could bring such good cheer—especially to my naturally serious sister after everything she had gone through. I had missed her smile almost as much as Sebastian’s.
“We shall have to ask Catherine,” I said, pulling Rose’s arm under mine and marching her to my friend, determined to cheer everyone up. “Catherine, isn’t Rose quite suddenly less pleasant to be around?” I tried to sound severe.
Behind her spectacles, Catherine’s eyes went perfectly round as she darted her gaze between us, her tongue poking out to wet her lips.
“I—”
“She thinks she might have controlled her power!” I bumped my hip to Rose’s and we both beamed at Catherine.
“I, well, of course. Yes, much deteriorated.” Catherine gave her a tentative smile. Rose turned a little, blushing, and I laughed.
Finally, there was a break in the heavy clouds that had been following us since the ball. Miss Chen had warned us this would take some years to perfect, but that didn’t matter. For the moment, at least, my friends were together and feeling a measure of hope, of lightheartedness, a play, at least, at normalcy.
Then the door slammed open, revealing a dour Mr. Kent and Mr. Adeoti. “There’s been a murder,” Mr. Kent said. “And the word is Sebastian Braddock is to blame.”
Chapter Eight
NOT A HALF-HOUR later we were standing in front of a nondescript building, our large, strange group—consisting of Mr. Kent, Sebastian, Miss Chen, Mr. Adeoti, Emily, Laura, and me—receiving plenty of stares. Laura had stubbornly refused to stay at home, saying she was worried her brother would hurt his ankle again. She had looked so terrified to be away from him and Emily that Mr. Kent decided she could come if Emily helped keep her out of the way. And with Tuffins driving the carriage, we could always send her home in a pinch.
“Oh! I forgot to mention this is a brothel.” With that advance warning, Mr. Kent knocked loudly on the door.
That explained the stares. “You brought your little sister to a brothel?” I hissed.
“Kit, you are not to touch anything.”
From the moment the word brothel left his lips, Laura seemed to regain some of her missing sense of mischief. Her eyes brightened a touch, and I am sure thousands of sensational novel plots tumbled through her head. “This, why, this is … scandalous.” She looked almost delighted. And had never been more right in her life.
Finally, a voice called out from inside, “Yea?”
“Hello, I heard someone was murdered here last night. Is that true?”
“Yes,” the man said and then let out an audible growl. “That’s no business of yours! Get on!”
“Miss Chen, your assistance would be invaluable,” Mr. Kent said.
There was a snap on the knob and the door cracked open. Mr. Kent pushed in past the blustering guard.
“You can’t come in—”
“We are paying customers!”
“No, we bloody well aren’t,” I said.
Mr. Kent smiled at the furious guard and continued inside. “Now, where did the murder occur?”
“The second floor,” the man answered before he muttered curses and escaped into what appeared to be the brothel equivalent to a morning room or parlor. As we reached the stairs, a lovely older woman emerged from the room, frowning at our group and frowning even more at Mr. Kent.
“Mr. Kent, what is the meaning of this?” she barked.
“Ah, good afternoon, Miss Molly,” Mr. Kent said as he ascended the stairs. “Heard you had a murder.” Of course Mr. Kent knew the proprietress.
Miss Molly followed us up. “You misheard. The body was found farther down the street.”
“Right where you moved it, I presume.”
She pursed her lips. “And what is it you want? To blackmail us, I suppose.”
“Of course not, blackmail is abhorrent. I would never,” Mr. Kent said, his metal hand to his heart. “I’ve come to do good. I was hoping to see where the crime occurred so we might look for clues.”
“The police were already here, making a fuss and scaring off the gents. I won’t have you further disturbing my … my tenants. Now be on your way.”
“Deeply sorry, that wasn’t a question. You’ll know when it’s a question,” Mr. Kent said with a chuckle.
“The police were here, Kent! Get out before I call them back.”
“You wouldn’t want me to start rumors about the health of your girls, now would you?”
“No.” Miss Molly grayed a little at that.
“Good. Then which room did it occur in?”
“The one at the end that is labeled The Truthseeker.” Miss Molly glared at him as she answered.
We all looked baffled by that. “Why does the room say that?” Mr. Kent asked.
“It’s these powers,” Miss Molly replied, waving the notion off. “My girls thought it would be amusing to dress up like some of those powered folks and play with the patrons. The men last night went wild for it.”
I pulled Laura to my side and put my hand in front of her eyes as we made our way along the second-floor landing, passing rooms labeled Death, The Enhancer, The Snow Queen, and even one that said The Healer. Oh goodness gracious.
My face went hot as that door opened and a painted girl stuck her head out. “Oy, Miss Molly, what’s the racket?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with, dear,” Miss Molly said. “Get some rest.”
“Which power is the most popular?” Mr. Kent had to ask.
“Death,” Miss Molly answered. “I had a line down the stairs for that one.”
Mr. Kent let out a heavy sigh. “Of course it is. People love brooding fools.” Sebastian just looked miserable, and Laura piped up with a series of inappropriate and fantastical questions:
“Have any dukes fallen in love here and rescued someone to become their duchess?”
“What about a girl who was disguised as a man and found a runaway sister here?”
“Do you have a mysterious past and broken heart and are you waiting for your long-lost love?”
As Mr. Kent was not repeating these questions, Miss Molly did not answer, preferring to glare at all of us.
At the end of the landing, a blackened door was already half-open. The inside of the room was a mess. Half the contents, along with the walls and floor, were charred black. There was no denying a fire had erupted and been contained in here.
Mr. Adeoti put his hand on a wall. “Aha. Jarsdel.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Jarsdel. He has a fire-based ability.”
“Where would we be without you?” Mr. Kent asked drily.
“Dead, probably,” Mr. Adeoti answered, sounding relatively unconcerned. “He didn’t really touch anything else in here. From what I can tell, he simply came in, seized the victim, and killed him. He was in another room, however.…”
“Which room?”
“The healer’s room,” he said blithely, then looked a little guilty as he turned to me.