Time for him to change what having his powers meant.
“Is this everything?” Miss Chen asked, picking up the last stack of books.
I cleared my throat. “I think so.”
“You do know that half these historical records are probably nonsense?” she asked, looking through them dubiously.
I did know. But for the past three days, I had been driving everyone mad worrying over Sebastian, despite Rose’s constant assurances that he would be well. I found it impossible to be easy until his power was lowered and I could see him with my own eyes. Helping him this way was the next best thing.
“Even the smallest bit of information might be important,” I said, clutching the volume to my chest. “Besides, Catherine would kill me if we left anything behind. Or let any of these get damaged.”
Miss Chen’s gaze snapped up and away from them. “That is a very good point,” she said, leading the way out.
The wooden library doors closed behind us with a great ache.
The building sat silent—none of the usual muffled sounds of training sessions or mission meetings. It had been three days since the Tower of London attack, and not a single member had returned. With Parliament still locked in discussions over what to do with the Society, we thought it best to make the decision for them. Starting with the removal of all the records, so powered people couldn’t be tracked and turned into tools for the government.
We circled the first floor one last time, checking for anything we might have missed. We passed familiar rooms and sights, the place barely changed under Captain Goode’s command. His office was eerie, and it felt like he had left only moments before. It still smelled like him—a thick, overwhelming scent of burnt lavender that filled the small room, finding its way into the pores of the wood paneling. It was neat, free of dust, and the only thing left was a thin notebook lying in a desk drawer. We took that, too, and continued down the quiet corridors, striding away from his ghost.
But there were ghosts everywhere, my stomach turning at the memories provoked by the morbid tour. The parlor where Miss Grey had accepted Captain Goode’s offer, eager to help the world. The garden where Oliver had trained and played. The foyer where Mr. Redburn had dropped us all after our trip to retrieve Sebastian. I hated that the Society hadn’t been what Miss Grey wanted. I hated that it hadn’t given her and Oliver the safety and guidance they needed. I hated that they had died for it. All I could do for them now was ensure their successors had better lives, the lives Miss Grey and Oliver had deserved. That still didn’t feel like enough, but I didn’t know if anything ever would.
A loud crack and a bang wrenched my attention back to the present. A large portrait came crashing down, the image of the Society’s founder shattering into several pieces, strewn across the foyer’s marble floor.
Miss Chen cocked her head, admiring her handiwork. “Wanted to do that every time I walked in here. Smug bastard.”
The rest of the group came running, alarmed by the noise, then amused by the sight. Mr. Adeoti clutched a satchel full of items he’d collected for research, his face shining. Emily was followed by a few floating sculptures, and Laura wobbled in, dwarfed by the heavy paintings she was attempting to carry in her skinny arms. The girls had great ambitions to help Mrs. Tuffins decorate her next boarding house.
“This is the last of it from the downstairs offices,” Mr. Kent said, emerging from a corridor behind them. He pushed a small handcart loaded with piles of papers and ledgers, pausing at the broken painting on the ground. “Oh, well done. I found a portrait of Captain Goode and added some rather untamed nose hairs, so if anyone ever finds it, that’s how he will be remembered.”
“And this is why we entrust you with the most important jobs,” I said.
“London does need a new hero. I can already tell the newspapers are getting desperate for stories,” Mr. Kent said, tapping his metal finger to his chest. “I am willing to step forward and make that sacrifice.”
Even though he was being his usual facetious self, I found there was a part of me taking that seriously. I could somehow see him that way. Not just in his square jaw and blazing eyes. He’d done the brave thing countless times for me, for all of us, and without hesitation.
“I really think you could,” I told him.
“And maybe my brothelg?nger will finally get more customers,” he added, ruining it.
Miss Chen snorted, and I pushed Mr. Kent and his cart toward the exit.
Outside, the night was dark and cool, the moon covered with clouds, and the streets filled with fog. Mr. Kent’s cart rattled across the cobblestones, toward the carriages, Tuffins waiting with one, William the other. Tuffins turned to us from his perched seat up top, a flustered smile crossing his face, which must have been a trick of the light, because Tuffins never got flustered. Next to him, Miss Rao calmly stepped down from the carriage and opened the door. With her telekinetic power, Emily easily loaded the rest of the records and the collected artwork into the back of the carriage.
And we were done. Almost. Just one last matter.
We all turned back to the Society of Aberrations.
“Does anyone have any last words? A change of heart? An insatiable desire to take it over?” Miss Chen asked.
The last one was tempting. And it was what Miss Grey would have wanted. I couldn’t help but imagine everything I might do if I were in charge. Gather every power as soon as it emerges anew, research them to learn every benefit and quirk, teach the children to use them responsibly, capture the people who didn’t, send our powers to other countries in an instant to peacefully solve any crisis. We’d protect the world. We’d bring peace all over. We’d save everyone.
But that’s what Captain Goode had claimed the Society of Aberrations had wanted to do. And somewhere along the way, their purpose got twisted and rationalized into protecting England first at the cost of the rest of the world. Someone had risen to power, using the Society for selfish gains, keeping people against their will, forcing them to maintain an empire. And it would happen again. I was not the right person to save the world. There really was no person who could do that. Even if we had the best intentions, it was dangerous to gather the powers together to be wielded like weapons. They needed to be spread out, shared, and balanced—shields to prevent anything like this from happening again.
“Good riddance,” I said.
Miss Chen took that as her cue. Cracks snaked their way up and down the brick facade of the Society. Windows shattered, walls exploded, the street rumbled, and the building groaned. The center crumbled away first, floor by floor, and the rest of the building collapsed inward with a massive boom and a rush of dust and debris that Miss Rao’s winds blew away from us. As everything settled and silence fell upon the street again, we found a pathetic pile of crushed brick and splintered wood where this epicenter of power had stood.
Now we were done.
Mr. Adeoti stared at the ruins, his face solemn. “There are probably going to be many more secret societies out there soon,” he said. “Hopefully one will be good.” I took his arm and gave it a quick squeeze as we turned back to the carriages.
“That’s everything, Tuffins,” I said, closing the door on the records and books. “Thank you. Please tell your mother we will call soon with plans for her new boarding house.”
“I will,” he said, giving me a nod, then a second to Miss Rao. “And, Miss Rao, I will consider your offer.”
She bowed her head regally, and Tuffins set the horses off. His carriage disappeared into the fog toward Catherine’s house to drop off the last of the Society’s property.