These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel

Sebastian shook his head doubtfully. “Dr. Beck will not send someone there now. He knows you escaped.”

“You could be right,” Mr. Hale admitted, staring at a narrow panel of stained glass above the entryway. “But he does not know that I know of this chemical. And there is no one else in the city he can purchase it from. The next shipment won’t come for weeks.”

“Will we truly be able to find the location this way?” Mr. Kent asked, smoothly testing Mr. Hale.

“Yes, I am sure of it,” he replied truthfully.

This seemed to be all Mr. Kent needed. “Then I think it’s best we go to the docks now. Dr. Beck, in a way, will be coming to us— just as I suggested.”

“No. We aren’t doing that yet,” I replied, feeling uneasy. “I don’t trust him. Miss Grey has seen this man do horrible things, but now he suddenly has a crisis of conscience?”

I caught Sebastian’s eye, but he quickly looked away, jaw clenched. Pushing the heels of my hands into my eyes, I considered my choices. Trusting Mr. Hale could well be the best decision we make, or the worst. I had to be sure.

“Miss Grey, do you know anything else to give us reason to trust him?” I asked.

She shook her head. She seemed to still have trouble even looking at the man.

It must be borne, then. “Mr. Kent, Miss Grey has recently informed me that you have an ability to obtain the truth. Is that true?”

Sebastian, Robert, and Mr. Hale looked at him in utter astonishment, while Mr. Kent, without breaking his gaze, nodded slowly to me. “It is.”

“Then I have questions I want you to ask him.”

“As you wish.”

I turned from the door back to the stairs. “Mr. Hale, have you conspired with Dr. Beck or Claude to lead us into a trap at the docks or another location?”

“No, I have—”

Mr. Kent interrupted. “You must wait for me to ask the question.”

Mr. Hale nodded and bit his lip nervously.

“Have you conspired with Dr. Beck or Claude to lead us into a trap at the docks or another location?” Mr. Kent asked.

“No, I have not,” he said, his eyes widening at his own openness.

“Is it truly your aim to see that Rose is rescued, safely and unharmed?”

Mr. Kent repeated the question.

“Yes,” Mr. Hale said.

“Do you have any ulterior motives for that, Mr. Hale?” I asked, and Mr. Kent repeated after me.

“Yes,” Mr. Hale said immediately. A look of shock came over him when he realized his admission. His guilty eyes locked on mine, and he blanched. “It’s nothing like that!”

“What is it, then?” Mr. Kent and I spoke together.

“I—I love Miss Rosamund,” he choked out. “I want to protect her.”

“What!” Robert exclaimed, eyes wild. “I knew what this was all about. You don’t think you’re going to win her over like this, do you, sir?”

“It’s not like that, young man! She’s like a, a daughter—”

“Robert,” Mr. Kent cut in. “As amusing as it would be for you to duel a world-jumping man for Miss Rosamund’s hand, now is not the time.” He turned back to me. “Do you have more to ask?”

“I do,” I said, still uneasy. “But it can wait.”

Mr. Kent nodded and opened his front door, ushering us all out. “To the Royal Docks then, Mr. Hale.”

Mr. Hale shook his head fervently as he limped toward the doorway. His nervous behavior somehow grew worse. “No, I cannot come with you any farther.”

The lot of us stopped and looked at him in surprise.

“I—I’m s-sorry,” he stammered softly. “I want Miss Rosamund saved. That’s why I came here to help you. But I won’t be caught by them.”

“You’re scared of Dr. Beck?” Mr. Kent asked. “Even when there’s six of us?”

“No—no, not Dr. Beck,” Mr. Hale replied.

“Then who?” Mr. Kent asked.

“The Society. Of Aberrations. They assigned me to watch over Dr. Beck. When they learn of this . . . you don’t know what they are capable of.”

“I think I have some idea,” I replied, a shudder running through my bones at the thought of more scientists.

“No. You don’t,” Mr. Hale said, deathly serious. “Pray they never learn of your powers.”

Before we got in another word, a door crackled open behind him, and he vanished into thin air. Desperate, I dashed outside after him down the stone pathway, past the squealing gates, and along the narrow sidewalk, scanning the bustling London crowds, the countless windows, the rooftops. He was nowhere to be seen. Given his terror, he was probably halfway across the world by now.

I spun around to find everyone waiting by the gate, hopelessly searching for the briefest sign of the man.

“Terrible manners. He didn’t even offer us a ride,” Mr. Kent said, looking as crestfallen as the rest of us. But in a moment, he managed to cheer himself up as usual. He fetched a passing hackney and opened the door.

“Well, when one door closes, another slightly more inconvenient, out-of-the-way one opens. Let’s be off, shall we?”



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