“Y-you’re lying,” I managed.
“No. I am not. Miss Rosamund has an entirely different ability. It’s not so obvious, which is why it took so long for anyone to discover, but that makes it no less intriguing. You see, the girl can charm the breeches right off of you!” He laughed heartily at himself.
“As her sister, you know her far better than me. In the past two years, has there been a single person carrying the slightest bit of ill will toward her?”
He knelt over me, pulling a syringe from his pocket, and I lost my breath. I thrashed my arms to strike him, but he caught one while dodging the other. My legs rose up to kick him and hit only air as he twisted around my limbs before I could process what happened. The needle pierced my arm, and he pushed the plunger and emptied the contents. He grinned as he stood back up, leaving me prostrate on the floor.
I staggered back to my feet, trying not to vomit.
“Miss Rosamund’s gift has always been to charm. I gather it was why she was able to earn her reputation for your healing. Her voice—even her quiet presence—has a captivating effect, and anyone around your sister will, in simple terms, love her. How that love manifests itself varies from person to person, but in every case, it compels everyone to act with her best interests in mind.”
Was that why Mr. Hale helped us? No, no, Dr. Beck was lying. Trying to distract me. There was no way we were all so mistaken.
“You would never have been able to kidnap and hold her if that was true,” I replied.
“Ah, a clever point. But that’s because she did not train and develop her power. It was not as strong as it could potentially be, and we were able to resist. Granted, I’d never felt more abominable about myself than when I was testing her healing abilities and putting her through all that pain. At the time, I even believed I was growing weak and sentimental, but now I know that it was actually my strong will and determination that made the difference.
“Even Claude, loyal as he is, tried to convince me to let her go. That’s how I first made the discovery. And then I tested my hypothesis on Mr. Hale by telling him about the surgery I planned to perform. That very evening, I caught him attempting to help her escape.” He laughed shortly—staccato, mad. “I feel so foolish for thinking she was holding back her healing out of stubbornness.”
Something felt strange. The room blurred. My legs went limp and gave out, sending me toppling to the floor like a rag doll. Dr. Beck’s voice still resonated in my aching head.
“But we had a new problem this morning: We were left without a healer. Then you arrive here and brighten up my day, Miss Wyndham. If I were a religious man, I would thank someone for guiding you to me.”
My mind begged my body to move, but my numb limbs refused.
“Don’t worry, you should be feeling tired,” he said. “It’s entirely natural. Just dream of the good you will do.”
Dr. Beck circled me, his boots sweeping inches from my face. The sedative worked on my blood. My eyes closed, and it took everything within me to fight back. I seemed to lift the entire world with my eyelids.
I had to stay conscious. Keep them open. Otherwise, I would not wake up anywhere pleasant, and Rose might not wake up at all. I twisted my head upward. A prickle passed along my left arm. It had regained feeling. I strained to move my hand inch by inch across the dusty floor.
“Of course,” Dr. Beck softly muttered. He knelt down and reverently touched my cheek. “Remarkable. Your body can fight it off. We’ll just have to increase the dosage.” He rose and crossed the room toward his supply cabinet.
Rose. I had to take Rose home. I had to help Robert. Miss Grey. Sebastian. Mr. Kent. Everyone. Pushing my tingling fingers on the ground, I lifted myself up an inch, two, hearing Dr. Beck’s whistling in one ear, a distant crackle in the other, before falling to the floor again.
“Hel—” My mouth could barely call for help. Useless. The haze was too much. It muddled every thread I tried to grasp, shrouded everything around me.
Except for that damnable whistling.
My right arm returned, and I dragged it up next to my face in an effort to rise. With a desperate push, I managed to slide up onto my knees. My legs struggled to exert control.
Get up. I had to get up. I panted, coughed, strained. Dr. Beck examined his syringe against the light and missed the movement behind him as Robert climbed back to his feet. Clutching a glass bottle, he noiselessly crept behind the scientist, wound his arm back, and lunged with the weapon.