"Thank you, Mr. McAllistair. It could have gone either way."

  "Just McAllistair, Signor."

  "Right. Scottish. I understand how the McNames work now."

  "You still are peaked around the gills."

  "I've never heard that phrase before. That's English is it?"

  "It means you look pale, Signor Borgia."

  "Oh. Well. You should see the other fellow." Carlo scratched his head. "Why are you calling me Signor?"

  "Isn't that correct?" McAllistair's face did not betray an emotional change, but the hesitation in the man's voice suggested he would rather die than perpetrate an etiquette faux pas.

  "No. It's above my station, but I appreciate the effort. I couldn't help notice the change in your attitude from…before."

  McAllistair did not blink. "Lady Klaereon told me something of your role regarding Venice."

  "Oh." Carlo was embarrassed again, the second time that morning. "Where can I find my wife?" His wife? It felt good to say it.

  "Signora Borgia is usually in her laboratory this time of day. I would be happy to have your bag removed to your room in the east wing."

  "Thank you." Carlo stuck his hands in his pocket and whistled his way toward the east wing of the house. He detoured into portrait gallery for a brief minute, and stood in front of the painting of Caius Klaereon, a picture of him as a young man, bland and unreadable. A fancy black suit marked him as a Binder, but the cravat knot and jeweled rings showed his vanity. He affected a white wig, his pose serious, a slight smirk communicating to the world that he had taken the initiative to seize family power for himself. Carlo wondered if this was before or after he'd killed his brother and his wife.

  "You have failed," Carlo said to the image. "In spite of you, your daughters have turned out well." He hoped the old man was getting the afterlife he deserved.

  Thoth scampered across the tiled floor and stopped short of Carlo, his tail twitching. The tufty fur around his face and his keen eyes made whatever he squeaked sound urgent.

  "Thank you for the congratulations. I quite agree," said Carlo. "It would be very difficult being a baboon in Hathersage. You have made a good compromise."

  Thoth screeched.

  "Yes," said Carlo. "You are correct. My theory about how to solve Lucy's problem is dangerous, but it is the only idea I have. If you have a better one, I would like to hear it. Since I don't understand monkey, I am going to pretend you think my plan, while dangerous, is sound."

  "I can tell you what Thoth says." Carlo directed his attention to Marcellus, who stood in the doorway. The little boy was dressed in a somber black sailor suit. Wonder of wonders, there were even Binder clothes for children. The little boy's eyes were violet this morning, and his short black hair curled slightly at the bottom.

  "Monkeys," said Carlo, "are a very unusual pet for this part of the world, don't you think?"

  The little boy said nothing.

  Carlo sat cross-legged on the floor. "Are you alone today?"

  The little boy swayed a little. "I'm not alone." He moved his head toward Thoth.

  "My apologies," said Carlo.

  The little boy shifted. "Are you my uncle now?"

  "I am."

  "You speak funny."

  Carlo laughed. "Maybe you speak funny."

  "Thoth says you are our friend." Marcellus sat close to Carlo on the floor. Caius Klaereon stared over their heads sternly. "He says you shouldn't do what you are planning."

  "Why does he say that?" When Carlo was little, he hated it when adults would not take him seriously, so Carlo would not do Marcellus that disservice.

  "Thoth knows the future," Marcellus said, "and he says bad things will happen."

  "Sometimes you have to take a risk." Carlo glanced at Thoth again. Klaereon curses. One never knew what would manifest in each child. "Can you see the future?"

  "I can only see one thing. Thoth tells me the rest when he wants to."

  "May I ask what you see?"

  "Something happens to my father. Something bad."

  "Then you should not worry," said Carlo. "I will do everything I can to keep your father safe."

  Octavia's footsteps echoed in the portrait gallery. "There you are. Little man," she said, "what are you doing here?"

  "I was talking to your son." Carlo unfolded himself and rose.

  "Not you, Carlo. My son. Madame Vipond will be worried about you. Shall we go back to the nursery?"

  "I want to stay with Uncle Carlo."

  "So you do, but you can't." Octavia grabbed his hand. "Uncle Carlo must go see Aunt Lucy now. There will be more time to see him later." Octavia helped Marcellus stand up. "Thank you, Carlo, for not getting killed."

  "I am happy about being alive myself."

  "Go find Lucy, and then we'll talk. I have questions about that letter you sent from Scotland. Now, come along, Marc. I know you're missing your nap."

  Carlo turned right at the door of the gallery, while Octavia turned left. Carlo hummed above the rustling of the shadows and moved to Lucy's shadowy part of the house. Their bedroom had to be here somewhere. He hoped they could clear some of the shadows out. The doors to the laboratory rooms were open. Carlo slipped through.

  The floor of the front room was covered haphazardly with piles of books and a flurry of paper. A blanket and pillow dangled from a love seat. The strong smell of formaldehyde and mineral oil wafted from specimen jars littering almost every available surface. Lucy wearing an apron, leather gloves and goggles stood at the top of two steps so she could reach the surface where she worked, holding a scalpel and a pair of tongs. A box of pins sat next to her dissection tray. She covered up what she was dissecting when he came in and came down the steps to greet him, peeling off her gloves.

  "You have blood," Carlo said, scratching his nose. "Right here. What have you over there?"

  "An unsightly mess," said Lucy.

  "Show it to me. You know I won't care."

  Lucy grinned. "Suit yourself."

  Carlo lifted the cover and peeked at the specimen. A right arm, skin and muscle sutured back, tendons attaching to yellowed bone. "From a corpse?"

  "No. I ripped it right off one of the gardeners when he wasn't looking. Yes, from a corpse."

  "Is it the same in England, being able to study bodies at hospitals, but not in private research?"

  "In England, all of it is heretical. Octavia doesn't know and we will keep this between us."

  "For the best. Have you considered a more formal training?"

  "Perhaps when we set matters right. Are you still planning on what we discussed?"

  Carlo wandered over to look at a giant fungus in one of the liquid jars. "Leaving you so soon is hardly fair, after we both finally have what we want. But we are going to find your ba, restore your emotions, and set you right. I'm not willing to have you compromised by Ra further." He stepped back toward her. "Then together we can help Drusus."

  "My judgment is poor without your influence," said Lucy. "Your leaving makes me nervous. What if I lose sight of those things you remind me of?" She wiped the blood off her nose with a cloth.

  "I will be as fast as I know how to be." Carlo reached across to Lucy and unpinned her hair.

  "I don't want you to have survived the duel with Atreus, only to lose you in the Abyss." Lucy's mouth was close to his and he could feel her breath on his neck.

  "Noted. After we have found your ba, we will move away from all this. Go somewhere. Study. Open a practice. Make a life." The lab smells wafted around them. Carlo scooped her into his arms and carried her into the front room. "And children."

  "When will you leave?" She nibbled his ear.

  "There are some things we have to talk to Octavia about, and—" His lips covered hers. Lucy was lavender soap and a raw smell of dissection, that blood smell he liked so well. He ran a glowing hand through her hair.

  "What were you saying?" she murmured into his hair.

  His teeth sharpened. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing important." His teeth grazed her neck.

  "You're right. We should talk to Octavia." She nuzzled his cheek.

  "Lock the door," he said.

  Later, when they had finished, they both lay on the rug in front of the unlit fireplace. Clothes littered furniture and floors. Lucy slipped his tweed jacket over her naked shoulders. It went down to her calves and he caught glimpses of her stomach, her legs. "That looks better on you than it does on me," Carlo decided. "Are you going to wear it to dinner?"

  She traced a finger across his chest, her eyes drowsy. "Octavia would not approve."

  Carlo propped himself up on his elbows. "Why? It looks charming."

  "I don't want you to go. I want you here." Lucy kissed his stomach, ran her lips across his skin.

  "I have to go." She didn't answer him as she moved lower. "Lucy?" Pleasure lanced through him. He closed his eyes and was hungry again. "No," he said, tamping his demon down. "They'll miss us at dinner."

  "This is new," said Lucy. "I've had dinner before."

  Carlo's voice caught. "Very well, Piccolina. You've convinced me."

  Lucy walked through gray stone corridors. She'd taken this particular journey, when her emotions first surfaced some years ago. Visiting with Ra, even in this spectral venue, was unpleasant, but her first visit had solidified one particular thing: No other Klaereons should suffer as she and Octavia had suffered, and she would make sure of it. Once she rationally weighed the evidence, she knew her chosen path was the only possible one. At that time, she had decided to drive Carlo away, no matter how much it hurt him. She cared for him too much to have him involved in her manipulations.

  Drusus had sought Carlo out and sent him. The rest was her own fault. She should have married Atreus and kept Carlo at a distance, but he had cut right through her defenses, had made her realize what she selfishly wanted. There was an innocent involved now, all because Lucy had given in.

  Inside her mind, Ra was imprisoned behind a wall of bars, originally made of white bone, but over the years strengthened to the strongest tempered steel. When she had visited Ra the last time, he appeared as a little boy. Today he was an old man, nodding off, his head tilting toward his chest.

  "I've come to ask you a question," said Lucy.

  Ra opened one eye. "You didn't expect your lover, did you? You were weak, and now your plan is ruined. Will you stay now?"

  "You know I cannot." She tamped down the small voice inside her head, begging her to reconsider what she was planning. That person talking to her, she was wrong.

  Ra rose to his feet, wrapped his hands around the bars. "Isis is using you. Now that you have something else to live for, you should release me and have the life you deserve."

  Lucy shook her head. "Carlo changes nothing."

  "How do you think he'll react when he finds out what you plan to do? How far are you willing to go to exact your revenge on me?"

  "Not everything is about you, Ra. I need to know what the chances are of someone who is not our kind surviving in Duat."

  Ra's eyes pierced her like a bird of prey's. "You plan to take your lover with you into exile? You can no longer pretend any moral superiority. You are exactly like me."

  Lucy spoke through clenched teeth. "I am not like you. I will keep Carlo safe."

  Ra's voice gentled. "Just because Isis resurrected you does not give her the right to make you serve her. You deserve a life. Neither of us deserve to be here."

  Lucy thumped her foot. "I should let you do as you like? Set you free? You did so well the last time you had your liberty."

  "It was not my fault, any more than this is your fault."

  "Not your fault? You tortured my sister and almost killed her to reach your goals. You wanted the Solomon Scroll to rule over mankind and the gods. How are you blameless?"

  Ra smiled slyly. "You are not what you wish to be. You are mad. I am also not what I wish to be. Something is missing."

  Lucy chewed her bottom lip. "I don't understand."

  "Isis wants you to be less than human. Why do you wish to be half of what you are?"

  "I am not weak, Ra. I am not some naive girl you can bully or manipulate. I am here for answers. Can someone who is not a Binder survive in Duat?"

  "Duat is the ultimate fate of mortal kind. Since their hearts would be weighed and measured, they would die." Ra smirked. "What will you do next? Take what you want?"

  "No," said Lucy. "I will not be you."

  "Too late for that," said Ra. "We have always been well-matched."

  Carlo woke alone, on top of papers, a book digging into his hip. He was half-wrapped in the blanket from the love seat. Before he opened his eyes, he groped the floor beside him, but Lucy wasn't there. Wrapping the blanket around himself, he perused the room and lab to find no sign of Lucy. His tweed jacket was missing. Well, what else would she have worn? Carlo dressed in shirt and pants, and opened doors until he found the room his luggage was in. He washed, dressed and went to find breakfast.

  In the dining room, Octavia sat at the family table by herself, gazing into some distance he couldn't see, frowning. She was bending a piece of toast almost to breaking. No doubt she had a lot on her mind.

  "Good morning," said Carlo, sitting. "We meant to find you last night, but…" Carlo shrugged.

  "Why do I feel like I have no control over anything, Carlo? Can you answer that?"

  "I apologize."

  McAllistair materialized. "Signor?"

  "Coffee," said Carlo. "Please."

  "Very good." McAllistair strolled out with dignity.

  "When did he start calling you—?" said Octavia.

  "Your fault," said Carlo. "You told him about Venice. I am truly sorry about dinner."

  "No doubt something compelling happened for the two of you in the laboratory?"

  Carlo's cheeks heated. "Something like that. Have you seen Lucy this morning?"

  "You haven't?"

  "I don't know how she passed the rest of"—Carlo blushed deeply—"I mean, how she passed the night." He took his plate to the breakfast platter on the sideboard. McAllistair placed the cup of small, dark coffee in front of him. Carlo took a sip. "Heavenly."

  Octavia placed a teaspoon by her eggcup. "Maybe it is better we talk without Lucy."

  "I'm hiding nothing from Lucy. She seems to be steadied by me."

  "You think so?"

  Carlo picked up gammon with his fingers. "I can separate my ego from observation, Octavia." Octavia stared, and Carlo dropped the meat and picked up a fork and knife.

  "When you wrote me from Gretna Green, you said you had a plan. What is it?"

  "Lucy tells me she believes she has feelings again because of Ra."

  Octavia threw her napkin on the table. "Ra's influence, you said. Are you sure Ra is not controlling her?"

  "I would hardly have married her if Ra were controlling her."

  "Unless Ra is controlling you."

  Carlo munched thoughtfully, drank more coffee and spoke. "I don't think so, but we must do something to make sure Lucy becomes herself again. We have to help her recover her own mind. I'm going to the Abyss, and I'm going to find her ba."

  "You make it sound like an errand to the dressmakers. How do you plan to do this?"

  "I'm going to Erasmus' temple. You know that's an in-between space. From there, perhaps I can induce Isis to invite me to the Golden City to have a conversation."

  Octavia stared into her teacup for a while. "Does this strike you as a wise plan?"

  "I would happily entertain other options if a successful one were presented to me."

  "I do not have one. Carlo, what about Drusus?"

  Carlo pushed away from the table. "I am not yet convinced Lucy is telling us the entire truth of what happened between her and Drusus, but we have no chance of securing either of their futures until we restore her, and we rid her of Ra." Carlo tapped his egg on the side of his plate and peeled it.

  "Is such a thing even possible?" Octavia rubbed her eyes. "And I am to sit here, do nothing, while my husband—"

  "Restoring Lucy could be the first step to making Drusus feel safe here," said Carlo. "Is there some precedent in your Klaereon history for what happened to Drusus? I will come back as soon as possible, but if you find any solutions regarding Drusus, act on them." Carlo tossed back the tiny cup of coffee, picked up toast and smashed the boiled egg between two pieces.

  "I will go to Drusus if I can find him."

  "If you do, we're going to need help," said Carlo. "Lucy is wise enough to know she needs watching. Could we enlist aid if it is needed? Madame Vipond? Helen Galt? They are both magicians."

  "That idea has merit." Octavia paused. "Carlo, what if Lucy's ba is irretrievable?"

  "That's not an option I'm willing to entertain at this moment." Carlo chewed purposefully.

  "Why would you marry her if you don't trust her entirely?"

  "I love her," said Carlo. "You understand why more than most people."

  "Whether our desires are in our best interests or not," Octavia reflected, "the heart wants what the heart wants."

  "I have to set this right."

  Octavia stood up. "Chances are good Lucy has gone to the scroll chamber. When she's not in her laboratory, she is there."

  "Because of Ra?"

  "Maybe. She tells me it's a quiet place to think."

  "I haven't been back there since—"

  Octavia's voice shook. "My memories of the place are as happy as yours. No doubt, Ra is drawn to the scroll. It doesn't matter. Horus is there now."

  "Horus?"

  "Gregorius' familiar. You'll find him fascinating."

  "Not the usual puppy or monkey?"

  "Oh no. Come with me."

  The two of them walked through the halls to the gallery, Octavia contemplative and Carlo's hands behind his back. They found themselves in front of the painting of Erasmus' Trial in the gallery. "There are times," Octavia pronounced, "I hate Erasmus."

  "Rightfully so," said Carlo. "He meant well, but the road to the Abyss was literally paved with his good intentions." Octavia swung the picture away from the wall, and a paved stone passage transformed into hewn rock, glittering sandstone flecked with veins of quartz and sparks of mica. Eventually, they came to Lucy, standing on the platform overlooking the scroll chamber, studying the scroll case on the pedestal below them.

 

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