Mirror, page 5
He looked sheepish and then his face lit with warmth and hope. “It’s all rather technical, but if you’d like to hear it ….”
She would have been happy to hear him recite Mrs. Perry’s shopping list as long as he was looking at her that way when he did so.
“Dazzle me.”
Liam arched an eyebrow in acceptance of the challenge, cleared his throat and sat a little straighter. “There are four basic forces at work. Lift, thrust, drag, and weight. The Bernoulli Principle says that the increase in the speed of a fluid, or in this case air, causes a simultaneous—”
“Decrease in the pressure,” Artemis finished for him.
Liam’s mouth opened in surprise and then clamped shut.
“Go on,” Artemis urged him.
He looked at her as if she’d grown another head. “I’m sorry. I’m just surprised you knew that.”
The warmth that had settled in her chest cooled. “Because I’m a girl?”
He’s just like the others.
“No,” he said quickly. “Well, yes.”
Disappointment made her heart sink and then rebound with anger.
“Is it so strange that a girl should have a basic knowledge of physics?”
Her father had made sure her studies included all of the sciences.
“A little strange,” he admitted, “but also quite wonderful.”
Her heart stuttered to life again. “Is it?”
He was no longer looking at her with shock but admiration and something else Artemis couldn’t quite put a name to.
Liam leaned in a little closer, his eyes never leaving her face. “And I think you’re quite wonderful, too.”
Her stomach dipped. She tried to swallow but her mouth was suddenly dry.
The moment was too much for her and she glanced away, her breath short. “Maybe I will have some tea.”
Liam rose to his feet. “Allow me.”
Glad that she didn’t have to stand, as she wasn’t sure she could, Artemis let Liam bring her a cup of tea. When he returned the moment between them, whatever it was, was gone, but the warmth of it lingered.
* * *
“Check.”
Across the room David leaned over the board. “Not again.”
Phoebe, who had thoroughly trounced her brother twice, looked smug.
“I swear—” David began, but he was cut off by Phoebe’s shushing and a meaningful look toward Mrs. Babbington, who’d fallen asleep and was snoring softly, her knitting resting in her lap.
Liam, whose arm had moved to reach across the back of the sofa somewhere during their conversation, chuckled softly. His hand lingered tantalizingly close to Artemis's shoulder.
He leaned forward, his body nearly touching hers as he spoke to David in a hushed voice.
“I told you that you were terrible.”
David glowered at his friend and was about to say something when the door to the hall opened.
“Artemis?”
Artemis spun around at the sound of her father’s voice only to find him staring at her and Liam with a tight expression. Obviously realizing how it must have appeared, Liam leaned back quickly and then sprang to his feet.
“Sir.”
Her father’s eyes shifted to Liam briefly and then back to her. “It’s time we were going.”
Despite the fact that she hadn’t done anything wrong, her cheeks began to color as she stood.
Her father took another step into the room and Liam backed up, bumping against the coffee table and jangling the cups and saucers.
With a strangled snort, Mrs. Babbington came awake. “Not now, Felix,” she muttered, shoving some unseen someone away before sleep had completely left her.
David snorted and Phoebe swatted at his arm.
Artemis's father ignored their antics. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“Our pleasure, Doctor,” Phoebe said, casting a quick glance at Artemis.
In spite of the way it started and ended, the evening had been wonderful. She gave Phoebe a quick smile of thanks and then looked at Liam, who hovered unsurely, arms clasped behind his back.
Her father held out his hand, silently urging her to come to him, but Artemis first addressed Liam. “I think your plan sounds wonderful. And if your investor has half as much sense as he does money, he will as well.”
He grinned and then checked it slightly at the sight of Artemis’s father, but he could not keep it away from his face entirely.
“Miss Schäfer.”
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said to both David and Phoebe, adding an extra flash of appreciation for Phoebe, then walked over to her father.
He pursed his lips in displeasure at being kept waiting and, no doubt, at what he thought he’d interrupted.
“Always behave with grace,” she said softly as she glided by him, “even toward those who will not recognize it as such.”
Chapter Five
What does one wear to the possible unleashing of Hell upon the earth, Artemis wondered as she appraised herself in her new glass. She’d tried on several different outfits and finally settled on a deep blue skirt and jacket. She plaited her hair and debated adding a ribbon to the end. It seemed a silly thing to wear a bow to the potential end of the world but ….
“No reason not to look your best,” she said and tied a small silk bow to the end of her braid.
“Artemis!” her father bellowed impatiently from the bottom of the stairs.
“Coming!”
Her hand unerringly found the invisible scabbard that held her sword as it sat unseen on her table. She slung it over her back and looked in the glass again. It was still such an odd sensation, to feel the weight of the scabbard until it was on. Then both the form and the feel of it disappeared until she reached back to grasp the hilt. It was a surprising and welcome feature, otherwise she’d be constantly sticking herself in the back with the thing.
She smoothed down her skirt and admired herself one last time in her new mirror before hurrying downstairs to her father.
“Ready to face the demons of Hell, sir,” she said with a jaunty salute as she paused on the last step.
“This is serious, Artemis,” he replied, sounding weary. “We don’t know what we’ll find tonight.”
“Maybe we won’t find anything. You never did hear any more about that witch, did you?”
His response was a put-upon sigh. “Nonetheless.”
She raised her fist in the air in front of her and said with mock severity, “Vigilance!”
He grimaced disapprovingly, and she let her hand fall to her side.
She knew very well how serious this all was; she hadn’t forgotten the last time the two of them had been out fighting a demon. She’d nearly killed him.
“Maybe I should go alone,” she suggested.
“Artemis,” he said, making her name sound like a warning.
They’d been through this before and now was clearly not the time to have that argument again.
“All right. All right. I know,” she said, looking at him thoughtfully. Despite her bravado she was really quite nervous. Her anxiety must have shown because her father’s exasperation shifted to concern.
“It will be fine,” he assured her.
Mrs. Perry came down the hall, a basket hanging over one forearm. “I made mince pies. And there’s some bread and cheese.”
“This isn’t a picnic, Mrs. Perry,” her father said.
“I know that,” Mrs. Perry replied quite tersely, the tension of the night ahead weighing on her as well, then she added more calmly, “I just thought you might get hungry, that’s all. Missing supper and all.”
He looked at Artemis in silent question.
Does he really need to ask if I want food?
“Thank you,” he said as he took the basket.
Uncomfortable now, Mrs. Perry wiped her hands on her apron. “All right, off with you.”
He handed Artemis her cloak and the basket, then put on his coat and hat and picked up his medical bag.
“Don’t wait up,” he told Mrs. Perry before reaching for the door.
Despite his admonition, Artemis knew Mrs. Perry would be there waiting when they came home, whenever that might be.
Night was just beginning to fall as they made their way down the front steps. Down the street the laughter of early mischief-makers echoed on the quiet street.
Tommy leaned against a lamppost, straining to read his primer in the fading light. As they approached, a broad smile came to his face.
“Ready to save the world?” he asked, tucking the book into his pocket and reaching to open the carriage door.
No! A small voice inside her cried. I’m not. Not even close.
For a moment, the weight of it all pushed down on her and she didn’t think she could move her legs. But the feeling quickly passed at the sight of Tommy’s trusting smile. With a nod, she climbed into the carriage and moved across to her seat. The grey of twilight seemed to flatten the city.
Her father settled beside her and soon the carriage lurched ahead.
Ready or not. Here we go.
It was nearly dark by the time they reached West Norwood and passed under the gated arch and into the cemetery. The trees that lined the road between the Anglican Church and the old chapel had changed with autumn and glowed with reds and oranges as they caught the last bit of light like the dying embers of a fire.
Tommy pulled the carriage toward the chapel just as another carriage was leaving the grounds. A woman draped in mourning black sat in the back, alone. As the carriages passed each other on the narrow road, she shifted her veiled head toward Artemis. The black veil fluttered above her pale, drawn skin, and dark eyes stared out, catching her in their depths. The woman’s grief was so profound it practically leapt from her eyes and enveloped Artemis in her anguish. The depth of pain and loss took her breath away.
As the carriage passed, she could not stop the shiver that followed it. Glancing over at her father, she wondered if he’d sensed it, too, but his focus was fixed on the night outside his window and, no doubt, on what was to come.
After they’d driven past the chapel, he rapped on the roof of the carriage signaling for Tommy to stop.
Once he had, he climbed out of the cab and helped Artemis out. The cemetery was quiet and still.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
He didn’t look at her, keeping his eyes on the chapel. “We wait.”
* * *
What exactly they were waiting for, Artemis didn’t know. As far as she could tell, her father didn’t either. Something was hardly an answer. The rumblings of some potential magic tonight were hardly precise. Everything was both vague and possible. She would have preferred to know something firm. Even knowing a dozen Hellhounds were going to pop out of the ground was preferable to the unknown. There were too many possibilities in the unknown, and the thought made her uneasy.
West Norwood was one of the seven major cemeteries around London. Part of the “Magnificent Seven,” West Norwood in particular was rather mundane compared to Highgate. Where Highgate was dense with trees and vegetation, Norwood was fairly flat and open. Several well-made roads wound their way through the grounds. Small copses of trees huddled together, but overall it was broad and clear.
She peered out at the graves to her left as she and her father finished their rounds of the cemetery. The moon had finally risen and she could see clearly even with the dark of the evening. It was crisp and clear and the light from the moon shone brightly down onto the browning grass and gray headstones.
Artemis let out a slow breath, one torn between anxiety and boredom.
Someone had suggested to her father that West Norwood was a likely spot for activity tonight, but so far all they’d seen was an owl and two field mice, and not a trace of anything magical. If there was an evil Druid out there doing some sort of Samhain voodoo, they weren’t doing it here.
“I don’t think anything’s going to happen here tonight,” she said, a bit relieved. “Maybe whoever suggested it was mistaken?”
“We have one last place to look,” he said as they walked back to where Tommy and the carriage waited.
Tommy leapt down from his perch. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Something happen?” her father asked, looking almost hopeful.
“No, but it’s creepy, sittin’ ‘ere all alone.”
Her father gave him a withering look and picked up a lantern from the carriage. “We’re going to the Dissenters’ Chapel,” he said.
“Can I come?” Tommy asked, evidently not keen on being left alone again.
Her father paused, and Artemis was certain he was going to say “no” when, instead, he gave a curt nod of assent.
“Just stay out of the way,” he told Tommy.
“Oh, I will.”
She fought down a laugh. Tommy grabbed a crowbar from beneath the driver’s seat, and the three started toward the old chapel.
One crowbar, Father’s small pistol, and a Hellsword. Not much of an arsenal against an army of darkness.
They neared the chapel but her father didn’t head toward the front door, instead leading her around the side to a rusted iron door. It was slightly open, and her heart beat more quickly in her chest.
Her father lit the lantern and eased the squeaking door open. “Stay close,” he said softly.
She was nearly clinging to his back, and she could feel Tommy’s nervous breath on her shoulder.
That will not be a problem.
The lantern cast a pool of yellow light along the rough curved passageway that led down beneath the chapel.
“What is this?” she whispered, her voice sounding loud in the small space.
“Catacombs.”
Just the word made her shiver.
Finally, they reached the bottom step, still nearly glued together. Long, dark vaulted passageways comprised of brick and arched recesses stretched out in both directions. Her father moved to the left, she and Tommy following close behind.
Her father lifted his lantern into the darkness, the light moving across the old stone. He moved the light to shine into the first recess.
“Blimey,” Tommy said softly.
A half dozen or so old coffins, some nearly covered with dirt and others starting to rust or decay, lined long shelves like a bookcase for the dead.
The next alcove held even more. Several of the coffins were oddly narrow and must have been older. The idea that just inside those boxes, just a breath away, was a person, or what was left of them, was unnerving.
Artemis swallowed the fear that had begun to clog her throat and they pressed on.
They came to another corridor with a long metal slab sitting between two large metal posts in the middle of it.
There was some sort of long handle attached to one end. More curious than frightened now, Tommy moved closer to it and looked at her father in silent question.
“Hydraulic catafalque,” he said softly, “for lowering the coffins.”
Tommy leaned in, intrigued by the mechanics of it.
They moved on. There were several gated bays here with individual tombs. The lantern passed over them but all was still inside.
They had walked on to the next passageway when they heard a sound coming from one of the gated tombs ahead. Her father held up his hand to stop them, not that either she or Tommy needed to be told to do so. Fear had stopped her, and her back had stopped Tommy.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Her father glared him into silence before looking down at Artemis with an unspoken question. He didn’t need to speak it; she knew what it was.
Are you ready?
Pushing away her fear, she reached back to grip the handle of her sword. She drew the sword slowly and concentrated to keep the Hellfire from lighting it. She hadn’t learned until two weeks ago that it wasn’t a natural consequence of holding the sword, but something she could command.
Her heartbeat raced as she ran her fingers along the cold brick wall with one hand, her other gripping her sword. She heard the noise again, a strange metallic scratching sound, and pressed on. Her lips suddenly dry, she licked them and reached toward the iron gate and then paused.
Don’t touch it, Artemis, unless you want to get burned again.
Besides, whoever or whatever was in there didn’t seem to know she was coming. Summoning her courage and careful not to touch the iron, she kicked the gate, flinging it open. With a battle cry, she leapt inside just as Hellfire covered her sword and illuminated the small room.
There was no one in the room save for a large rat who stood on top of the metal coffin. Artemis flinched back a half step just as her father and Tommy appeared behind her.
“What is it?” her father asked as he came to her side. Tommy peered around the other.
The rat looked calmly at the three of them and continued his scratching along the top of the coffin.
“Bloody hell,” Tommy muttered breathlessly, earning another glare from her father.
Artemis shuddered violently. She’d always hated rats. Tommy snickered at her discomfort and walked toward it. “It’s just a little rat,” he said, reaching toward it.
“That carries diseases like the plague,” her father added.
Tommy’s hand stilled over the creature and he slowly backed away. “Right. So, what’s next?”
Her father pushed out a deep breath. “I’m not sure. Perhaps they were mistaken about West Norwood. Or perhaps nothing untoward is happening tonight at all.”
Suddenly, Artemis felt a tingle of something and the hairs on her forearms stood on end. She closed her eyes to concentrate.
“Maybe we got off lucky,” Tommy said.
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” her father replied.
“Shh,” Artemis said, her feeling now joined by a sound. She opened her eyes. “Do you hear that?”
Both men fell silent and strained to hear whatever it was she did.
For a moment, there was nothing, and then there was just a hint of a whisper coming through one of the ventilation grates at the end of the corridor. It began to grow louder and more insistent.
