The Spiritglass Charade (Stoker & Holmes 2)

I grinned as Pix turned around. I dusted ash off my arm as he glanced over me in the dim light. Obviously he was still angry, for he turned and continued on his way. Then I heard low, urgent voices from behind a door and I stopped.

“. . . Willa!” came through the wall.

I must have made a sound because Pix was at my side in an instant. I noticed he had something in his hand too: a stake. Well, at least he’d come properly armed.

I eased the door open and found myself face to face with Mina Holmes and Olympia Babbage.

“About dratted time.” Mina yanked me into the chamber. “I’ve been here for hours, waiting for you. It’s worse than I thought, Evaline. Most of the boys—all the missing boys, including Robby—they’re vampires now. Most all of them have been turned. The rest they use to feed on, and to steal, until they decide to make them UnDead. It’s a band of vampire pickpockets!”

“What happened to you?” Blood stained her neck and I could see two puncture wounds there.

“They accosted me and tied me up, then one of the little buggers thought I’d be a good snack. Fortunately, I now know how to escape from binding ropes—thanks to Miss Fenley—and once I was free, I surprised my attackers with a splash of holy water. I escaped in the melee and was able to find where they were keeping Miss Babbage. We’ve been hiding out waiting for you.”

“Right.” I couldn’t hold back a smile of admiration. “Nicely done.”

“Now we have to locate Willa and get her out of here.” But Mina’s voice sounded wobbly and her eyes glassy.

“I have some salted holy water.” I bent to dig in my boot.

“Later. We must find Willa and escape as soon as possible.”

“It’s nearly dawn. The sunrise will make it that much easier.”

I turned to Pix, who had been speaking intently with Miss Babbage. “You know each other?”

He looked mildly uncomfortable. “Aye. We ’ave . . . business.”

“Business” again. It took only a moment for it to make sense. All the electric lights in her workshop, just like the ones in his place . . . the gadget he wore on his wrist to open the door to his apartments . . . the floating-driving motorcar . . . They were a match made in heaven. I wondered if he called the pretty blonde “luv” too.

And kissed her in the shadows.

“What are you waiting for?” Mina gave me a shake.

I pulled free. “Follow me. I’ll lead the way.”

I slipped into the hall without a backward glance at Pix. The others followed. I heard a soft murmur behind me, then Mina tugged my arm. “This way. We don’t want to go toward the main parlor or they’ll see us. And I didn’t get to check the rest of the place. There might be . . . um . . . there could be someone else here. Whom we need to extricate.”

The hideout was much larger than it seemed from the exterior. La société must have taken over the entire building. The corridor we walked was short and narrow, with five doors. Mina listened at each one, then opened it to check inside.

Inside the fourth door, she gasped. I pushed in past her, stake at the ready, to see a woman in a crumpled heap on a small bed. A bit of light shone through a barred window. It gave us enough illumination to see the dark mass of the woman’s hair spilling around her.

She was sleeping or worse, for she had no reaction to our presence. Her breathing was so shallow so as to be hardly noticeable, and when Mina checked a wrist for her pulse, she shook her head grimly.

I recognized the woman wasn’t an UnDead, but when my companion pushed the hair from the victim’s face, neither of us were prepared for the sight.

“Miss Adler?”

Suddenly there was a small light in Mina’s hand, casting a direct glow over our mentor’s pinched, slack features.

“Is she dead?” I whispered.

“Pulse is very faint, and she’s hardly breathing. She’s bad. And . . . look.” Mina held the small illuminator so I could see the marks on Miss Adler’s neck and shoulder. They were raw and fairly new, with blood still oozing from them.

My companion handed me the light as she lifted the woman’s limp hand. Bloodstains marked her sleeve, and there was another set of marks on the inside of her arm. They were older. Much older.

“Evaline.” Mina turned Miss Adler’s wrist for me to see more clearly. On the inside, where the skin was the most delicate and thin, was the unmistakable image of a seven-legged spider.

La société.

“She always wears gloves, or that wide-banded watch. She took care that no one should ever see it. And it’s not new.” Mina went back into action. “She needs help, desperately. And I’m not sure . . . it may be too late already. She’s lost an inordinate amount of blood. Observe her skin.”

Miss Adler had a pasty gray pallor and her breathing was shallow and rough. Even during our examination, she’d neither moved nor opened her eyes.

“They’ve drained her dry.” Then another, even worse realization struck me. “Oh, gad, Mina. They might not have only fed on her. They might have—”

“They might have turned her,” she finished for me. “That’s how you turn a mortal to an UnDead. The vampire drinks all the blood, feeds on the human until they are . . . comatose from loss of blood. And then the UnDead offers his own blood for the victim to drink, to feed on.”

“I know.” My voice was fierce and low. Pix had come to stand next to me and for some reason, I wanted to touch him.

“Is there any way to know whether she’s been turned?” Mina asked.

I shook my head. “Not until she wakens. If she does.”

“The fact is, in her state, I suspect she’ll either die from the loss of blood, or she’ll awaken as an UnDead. She’s lost too much blood to survive.”

“Yes. Either way . . . we have to get her out of here. We can’t leave her.”

I turned to Pix. “You need to take her. Please. Take her to safety while I find Willa. You and Olympia get Miss Adler. . . .”

For once, he didn’t argue, though temper flared in his eyes.

“You go too, Mina.”

“Not bloody likely,” my partner said angrily. “I’m not leaving here without Willa. And . . . there might be others.”

But I hardly heard her, for Pix took me by the arm and yanked me aside, away from the others.

“Evaline Stoker.” His teeth were clenched so hard he could hardly get the words out. “Ye are th’ most infuriatin’ female . . .”