The Dark Volume Part 19

"I must have slept deeply, then."

"Like a mewling kitten." The Contessa swallowed another bite of pie. "You mentioned our stopping. But that was the third time we had stopped-you slept through the others."

"Will you give it back?"

"I shouldn't think so."

The Contessa saw her cross expression and leaned forward.

"Understand, Celeste, I could have slit your throat as easy as patting your head. I did not, because we had an agreement."

"But after the agreement, after we arrive-"

"I will not give it back then either. Who knows when you will want to slit mine?"

Miss Temple frowned. It was far too easy to imagine some future meeting-in the city, in a train car, on a marble staircase-where the Contessa would without pause slash her glittering spike at Miss Temple's unprotected face. Could she do the same, after pressing herself against the Contessa's warm and splendid body in the dark? How could mere familiarity change anything between them? But how could it not?

Miss Temple cleared her throat. "If we are so agreeable, perhaps you will now tell me of Eloise. You did promise to do so."

"It is a very boring thing to ask."

"Did you hurt her?"

"I did not. Mrs. Dujong and a young man entered a house in Karthe, a house I myself was observing."

"Why?"

"Because I lost something, Celeste."

"But the boy who lived there was murdered!"

"Yes, I know. Once they went in, I saw the soldier lurking in the street-he'd followed them. I took this as my own opportunity to slip past him to the inn, but before I was finished with the innkeeper, the soldier returned and insisted on being unpleasant to everyone."

"And Eloise?"

"Since she did not come back to the inn with the soldier-well, either he killed her, or Francis killed her... or something else."

"What else do you mean?"

"Once again, Celeste, if you simply made a habit of thinking before speech-"

"Xonck knows her?"

"Of course Francis knows her. She is his sister's loyal confidante."

"She never said any such thing to me!" Miss Temple sniffed doubtfully. "Francis Xonck..."

"But that is what is so delicious!" cried the Contessa. "She does not even know herself!"

"Know what?"

"That she is already his!"

Miss Temple recalled Eloise's determination not to explain why Chang and the Doctor had vanished, indeed her determination to explain as little as possible... but Francis Xonck? Miss Temple was appalled.

"But what has happened to her?"

"I've no idea," said the Contessa. "When I got to the train yard I did what I could to create a disturbance-to make it that much harder for Francis to move about freely-and found my place to hide. Per haps there was a scream or two outside-I was securing my place with the fish oil."

"I should not think he would scare you," observed Miss Temple mildly.

"Francis does not scare me," the Contessa replied pointedly. "But he is very dangerous, and in Karthe I had no way to combat him. In the city I shall. Most definitely."

The Contessa idly patted her bag, then realized she had done so and that Miss Temple had noticed the gesture. Miss Temple smirked with great satisfaction, and nodded to the closed car door. "If we stopped three times, do you know where we are, or what time it is?" she asked.

"I do," replied the Contessa, "and see no profit whatsoever in telling you. But you did sleep so beautifully."

The Contessa set the rest of her pie on the floor, pulled up her dress to wipe her hands on her petticoats, then flounced the dress back into position and crawled deliberately toward Miss Temple on her hands and knees, until their faces were very near. Miss Temple swallowed, suddenly afraid, but her fear was of a different order than the night before. The Contessa had become more known...a woman who ate and slept and yawned and flexed her hips with restless hunger... somehow it made her even more monstrous. Despite everything the Contessa had said, Miss Temple did not know why she was still alive- there must be a reason, some role the woman hoped she would perform. What other explanation was there?

"The thing is... I have slept as well. I am no longer tired, nor does my shoulder so vex my movement-I am indebted for your...ministrations."

The Contessa's tongue caught a last crumb of pie crust from the corner of her dark mouth.

"Not to worry," croaked Miss Temple.

"I am not in the slightest worried. Though I do wonder... I wonder what you intend."

"Me?" whispered Miss Temple. "Nothing at all."

"O tush. Our journey together is a parenthesis, and upon disembarkation we must once more become active enemies. In truth, you are lucky that you have been isolated with me, for alone among my companions I am... whimsical. I helped the Doctor rescue his Prince once, just to confound the Comte. I lied to Francis-O goodness how he was angry-and of course all of us betrayed Lord Vandaariff quite utterly. So it is not for squeamishness regarding a promise that I have not killed you in your sleep. But that, as I say... I am curious."

"About what?"

"About you, of course."

The Contessa nudged her face closer, dipping her nose toward Miss Temple's curls, and inhaled. Miss Temple could not meet the woman's eye, but found her own caught by the other's pale throat, the two jet b.u.t.tons still undone at the top of her bodice. She could feel the strange memories within her mind, pushing forward, shining their insidious light through each crack in her resolve.

"You must be full of flames," whispered the Contessa. "The book in which you nearly drowned... I know it haunts you, Celeste. It was my book-I know everything that was in it, everything that must be preying on your heart... it was my own calculated entrapment. I expect you struggle against it even now. Look at you trembling... Do you fear I will bite you?"

At this the Contessa did just that, snapping her teeth gently onto Miss Temple's cheek. Miss Temple cried out and the Contessa let go, laughing, and then swept her tongue across the blushing, bitten spot.

"All of this can be over for you, Celeste. Roger is dead-you've had your revenge. As you said yourself on the roof of the airship, my plots are finished. Macklenburg is unreachable-with the Prince and Lydia dead there is no marriage, and all the money and land remain in Lord Vandaariff's name, beyond my control... no doubt he has been placed in a madhouse..."

She nipped again at Miss Temple's face and then pushed her mouth onto Miss Temple's. The Contessa's lips were even softer than Miss Temple had feared, and the woman's tongue darted past her teeth so very deliciously Miss Temple groaned. The Contessa pulled back, breathing just a touch deeper herself, and went on as if there had been no interruption.

"You can go back to your hotel, back to your husband-hunting, back to your little island... there is no need for the two of us... to come... to blows..."

The Contessa feinted another kiss and smiled at Miss Temple's indecision, whether to turn her head or open her mouth.

"You must stop," Miss Temple whispered.

"Stop what?" asked the Contessa, stabbing her mouth forward again. This time Miss Temple's tongue responded, pushing into the Contessa's mouth. Miss Temple's hands were balled into fists against the desire to seize the Contessa's body. Her mind was spinning, so many flickering memories leaping to feed her senses. She did not know how much of what she felt came from the book and how much from the Contessa-did it matter? Was she any less subject either way? The Contessa broke contact and kissed her a third time, pushing forward. Miss Temple's left hand groped to keep her balance, while her right shot out to push the woman away, but felt the stiff corset beneath the cheap silken dress and then slid farther along, smoothing past the corset's edge to the sweet soft rounded sweep of the Contessa's hip, where she could not help but squeeze. The Contessa broke away to bite Miss Temple's little chin.

"You must stop..."

"I do not believe you," breathed the Contessa against Miss Temple's throat.

"Your plots," gasped Miss Temple, turning her head away despite herself, so the Contessa's tongue might trace itself more freely. "Your intrigues-you must be content with survival..."

"What did you say?"

"You have corrupted my heart-"

"O... nothing of the kind... you were always so..."

"They will kill you if you do not disappear."

"Who will kill me?"

"Cardinal Chang-the Doctor-"

"Those heroes... but what, Celeste, of you?"

"I would kill you myself-"

"And how very brave, and how principled."

This did not seem like a compliment. Miss Temple's breath was still rapid-when had the Contessa's knee lodged itself between her legs?

"Such principles just show how much you understand..." The Contessa planted small speculative kisses along Miss Temple's jaw. "And how little... a gratifying thing to have displayed by an enemy."

"I am your enemy." Miss Temple writhed against the Contessa's grinding knee.

"You always have been, dear."

"Then why have you kept me alive?"

"Because even I cannot be everywhere at once."

To Miss Temple's surprise, even as once more her tongue was darting within the warm and silken confines of the Contessa's mouth, the Contessa's fingers pinched Miss Temple's nose tightly closed. Merging oddly with the tingle of her loins and the flush she was sure had spread all down her front... was the realization that she could not breathe. She tried to gently shift the Contessa's arm but found her own sharply pinned by the woman's elbow. She tried to turn away, but the Contessa did not loosen her grip. Miss Temple arched her back. She tried to bite the Contessa's tongue but the woman merely brought up her other hand to clamp shut Miss Temple's jaw. Miss Temple thrashed her legs. She slapped at the Contessa's face, groped for her hair. The Contessa did not budge, the seal of her soft lips fast as an oyster to stone. Miss Temple became dizzy and afraid. She could not think. She heaved with all her strength but could not dislodge her succubus. With a last, desperate thought that such an end was exactly what she had come to deserve, Miss Temple's mind went black.

SHE OPENED her eyes to an unmoving car and the Contessa gone. Attempting to sit up, she found herself pinned to the wooden floor, the tip of her own knife driven through her dress at the very juncture of her legs. Miss Temple wrenched it free with both hands, snorting that to the Contessa such a gesture would pa.s.s for wit, and returned the blade to her boot. She crawled to the doorway of the car and, heaving with both arms, pulled it three inches wide, enough to peer through.

The land before her was a blend of fen and forest, perfectly suited for the construction of ca.n.a.ls. She remembered Eloise's description of her uncle's cottage, annoyed that she had listened with such disinterest, for she was certain his home lay in this very part of the country. It had been in a park of some sort-what had it been called? Parchfeldt! Yet the idea of leaping off the train in the deluded hope that anyone- if there was anyone-might direct her to Parchfeldt Park was ridiculous. Miss Temple slumped back against the wall. Her actions in the freight car-from the first decision to sleep next to the Contessa to this last humiliating struggle-flayed her conscience like a whip.

If she ever found Chang and Svenson, what would she say to them-about her own failures of character, or about her loss of Eloise? Where would she possibly find the two men? She did not know where Parchfeldt was. She did not know what Chang's message possibly meant-"the Lord's Time"-no doubt it was the secret name for some gambling club or brothel!

The Contessa's words echoed in her heart. She could choose to leave her adventure as something finished, be satisfied with her revenge and her survival. She could return to her life with lessons learned and precious few scars to prove it. But then she clenched her legs tightly together, shivering at the memory of the Contessa's touch, pulling her knees to her chest in fervid misery.

The train at last pulled forward. Miss Temple curled onto her side, though the rest she found was thin and brought no comfort.

SHE WOKE to whistles and the rushing racket of other trains pa.s.sing near. Miss Temple straightened her dress and wiped her face, making sure of the knife in her boot. They had entered the tunnels surrounding Stropping Station. The train slowed and crawled agonizingly to a stop. She opened the door with a determined, prolonged shove, wriggled through, legs dangling, and pushed herself off to land with a grunt on the soot-blackened gravel. Miss Temple ducked her head down and scuttled like a crab beneath the next train over. Emerging unseen on the far side, she advanced briskly toward the main station hall.

She was still in a quandary as to her path. She was tempted by so many sensible tasks-to find a hotel, arrange a draft of money from her bank, refit herself, a new bag from Nesbit's, undergarments from Clauchon, a dress from Monsieur Ma.s.see (who would have her sizes, and could be counted on to be discreet), and before everything a hot bath with rosemary oil.

Miss Temple ducked into the s.p.a.ce between two cars. Ahead of her a figure in a long hooded black cloak crept from under a railcar, escaping her own train just as she had done. The figure paused there, for the path to the thronging open plaza of Stropping Station had been blocked by two men in long black coats and top hats and behind them four red-coated soldiers. The men in black looked very much like Roger-like government officials-and gazed grimly down the track-side, but they saw neither the cloaked man nor Miss Temple. With a shrug of agreement they marched from view, the soldiers in stomping unison behind them. The hooded man flowed soundlessly forward like a shadow against the side of the train.

Miss Temple scampered after him. She reached the spot where he had hidden and wrinkled her nose at the reek of indigo clay. She was following Francis Xonck. But why was Xonck hiding from the government officials and soldiers who had been his allies? Her heart rose with sudden hope. Did it mean that the Cabal had been overthrown?

Then she sighed bitterly. If only she knew where to meet Chang or Svenson she could satisfy herself with having seen Xonck, and make her way directly to a hotel, perhaps the Beacon, or-her heart leapt just a little-Anburne House, which boasted an especially excellent tea. But she did not know.

Xonck rushed into the bright lights of the main station floor and disappeared. Miss Temple reached down for her knife and, holding the thing as discreetly as she could in her fist, dashed after him.

THE Ma.s.sIVE angel-flanked clock, hanging over Stropping terminal like an oppressive omen of guilt, set the time at just before noon. As she turned away from its unwelcome image, Miss Temple realized that something in the station had changed. The teeming crowds coursed between the high staircases and the ticket counters and the different platforms, with eddies and pools around the various shops and kiosks scattered across the floor... but their formerly free movement was now directed by an army of brown-coated railway con stables. What had happened? She saw travelers driven in harried groups, resentful sheep under the rule of nipping hounds. She saw uncooperative individuals pulled aside and escorted brusquely away- respectably dressed people given over to the custody of soldiers! Had there been some rail crash or catastrophe? Had there been another riot at a mill? At the kiosks and shops, each purchase was observed by constables- even small groups standing in conversation were ordered to move along. Across the station Miss Temple saw bright knots of scarlet- dragoons in uniform, each group accompanied by figures in crisp city black. They peered down the track lines as different trains pulled in and out of Stropping, obviously engaged in a ma.s.sive search-and a preponderance were gathered near her own quadrant of the station's platforms, where trains arrived from the north.

Francis Xonck thrust himself past two quarreling constables into the crush of waiting travelers, crouching low. Miss Temple threw herself into his wake, into the bags and elbows, the jabbing umbrellas and ankle-catching canes, finally stumbling to a halt against an elderly gentleman's back. She looked up to apologize and saw his face was wrinkled with nausea. With a hop she glimpsed Xoncks black hood. He had changed direction.

Thinking quickly, Miss Temple joined a group of schoolchildren led by hectoring tutors, for whom the constables made way-and when one of the children turned curiously back to her she hissed, "Face front!" with such authority that the young thing instantly complied. Suddenly Xonck was almost directly before her... waiting for an opening between the patrols of soldiers. From behind she could see how tall Xonck truly was, as she could too easily recall his deadly movements...the man was actually quite a bit like Chang. Of course, Xonck was a preening dandy, a wicked vampire of a man, while Chang... well, one had to admit the red coat was ostentatious, and Chang's character was wicked. He had abandoned them all, hadn't he?

Xonck dashed forward. At either side of the platform's edge stood black-coated men and dragoons, but Xonck slipped skillfully past them all, down a graveled alleyway beside a waiting, steaming train. She leapt after him-Xonck did not look back, racing straight to the farthest car. He craned his head ahead to the coal wagon, first looking for any trainsmen-warning Miss Temple, who threw herself down- then glancing behind him. When she peeked again he had climbed to an odd-shaped window at the car's front, perhaps to a lavatory. Miss Temple crept closer. The window would not open, and Xonck shoved again, striking the sash with the heel of his fist. He shifted his grip to push with both hands, but lost his balance and dropped to the ground with a snort of disgust. Xonck flipped his cloak over his shoulder to reveal a heavy canvas bag looped around his right hand-which Miss Temple now saw was wrapped with plaster. Setting the sack on the rocks, he rescaled the car, now clubbing at the window latch with the cast and pushing at the sash with his more nimble left hand.

Miss Temple advanced across the rocks, quiet as a trotting cat. Xonck did not see her. Without hesitation she s.n.a.t.c.hed up the sack and ran.

THE SACK was heavy and bounced against her thigh. She'd not gone five yards before she heard Xonck roar. A rush of delirious fear rose to the very roots of her hair. Xonck's bootsteps pounded behind her. At the platform stood a man in a black coat, with three soldiers at his side, not a single one of them looking her way. Miss Temple screamed, high-pitched and helpless. She darted to the side and heard Xonck- so very close behind her-stumble to change direction. She screamed again and the idiots on the platform at last turned their faces. The man gaped at her, then finally called to his men. The dragoons drew their sabers and followed. Miss Temple screamed a third time and cannoned into the official's arms, knocking him back a full two steps as the soldiers charged by. She turned, chest heaving, to see the path behind her utterly empty. Francis Xonck was gone.

A SOLDIER STALKED along each flanking train, peering beneath every car. The third remained on guard, his saber drawn. The man in the black coat studied her with concern, a thin-faced fellow with a waxed black moustache and side whiskers a touch more full than his jaw could attractively bear.

"He was chasing me," she gasped.

"Who was chasing you, child? Who was it?"

"I do not know!" cried Miss Temple. "He was quite wicked-looking and smelled foul!"

"She says there's a smell!" he called out to the dragoons. As if this was not at all strange, both searching soldiers bent forward to sniff.

"Yes, sir!" one called back. "Cordite and corruption-just like we were told!"

The man in the black coat raised Miss Temple's chin in a way she did not appreciate. "What is your name?"

"I am Miss Isobel Hastings."

"And what are you doing running about between trains at Stropping Station, Miss Hastings?"

"I did not intend to be between trains at all, I promise you. I was chased. Of course, I am so grateful for my rescue."

"What is in your parcel?"

"Only my supper. I was to travel on to Cap Rouge, you see, to meet my aunt."