The Mesmerist(52)

I turn to Darby. She should have something too, I realize. After all, without her help, we may not have survived. Fortunately, Balthazar seems to think the same.

“As for you, Darby,” he begins, “you have shown great courage in defeating a foe that many would flee from. Do you wish to relinquish your role as servant and serve a greater cause?”

Darby looks to me and then back to Balthazar. She opens her mouth but closes it again. Emily nudges her with an elbow. “C’mon, wolf girl,” she says. “Time to hang up that apron, yeah?”

Darby smiles, revealing her crooked teeth. “Yes, sire,” she says. “I’d like that very much.”

Balthazar leans forward and looks her in the eye. “It’s Balthazar,” he says with a smile.

He straightens up and tugs at his waistcoat. “Well then,” he continues. “Jessamine. I believe you know what comes next.”

And I do.

I retrieve the spear from the corner of the room. And as we draw the curtains and initiate Darby into our order, I realize that there is no place I’d rather be.



I find Balthazar in the parlor the next morning, eating a pomegranate. I watch closely to see if he truly does eat, but he interrupts my spying by sliding a newspaper across the table. My eyes scan the page and land on a curious article:



THE DAILY TELEGRAPH & COURIER



* * *



Man Dies in Underground



An unidentified man has died in a disturbance in the newly constructed Underground. Scotland Yard reports that the man’s death came during a trial run of trains operating on the South Eastern Railway’s Paddington to Farrington route.

Several piles of smoldering ash, which emit a foul odor, have also been found at the scene. The tunnel roof was destroyed, and inspectors are not certain of the cause. Anyone with information as to the dead man’s identity, or the mysterious ash, is urged to come forward to their local constable.





I raise my eyes to Balthazar. “They’ll never really know, will they? That a creature of the underworld was in their midst, sending the city into madness and death.”

“No, they will not, Jessamine, and I am certain they are better off not knowing.”

I imagine what the scene must have looked like in the aftermath—?debris and smoke, and the ash, which was certainly the remains of the undead ghouls.

Balthazar scoots his chair back from the table. “Come,” he says. “Fetch a cloak. There is something I would like to show you.”

I wonder what it could be. At this point, nothing would surprise me.

We take a hansom cab, and I am lulled by the rhythm of the ride—?the creaking wheels and the clip-clop of horses’ hooves. The cold air on my face is pleasant and relaxing.

We exit the carriage on the edge of a wood. It strikes me as odd, for the forest looms at what seems to be the dead end of a street and looks quite out of place, almost as if it is a painting, or what the French call trompe l’oeil, a trick of the eye, an expression I recall from my governess.

Two trees stand opposite each other, and the boughs that rise overhead form an arch, providing a sort of entrance. I pause. “Where are you taking me?”

“Not much farther,” he says as we step into the wood.

The forest floor is damp, and the musky scent of mushrooms and loamy soil rises in my nostrils. Cool winter sunlight filters through the bare tree branches. It is quiet here; not even the sound of birds can be heard. We are silent for several minutes, with only the sound of our footsteps. “Do you remember the verse?” Balthazar asks.

“Verse?” I venture, confused.

“The one I recited upon first meeting you. ‘Long ago, in the early days of the world . . .’”

I nod my head and open my mouth before realizing I am doing so. “‘When man still walked among the ancient groves.’”

Unusual that I would remember that. Then again, I have always been good at rhymes and such, and recall to this day the silly stories Mother recited when I was a child.

“‘And every doorstep led to a lush green meadow,’” Balthazar continues.

And I join him: “‘Men and women often visited the Twilight Folk, and with leaves in their hair, danced in dizzying circles.’”

“‘To the trill of the flute and the beat of the drum,’” Balthazar adds. “‘To fall into a deep reverie under a thousand twinkling stars.’”

My head is light on my shoulders. The forest suddenly seems more alive. I almost feel as if the ground beneath my feet is moving. I open my mouth again, and the words fall out before I can even think. “‘Only to awake to find themselves entwined in an embrace, Fae and mortal bound together.’”

Balthazar stops walking. He turns to me, and I swear that his eyes are now golden, flecked with green. The hair on the nape of my neck stirs.

“Why do I remember that?” I ask. “How?”

He takes my gloved hands in his bare ones. “Because you, my child . . . you are of the faerie folk.”

I don’t speak. The slight wind stirs the dead leaves around my feet. I need to steady myself. I turn away from him and reach out to a tree for support.

“I first suspected it when you were scratched by Darby,” he says. “You healed quickly, Jess. Too quickly for someone wholly human. I took the blood from your handkerchief to what my kind call the Shining Court. There it was studied. They needed proof, you see, that you were indeed half fae.”