A Darkness Strange and Lovely (Something Strange and Deadly #2)(69)

That’s quite a limitation, I thought. And beneath that, another thought flashed: I don’t need that.

Daniel tossed a pistol to Joseph, who caught it deftly and held it to the light.

“Incredible. This would have made things at Madame Marineaux’s easier, I daresay.” He glanced at me, a hopeful smile on his lips.

And that smile rankled me. A great deal. Why was he pretending to be pleased with me when the truth was he considered me and my magic an abomination?

Daniel strode to the last crate, his spine straightening. “This last invention is something I’m real . . . I mean . . . something of which I’m very proud.” He spent a few minutes working the nails out.

Once the lid was off, he pushed aside the straw and dug out an ornately designed, cream-colored box.

It was much like a lady’s hatbox, all soft designs and curves. Instantly, pain swept over his face. He dropped the box roughly on the floor. It hit with a heavy thud.

“What is in there?” Joseph asked.

“Nothing.” Daniel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s . . . it’s empty.”

Joseph gave me a glance, and I tugged at my earlobe. That box was most assuredly not empty, but before I could ponder what might be inside, Daniel fished out a second, smaller box. He placed it tenderly on the table and slid off the top.

My eyes widened.

Inside, nestled on a velvet cushion, was a crystal the size of my fist. Though it was rough and uncut, it still glittered like sunlight on water.

Daniel slid his hand beneath the velvet pillow and withdrew what looked like a crooked, copper wrench. On one end was a clamp and on the other was a spring-loaded handle.

“I call this a crystal clamp,” he said. “It latches onto the crystal like so. . . .” He spread the clamps wide and set the crystal within. Then he clasped the handle. “Now, you squeeze this. That in turn squeezes the crystal and creates an electric current. As long as you’re squeezing, you have electricity.”

I gasped as comprehension hit me. “It’s like my amethyst earrings. Piezoelectricity, right?”

Daniel’s eyes flicked uncertainly to mine. “You . . . you remember that?”

Of course I remembered it. The day he had taught me that word was the day he’d carried me home in an unconscious heap. The day he had given me a new parasol. The day I had finally started to hope for more than just friendship . . .

“I am not sure I remember.” Joseph drummed his fingers on the table. “Though I do recall something about squeezing quartz and getting an electric current, non?”

“Exactly.” Daniel nodded. “When you squeeze quartz, the mechanical stress creates an electric charge. That charge moves through the copper clamp and into your arm. The copper also magnifies the charge, and of course, the bigger the crystal, the bigger the initial current. It’s not as powerful as a spark from the influence machine, but it should be enough to stop a corpse or two.”

“Kaptivan,” Joseph said, gently taking the contraption into his gloved hands. “A portable source of electricity.”

“You should try it out,” Daniel suggested.

“I cannot.” He laid the device back in its box. “If I take in the electricity, I must shoot it back out again. I learned that the hard way.” He shot me a smile, as if I might understand.

I did understand—all too well. Yet I had assumed it would be different with external power.

Instead, it would seem that no matter the source, no magic could be held indefinitely. You had to use it.

And that was simply one more limitation to electricity.

“Why don’t you try it,” Daniel said, his eyes settling on me. “I bet . . .”

He gritted his teeth as if he didn’t want to finish.

“Bet what?” I pressed. “Tell me what you were going to say, Daniel.”

“I was gonna say,” he snarled, “that you should try it out because I bet that new hand of yours can squeeze this clamp like a real professional.”

I stiffened. “Joseph said it’s dangerous.”

“Right.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Silly of me to forget.”

“You want me to hurt myself, is that it?”

“I didn’t say that, did I? Thing is, I’m just startin’ to wonder, Miss Fitt”—his words came out faster and louder—“what’s so great about that phantom hand of yours.”

“Stop.” Heat blazed up my body.

“What amazing tricks can it do? Can it stop the Dead? Or—I know—can it raise the Dead?”

I knew Daniel wanted to hurt me like I had hurt him, but this time he’d gone too far. I pushed onto my feet and marched around the table toward him.

“Show us some tricks,” he said, wiggling his fingers at me. “Show us your amazing necromancy with that shiny, new hand.”

“You jealous, spiteful ass,” I hissed. “Do you want to know what my phantom hand is good for, Daniel?”

“Please,” he said with a sneer.

“This.” I slapped him straight across the cheek, so hard that even with my glove, the blow flamed up my arm.

Then, before he or Joseph could react, I turned on my heels and stormed from the lab.

Chapter Sixteen

I had just reached my room, ready to pound my pillow into a pulp, when the Dead alarm rang. I rushed to my window. A scruffy boy was yanking the bell rope and hollering, “Les Morts! Les Morts! ”