“I hear danger’s good for the mind,” Mina said, trying to breathe steadily.

Stephen’s other hand clenched on her shoulder. “Mina—”

“Besides, I can’t leave now, can I? Not without making a big hole in your wards.”

“When Colin’s well enough, we can reset them,” said Stephen. He sighed and stepped back, and the air seemed very cold in his absence. “Until then—I feel the worst sort of cad, draggin’ you intae this as I’ve done.”

“You didn’t drag me,” said Mina. A dozen questions came to her mind, questions for which this was neither the time nor the place. In the face of Stephen’s guilt, she might not have trusted the answers anyhow. She turned away. “I’d better go and talk to the others.”

* * *

When Mina reached the kitchen, Mrs. Baldwin was pouring out tea for herself, Polly, and Emily. “Hennings is upstairs,” she said when Mina came in. “Packing.”

“I don’t blame her,” Polly said. “Especially with her knee the way it is. If I couldn’t run, I’d be out of here like a shot,” she added, heedless of any contradictions in her speech.

“But, since your knees are fine…” Mina replied, with a questioning look at the housemaid.

“Oh, I wouldn’t leave now for the world,” said Polly, and gave Mina a daredevil grin. “I’ve been in service three years, and I haven’t seen anything near this exciting anyplace else.”

“You call that thing at the door exciting?” Mrs. Baldwin said, shaking her head. “I can well live without that sort of thrill, that’s certain enough, and so can anyone of any sense.”

Polly’s eyes flashed. “People die in this city every day, you know. Typhoid’s as deadly as boogeymen, and a blasted sight less interesting. Besides, I don’t see you upstairs folding your petticoats.”

“I’ve been with his lairdship for many years,” said Mrs. Baldwin stiffly, “and with his family for longer, and they’ve always treated us very well indeed. There’s such a thing as loyalty. But I don’t think any of this horror is some sort of seaside attraction.”

“She’s right, you know,” said Mina, looking at Polly and Emily. “We were lucky this time.”

“And you’ll have fixed the…protections…by next time, his lordship said,” Polly shot back. “So it’s even odds, isn’t it?”

“What about you?” Mina asked Emily, giving up on convincing Polly.

The younger girl looked down and bit her lip. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I’d miss it here, that’s sure, and I don’t know as another place would be better—um, other than the creatures, that is. But—”

“How old are you, lass?” Mrs. Baldwin asked.

“Fifteen.”

“And have you family about?”

“My father, in Leyton.”

“Then you’ll go and see him for a month. I’ve no doubt he’ll be glad to see you, wi’ your wages and all. You’ll come back after, if you’d like. One way or another, we’ll know a good deal more by then.”

“Oh—” Emily looked up, her face caught between delight and reluctance. “I’m not sure I should—”

“I am,” said Mrs. Baldwin. “And if I go to his lairdship, he’ll be too. We’ll not have a child here at a time like this. I’d not sleep at nights if we did. Go and pack your things.” She sent Emily on her way with a firm pat on the back, and turned to Mina and Polly. “Well, then. There’s the three of us, it seems.”

“Unless Miss Seymour wants to go,” said Polly.

“I don’t,” said Mina, which was more or less accurate. She was past being dismayed by that thought now.

“No, I thought you wouldn’t,” said Polly. “But you’re not one of them, are you? Not properly—you’re from Bethnal Green. I’ve heard from your letters.”

“And they don’t breed many magicians there. At least not that I know of,” Mina agreed. “I just sort of fell into things here.”

“You’ll have to fall into a few more,” said Mrs. Baldwin. “You’ve been a help with the chores already, but we’ll all have to take on more—”

“—and so will the gentlemen,” Mina said firmly. “Or at least S—Lord MacAlasdair. I don’t know if we can convince his brother, especially as Master Colin’s got a broken arm. But if one of them doesn’t come and work down here, they can send out for their meals and pay for it. With that and the four of us, we’ll survive.”

Then she remembered the manes reaching for her and the gashes in the pantry door, and wished she’d come up with another way to phrase things.

Thirty-five

Two days later, Colin was sitting up and talking. Stephen joked that it would take more than a demon to keep him silent for long. His arm was healing slowly, though, almost as slowly as a purely mortal man’s would have. Stephen, as part of his share of the household work, brought trays up to his brother’s room, though Colin said he would have preferred someone more attractive and less related. Because of the broken arm, Stephen let that remark pass.

He had his own tea with Colin as well, keeping his brother company and trying to figure out the next steps of the conflict with Ward.

“If he doesn’t live in the Brick Lane place,” said Stephen, “he’ll at least have left a few traces there, perhaps. Though I’d need to find a way in, and one that wouldn’t get the bastard’s attention.”

“The first is easy enough,” Colin said around bites of muffin. “Find whoever owns the building and persuade him to let you borrow the master key. They’re bound to have one. And if the building’s in Brick Lane, a tenner should do it. Maybe a bit more if the gentleman seems inclined to ask questions.”

“From the sound of it, you’ve done this before,” said Stephen.

Colin shrugged with one shoulder, which made him look even more indolent than usual. “Not under these circumstances. A friend had some letters he wanted back, and I volunteered, being the generous—”

“If you say ‘paragon of virtue,’ I’ll pour the tea out into your lap.”

“I thought I’d go with ‘warmhearted soul,’ as a matter of fact. Variety and whatnot. And if you’re just going to toy with that kipper, you may as well give it to a man who appreciates good food. It must be Mrs. Baldwin’s day to cook.”

“Polly’s, I think,” said Stephen.

“Really? The girl’s a wonder. You do have a talent for discovering staff.”

“Makes up for my lack of choice in relations.” Stephen smiled quickly, then settled down to consider Colin’s suggestion. Discovering a building’s owner wouldn’t present any great difficulty, only wading through a bit of bureaucracy and perhaps providing enough money to grease any particularly stubborn wheels. “And if we can’t,” he thought aloud, “or if Ward turns out to own the place—”

“Then there are a few less legal methods we can manage. You might as well be honest first, though. You don’t have the face for a scoundrel.”

“You’re just worried I’d be better at deception than you.”

“Never.”

Stephen drummed his fingers on the table. “Unless getting the key takes far longer than it should,” he said, eyeing his brother’s arm and the still-white look of his face, “you’ll be staying here. You’ll be no good at tiptoeing about and picking locks, not like this. I’ll need a set of eyes here at any rate, and ideally one familiar with magic.”

“Nice of you to try and make me feel useful,” said Colin, “but I’m quite happy to be idle and ornamental. Still, I’ll keep a lookout. What about your Miss Seymour? Are you planning to leave her here and risk the wards?”

“No,” Stephen said. “She knows that part of town better than I do, and she’s good with a bluff if need be. I think it’d be best if I didn’t end the evening in jail or with my name in the paper. Besides, a human—and someone who knows London—might spot something neither of us would.”

“You’re just repeating what she told you, aren’t you?” Colin smirked.

“You’re a remarkably unpleasant wee churl,” said Stephen, and confiscated a muffin by way of vengeance.

“You’re insulting an injured man, and you haven’t denied the charges.”

He hadn’t. He couldn’t. Five minutes with Mina’s ruthless logic and hard eyes, and Stephen had known a lost battle. He also hadn’t wanted to stay and see where the fight would lead.

Well, he had wanted to. That was the problem.

“She says she’ll keep well out of danger,” he said, “and that having two people along is better in case one of us needs to go and get help.”

“You’ll be able to send me a message anyhow,” said Colin. “At least, if you’ve still got the ring Judith forged.”

“Aye,” said Stephen. Each of the rings contained blood: his, Colin’s, Judith’s, and their father’s. Wearing it, he could speak to Colin at some distance, though Judith and Alasdair were each, in their own manner, too far away. “But if I need more immediate assistance, it’d be good to have her there.”

“If I had to choose a human to go with you,” said Colin, “she’s the best of the current lot by far. I never thought you’d take the opinion of one into consideration on a venture like this, though.”

“She’s the sort of lady who should have her say in things,” Stephen said and fixed his gaze on his brother’s face. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders—and a good heart as well.”

Colin looked up from his tea, blue-black eyebrows rising in graceful arcs. “From what I’ve been hearing lately, quite a few people think all ladies should have their say in things,” he said, “but you sounded as if you were particularly warning me, Stephen.”

“Well—perhaps I am.” Stephen set his plate down on the nightstand and stood up. The chair he’d been sitting on, like most of the furnishings in the room, was covered with roses, an artifact of either a housekeeper’s tastes or his mother’s. It was rather ludicrous for the room’s current tenant and particularly for the current discussion.

The whole discussion felt a bit ludicrous, at that. “I mean to say,” Stephen went on, “that is, she’s not like the lasses back at Loch Arach. She didna’ grow up knowing how strange we were, and—and the world’s different for women outside the valley.”

“I’d imagine I know that better than you,” Colin said, “having spent a few decades more in the outside world of late.”

“Aye, but Mina’s not like your actresses and your widows, either. She’s not got very much to fall back on if anything goes amiss—and she’s her family to think of—and she’s not the sort to like depending on a man—”

“Exactly what do you think I’ll do to the girl, pray tell?” Colin asked, smiling infuriatingly.

“You…I—I don’t know.” Stephen sat back down, defeated. “And she’s a grown woman, so there’s not much I can say in the matter. I just—treat her well. Honestly. Don’t let her think you’re in love with her.”

“It was never on my mind,” said Colin. “For one thing, you’ve given her the real sentiment already. How could I compare?”

He might have announced that he’d slipped arsenic into the teapot. Stephen went completely still for a second, then managed to make a half-choked sound of interrogation and disbelief.

“Don’t swallow your tongue,” said Colin, clicking his tongue reprovingly. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, either. It’s perfectly obvious that you’re in love with Miss Seymour.”

Stephen gathered himself to deny it—and found that he couldn’t. Memories flooded back to him: Mina warm and frantic against him, her hair like silk in his hands and her mouth moving skillfully beneath his; Mina at the breakfast table, mouth pursed and eyebrows drawn together as she considered an article in the Times; Mina joking with him in the library; Mina reaching out to console him when he was worried, and prepared to face thieves with a poker, manes with a kitchen knife, and an entirely new world with the keenness of her mind and the strength of her will.

He loved her. How could he not?

The idea simply felt right, settling into his blood and his bones. When Colin had spoken it aloud, it had been the crystallization of some long-guessed-at formula.

“But it’s hardly sensible of me, is it? She’s mortal.”

Colin shrugged. “So was Mother.”

“Barely. Her whole line were magicians. And even so, she turned Father down the first time he proposed.” The family story had been funny when Stephen had been young. Now he couldn’t quite appreciate the humor. “Mina—she’s got an entire life of her own, one that’s got nothing to do with magic. She’s got a family who’d never believe we exist. She loves them enough that she demanded I let her write to them when she first came here and she’d no reason to think I’d treat her very kindly. She couldn’t go off and leave them without explaining.”