Burning Lamp (32 page)

Griffin could not force his muscles to do anything so he tried the opposite approach. He stopped fighting the overpowering energy altogether and immediately crumpled to the floor in front of the window.

The sudden, unexpected movement must have caught Luttrell by surprise, because for a heartbeat or two he lost his focus through the crystal.

Griffin could breathe again. The mountain that had been sitting on his senses lightened briefly. He pulled a tiny bit of energy along with a deep breath. He managed to cloak himself in some shadow light, not enough to make himself invisible but perhaps enough to make it harder for Luttrell to see him clearly.

Luttrell responded with rage.

“Don’t move,” he shouted.

Luttrell found his focus again almost immediately but it seemed to Griffin that the crushing weight of energy was not as steady nor as stable as it had been a moment ago.

There it was again, a tiny flicker in the resonating pattern of the currents. Either the shadow light was throwing off Luttrell’s focus or the crystal itself was losing power. The human mind was not a machine that gave off energy at a constant rate. Talent was no different from hearing, sight, touch or smell. Like the normal senses, the psychical senses were affected by everything from strong emotion to the rate of one’s pulse.

“I’m going to miss the Hulseys,” Luttrell said. “They have been useful, but I have concluded that they are more trouble than they are worth. I always knew that sooner or later Arcane would come looking for them. I don’t need that particular problem just now. I’m going to have my hands full taking over your organization.”

Griffin sensed another short spasm in the currents of energy Luttrell was throwing at him. He used the short interlude to gather a few more shadows.

“My parents,” he managed in a hoarse whisper. “Why did you kill them?”

“I had no choice,” Luttrell said. “Believe it or not, I didn’t know they were at home that day. I thought the house was empty. But as it turned out your mother and father were enjoying a few private moments upstairs. Your father heard me when I cracked the safe and came down to investigate. He had a gun. What was I to do?”

“Bastard.”

“No argument there.” Luttrell walked closer and stood looking down at Griffin. “I never had the opportunity to meet my own father. I understand he died in a knife fight a few months before I was born. But, then, we all have our sad little stories, don’t we? Lucky for the social reformers. Just think where they’d be without so many to save.”

“Some of us aren’t worth saving.”

Luttrell smiled. “You’re probably right. On the other hand, some of us don’t want to be saved, do we? Can you imagine either one of us living a quiet, boring, respectable life? What a waste of talent.”

“The Truce. Why did you break it?”

“Our agreement has had its uses for the past few years. But unlike you I’m not content with only a portion of an empire. I am now ready to take it all. You and Pierce are the only major obstacles in my path. After tonight only Pierce will remain. I do not anticipate any trouble in that quarter.”

“You’re forgetting about Arcane.”

Luttrell smiled. “The Society is composed of our betters. None of them were forced to survive on the streets the way you and I did. What do they know of our world? They have been weakened by generations of comfortable living.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“I know they have some strong talents in their ranks, and that is why I am in no rush to take them on just yet. But soon I will own some of the most powerful men in that organization. I will know their secrets, and with that knowledge I will control Arcane. Think what I can accomplish with that kind of power.”

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” Griffin said. “Trust me.”

“Now that is where you are wrong. I know exactly what I’m dealing with. I have a spy within the very heart of Arcane.”

“You’re a fool.”

“Which one of us is lying helpless on the floor?” Luttrell asked. “But before I end this, there is one thing I would like to know. Did the Pyne woman work the Burning Lamp for you? According to that old legend you should have a couple of additional talents by now. I don’t see any indication of extra powers, though.”

“You know how it is with legends. Ninety-five percent of the tale is usually false.”

“Yes, I was certain that would turn out to be the case with the Burning Lamp myth. How unfortunate for you. What matters to me is that my Arcane connection believes that he can access the energy of the lamp. He is obsessed with the damn thing. And I have become quite fond of these crystals that he creates for me. Thus, we have arrived at an agreement.”

Luttrell’s focus flickered again. Griffin grabbed a few more shadows. The natural gloom inside the room was a great asset. He knew that he was rapidly becoming a vague object in the poorly illuminated space.

“On your feet,” Luttrell ordered. “Stand up where I can see you, damn it.”

Griffin went very still and very silent. Luttrell was getting nervous.

“You heard me,” Luttrell shouted. “Get on your feet.”

Anger and a trace of fear reverberated in the words. Luttrell swung the crystal in an arc, searching for the target he could no longer see.

Griffin abruptly found himself free. His senses roared back at full power. He sent out a heavy wave of his nightmare talent.

Luttrell screamed, a high, keening cry that soared above the howl of the fire. The red crystal blazed once, weakly, and then went dark.

Griffin staggered to his feet.

“No,” Luttrell shouted. “Stay away from me.” He whirled and started toward the door.

Griffin slammed into him. They crashed to the floor. Griffin was remotely aware of pain in his left shoulder but it did not seem important. Luttrell flailed wildly. Griffin pulsed more energy.

Luttrell screamed again. In the next instant his heart stopped. So did the scream.

Griffin did not stop the floodtide of nightmares until there was nothing left on which to focus. The shock of the death splashed like acid across his senses. It was not the first time he had experienced it. He knew he would pay a price later but he considered it a fair bargain.

The fire was louder now. Smoke was drifting into the bedroom. He scrambled free of Luttrell’s body, grabbed the crystal and ran for the window. He paused a moment to strip off his coat. He would need it to protect his hands from the friction created when he went down the rope.

He got one leg over the sill. The rope went taut. He looked down and saw Adelaide. She had seized the trailing end and was starting up the stone wall of the house.

“I should have known you’d show up sooner or later,” he said.

“Griffin. Thank God.”

She released her grip on the rope and dropped the short distance into the garden. He went over the edge of the window and lowered himself quickly down beside her.

Delbert came around the corner of the house, revolver in hand. He was breathing hard.

“Sorry, Boss. She got away from me.”

“She’s good at that kind of thing.” Griffin grabbed Adelaide’s hand.
“RuN
.
”

They raced around the corner of the house and out into the lane. Norwood Harper was waiting for them, the fern clutched in his hands. Griffin snatched the basket out of his fingers.

“Move, Harper. The house is coming down.”

The stone walls stood but the interior of the house crumbled in on itself in a whirlpool of flames. Griffin could hear the fire brigade in the distance.

He brought Adelaide and the others to a halt next to the carriage.

Jed looked down from the box. “Bit of trouble, Boss?”

“Just the usual,” Griffin said.

Together they watched the fire wagons rumble past. No one spoke for several minutes.

Finally Griffin looked at Adelaide. “Where did you learn to climb a rope? Wait, let me guess. Monty Moore’s Wild West Show.”

“We had a regular feature that involved a gang of outlaws who escape from jail,” she said. She was breathless from running. “The villains escaped by climbing a rope.”

“How did it end?”

“The sheriff and his posse always caught the outlaws. But not before they robbed a bank.”

“The outlaws
always
got caught?”

“I’m afraid so,” Adelaide said.

“Obviously they were working for a poor excuse for a crime lord.”

“I always played the role of the leader of the outlaw gang,” she said. “I was the crime lord.”

 

 

 

JED USHERED LUCINDA AND CALEB JONES INTO THE LIBRARY. Griffin rose from behind his desk to greet them.

“Imagine, Mr. and Mrs. Jones consorting with a known crime lord,” he said. “This cannot be good for my reputation.”

“Probably won’t benefit ours much, either,” Caleb muttered darkly.

Adelaide smiled at Lucinda.

“Ignore them both,” she said. “Please sit down.”

“Thank you.” Lucinda took one of the chairs. She surveyed Adelaide with a worried glance and then she looked at Griffin. “Are you both all right? The man who brought the message said there was some sort of fire. No offense, but the two of you look as though you got a bit too close to a poorly vented hearth.”

Adelaide glanced down at her soot-stained shirt and trousers and grimaced. Griffin’s clothes were in worse condition. His face was smudged with smoky residue.

“We do look a sight, don’t we?” Adelaide said. “We have not yet had a chance to bathe.”

Mrs. Trevelyan brought in a tea tray. Griffin gave a brief account of what had happened in Hidden Moon Lane. At the conclusion he produced the fern from behind his desk with a theatrical flourish that made Adelaide roll her eyes. He winked at her.

“My
Ameliopteris
,” Lucinda exclaimed. She leaped to her feet to take the basket from Griffin. Anxiously she surveyed the plant and then gave a relieved sigh. “Hulsey cut off several fronds but the poor thing appears to be in good health. It will grow back.” She looked at Griffin. “I cannot tell you how much this means to me. Thank you, Mr. Winters. I hope that someday I can repay the favor.”

Caleb’s jaw tightened. He cleared his throat.

“My dear,” he said to Lucinda, “There is no need to get overly emotional about this.”

“But I truly am grateful,” Lucinda insisted. “I am, indeed, in Mr. Winters’s debt.”

Griffin was already smiling his slow, cold smile. “As you wish, Mrs. Jones. I collect favors. It is something of a hobby of mine.”

Caleb shot Griffin a wary glance. “It’s just a fern, Lucinda. It was your property to start with. Winters merely returned it to you. No favors involved.”

“I disagree,” Lucinda said. “My
Ameliopteris
is very special to me. I will be forever grateful to Mr. Winters.”

“I’m glad you are pleased, Mrs. Jones,” Griffin said.

Adelaide gave him a repressive glare and then turned back to Lucinda. “Ignore Mr. Winters. You do not owe him anything just because he rescued your fern. Isn’t that right, Mr. Winters?”

Griffin inclined his head in a gallant gesture. “Always happy to be of service to one of the proprietors of Jones and Jones.”

Caleb fixed Griffin with a steely expression. “You say the Hulseys got away?”

“I think it would be prudent to assume that is the case,” Griffin said. “That underground laboratory of theirs was connected to some old medieval tunnels.”

“Given their history with various employers, I think it likely that they had some emergency escape plans prepared,” Caleb said. He sounded resigned. “It’s certainly what we would have done.”

“Yes,” Griffin said. “It is.”

Caleb exhaled thoughtfully. “We do think alike, you and I.”

Griffin did not respond to that statement but he did not deny it, either, Adelaide noticed.

“Well, on a positive note,” she said briskly, “if the Hulseys did get away it will mean more work for Jones and Jones.”

Caleb looked grim. “I assure you, Mrs. Pyne, the firm does not lack for clients. Damned nuisance they are, too.”

“Don’t believe a word he says.” Lucinda patted his arm affectionately. “He loves the challenge of an investigation. And so do I. Now, then, with Luttrell dead, what will become of the underworld empire that he controlled?”

Griffin lounged back in his desk chair. “As neither Mr. Pierce nor I are interested in the brothel or opium business, I expect that there will soon be some squabbling over the remains.”

Adelaide poured some tea for Lucinda. “In the meantime, my charity house and the Academy will take in as many of the women who worked in Luttrell’s establishments as can be convinced to leave the streets.”

Lucinda looked impressed. “Congratulations, Adelaide. Just think, in one fell swoop, all of those notorious brothels have been destroyed. That is a very impressive accomplishment for any social reformer.”

“I cannot take the credit,” Adelaide said. “Mr. Winters is the amazing social reformer who succeeded in leveling Luttrell’s empire. I can’t wait to read the account in
The Flying Intelligencer
.”

Griffin fixed her with a dangerous look. His eyes heated a little. “I will be more than a little displeased if my name appears in the sensation press.”

“Really, sir, there is no need to issue dire threats and warnings,” Adelaide said. She set the teapot back down on the tray. “I assure you, I will not mention a word to Gilbert Otford or any of the other gentlemen of the press. But I cannot be held responsible for any rumors that might even now be circulating.”

“Yes,” Griffin vowed, “you can and will be held accountable.”

Adelaide smiled. “More tea?”

Caleb frowned at the chunk of red glass sitting on the corner of the desk. “What can you tell us about the crystal?”

“Very little.” Griffin got to his feet and went around to the front of the desk. He propped himself against the edge and picked up the crystal. “The devices appear to be able to enhance the focus of one’s natural psychical currents, at least temporarily. But the crystals burn out quickly.”