Into the Ether (6 page)

Colonel Worthington
watched me as I unwrapped the plate and got a fork.
“A friend, eh?”

I didn't answer.
He let me eat my meal in silence.
Then
pulled out a newspaper as I moved to the other side of the room and washed the dishes in the small sink.

I dried the last plate
,
set them back in the sideboard, hung up the towel, and headed for the door.

“I'll see you in the morning,” he said.

I turned from the doorway.
“Thank you, sir.”

He cleared his throat and snapped out his newspaper.
“Next time, I won't keep your dinner warm.”

Without my permission, a smile crept across my face.
It stayed there as I entered my room, exhausted, and pulled off my dress, dropping the bag of clothes Terry had brought me on the table.
I started to remove my
under
clothing in preparation for a bath, when I stopped.

Glittering in the center of the bed was a small
,
gold pocket watch.

 

Sleep took a long time to come.
I stood there, staring at the
pocket watch
until my skin bristled with
goose bumps
and my teeth clattered with cold.
In
the end, I left it where it and went to the bathroom, filing the huge
claw foot
tub with steaming water and scented soap.
The bubbles surrounded me in the comforting scent of lavender, but my mind still whirled.

That clock had
n'
t been there when I left.
It had
n'
t been there when I went to di
nner.
Only two people could have put it there, and I doubted Walter was the culprit.

Thomason.
My dream had shown him handing it to me.
Not a dream at all, I suppose.
But why?

I couldn't answer the question.
The automaton confused me.
It shouldn't have had a mind of its own
,
not like I did.
And yet, when I looked into those yellow eyes, I felt something looking back at me.
Thomason was more than a sophis
ticated machine.
He had a mind
.
He
thought
.

Shivers traveled over my skin, even
in the steaming water.
It was
frightening that any man could create another.
That was God'
s realm
.
Most humans couldn't handle their own children, let alone creating life in other ways.
I
was a perfect example.
Before Terry found
me
huddled in an alleyway near Trafalgar Square,
I
only remembered being cold.
Whatever had happened had been so awful
I
had no memory of it, but my parents had made the decision to leave me.

I played with the bubbles, thinking of everything and nothing.
I had to find the box, but I had to admit to myself, though I
would deny it later, I didn't want to.
Not because it didn't interest me—it did, and that
also frightened me
–but
because I would be betraying
Colonel Worthington
.
Though we hadn't spent long together, I'd been coming to the museum for years.
I knew how much pride he took in this place based on the way he kept it.
Everything was pristine and well kept.
He knew so much about the things here
.

Terry's purpled and swollen
face flashed across my mind and
I sniffed.
I couldn't have regrets
. My
safety wasn't the only one at stake anymore.
Something else was going on, and Terry was in the middle of it.
And that was my fault.
Guilt gnawed at my gut.
I would save the regrets for later.
My mind refused to look too closely at the feelings attached to my thoughts of Terry.
I could only handle so much, and there was already a lot on my plate.

The bathwater was lukewarm when I finally pulled the plug and dried off.
It felt good to have soaked for so long.
And with such hot water.
A luxury we did
n'
t get often at the common room.
Usually you saved a few coin and bought a bath at one of the hotels or inns when you could.

I would miss that tub.

Avoiding the wa
tch by stuffing it into a petti
coat pocket, I pulled on a clean shift and woolen stockings and crawled beneath the mound of blankets on the bed.
The gas lamp danced across the stone walls, and I thought about the day again.
Spiros was getti
ng anxious
.
He and his boss had
given me a month, but I wasn't sure how I would go about getting the box by then.

I'd have to get closer to
Colonel Worthington
.

****

“
Colonel Worthington
, I know this might be a little sudden, but I was wondering if you'd tell me what you want me to, ah, listen to.”
I dried the last dish and looked over my shoulder and the curator, who was putting his coat on.

His dark eyes scrutinized me.
I didn't have to fake the blush on my face.
I fought the urge to fidget under his heavy gaze.

“Hm.
Well, I suppose I'd like a demonstration, if you please.”

I know my face fell and then irritation burned under my cheekbones.
“You don't believe me?”

He chuckled.
“It isn't that.
Like every other talent in the world, there are degrees, my dear.
I want to see just how
proficient
a
touch
-
know
you are.”

My annoyance died a little and my shoulders slumped.
“That makes sense.”

I followed him out the door.

“Have you ever met another
touch
-
know
?”

I shook my head.
We stepped into the main foyer of the museum.
Morning light flooded the marble room and
illuminated
the entrance to the Reading Room.
Adele was setting up behind the information desk and waved.
I returned the motion and then turned back to
Colonel Worthington
.

“No.
If I have, I don't know it
.”

He stopped and searched over my face.
I could have sworn I felt
that gaze
move across my skin.
“You don't
remember
the beginning of your life, do you?”

I hesitated.
This subject I did not speak to anyone about.
Not even Terry.

“I don't hold it against you.”

The answer
came out,
against my better
judgment
.
“I don't remember anything before Terry found me in an alleyway six years ago.”

“Terry?”
He raised an eyebrow.

Another blush swept
from my collar to my brow.
“He's my best friend.”

Colonel Worthington
grunted and moved into the Ancient Greek gallery.
We stopped in front of a
life-size
marble statue of
Aphrodite
.
She was looking off over one shoulder, one arm gracefully moving away from her body, the other missing from the elbow
down
.

Colonel Worthington
motioned to the statue with his crutch.
“Go on.
Tell me about her.”

I wiped the moisture from my upper lip and rubbed my hands together.
“All
right.”

I could feel the statue watching me.
Waiting for me to touch her.
My hands hovered over the
carved leather of her sandals.
I strained my ears, listening.
I blocked out the sound of Colonel Worthington's watch, his heavy breaths, the echo of Adele's steps in the foyer, and my own heartbeat.
A tiny thread of sound
rose to the surface
.

I
never needed to touch an object
.
That was for show.
It made me feel better, and it did make it easier to “hear” them
sometimes
.
But
now
, I was a bit uncertain.
Once I'd
touched an object without
paying attention.
It had been an Indian
deity
of destruction.
He'd had his own personality, and the experience had been…well, I didn't care to repeat it.

You don't have to worry about that from me, love.

The statue had some presence.
Being so old, I'd have been a
little surprised if it hadn't.

Tell me something only you and the curator would know.
Please.

The statue heaved a sigh that echoed through my mind like autumn.
Well then, a test for you.
How sad.
I thought perhaps you were looking to take an interest in me.
I suppose some things don't change over the course of history.

“Well?”
Colonel Worthington
's voice seemed distant.

I flapped a hand at him.

I apologize.
But you
'
re right.
People don't pay enough attention to
art like you
anymore.

Flattery.
The statue snorted.
I should be insulted, but I
am
a statue of the goddess of love and beauty.

I waited.
You didn't push objects with a mind of thei
r own.
Just like people, they
get difficult.

Tell him I know the thing the
walking statue guards.
I know there are two pieces. I know where they are.

Thank you.
I pulled away from the connection.
I'll come back and visit again.

I repeated the words, and
Colonel Worthington
's whole demeanor changed.
He grabbed my arm, his fingers biting into my flesh.
“What do you know?
Where did you hear that?”

He shook me and I backed away.
Real fear
zipped through my body
.
I tensed, balancing on the balls of my feet, ready to run.
This was no frail
,
old cripple yanking on my arm.
Iron
strength ran through his palms.

“I—I don't know.
It's what she said.
What does she mean?”

He pulled me close and stared into my eyes.
“What is my mother's maiden name?”

I asked the statue.
She sounded as shaken as I felt.

“Reynolds
,”
I replied.

He released me and I st
aggered back against Aphrodite's pedestal
.
As my hand came in contact with a stone toenail, images flooded my mind.

Thomason followed
Colonel Worthington
in the dark.
He glowed with heat and brass and something else.
He carried a small package, and
Colonel Worthington
struggled with a larger one, wrapped in rags and slung around his neck.
He muttered as he walked past
the statue, but the words were garbled.

And I knew.
I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the box I searched for was hidden inside the folds of the grungy package bouncing against his chest.
And somehow, Thomason was irrevocably connected to it.

Colonel Worthington
snapped his fingers in front of my eyes and the scene faded.
“I said, are you
all right
?”

I blinked.
“I think so.”

I pushed away from the pedestal.
Colonel Worthington
looked as though he couldn't decide whether to be angry or sad.
I wasn't sure I liked either option.

“You are
a
touch
-
know
.
One of the strongest I've seen.”

My chin rose.
I wiped my hands on my skirts, sucking in large mouthfuls of air.
My heartbeat began to slow.
“I already knew that.”

Amusement flirted with his lips.
“Modest too.”

I couldn't look him in the eyes.
I stared at a wrinkle in his forehead and forced indifference into my voice.
“Well, everyone has their flaws.”

Moisture prickled along the nape of my neck.

He paused again.
“I think you
'
re not telling me everything.”

“I only relayed the message she gave me.”

“What else did she tell you?”

Relief made my joints weak.
She hadn't told me the last bit.
She'd shown it to me.
“Nothing.”

My conviction must have translated well, because he
gave a sharp jerk of his head.

“I apologize for my outburst, Genevieve.
I didn't mean to scare you.
But the thing she was speaking of,” his lips thinned and he turned away.
“
It
is more important than anyone knows.
I had to make certain you weren't lying to me.
Not about that.”

I did
n'
t miss the implications.
He knew I withheld something.
The question became what he thought I knew.

“Apology accepted.
But don't ever do it again.”
My words were braver than I felt.

He nodded once, and stretched out his hand.
I took it and shook slowly.
With a tiny tendril of power, I reached out and tried to read him.
I was better with objects, but it worked on people too.

He was empty.
It was as if I'd touched a blank sheet of paper.
I released him and he turned away, leading us out of the gallery.
I shrugged it off.
I'd probably just fried my brain talking to Aphrodite.

Now I just had to decide where he'd put the box.
The more I thought about it, the more my stomach churned.
Never before had I had this feeling when thinking of stealing something.
Tears pricked my eyes.

Guilt.