A Restless Truth (The Last Binding #2)

Chapter 31

31

The last time Maud had been inside Cabin 44, B Deck, it had been with exactly this group of people: Violet, Chapman, and Morris. They needed only the arrival of Lord Hawthorn to complete the party.

This time, she and Violet were deposited in chairs. Chapman rapidly cradled a spell that held Maud’s feet flat on the ground, her legs pressed back against the legs of the chair. The same for Violet. It didn’t hurt; nor did it give in the slightest. And it was far, far from the sparkling and spine-tingling spell that Violet had wrapped around Maud the previous night.

Morris removed the Goblin’s Bridle from Maud’s wrist. On their way through the ship she’d rehearsed a number of increasingly violent options for what she could do once she had the use of her hands, but her nerve failed her. All her instincts screamed that it would be a bad idea to make Morris angry.

“Now then,” said Chapman. “Mrs. Navenby, I assume you’re able to hear me, one way or another. Who’s going to answer my questions?”

“ Wouldn’t you like to know? ” Violet’s hands were still clasped, but the angle of her chin was entirely arrogant.

Clasped hands. Priez-vous. Maud remembered, horribly, another vision recorded in Robin’s notebook. Harriet, tied to a chair. A fair-haired man striking her across the face. Possibilities and probabilities. Maud had the warning, set down in ink, and she still couldn’t prevent this.

Chapman’s lips curved into the smile of a man who had the situation under control now, and so considered himself untouch able. “I’m afraid I don’t believe you, now that I’ve thought about it. Mrs. Navenby’s ghost could simply have used that Moretti woman, if she has the ability to use any mouthpiece at all.”

Morris made an impatient sound. “Doesn’t matter which one talks, as long as one of them does.”

“It was truly a great performance, Miss Debenham,” Chapman assured her. “A pity. You should have stayed on that New York stage.”

“And you should have stayed in England and not let this Bastoke send you off on a wild goose chase for bits of silver,” said Violet. “Though perhaps you enjoy threatening girls. You can’t get any female company unless you’re forcibly restraining them, is that it?”

Maud bit her tongue as Chapman took an aborted step towards Violet’s chair, annoyance hardening his face. Violet clearly had no qualms about making them angry. Or was this part of a plan?

“There’s certainly been enough goose-chasing on this voyage.” Chapman stood in front of Maud. “It ends now. The ghost will tell us exactly what her piece of the contract is, and where it is, and Miss Cutler will pay the price for any further games or time-wasting.”

“My name isn’t Cutler,” said Maud at once. If there were ever a time to play her trump card, this was it. “It’s Blyth. My brother is Sir Robert Blyth, baronet, and he’s expecting my safe return. And”—her tongue slipping with haste—“he’s also the only foreseer the Magical Assembly has access to.”

Chapman snorted, clearly about to dismiss this as yet more playacting, but Morris put a hand on his arm.

“Bugger. No, Chapman, hold it. She’s right about Blyth.” Those incurious eyes sharpened with recognition. “She looks enough like him too.”

“The Assembly has a foreseer ?” said Chapman. “Why didn’t I know that?”

Maud managed to meet Violet’s eyes in a sliver of space between the two men. Violet raised her eyebrows.

“You didn’t need to,” said Morris.

“ And, ” Maud plunged on, “Walter Courcey is under blood-oath not to cause me any harm, or else the Assembly loses Robin’s cooperation for good.”

She had no idea if this would work. It did, at least, make Morris frown. Chapman waved an impatient hand.

“Walter Courcey isn’t here, is he? Besides, I don’t intend to leave you with any injuries, Miss—whatever you call yourself. I’m hardly an amateur.” He reached out and delivered a teasing flick to one of the small buttons of Maud’s waistcoat. His fingertip stayed in place, resting gently just over Maud’s heart. “I can heal anything Morris inflicts.”

The implications of that wrapped Maud in clammy flannel. She flinched away, then wished she hadn’t when his expression only grew more pleased. Was his enjoyment the only reason he intended to get answers through fear and pain? There was such a thing as a truth-spell, and Walter Courcey had learned it from Edwin, its inventor. Edwin had used it to imbue the truth-candle’s wax.

But there didn’t appear to be much love lost between these conspirators. Perhaps Walter had kept the truth-spell’s existence from his allies, in case it was used against him one day.

“Mr. Bastoke wants the contract, end of story,” said Morris. “If it gets the information, I say we risk it. Lethe-mint when we’re done.”

“There, you see?” said Chapman to Maud. “You won’t even remember it afterwards. It’ll be like it never happened. Of course, it’d be a lot easier if you just told me what I wanted to know now, and then we wouldn’t be arguing about nasty things like injuries .”

What would the late Lady Blyth have said in this situation, tied up and threatened by a self-congratulating policeman from the North with no society clout at all? Probably she would have laughed . Maud didn’t manage it. She straightened her spine, pulled as much of her mother’s metallic uncaring around herself as she could, and looked Chapman right in the eyes.

“I think you’re a horrid, pathetic little man. And you can go fuck yourself.”

Chapman hit her.

Violet yelped. Maud only heard it muffled, beneath the pain erupting over her cheekbone and mouth and in the base of her neck as her head snapped to the side. It wasn’t worse than a cane across the palms. Perhaps exactly as bad. Her head swam with brown stars and brassy bells. She tasted a hint of blood, as if the satisfying obscenity had scoured her on its way out.

When she focused on him again, Chapman looked startled—but it melted at once into satisfaction, as if he’d gotten away with something unexpected. He had a temper. He lashed out when things didn’t go to plan. It was why Mrs. Navenby had died in the first place. Maud should use it. She should think of some way to use it. God, her face hurt.

And then she was nudged aside in her own body.

“ I am sorry for the girl, of course, ” said Mrs. Navenby. “ She’s only doing her best to help. But this one is right”— with a nod to Morris. “ The contract is the most important thing. Keeping it from you and people like you was the task of my life, and it remains the task of my death. Miss Blyth doesn’t know what you’re looking for. I do, and you can’t kill me twice. So I won’t be telling you anything .”

Morris shook his head. “It might take longer, is all. But you will.”

The toe of Morris’s boot found the front of Maud’s leg as if her skirt and petticoat were invisible, and connected with the force of a cricket-bat. Maud let out a cry that was half surprise, and this time didn’t manage to stifle it before it turned into a wet, whimpering breath. That was definitely worse than a cane. Her leg throbbed with red fire.

“Stop it!” yelled Violet.

“Shut it,” Morris said. “If you screech one more time, I’ll break her arm.”

Violet’s mouth moved, her glare turning sharp, but she said nothing else.

Maud clutched her arms to herself. He sounded implacable. That was the awful part. Chapman swung between nervy and smug; Morris, now that he’d decided what had to happen in the service of his employer’s goal, was almost bored . As if he’d clean the blood off his trousers—Maud’s blood—and then have a calm pint of beer with his dinner and sleep the sound sleep of the just.

“Get on with it, then,” said Chapman. “She’ll snap fast, ghost or no. Women always do.”

Morris didn’t spare him a look. He looked hard at Maud, as if measuring her for a new suit, and cradled a spell. Maud tried not to watch the fluid, rapid dance of his fingers.

She flinched when he released it, but nothing happened. The spell, soft as pale syrup, flew outwards like the curtain-spell that Violet had cast in the cargo hold.

“Muffling-spell on the room,” Morris said flatly. “It might hasten matters if you scream, miss. Don’t be stupid and stubborn like your brother was.”

“You put the curse on Robin?”

Morris tilted his head, scornful. “He writhed around like a damn fish.”

It was possibly the worst thing—or the best—that he could have said in the circumstances. Violet had talked about the knife-spell coming from a part of her that was only anger. Maud felt a dark flicker, deep in her belly, thinking of Robin. She couldn’t transform the anger into magic. But oh, she wanted to, in order to hurt this person in return. She wanted to take his skin off inch by inch. She wanted to watch him writhe.

But she couldn’t. She was the one who was going to hurt.

Maud set her teeth and dug her fingertips tight into the crooks of her own arms. Even if she did scream, and sob, and empty her guts onto the rug, she would endure for as long as possible before she admitted what and where the Last Contract was. Then at least she could hold her head high when she told Robin she was sorry for failing him.

“I think you’ll find,” she said, “I can be very stupid indeed.”

Morris lifted his hands to cradle again. Maud wanted to screw her eyes shut; she didn’t want to see it coming, whatever it was, except that the alternative was even more unbearable—

“Wait,” said Violet. “I think I can help. Without anyone being injured.”

Morris paused. Maud exhaled.

“Do you know where the cup is, then?” Chapman demanded of Violet.

“I’m almost certain I do. And”—before either of the men could interrupt her—“I have something else I can offer you into the bargain.”

Chapman looked her up and down, lip curling. “Your charms aren’t as universal as you think they are, Miss Debenham.”

“No, I suppose not,” Violet said with equanimity. “You don’t think much of me at all, do you, Mr. Chapman? You told Morris here to get rid of me.”

“You’ve nothing to do with this business,” he said shortly. “You’ve just stuck your nose in where it isn’t wanted, and you’re paying for it.”

Realisation began to creep over Maud. Now she held her breath for an entirely different reason.

“Hm.” Violet smiled. The attention of the room had begun to recentre on her, and Maud could see Chapman wavering; he didn’t know why . Violet looking this pleased with herself didn’t fit his idea of the script. “How did you find us in the cargo hold?”

“Tracking rune,” said Chapman. “Morris had the sense to get that onto one of you, at least.”

“Here’s the thing.” Violet leaned back in her chair. “I don’t think Morris did . When would he have had the chance to get close enough? Perhaps at the end of the séance. But that rune’s been there for days now.” She shifted her gaze to Morris, who looked stolidly back at her. “It was my cousin Clarence, wasn’t it? He put it on me sometime in New York. It glowed for the first time when he was looking for me and didn’t know I was in the Turkish baths. And then again when he needed to know I wasn’t in my cabin, so he could go and search it for Lady Enid’s letter.”

“What the devil are you nattering about?” said Chapman, angrily. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m elucidating,” said Violet. “Try to keep up. So Clarence laid the rune, but Morris could activate it, because he knew that it was there. Morris knew what Walter Courcey had instructed Clarence to do. Morris has tried to stop me, but I don’t think he’d ever have killed me. Because your dear friend Morris here knows that the late Lady Enid Blackwood left me all her worldly belongings when she died. Including the knife of the Last Contract, whatever and wherever it might be.” She beamed at Morris as if he were a chivalrous protector. “Maud’s brother might be useful to your cause, but I’m vital .”

Chapman’s face, during this recital, had moved through irritation to an irate shade of puce.

“ What, ” he growled. “Morris? Is any of this true?”

“Did Mr. Bastoke not trust you with that part of the scheme?” said Maud. She widened her eyes up at Chapman. “Perhaps it was something else you didn’t need to know?”

“ Morris .” A snap.

Morris shrugged. Nothing could have more perfectly communicated his disdain. Maud, despite everything, nearly burst into a choke of laughter.

“It’s not much fun being a tool, is it, Mr. Chapman?” said Violet. “Just pulled out of the box when you’re needed and kept in the dark otherwise.”

Chapman looked as though he wanted to hit all three of them, and even lifted his hands as if to start a cradle. Then he thought better of it. He said, bullish, “Mr. Bastoke knows my worth. He’ll let me in on the larger picture once I’ve done my job and delivered the cup.”

“Exactly my point.” Violet swept on. “If you’d shut up for a moment, you’d realise I’m surrendering, Chapman. I’m not a ghost and I don’t intend to become one, and I don’t believe in prizing mythical objects over people’s lives. I’m prepared to buy our freedom and our safety. When we get back to England you can bring your pals over to search Lady Enid’s estate. Or I’ll sign all her knickknacks over to Clarence, and he can deal with them. Whatever you wish. If you let myself and Maud go, now, unharmed.”

“ Violet! ” came out of Maud, ringing with alarm. She didn’t know if it was herself or Mrs. Navenby who’d said it.

“And as a sign of good faith,” Violet went on, lifting her clasped hands, “if you take this bloody spell off me, I’ll tell you where Mrs. Navenby’s cup is. I’d appreciate it if you’d hurry. I’ve already lost feeling in two of my fingers.”

“How do I know you’re not pretending again?” said Chapman. “Tell me first. Then… yes. You’ll both be free to go.”

Violet sighed. “You’re terrible negotiators. Don’t you understand what good faith is? It’s what you still have, barely, because the worst you’ve done so far is kick Maud in the shins like a schoolboy. Here’s the thing: Maud and I both know where the cup is. But if you torture her, Mrs. Navenby will just use her mouth to spout gibberish. Whereas I”—grandly—“will tell you, with no fuss. If you let me go.”

“I don’t like it,” said Morris.

“I’m still making the decisions here,” snapped Chapman, another part of his composure fraying. He frowned at Violet. “I don’t trust you.”

“And I don’t trust you not to take out your temper on me just for the fun of it as soon as you have what you want. I want to be on my own feet, with my hands free. Give me that and I’ll keep Lord Hawthorn off your back.” Violet shot a look at Maud. “I’ll tell a story of why we all disappeared for an hour, and why Maud has a split lip, that doesn’t end up with you having to answer a lot of uncomfortable questions from his lordship and ship security.”

Chapman was a man coming to the end of his rope. Maud didn’t blame him. Watching Violet at her most obnoxiously needling was a marvel, when it was turned on someone else. Chapman frowned one more time and then cradled a negation, which he flung at Violet.

She stood, making a show out of stretching.

“Just in case you get any ideas.” Morris’s hands throbbed with a green spell; the equivalent of keeping a gun pointed at Violet’s head, Maud supposed. “Hands apart. Now talk.”

“ You self-interested, conniving little hussy! ” Mrs. Navenby shouted. “ Is this how you repay Enid’s generosity?”

“Ah. I thought you’d weigh in sooner or later, ma’am.” Violet, moving slowly with an eye on Morris, crossed to stand in front of Maud. She leaned down until their faces were close enough to kiss. “I don’t like the way you talk to me. And I don’t like the way you use my friend as an instrument, either.”

Violet gave another wink. This one was a measured, deliberate twitch of her eye, delivered with a flicker of a smile. Maud hesitated, and felt the ghost’s speechlessness as well.

Violet said, “I’m sick of running errands and putting myself in danger for the sake of the dead, when there are living people here I actually care about. And if I told you that I want to keep Maud safe more than I want anything else—well, ma’am, you of all people should understand that.”

Her fingertips alighted on Maud’s lower lip. Traced a path down Maud’s chin, her neck. Those grey eyes were sparkling again, a mixture of tension and affection holding her expression taut. When she reached the uppermost buttons of Maud’s shirtwaist, she undid them. Then the ones below.

Maud kept her arms by her sides, but couldn’t help the curl of her hands into fists. Did she trust Violet?

Yes. Just enough.

“What are you doing?” said Chapman.

“I’m holding up my end of the bargain,” said Violet.

Beneath Violet’s fingers, Maud’s heart began to pound. The sides of her shirt folded back, revealing the lump of the locket beneath the neck of her chemise.

The plan fell into place.

“Don’t,” Maud pleaded, as tearfully as she knew how. She took frantic hold of Violet’s wrists as if to halt her. “Violet, I don’t want you to do this for me. Not after everything we’ve done to keep it safe.”

Violet kissed Maud’s cheek. Her fingers were gentle, clever, as they hooked beneath the chain of the locket and tugged it into the light.

“Maud, darling,” she said, very soft. “You’re worth more than this quest. I’ve told you that all along.”

“ Don’t you dare! ” Mrs. Navenby said. Shrill, but there was a theatrical note to it. Maud would have grinned, if her mouth were her own. “ Miss Blyth! Stop her! ”

“Mrs. Navenby,” said Violet. “I truly am sorry. But this is for the best.”

And she yanked the sunflower locket away from Maud’s neck. The thin chain snapped.

Violet turned with the locket in her grip.

“Gentlemen,” she said. “I present to you—Elizabeth Navenby’s piece of the Last Contract. Here—catch.”