Chapter 32 #3
She smiled thinly. “It was a stroke of inspiration. Eliminate the threat to us and simultaneously tie others to us even more securely. We knew Quincey’s family would never permit the story of his murder to be made public, and the silence seemed even more ominous to the society members, as if we were able to draw a veil over the matter, to influence the great and good to keep the death secret.
They were happy to believe that and we were happy to let them. ”
“But then Harkness presented a problem,” I said.
“He was Maurice Quincey’s closest friend.
I dosed him heavily at the start of the ritual, so his memories were only fragments, jagged pieces of thought, half remembered at best. I…
” She paused and seemed to gather her strength.
“I told Miles to put a bit of Quincey’s blood into Harkness’s mouth.
When he woke, he had the taste of blood upon his lips. ”
“Good god!” I stared at her in horror.
“It was not my finest moment,” she acknowledged.
“But it meant that Harkness would never tell anyone what had happened that night—not the police, not his family. He was not certain if he had had a hand in Quincey’s death, if somehow Miles’s supposed powers had been given to him as well.
He was nearly demented by the thought. He shut himself up at home and would not return to the society, but Miles and Johnson worried he might eventually break down, become desperate enough to go to the authorities. ”
“Hence the envelope on the morning of his death—wolfsbane and bittersweet.”
“It was only meant to ensure his silence,” she said.
“Well, it certainly succeeded on that score,” I replied dryly.
“I am sorry for his death,” she returned. “Truly. But how was I to know he would choose that path?”
“How were you to know? Human decency, perhaps? Or is that one power you lack?”
“I deserve that,” she said. “I knew you would not be kind. I think I wanted to be held accountable by you. To pay my penance.”
“I’ll grant no absolution,” I warned her. “That is beyond me.”
“I will never receive absolution for the things I’ve done. It is far too late for that.”
She fell silent again, her hands gripping each other tightly, the pale flesh corded with tension.
“After Harkness died, you must have known that you had no choice but to flee.”
“Yes. Miles and I were supposed to go to France. Johnson said he would go to New York. He planned to travel there for a little while and then make his way to the Argentine with a new identity. I was relieved. I thought it meant I was going to have Miles to myself again. At least for a little while. They had mentioned meeting up again in Buenos Aires. But a million things could have happened in the meantime. I hoped…I believed we could be rid of him at last.”
“And Stoker? You were prepared to take his life tonight. Why?”
Her smile was thin. “If I had meant for him to die, he would not still live. It was a stratagem to strike terror, nothing more. To frighten you away from coming after us once we had fled.”
“Why invite us into your lair in the first place?” I demanded.
“That was Miles’s doing, to discover what you knew about us. A dangerous game, but he thought he could dazzle you with his little tricks. He discovered at the Danse Macabre that the pair of you were incorruptible. He ought to have left well enough alone,” she added with some bitterness.
I changed tack.
“You must have known Von Hilsing was dead. How else could Johnson have got his hands on the Mortlake Jewel?”
She made an abrupt gesture of dismissal.
“No! He said that Von Hilsing had gone travelling and he had taken the jewel from the safe. So long as Johnson left before Von Hilsing returned and discovered the jewel was missing, he could make his escape. I thought the old fellow was alive, you must believe me.”
“There are already enough deaths at your door. I wonder that you will not claim this one,” I told her.
“Because I did not know. Believe me or not, that is your right. I thought the jewel had been stolen outright. Johnson told me he could not travel with it in case Von Hilsing returned and discovered the theft. He would send detectives after Johnson, and he could not be found with the jewel or he would be arrested. So he gave it to me, for safekeeping and a sort of peace offering, he said.”
I felt my lip curl in scorn. “You are not that stupid, Asphodel! Surely you must have seen that he meant for you to be found with it and arrested for the theft yourself.”
“I see that now,” she said, biting off each word. “But at the time—”
“At the time you were blinded by your own greed.”
“It is a very pretty jewel,” she said with a ghost of her old vivacity. She reached into her bag and withdrew a small bundle of black velvet tied with a silk ribbon. She laid it on the table between us.
“I’ll not be lumbered with it for exactly the reason you say—it is a poisoned chalice. The minute some copper finds it on me, I’ll have the noose around my neck, and I’d rather not.”
“So you mean to leave it with me!”
“You will ensure it returns to Von Hilsing’s estate,” she said, rising to her feet. “Or you will throw it in the Thames. Or perhaps you will keep it. It is a grave temptation.”
“Where are you going?” I demanded.
“Away, vanishing into the night like any good witch,” she told me.
“I could report you,” I told her.
Her expression was pitying as she buttoned her coat. “My dear Miss Speedwell, you do not even know my name.”
With that, she squared her shoulders, opened the door, and disappeared into the darkness beyond.