CHAPTER 29 #2
Charlotte saw her captor dart a glance at the padded table and the full force of what Julianna intended struck home.
“This time, it cannot fail.”
Oh, yes, it can. And will.
A smile once again curled on her captor’s lips. “Did you not decipher the puzzle I created for you? In it, I revealed that the cards had predicted this was your destiny.”
“I didn’t bother reading past the first few pages of your habble-gabble book and scribbled numbers,” she answered. “I don’t believe we’re in thrall to some mystical force. I think we have the power to create our own destiny.”
“Enough talking.” Eyes narrowing in irritation, Julianna gestured with the pistol. “Move to the other side of the room and let us begin.”
Though her heart was thumping against her ribs, Charlotte felt a strange calm come over her.
Love. Love for those she held dear was more than a match for madness, she told herself.
“I assure you, I’ll make the process of death painless,” continued her captor. “I’ve prepared a potion that will simply put you to sleep. But don’t worry, you’ll soon come back to life.”
And pigs will sprout spun-sugar wings and fly to the moon.
Allowing her shoulders to slump, Charlotte turned and slowly crossed the tiles. She needed to get a little closer . . .
“Stop here.”
A surreptitious glance around showed that Julianna had paused to adjust the workings of the trough battery with one hand, the aim of her weapon angling askew as her attention momentarily shifted to releasing a lever—
Charlotte spun around and smacked the pistol from her captor’s hand.
With an angry hiss, Julianna grabbed up a long metal conducting rod attached to a length of copper wire and gave a menacing swing, trying to force Charlotte back against the padded table.
Sparks flew from its tip as she danced back. The air crackled as one of the tiny embers caused a flame to lick up from the linen of her chemise. Ducking low, Charlotte managed to bat out the fire and draw her knife just as Julianna came at her again.
* * *
Cordelia came to a halt. “Up ahead, we must pass through an archway and into a small picture gallery. At the other end is an opening, which leads into a wood-paneled corridor. At the first turn, there’s a door built into the decorative fluting of the wall.”
Wrexford could just make out a darker shape within the gloom. “You two wait here.”
“Wrex—” began Sheffield.
“Competent as Lady Cordelia appears, she’ll be a distraction if things turn violent. And we can’t leave her alone. This cursed place is too dangerous.”
His friend didn’t argue. “Godspeed,” he murmured.
The earl was already moving. The archway door was ajar, and he eased through the crack. A small domed skylight allowed in a glimmer of light, just enough to illuminate the figure standing still as a statue in the center of the gallery.
“I thought you might show up,” intoned Justinian DeVere. “I’m sorry it’s come to this.” He pursed his lips. “Julianna is brilliant, you know. Absolutely brilliant.”
“She’s a vicious, deranged murderess,” responded Wrexford.
“You don’t understand. The murder of her parents was a grave shock at an early age. As a result, she suffers from certain unfortunate impulses. But these things often accompany genius. The result will be worth—”
“Don’t you dare seek to justify what you’ve allowed.” The earl made to move by him. “Get out of my way.”
DeVere caught his arm. “It’s too late, I’m afraid. I regret what’s happened, but we both know that scientific discovery requires sacrifices. I will make arrangements after tonight to have Julianna confined in a private facility . . .”
Wrexford heard a tiny snick as the other man pulled his hand from his pocket. Pivoting, he smashed his elbow into DeVere’s ribs just as the scholar pulled the trigger of his pocket pistol, causing the bullet to shatter one of the priceless Oriental vases.
“Wrex!” Sheffield burst into the room, his own weapon at the ready.
“Take charge of this miscreant,” called the earl, shoving DeVere to the floor and breaking into a run.
* * *
Backing away, Julianna set aside the rod and snatched up a deadly-looking scalpel from the table of tools beside the trough battery.
“You wish to cross blades with me? So be it—you need to die one way or another. I became quite skilled with a knife in India, as I studied anatomy as part of my scientific training.” She glided forward.
“So I’ll take pleasure in sliding my sharpened steel into your heart for trying to stand in the way of Progress. ”
The silvery point flicked back and forth, like the forked tongue of a serpent seeking to scent its prey.
“You are welcome to try.” Charlotte dropped to a wary crouch and shifted her grip on the hilt. She was no stranger to wielding a knife in self-defense. There had been occasions when she had been forced to ward off footpads. Once or twice, she had even drawn blood.
But never had the clashes been a fight to the death.
“I suggest you surrender,” counseled Julianna. “Poison will be far more pleasant.”
Charlotte slid a step to her left so as not to be trapped against a metal cabinet.
Flick-flick. The scalpel continued its sinuous probing.
“Because I will kill you. I must.” Her rising voice had a manic trill. “You see, the cards have predicted that I possess special powers and am destined for greatness.”
Julianna was beyond madness, thought Charlotte, keeping her feet moving. Beyond humanity. She must find a way to use that to her advantage. In a battle of steel against steel, her adversary held the edge.
Think! What would Wrexford—the master of dispassionate logic—counsel?
Charlotte glanced around the laboratory. The earl would tell her to use her strengths—see all the little details, and then use her imagination to do the unexpected.
A faint hissing from the trough battery drew her attention . . .
And all at once, an idea came to mind.
Edging back, she wove a careful retreat through the worktables and storage carts.
Julianna seemed in no hurry to end the cat-and-mouse pursuit. She came on slowly, with a predator’s stalking step. “Surrender to Fate. It’s no use trying to evade your destiny.”
In answer, Charlotte slid through a gap between tables and grabbed up a large beaker filled with the electrolyte solution used to power the trough battery. A snap of her wrist sent its contents flying through the air.
Julianna let out a grunt as the liquid hit her in the face, splashing over her hair and the bodice of her gown. And then she laughed. “That’s merely the excess fluid. It does nothing to stop my plan.”
At the same moment, Charlotte spotted what she was looking for—a cut-crystal bottle capped with a silver stopper, sitting on a stone slab next to the voltaic pile.
Dear Cedric. She darted forward. I won’t allow you to be desecrated yet again.
“No!” A cart toppled in a cacophony of shattering glass and thumping metal as Julianna realized what Charlotte intended to do and began a mad dash toward the trough battery. “No!”
But Charlotte was quicker. Dropping her knife, she snatched up the bottle and hurled it to the tiled floor. It exploded into a spray of shards and silvery droplets.
“You’ll not use Cedric or me for your vile experiments!
” she called. “His essence is gone and your devil-cursed dream is dead, as well it should be.” Beside her, the metal conducting rod was vibrating against the stone slab, a gentle humming at odds with the terrible power coursing through it.
“It’s over. Now is the time to surrender to reason. ”
Her face contorting in fury, Julianna let out a wordless snarl. Her scalpel shot up, a lethal flash cutting through the lamplight as she suddenly threw herself forward.
In the same instant, Charlotte grabbed the rod’s leather grip and raised it as a defensive shield.
Metal clashed against metal.
As if punched by an unseen hand, Julianna was flung back. Her body hung suspended in midair for an instant, steam spiraling up from her burnt hand. And then, hair dancing on end, she crumpled to the floor.
Hands shaking, Charlotte dropped the smoking rod. The reek of singed flesh clogged her nostrils as a deathly silence settled over the room.
Is it really over?
Swallowing against the burn of bile rising in her throat, she managed to shuffle over to where Julianna lay spread-eagle on her back, eyes wide open, mouth frozen in an O of shock.
“May God have mercy on you—for you’ll get none from me.” Indeed, Charlotte found that she felt nothing. No relief, no sense of triumph, just an overpowering numbness in every fiber of her being.
Suddenly too spent to remain on her feet, she took a seat on the overturned cart. The lamplight seemed to fade in and out, as if struggling to keep darkness at bay. Hugging her arms to her chest, Charlotte closed her eyes and allowed the swirling shadows to wrap her in oblivion.