Chapter 6 Aurelie
Aurelie
Everard’s proposal kept Aurelie tossing and turning until well past midnight. She’d raced through dinner so she could get
back to her lab and study his notes, but though she hated to admit it, she’d been confused from the moment she sat down.
Everard was asking her to build a door. Not just a regular, run-of-the-mill door, of course. It was intricately constructed,
with rather large dimensions. Not exactly something she could hide beneath a sheet or in a cupboard in her laboratory.
The door itself consisted of thirty-six interconnected metal plates. There was no description of how she was to assemble them,
just a note that he would provide the plates and that she should not use any other metal in the construction. It seemed to
Aurelie that it was more an engineering project than an actual invention, which on its own would be a challenge. But it was
the note about the runes that would need to be inscribed in the metal that troubled her most of all.
Aurelie’s interest in invention had never extended to the mystical; she was a woman of science, not arcane magic. Why Mr.
Everard should think she had any knowledge of runes was beyond her. And not only had he grossly overestimated her capabilities,
he’d offered her something far more dangerous than he’d hinted at.
Magic produced demons of a different sort altogether.
The kind of demons that slaughtered entire villages.
The kind of demons that couldn’t be contained by salt or killed with anything as innocuous as an iron blade.
Everard had said that if Aurelie could complete this project, she’d be ushering in a world where invention was welcomed. What did that mean? Was he referring to
the demonic curse in some way? She wasn’t sure how demons entered her world, but she was certain they didn’t knock politely
on a door and wipe their feet on a welcome mat. And if this door wasn’t for letting demons into Wisteria, was it possible that it was for getting them out?
If so, the implications were enormous.
They could also cost Aurelie her life.
Now, in the warm light of morning, as Aurelie half climbed, half rolled off her sofa, she felt no closer to an answer than
she had last night. On the one hand, it was as if the universe had heard her plea for an opportunity to prove herself and
answered with a resounding yes. Here was her chance to prove herself capable of something truly great.
But even if she was able to understand Everard’s blueprint and could find somewhere to build it, she’d still need a plan for dealing with
the demon it created immediately and efficiently.
Besides, there were still so many other questions left unanswered. She couldn’t fathom how a conversation with Mr. Morel could
have led Everard to the conclusion she was the person for this job. And who was Everard? How had he come by this project, and what did he stand to gain from it? And what, if anything, would he lose if
Aurelie failed? Because the stakes were clear for her, but far less so for him.
Then again, if she turned Everard down? He’d find someone else to make the door, surely. She couldn’t be the only inventor in all of Wisteria. And the idea of another person building something great because she was too afraid was almost as upsetting as the prospect of death.
She splashed some cold water onto her face, put on one of her school dresses, fed Mephisto, and headed to the cottage for
breakfast, Florian’s book tucked under her arm with Everard’s letter hidden inside. She ended up staying far longer than she’d
intended, poring over Everard’s proposal and the puzzle of the interlocking plates, when her uncle’s maid cleared her throat.
“Begging your pardon, miss, but I believe you need to get ready for your dinner with Mr. Viridian.”
Aurelie groaned. “Did you have to remind me, Bonnie? I’m studying.”
“I’m sorry, miss, but your uncle gave strict orders.”
“I know, I know.” Aurelie sighed. “It’s not your fault, Bonnie. I’m going.”
“Do you need help dressing?” she asked, in a tone that heavily implied Aurelie did.
“I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself.”
“But your hair . . .”
“I’ll do my hair. I promise.”
In her bedroom, Aurelie opened her wardrobe and deflated even further. She only had one dress that still fit her that could
be considered appropriate for a formal dinner, and she had no idea if it was in fashion. It wasn’t Uncle Leo’s fault; he’d
offered many times to have new dresses made for her. But she liked her school dresses. They were simple, unfussy, practical.
All attributes Aurelie appreciated about herself.
The dress in question was a deep shade of green, with black velvet trim at the waist and hem.
It reminded her of a mossy forest like the one she’d lived next to before her parents died.
Her father often went into the forest to collect mushrooms, and he would sometimes take Aurelie with him.
They had a large black dog named Raven who accompanied them on their outings, and she loved to sit amid the lichen-furred, gnarled roots of a large tree and watch her father work.
They’d return home to find a berry pie cooling on the windowsill, or her mother weaving pine-and-orange garlands for Yule.
Aurelie was self-reflective enough to know that inventing filled a hole left behind when her parents died.
But she’d give it all up to have them back.
She tied a black velvet choker around her throat, touching the jet beads dangling from it and trying to remember how it had
looked on her mother, before tying up half of her hair in a matching ribbon. “Courage, Aurelie,” she whispered to her reflection
in the mirror. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d dined with a family, other than the small, lopsided one she and Uncle
Leo had formed.
Miles was waiting for her at the gate in a carriage, presumably his father’s. He wore a black dinner suit, and Aurelie had
to admit—begrudgingly—that he was not an unattractive young man. He had a clear brow that was mostly obscured by a flop of
dark hair, and his round spectacles perched atop a perfectly adequate nose. His eyes were a pleasant shade of hazel, and he
didn’t have a noticeably offensive odor.
If only he weren’t so wretchedly dull.
“Good evening, Aurelie,” he said as she settled onto the bench across from him. “You’re looking well.”
“Thank you, Miles. And thank you for leaving the book for me.”
“It was the least I could do for your uncle. What did you make of it?”
She ignored the comment about her uncle and tried to focus on the fact that he was asking for her opinion. It was theoretically
possible that Miles shared a hitherto unknown passion for discovery. There had to be at least one other person in Wisteria
who believed that innovation, exploration, and creation were the greatest gifts humanity had to offer. Maybe her uncle was
more insightful than she’d given him credit for.
“It’s fascinating,” she said, wishing she’d brought it with her. It was always prudent to have a book on hand. “Though I have
to say, I was surprised that it came from you.”
His lips twisted in a bemused smile. “I do read, Aurelie.”
She blushed. “Of course. I only meant—”
“That history is dry, compared to, say, innovation?”
She searched his face as they rattled over a pothole. He sounded as though he were teasing, but she didn’t know him well enough
to assume. “Dry isn’t the word I would use.” Dusty and decrepit, more like. “I think we must understand our history if we’re to progress.”
He pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Progress through further innovation, I take it?”
Now Aurelie felt as though she’d been led into a trap. Did Miles have something to do with Everard’s proposal? Was the book a ploy, part of an elaborate scheme to catch her out?
No, she was being paranoid. Miles wanted Uncle Leo’s approval, even if he didn’t want hers. “I hardly see how a society can
better itself without any change whatsoever.”
“You’re unsatisfied with the current state of our society, then.”
She sighed and looked out the window. While she didn’t give a fig what Miles thought of her, she understood that her behavior was a reflection on Uncle Leo, who would undoubtedly hear of how she performed this evening.
She turned back to Miles and attempted what she hoped was a gracious smile. “You can hardly blame a girl for wanting more.”
“Hardly,” Miles said. “Though as I understand it, life is far worse in other kingdoms, where progress leads to more time spent
working, more disease brought in by outsiders, more competition for limited resources.”
“But without the demons—”
His brow furrowed in what looked like benevolent concern but felt rather like condescension. “Every time humanity has attempted
to progress, there have been terrible consequences that have nothing to do with demons. War, famine, pollution. All horrendous.
All the result of wanting more.” He leaned forward and looked deep into her eyes, as though he were about to impart some heavy
wisdom. “There have always been demons, Aurelie. Some are just more obvious than others.”
She was saved from responding by the coach lurching to an abrupt stop, which caused Miles to sit back and steady himself.
Her hands had grown clammy, and the air was much too close. She sucked in a deep breath as she dropped onto the sidewalk.
And proceeded to choke on it when she saw the size of the Applebaums’ mansion.
Miles leaned in as he offered her his arm. “That’s ours,” he said, nodding toward a brick monstrosity next door. She’d known
Miles’s family was well-off, but this was wealth beyond her imagination.
A man greeted them, ushering Aurelie in with more familiarity than formality. “Miss Blake, how delightful to meet you after all these years. Your uncle speaks so highly of you.”
Not a butler, then, but Mr. Applebaum. He was short, stout, and mustachioed, giving him the appearance of a kindly gopher.