The Mirror's Edge - Part Two

Amelia finally awoke lying on her back, chest heaving, her head still spinning as she peered at a bruised grey sky swirled with muddied rainbows.

   At first, she didn’t understand what she was looking at. It was no ordinary sky. As she stared, frigid breath curled from her mouth like a wraith. The house in Belgravia was gone. Eventually, once the spinning had slowed, she shoved her fists into the snow and forced herself unsteadily to her feet. She was alone. In the pale opalescence of Fellows Garden.

   But it was all wrong.

   Everything was both brighter and darker. Wilder somehow, almost painted. The trunks of trees were thicker, the frozen river wider, the flowers lining its banks a riot of overwhelming colour. Geraniums, marigolds, daffodils, delphiniums, and lavender. Though inanimate, all the flowers turned their heads in Amelia’s direction. Faceless, but curious. Unease swelled in her breast.

   I remember this…

   This wasn’t Oxford, of course. Amelia knew exactly where she was.

   She was back in the Vale of Wonders.

   “Oh, dear God,” she murmured. “No, no, no…”

   With every fibre of her being, Amelia wanted to believe she was only dreaming. Lying faint in the basement of her home. Among books, candlelight, and the empty mirror. But in her heart, she knew it was much more than that. This was a realm of imagination indeed, yet she could feel the winter wind biting her cheek, the shimmering snow crunching beneath her boots.

   This was the last place she wanted to be, but she willed herself to begin moving down the stone pathway before dread and panic could claim her. If she lost momentum here of all places, she was doomed.

   Immediately she began screaming her friend’s name. “ALICE! Alice, speak to me!”

   If the entity in the basement had pulled them across worlds again, then Alice was here somewhere too. Amelia recalled moments of the plunge through the broken mirror. Blackness spiralling into a dark rainbow. She looked to the sky again. Muddied swirls of every colour were hidden in the clouds.

   They had fallen once more. All the way down.

   Amelia muttered to herself, “This cannot be, this cannot be…”

   But she knew it could.

   She and Alice had been lost here once before as children, and it nearly destroyed them. Back when they first discovered a dark monarch, seeking both hearts and a queen. Vanessa, at first, but then Amelia herself. Upon discovering he couldn’t own her, he intended to slay her. And Alice too, for daring to stand at her side. They fled from his terrifying shadow-wraiths. Creatures he called his Knaves of Claret.

   They had found a way home in the end.

   Barely.

   Amelia could hardly believe she was back here now, all grown.  

   The path curved away from the frozen river, deeper into the garden. She came to a stumbling halt when she realised the snowy path ahead was blocked.

   Two young negro boys stood waiting. Behind them, two tall gates decorated with golden filigree. The gatekeepers were no more than eleven or twelve years old, dressed in elegant formal attire. Identical African features. A collar of iron around each neck, severed chains hanging in a grotesque parody of emancipation.

   She remembered them well. The same handsome faces. The same soulful, haunted eyes. But most unsettling of all, neither child had aged in the last five years.

   “You know we can’t let you pass these gates, Amelia,” said the first, almost a warning. On his iron collar the word ROM was etched in deep red.

   “It is you, isn’t it?” the second asked hopefully, REM at his throat. “But where’s Alice?”

   “It’s me,” she said. “Alice must be here too, somewhere.”

   She forced herself to look at their shackles. The sight of them was devastating. The boys had no idea of the world beyond the Vale. Despite their diminished spirits, she could sense their guarded happiness on seeing her again. Especially the younger twin. Eventually, Amelia abandoned all caution and ran to them. She took the hand of each child.

   “Romulus, Remus, it’s a pleasure to see you both. I’ve missed you.”

   The boys smiled sadly at her.

   “You are so big,” Remus gasped. “Like a grown up!”

   Amelia tried to smile. “Indeed. I recently turned nineteen. Can you imagine?”

   Romulus, the older twin, widened his eyes in disbelief. “Nineteen? Are you a famous author yet? As you’d hoped?”

   “No, but I’m studying to be a teacher. Something I adore.”

   “What a delight,” they both declared in unison. But then Romulus added sagely, “Nevertheless, we still can’t let you pass. Please don’t convince us otherwise. Father might not punish us for it, but he’ll be so disappointed. That feels far worse, in truth.”

   Amelia saw tears of shame rolling down his face.

   “You needn’t fear him.”

   “Amelia,” Romulus chided, “Wolf-father gave us the most basic of tasks. To guard the Vale from outsiders. If we let you pass again, then what manner of sons are we? What manner of young princes to our lord and king? We know you understand.”

   Amelia squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t bear Romulus’s tortured thinking. The logic of a little one who had been a prisoner far too long.  

   When she opened her eyes again, she stared fiercely at both brothers. “Wolf-father was the one who brought me here. I’m a guest this time, not a trespasser.”

   Remus, the quieter twin, watched Amelia with a mixture of affection and hurt. Finally he said, “You and Alice both promised you wouldn’t forget this place. That you’d come back to visit us. But you didn’t.”

   Amelia turned aside at the accusation. “Sweet one, I… I didn’t forget about any of you. But I had no way back to the Vale. I’m only here at wolf-father’s bidding.”

   “And Alice?”

   “I can’t speak for her.”

   “He frightens you,” Romulus said, his voice low. A dark fire glinted in his eyes now. “He frightens us too. But we love him, more than life itself. He rescued us from the slave ships. From those colonial British soldiers. He gave us our true names.”

   Amelia’s stomach tightened at the boy’s words. She and Alice had tried to explain the breadth of their imprisonment the first time, but only Remus was even vaguely open to the idea.

    “Will you call him king this time?” Romulus asked, eyes narrowing. “Red as vision, and blood?”

   Amelia held her nerve and declared, “No. I will not. He is hunting my sister.”

   Romulus stepped forward menacingly. “You think my brother and I are blackamoor fools, don’t you? But we’re not. We know this is a place of dreams. He dreams us all. Even you. The world is his to hunt.”

   Amelia was afraid.

   But then Remus sensed his brother’s feral side about to emerge and quickly placed a hand on his wrist. “Don’t, Romulus. She’s our guest. And a dear friend.”

   Romulus scowled. “A friend? Not according to father.”

   “According to me,” the younger twin replied firmly. Then he smiled and gestured with his eyes to his hands. Amelia realised he had something cupped between his palms like a secret.

   “Don’t,” Romulus warned him. “She hasn’t the imagination.”

   “I believe she does,” Remus countered.

   Slowly he took one of his hands away to reveal a living spiral of orange light, flecked with tiny stones and rainbow glimmers. Amelia gasped, dumbstruck, as though she were peering into a holy of holies.

   “What is it?” she murmured finally.

   Remus grinned. “The sun, moon, and stars.” Amelia shook her head in astonishment.

   “So,” Romulus muttered, “She can see like we do?”

   The younger twin nodded in delight. “I told you she would.” He cupped his hand again, concealing the bright spiral from view. 

   At last the dark fire in the older boy’s eyes dimmed. He sighed in relent. Both children stepped aside. The gates of filigree opened of their own accord, allowing Amelia to pass deeper into the snow-frosted garden.  

   Though relieved, she didn’t slow her pace. Alice was here, somewhere, and Amelia had to find her. The last thing she remembered before the plunge was the brunette, black-eyed and vicious in the candlelight. Speaking in the unsettling timbre of the thing that was attempting to snatch Penny from the world.

   Amelia caught the intoxicating scent of roses in the air.

   Beyond the bend in the river, a garden came into view amidst the snow. A twisted tree stood at its centre. Hundreds of luscious red roses were planted in concentric rings around the leafless tree. All of them dusted with snow like powdered opal.

   This place—that she and Alice had christened the Vale of Wonders as children—it resembled Oxford in many ways. More specifically, it echoed the River Cherwell and the grounds of Magdalen College. But it was different. Darker, filled with both beauty and ruin. She could already hear the roses murmuring all around her. A chaos of whispers. At first, she could barely make out their words. But then she realised, they were simply repeating she and Alice’s names over and over in varied tones of surprise. But the murmurs began to fade as quickly as they had risen.

   Amelia stopped in her tracks several feet from the tree among the roses.

   “Oh, dear Lord,” she muttered.

   She saw Alice, fainted, clothed in the dress and pinafore of John Tenniel’s illustrations. As though she had half emerged from a hollow in the tree itself, but was still bound by its innards.

   Amelia sprinted to the tree and delicately touched the brunette’s face. “Alice! Oh God, Alice. Answer me!”

   Thankfully, she stirred. Opening her eyes and blinking several times as wakefulness tried to reassert itself.

   “Amelia…?”

   “I’m getting you out of here, dear one! Just hold on…”

   Amelia began pulling and tearing with all her might in an effort to dig her friend from the hollow. For a few moments the tree’s innards resisted as though sentient and determined, but then lost their vigour all at once and fell away like wet cloth. Alice slumped forward but Amelia grabbed her and held her upright.

   “Tell me we’re not back here, Amelia. Tell me…”

   “I’m sorry. It went wrong.”

   Alice tried to focus on Amelia’s face. “The ritual?”

   “Yes.”

   “It took a hold of me, didn’t it?” 

   Amelia nodded. Alice tore herself away, stumbled a few steps and then vomited onto the ground. For several moments the two of them couldn’t look away from the inky black mess steaming in the snow.

   Hunched over, Alice finally pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.

   “Amelia,” she muttered gravely, shaking her head, “I don’t think we stand a chance.”

   Amelia merely pointed, “Look at your dress.”

   Alice stood up straight, then peered down at herself. She looked back at Amelia and said, “Yours too.”

   For the first time, Amelia realised her outfit had also been transformed. Like Alice she was now clad in an identical dress and pinafore. This was the Watchmaker’s doing, of course. Amelia felt her hands curling into fists.

   “This… thing thinks it can control the both of us,” she hissed. “It’s mocking us. Reducing us to children again.”

   “He’s goading you, Amelia. Stoking you.”

   “I’m aware.”

    “You can’t help Penny if you’re seething with rage.”

   “Well, it’s working,” Amelia snapped. “Because I want to tear his heart out. I saw the twins again. Their collars. The chains. Treating those sweet boys like chattel. As our forefathers did. And men call this modernity. My father called it Empire.”

   “Amelia,” Alice warned, “Listen to me. The Watchmaker, the Pale One… he wants to appal our intellect and break our spirit. That’s why he allows you to see the boys again. Don’t let him in.”

   “I can’t bear to think what he intends for Penny.”

   Alice went to her, taking her hand. “We shall save Penny. But we must keep moving. You know what happens if we lose ourselves here of all places. Madness.”

   Amelia tried to temper the rage swelling in her breast. “Perhaps we’re both already quite mad. Or dead. Perhaps Nathaniel cradles my lifeless body as we speak.”

   In the distance, above the dreaming spires of Magdalen Tower, the sky was already darkening.

   “We must prepare ourselves, Amelia. He wants us to confront him in the chapel again. But he’ll show us things. Terrible things. Like last time. Are you ready for that?”

   Amelia recalled Penny’s suffering these last eight months. She had promised to fight for her. Despite the horror of being back here in the Vale, there was only one possible course of action.

   Amelia gazed resolute at her friend. “I’m ready.”

*

The grounds of the college were in ruins. The stones of the Cloister shattered and uprooted in various places. It hadn’t been a perfect replica even the first time, but the layout and mood had changed even further. It was darker now, filled with vines and creeping ivy amidst the snow. As though nature had tried to reclaim a site of war. And yet, flowers of every colour still sprouted through in places.

   Ruin and radiance.

   Amelia was aware that she and Alice had no weapons besides their wits. A direct confrontation with the source of their torment felt almost suicidal, yet here they were.

   The Vale of Wonders had drawn them back.

   “Perhaps I should thank you,” Alice said as they walked.

   “Perhaps? For what?”

   “For pulling me so quickly from the hollow. The last time we were here, the hollows fought back.”

   Amelia smiled a little. “Think nothing of it, dear one. You followed me to London, and now back to the Vale. It’s I who should be thanking you.”

   The brunette met her eyes, unblinking. “Go on then. Thank me.”

   Amelia laughed and shoved her gently, shoulder to shoulder. “Changed my mind. I’m cruel that way, remember?”

   Alice laughed too, enjoying the intimacy. Then her expression grew serious. “Amelia, are we laughing so we don’t cry at all this? I fear we used to do the same thing as children, when there was no one else to steady us.”

   She nodded slowly. “Laughter is canny and brave in the face of misfortune, I hope.”

   “I hope it too,” Alice muttered.

   Ahead of them, perhaps thirty feet away, something dark darted across their field of view.

   “Look,” Amelia said. “It’s Mona! She returns.”

   A slender black cat with white paws was weaving amid the broken stones of the snowy courtyard.

   She had been here the first time too. Friendly yet distant, and controlled by no one. Much like the girl walking beside her had once been. Mona never came when called. Sometimes she vanished abruptly, like she’d been a shade the entire time.

   Alice noticed the cat looking back at them. “She still smiles, almost. If only DaVinci could see us.”

   Amelia chuckled. They had christened her Mona Lisa the first time, on account of that almost-smile.

   “She’s a strange one,” said Amelia. They both squinted to get a better look. But Mona had already gone. Amelia frowned, despite her lack of surprise. “Fare thee well,” she muttered under her breath, as though to an old friend.

   “Fare thee well,” echoed Alice.

   They continued their journey. After a while, Alice spoke again. “Mona graces us with another appearance, but do you suppose the others still exist? The Hatter, the Hare? Out there in the forests somewhere?”

   “I have no idea,” Amelia replied. “It’s been so long.”

   “I would dream about them sometimes. After Dodgson published the novel. His own inflections began to colour them. After a while I couldn’t tell which parts were ours or his. You were there too though. I became you and you became me.” Amelia felt the old closeness stir—undeniable, even unsettling. Alice continued, “We even exchanged hair colour. Dodgson was the Hatter, and Mr Tenniel the March Hare. ‘Alter Idem!’ they both exclaimed, and fell about themselves laughing. They thought it the most amusing bit of nonsense.”

   Amelia turned her eyes away, as though the past were something that might still reach out and claim her. “I try not to think about any of it.”

   “It’s becoming harder to separate the novel from my memories, Amelia. It frightens me.”

   Softly she replied, “We must resist it. At all costs. Our oppressor enjoys that very uncertainty. But we are not just words on a page. We are living, breathing souls.”

   Alice nodded, grounding herself against Amelia’s conviction. As they finally approached the broken entrance to Magdalen Chapel, Amelia glanced at the fierce-eyed brunette at her side. “Tell me something,” she said, almost to herself. “Do you fear death these days? Either here or elsewhere?”

   “I fear a meaningless existence. A life reduced to ‘sister’, ‘lover’, or ‘wife’. I do wish to be married one day, so perhaps I am mad.” Amelia smiled. “I fear a lack of depth in the eyes of others. But no, not death.”

   “I welcome it sometimes,” Amelia confessed. “But I promised myself I would live. That I’d prepare a path for Penelope in the wake of our tragedies.”

   Alice nodded. “She’s lucky to have you. Make no mistake.”

   “I coddled her too much, I fear, after mother’s passing. Tried to be a mother in my own way. I thought I could provide some sort of continuity, but it didn’t work. I am no Vanessa Beckett.”

   Alice looked at her again. “It’s not your fault. These are the burdens of our gender. Mothers to our sisters, our brothers, and our husbands. God willing, we’re allowed to be a little more on occasion.”

   “Like explorers, you mean?” Amelia was hoping to kindle even the briefest moment of levity before they went in. “Brave adventurers in foreign lands?”

   Alice couldn’t help but offer a weary smile. “Indeed.”

   Their steps fell into familiar rhythm as they passed through the archway and into the ruined chapel together. Its dimensions were transformed since their last encounter. The space was far wider, almost cavernous. Before them, a chessboard floor was spread beneath a vaulted ceiling. Squares of white and black stretched all the way to an altar that had been raised to the level of a stage.

   Upon that stage the Watchmaker stood waiting, the taloned fingers of his hands pressed together in poise.

   Amelia was shaken once again by how almost-human he appeared. And yet, the thing waiting for them was far from human.

   He was at least eight feet tall, pale as milk. Slender yet tightly muscled, clad in a Roman toga the colour of claret. Dark, shoulder-length hair and a face that was almost feminine in its beauty. A crown of thorns circled his head, a blindfold of silk across his eyes. Amelia had never seen them, but she had no doubt that his vision was perfect. Above him, near the vaulted ceiling, Amelia realised his disciples had gathered. Several shadow-wraiths were swirling and shifting restlessly. The Knaves of Claret.

   “Welcome home, girls. I’ve missed you. Don’t mind my Knaves. They mean you no harm this time. Did you enjoy the twins at the gates? They missed you also. Such industrious negroes. Such dutiful, warm-hearted sons.”

   “You’re an abomination,” Amelia called out to him. “And you don’t fool me with this Byronic visage. There is nothing beguiling about you.”

   “Are you certain, Miss Beckett? I doubt your companion feels the same.”

   Alice’s lips curled into a snarl. “You don’t know the first thing about me, demon.”            

   “Come now, Pleasance. That tremulous breath in the night-hours speaks of little else.”

   Alice turned her head at the implication. “Monster,” she muttered hatefully.

   “Your illicit dabbling with poison brought you and Miss Beckett back to me, as you’d hoped. I know you’ve both missed this place. Playing cards seemed a little redundant this time.” He gestured at the chessboard floor. “I have new games planned for you.”

   Amelia took a fearless step onto the chessboard floor in front of her.

   “We don’t care. We’re not here to indulge you, blasphemer. Or play your childish games. Tell me what you’ve done to my sister.”

   “But games are such fun, Amelia. Games are how we grow. And without growth we are lost. Locked in time, forever.”

   Amelia screamed, “What have you done with Penny!”

   “I’ll admit I was greedy with Vanessa. She learned the rules even earlier than you. I enjoyed your mother’s maturity. The depth of her intellect, her fortitude. A worthy adversary. I heard Dodgson styled her a villain. How odd. She would have made an excellent Queen of Hearts, don’t you think? Coeur de Rubis. Until you slaughtered her on the ice.”

   Beside her, Alice frowned. “What—what’s he talking about?”

   “Nothing. Just lies.”

   The tall, slender being on the stage merely laughed. “Lies? No. Didn’t she tell you, Alice? When you refused to confront her together, you already know that Amelia went alone. But Vanessa Beckett didn’t drown by accident. And she wasn’t chasing some mirage of myself. I had nothing to do with her death.”

   Alice met her eyes, horrified. “Wait—you told me that Vanessa chased a vision of this thing onto the ice, in a fit of madness. That he lured her there.”

   Amelia couldn’t look away.

   From the stage, the pale one opened his hands and spread his palms a little. “Vanessa was chasing her daughter, not a vision of me. Tell her the truth, Amelia. How you accused your mother of being an occultist. A satanist. The cause of all your ills. Tell her how you snatched the book.”

   Alice shook her head. “WHAT?”

   Amelia was speechless, her throat closing with dread.

   “Doesn’t she deserve the truth? Vanessa plunged when the ice splintered. Her daughter was trying to drown the grimoire, in fear. But Nessa gave her life safeguarding it. She managed to hurl it back onto the banks. A mother’s selfless love. Oh, the irony.”

   Alice’s eyes went almost wide as coins. Tears began to roll down her face. “You lied to me, Amelia? You callous viper. You knew how guilty I felt for not being with you that morning. For not confronting her with you. But you’ve been lying this entire time? You let me believe a stupid fairytale?”

   Amelia was trembling at the look in her friend’s eyes, her stomach in knots. She tried to reach for the comfort of her friend’s hand.

   But Alice snatched it away.

   “How could you be so cruel?” she cried. She took several steps back, then jabbed an accusing finger in Amelia’s direction. “Nessa was like an aunt to me! You knew I loved her! You knew I blamed myself! Every day it went round in my head: ‘I should’ve been there with Amelia, I should’ve been there!’ But the whole time you were the reason she fell. Not my absence. How—how could you let me sit with that guilt? With that lie, for five years….?”

   “I’m so sorry,” Amelia muttered.

   “Welcome back, girls. Isn’t this a delight?”

   Amelia spun and fixed the abomination with a wild, tearful gaze. “YOU’RE SICK!”

   “No, Miss Beckett. I’m merely a king without a queen. But not for much longer. Penelope hasn’t your imagination, but she’s a prodigy in her own right. She’ll call me king. Even if you don’t. I’ll fight for her. That’s what love is, in the end. Isn’t it?”

   Amelia was speechless.

   Alice stepped forward again. “Damn you to hell, blasphemer.”

   He simply glared at the brunette like she was an amusing inconsequence. “Bystander, you have no agency here. Or anywhere. Merely a famous nom de plume. A means to an end. This is not your story.”

   But Alice didn’t rise to his bait. “Stay away from our Penelope,” she warned him. “Or the both of us shall see you dead.”

   “Tick tock, ladies. Time’s a-wasting. Imagination versus industry. Let’s see who really carries the keys to the kingdom, hmm?”

   In a motion that was lightning-fast, the Watchmaker slammed his palms together with unimaginable force. Thunder cracked through Amelia’s very consciousness. The entire chapel was plunged into a spinning, tumbling darkness.

*

Nathaniel was pressing a damp cloth to Amelia’s forehead when she finally woke. His hands were un-gloved. Gaslight shone from wall lamps in a dimly-lit room. Pale-pink damask wallpaper. Bookshelves, paintings, the carousel on the dresser. Amelia realised she was lying on her own bed. In a moment of panic she peered down at herself, but the pinafore and dress were gone. Instead, she was clad in the same narrow-waisted gown and boots she had been wearing all evening.

   “Are you all right, my darling?” Nathaniel asked gently.

   The memories of everything that happened in the Vale came flooding back. The twins, the Watchmaker, the revealing of her shame.

   Amelia burst into tears. She couldn’t help it. She shot up on the bed and threw her arms around the man who had raised her, pressing her face into the curve of his collar. She tried to stop but she couldn’t. She kept crying and shaking.

   “Oh God, Nathaniel,” she sobbed, “Alice knows! She knows everything!” Nathaniel held her tight. She hadn’t broken down in front of him like this in a long time.

   “She knows what, sweetheart?”

   Formalities, titles and propriety had vanished in Amelia’s mind. All she wanted in that moment was to hold on to the only man who had ever truly loved her, and to never let go.

   “Ma fille,” Nathaniel said in her ear as he held her, “tell me what’s happening. I heard a crash, and found you and Alice fainted. I carried you both upstairs, one by one.”

   Amelia kept sobbing, trying to bury her face deeper into Nathaniel’s shoulder.

   “You went into battle with this thing. It injured you somehow? In the realm of your mind?”

   “Yes!” Amelia cried, holding onto him for dear life.

  Nathaniel pulled them apart despite Amelia’s best efforts. He pressed a hand to the side of her face, touched the St Christopher pendant around her neck, and stared fiercely into her eyes.

   “Beloved, listen. Listen to me. Whatever it showed you, whatever it told you, I am here now. I’m right here, Amelia. You and Alice are both safe. I’ll not let it touch you. Do you understand?”

   As Amelia stared back, feeling the depth of his care, she felt herself beginning to calm. She could barely speak, but she nodded amid her whimpering to show him she understood.

   “I… I killed her,” she murmured at last.

   “No, you didn’t.”

   “I did. She was on that frozen river because of me.”

   “I don’t care,” Nathaniel told her. “All I care about is this family. Lucy, Penny, and you. Nothing else matters to me. Do you understand?”

   Amelia nodded silently. It felt like she could breathe again, at last. She was still trembling, but she forced herself to take several deep breaths.

   The former Royal Marine also took a breath, then offered his hand. “Come,” he said. “We should check on Alice. She was still faint when I left her in Penny’s room.”

*

Alice sat perched on the edge of the bed when they entered. Surrounded by Penny’s stuffed animals, cards and flowers. Feet planted on the floor, fists braced on the mattress, staring at Amelia in the doorway with utter disillusionment.

   “I don’t want to hear anymore begging or pleading,” she said plainly. Or I’ll be sick, I swear.”

   “Alice…”

   “Stop, Amelia. Don’t insult me any longer. Or am I nothing but a useful pawn to you?”

   Nathaniel stepped past Amelia into the room. “Miss Liddell, whatever grievance you have with Miss Beckett, might I remind you that you are a guest in her home. We must at least be civil, and come to some accord.”

   Alice began to laugh. She stared with bewilderment at the dark-suited manservant in his starched collar.

   “A guest?” she scoffed. “Nathaniel, dear, I haven’t slept all evening. We all care about Penelope. But your ward arrives on my grandmother’s doorstep, begging for my help, yet hasn’t the decency to tell me even a semblance of the truth.”

   “Be that as it may,” Nathaniel told her. “She loves you dearly, of course.”

   “DOES SHE?” Alice barked. “Then let her speak for herself!” She fixed Amelia with another dark-eyed stare. “Tell me how it was love, not manipulation, hmm? Tell me how you didn’t manage my expectations to get me here to London! You let me live with this guilt for five years, Amelia. But also, you knew how dangerous the grimoire was. So dangerous that you tried to destroy it. And when Vanessa stopped you, you ran away and left it in Oxford. With me.”

   Amelia shook her head, appalled. “I left it in Magdalen where we found it! Never did I think you’d take it. Or keep it with you for a year. Alice, I’m not a monster. I swear to you.”

   Alice chuckled darkly. “Of course you’re not a monster. Far from it. But you are a coward and a liar, aren’t you?”

   “Yes,” Amelia admitted. “I suppose I am. But you of all people know I had my reasons. Everything we went through in the Vale the first time. And everything after. It crushed the both of us.”

   There was a flicker of empathy in Alice’s expression. Amelia ran to her. She grabbed the brunette’s hands.

   Alice didn’t even try to pull away. Instead she muttered, “You break my heart, Amelia Beckett. You felt responsible for Vanessa, so you created a lie you could live with. I can understand that. But five years, and not even a whisper from my dearest friend. That, I don’t understand.”

   Amelia’s chest ached at those words. She clasped the girl’s hands a little tighter. “I swear on my mother’s grave, Alice. I swear on my sister’s immortal soul. I thought I was protecting you by keeping my distance. Look around at all this darkness. I’m cursed, can’t you see? I am poison.”

   Alice stared at her, tears welling. “What’re you saying to me?"

   “That I wanted you to live a long and healthy life, as far away from me as possible. Because I love you. If I must live with the stain of all this, then best to live alone.”

   Alice frowned, as though she was beginning to understand something that had long been bothering her.

   “Is that why you turned your back on Keiran O’Shea, the tutor’s son from Christ Church? To protect him too?” Amelia nodded silently. “I remember how deeply he cared for you. A good man, thoughtful and kind. But you walked away after Nessa’s funeral. Tell me the truth. Were you in love with him?”  

   Amelia nodded. “Yes. Madly.”

   Alice turned away, and sighed. “This doesn’t change anything, Amelia. But thank you for your honesty at last.” She looked at Nathaniel, who had been watching them intently. “My apologies, Lieutenant. It’s been a long and frightening life.”

   Nathaniel smiled faintly at her attempt at gallows humour. “No apology needed, Miss Liddell.”

   Amelia squeezed Alice’s hand. “The Watchmaker brought us back to the Vale to break us. Something is terribly wrong. I can feel it. Whatever’s happening to Penny, it’s accelerating. I need to be with her. I just… I don’t know what else to do.”

   “I can feel it too,” Alice admitted. She looked over at Nathaniel. “The horses?”

   “They’ll be ready.”

   It was Amelia’s turn to look at him. She smiled, but with worry. “You don’t think this is all pure madness?”

   “War is nothing but madness,” he muttered. “But on occasion worth fighting.”

   “The grimoire,” Amelia told him. “We can’t leave it here. It needs to come with us, dangerous as it is. We might still be able to use it.”

   “It’s already packed for the journey,” said Nathaniel. “But it bled ink as I wrapped it. God as my witness. I even heard it whispering. So, I now grasp the severity of what we’re facing. But none of us are facing it alone.”

   Amelia realised why his hands were now bare. “Your gloves,” she muttered.

   “Ruined,” he replied calmly.

*

The rain was terrible now. It was lashing the city when they left, turning the streets into a mess of mirrors that reflected the gaslight from lampposts. As Nathaniel put the horses through their paces, Amelia and Alice sat in the luxurious safety of the Beckett family coach. They listened to the galloping. The swishing hiss of the carriage wheels blasting through puddles. Alice didn’t say anything. She simply peered from the windows, occasionally throwing Amelia a glance of concern.

   When they arrived in the carriage yard of The London Hospital in Whitechapel, the storm above the city was continuing to gather. No thunder yet, or lightning, but the rain was even heavier than when their journey began. A repeat of the storm from several days ago, but perhaps more ferocious.

   As Nathaniel helped them down from the coach steps into the beating rain, Amelia couldn’t help but wonder if this was somehow the Watchmaker’s doing. A portent of some kind. Was he reaching from the Vale through reflections, to influence the night sky itself?

   She didn’t discount the possibility. It seemed all too plausible now.

   The three of them nodded in recognition at the head porter, hurried beneath the wooden shelters of the carriage yard and quickly made their way into the main building.

   A gas-lit gloom greeted them once more. The walls were still weeping, only heavier in places. Nurses with buckets and mops were more numerous as they attempted to pre-empt the worst of the storm to come.

   Amelia, Alice and Nathaniel found Aunt Lucy and several other figures clustered worriedly around Penny’s bed. Immediately, Amelia’s chest tightened. Her heart sank. The flames from the wall-lamps were feeble. The shadows felt darker. Lucy turned at sound of their approach. Her eyes were pink and slightly swollen from crying. For a moment, Amelia feared the worst.

   Dear Lord, please, no…

   She ran to her aunt, snatched her hands and turned to Penny lying motionless in the bed. “What’s happening?”     

   “She took a turn in the last hour,” Lucy said gravely. “She’s fading fast, Amelia. They fear she won’t last the night. She has perhaps only a few hours left, if that.”

   The Watchmaker’s timetable…

   Amelia shot a look at one of the people gathered at her sister’s bed. Dr Weiss, the older gentleman who had been at the house this morning.

   “Is it true? She has only hours?”

   Weiss frowned, then nodded. “Perhaps less. Penelope’s lucid moments have stopped. Her heartbeat slowed dramatically in the last forty-five minutes. She’s struggling to pump the blood as required. I—I have no other options available now. So, please, prepare your family.” He quickly checked his pocket watch. “Forgive me, Miss Beckett, but I also have other patients to attend.” He frowned at her, in sympathy, and left.

   Amelia squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She felt the tears spill down her cheeks. She moved closer to Penny’s bedside and took her hand. But the girl’s grasp was limp.

   “Can you hear me, ma sœur?”” Amelia asked softly. Penny’s eyes fluttered slightly, but there was no other response. She tried to ignore the awful hollow in the pit of her stomach. “Penny, if you can hear me… I need you to resist him. Please. Alice is here with me, and we are fighting for you with the brightest Wonderland magic.”

   “Indeed, I’m here.” Alice’s voice from behind Amelia’s shoulder. “We have spells with us, composed of golden light. Words of great power. Hold on.”

   Amelia sniffed and wiped away tears from her cheek.

   “We need you to fight, Penelope. Do you hear me? Whatever he tells you, don’t believe him. He’s a Parisian cutthroat with no honour, only styled as king. A character from Dumas or Hugo. Think of mother instead. Picture her face. Remember what we called her. Notre-Dame du Coeur de Rubis. Please, Penny, hear me…”

   Amelia’s voice broke, struck by how futile she sounded. Eventually she gave the girl’s hand a gentle squeeze and muttered, “Hold on, beloved.”

   Through the arched windows, Amelia could hear the growing intensity of the rain. Even the wind was picking up. The storm was clearly marshalling its forces.

   She turned away from the bed and saw her aunt and Alice both peering at her. Lucy despaired, shaking her head, like her heart had broken right there in the ward.

   “Forgive me,” she said gently. “Forgive my foolishness earlier. I was afraid. But do something. Anything. Just bring her back to us.”

   Amelia looked at Alice.

   The brunette stepped in very close, only inches away. She glanced at Penny in the bed, then took Amelia’s hand and whispered in her ear, “Listen to me. I don’t wish to alarm your sweet aunt. But Penny isn’t simply dying. She’s being drawn away. Led to some other place. I can feel him with her. We must act now.”

   Amelia could feel the conviction in her friend’s voice.

   Her aunt was watching intently, desperately.

   As if intuiting Alice’s words, Lucy declared, “I’ll stay with her. I’ll talk to her. Even if she can’t respond, she needs to know we’re close. Go, my darling.”

   Amelia nodded. Nathaniel was standing a few paces back, surveying the scene in its entirety. He was carrying Alice’s Gladstone bag at his side. The Book of Poisons lay wrapped in cloth, concealed within.

   He turned on his heels as Amelia and Alice approached him. The three of them hurried out of the ward and back into the corridor. At the furthest end, two women attempted to combat new leaks that had sprung.

   Nathaniel lifted the bag. “Whatever we intend, we must do it now.”

   Amelia looked at Alice, who gazed back with those fierce, perceptive eyes. “Perhaps you shouldn’t attempt this again,” she told the brunette. “Not after what happened at the house. Perhaps Nathaniel can assist me.”

   Alice scowled. “Amelia, stop this. Stop deciding for me! For everyone. Do you think I’ve come all this way only to turn my back in Penny’s final hour?” Her expression softened. “No, we do this as we first intended. We hadn’t a chance to even speak the banishing out loud. This time we finish it.”

   “Where?”

   “Somewhere quiet,” Alice replied. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to think.

   “The oratory,” Nathaniel offered.

   Alice immediately nodded at the suggestion. “The priests would have sanctified it when this place was first opened. Nathaniel can stand watch.”

   Nathaniel nodded as he stared, looking at the St Christopher pendant hanging around her neck. In an instant she grasped how seriously he was taking all this. He offered her the Gladstone bag. His eyes were afraid, but his voice was firm. “Be careful, ma fille. But we need to move.”

   Amelia inhaled sharply. She took the bag.

*

There were three separate figures seated in the ornate wooden pews of the dimly-lit oratory, their heads all bowed, hands clasped in prayer. Nathaniel muttered that the chaplain must have been on his rounds walking the wards, luckily for them.

   With a minimum of fuss he shepherded the praying figures back into the hospital corridors, telling them of a structural issue due to the storm now raging outside. The space would have to be closed until further notice. They believed him. He was formally dressed, after all, speaking with elegance and authority. Amelia was a little stunned by his expediency.

   Finally she and Alice were standing inside the columned oratory, an arched stained-glass window at its front. A biblical depiction of the Samaritan from Luke, showing kindness to a weary, broken traveller.

   Before he sealed the doors Nathaniel glanced at Alice, then peered into Amelia’s eyes. “Sois forte, ma cherie,” he said softly. Be strong, my darling.

   He kissed her cheek. The doors slammed shut.

   Amelia and Alice were finally alone in the holy place. They both looked at the Gladstone bag in Amelia’s hand.

   “All right,” Amelia muttered, trying to rouse herself. “We should hurry.”

   They went to the centre of the room, a strip of terrazzo floor between the ornate wooden pews. They both got down on their knees, facing each other. Alice had her back to the stained-glass Samaritan. She tossed Amelia a pair of brown leather gloves from her coat pocket, who quickly put them on. This time it was Amelia who opened the bag and carefully removed the grimoire wrapped in cloth.

   She prayed the gloves would protect her from its malign influence, but she sensed something was different as she began to unwrap it. Indeed, something was very wrong. She saw its leather-bound cover, and finally opened the tome halfway.

   She gasped, speechless.

   “Is it bleeding?” Alice asked immediately.

   “No… it… already bled.”

   The words on the pages were smudged and streaked beyond all recognition. Amelia hesitated, then touched a gloved fingertip to the text as lightly as possible. She expected it to be wet, or tacky at least, but the ink was dry.

     “No, no, no…” she murmured, flipping through the grimoire’s many pages. It was the same on each. A ruined mess of streaks and smudges. The entire thing was illegible.

   “No,” she whispered to herself. “This cannot be happening…”

   But an awful truth began to dawn.

   This book had an unsettling pull over everyone. Mother five years ago. Alice this last year. Even me.

   “Oh God,” she said, and looked up at the brunette. In her friend’s eyes she saw a similar understanding begin to form.

   “He tricked us,” Alice whispered.

   There had never been any banishment possible. Amelia was certain now. This wasn’t even an occult text, but something far more dangerous—black gate, a permeable threshold between the realm of night-terrors and the waking world. The Latin rituals were a lie from the start. The book hadn’t been written to combat the Watchmaker. No—the Watchmaker had authored it himself centuries ago, perhaps dictating it to a loyal disciple, or impressing it upon a weak and sinful mind. Either way, it was a lure. A deception passed from hand to hand among the curious and the desperate. In trying to understand their enemy, she and her mother had both fallen prey to its cleverness.

   “DAMN YOU!” Amelia screamed, and began tearing pages from the book.

   She was shaking, heaving, crying out. Tears streamed.

   Alice rushed to her side, trying to wrest away the deceitful book. But Amelia kept tearing viciously at its pages. Alice held both her gloved hands then, forcing her to stop. Then she was kissing Amelia’s forehead, begging her to calm. Amelia gave a final scream and then buried her face in Alice’s breast. She was still shaking—but Alice simply held her. Eventually, she began to rock her gently like a child.

   “I failed her,” Amelia whimpered at last, her chest trembling. “I failed us all.”    

   “No,” Alice assured her. “It’s an awful grief you’ve lived with. No soul should have to carry it alone.”

   The two of them sat silently, embracing on the floor of the oratory. Surrounded by torn pages from the grimoire. Minutes passed. Amelia didn’t dare move her face from the comfort and protection of her friend’s chest; afraid the moment would break. The brunette gently and slowly smoothed her hair.

   Finally, Amelia admitted, “I’m so ashamed, Alice.”

   “I know, dear one.”

   “I kept you away not just to protect you, but because I could no longer bear myself. The guilt. That ravenous, insatiable shame.”

   “I know,” Alice said again.

   “When you told me you wouldn’t confront mother with me, I went alone that morning—without thinking through the consequences. I raged. Snatched the book. I truly believed she was responsible for what happened to us. She chased me into Fellows Garden, begging me not to destroy it. I accused her of being a satanist and threw it onto the frozen river. She went out there like a madwoman. Desperate. When the ice began to fracture... oh, Alice, I can still see her eyes. Wide with terror. And resolve. I see them most nights.”

   “I’m so sorry.”

   “She always said the book felt alive,” Amelia said softly. “That it possessed a strange allure.”

   “It fooled us all,” Alice replied.

   “Mother was brilliant, but she couldn’t grasp that the book was a deception. None of them could. The Circle were desperate, like we are. She wanted so badly to understand what she was fighting that she was blinded to the truth.” Amelia’s voice faltered. “And tonight I walked straight into the same trap.”

   “He masked his misery as wisdom,” Alice said softly. “As insight, hard to find. People fall for that tactic to this day, no matter how studious. It’s how the corrupt move among us. Preying not just on our fears, but our hopes too.”

   “Yes. Her sacrifice was meaningless.”

   “No, Amelia. Not at all. She did it out of love for her daughters, and love is never meaningless. Vanessa died trying to find you a worthwhile weapon.”

   Amelia drew a breath, but was aghast at the thought of it all.

   “Keiran’s face when he heard the news. My God, such grief—for me. I suppose I wanted answers before we told everyone. We were to be engaged, you know. He asked for my hand just three days before you and I found the book. I said yes.”

   “I—I had no idea,” Alice murmured.

   “I should have told you. I wanted to, desperately. A little light in those dark times. But he asked me to wait until we could announce it formally the following week. We were only fourteen, but I loved him. Yet... after that day on the river, I just... Everything changed.”

   “You returned his ring?”

   The threat of tears again. Amelia pressed herself into her friend’s embrace, as though bracing against the memory. “Yes. I broke his dear heart. Mine too.”

   Alice pulled away enough to gaze down thoughtfully at Amelia. “Hearts can mend.”

   “I truly am sorry, Miss Liddell.”

   Alice chuckled faintly at the formality. “We’ve both been punishing ourselves in different ways. But there are greater concerns right now. Penny isn’t lost. Not yet. We must gather these damned pages, and return to her.”

   Amelia nodded, took a long breath, and forced herself back onto her feet—carrying the weight of confession with her.

*

Nathaniel didn’t even ask if the banishing ritual had been successful. He could see that it hadn’t from the look on their faces. She handed him the Gladstone bag, now filled with the torn, ruined grimoire. He stared at her with unhidden sorrow, but remained silent.

   Amelia realised she was walking back to Penny’s ward far slower than intended. There was still a kind of terror, but different now. A strange hollow had consumed her.

   In the ward the gas-light was dimmer, the shadows longer. Lucy was sitting in the armchair beside Penny’s hospital bed, head bowed in apparent prayer. Amelia asked a passing nurse if she might kindly fetch another chair. The woman gave her a quick nod and hurried away. When Amelia reached her aunt, she placed a hand on her shoulder. Lucy didn’t lift her head or open her eyes. Hands still clasped together, muttering almost inaudibly. She strained to listen. It was the Lord’s Prayer.

   “…hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thine will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…”

   Amelia forced herself to peer at her little sister lying prone and silent in the bed. She inhaled sharply, stifling a sob. A thin bead of blood had slipped from Penny’s nostril. She watched trail down her lip, her jaw, into the hollow of her throat.

   “Ma sœur?” Amelia called gently.

   But there was no response this time. Not even a fluttering of eyelids.

   “…forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…”

   The nurse returned with a wooden chair, frowning as she glanced at the deathly pale girl in the bed. Amelia thanked the woman and took a seat beside Lucy.

   She listened to the woman’s repeated petitions, but could find no solace in those familiar words.

   “Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…”

   She took Penny’s hand. It was colder than before, and so limp. Amelia turned the girl’s wrist and felt discreetly for a pulse. It was still there, but barely.

   “Penelope…” Amelia muttered. “It’s… me. I’m here…”

   But it was all Amelia could manage. The silence stretched on and on. She shook her head at no one. It was remarkable how spectacularly she had failed her little sister. Alice too, and her mother. Only Nathaniel saw anything in her worth protecting now, bless his soul.

   Amelia turned her head at the sound of an approach. Alice kneeled beside the chair, quiet, close. Amelia looked into her dark, pretty eyes.

   “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “I can’t control any of this.”

   Alice leaned in a little closer. “Until now,” she said softly, “we’ve let him decide all this. We’ve played by his rules, in his world. The grimoire, the rituals. We tried to fight him like he was a system to overcome.” Alice narrowed her eyes. “He’s more than that. He’s a storyteller. But so are we.”

   “What are you saying?”

   “That we reverse things. We stop playing by his rules, on his time. Stop asking permission. He’s with Penny now, isn’t he? In the Vale somewhere?”

   Amelia nodded. “I think so, yes.”

   Alice’s expression became icy and resolute. “So, we go and take her back.”

   Amelia shook her head. It was a fool’s errand. “Alice… we tried. The book is gone. I can’t… I can’t keep doing this.”

   Alice took Amelia’s hand. Her gaze was truly piercing. “We don’t do this like before. No rituals, no book. We go together this time. We hold on to her in our minds. And we don’t let him separate us.”

   Amelia felt a glimmer of hope in her breast, but also the terror that it might not work.

   “Alice, you mean well, but…”

   The brunette pressed a hand to Amelia’s cheek. “Listen to me. Remember when we were girls, and first received our monthlies? How we shared those beatific visions to dull the pain down there, simply through breathing together? In rhythm, as one?”

   “I remember,” Amelia said quietly.

   “Well, we already have a talisman. An anchor. Look.” She took her hand from Amelia’s face and lifted the St Christopher pendant hanging around her neck. “Nathaniel’s devotion.” Amelia averted her gaze. “It’s true, dear one. The patron of travels, and crossings. Gifted by the man who loves you most in all the world. I can’t think of a brighter lantern. Penny will see it. I’m certain.”

   Amelia looked at the grey child in the bed. The thin trail of blood was already drying on her face. In the hollow of her throat. Amelia closed her eyes, and surrendered.

   “Tell me what to do,” she said.

   “Come with me.”

   Lucy halted her petitions to heaven. She turned her head and peered at Amelia, her eyes full of tears. She had been listening to everything.

   “Be careful,” she whispered. Her jaw tightened, eyes narrowed. “But give him hell, from all of us.”

   Amelia hesitated, a little stunned by the look in her aunt’s eyes. “Lucy, I—"

   “You don’t have to say it.”

   Amelia touched her throat, her breath unsteady. “But I do. To you of all people, I do. Vanessa went out on the ice because of me. I tried to destroy the grimoire.”

   Lucy simply closed her eyes, and nodded. “I realised that today.”

   “But it was an accident, I swear.”

   “I understand, my darling girl.”

   “You were right, you know,” Amelia confessed, her voice shaking. “I should have let you help me carry these burdens.”

   Lucy opened her eyes again. Her expression kind, yet resolute. “You’re letting me now,” she murmured. “And I’m grateful. Go. Finish this. Show him who we are.”

   Amelia nodded as she and Alice left the bedside. They saw Nathaniel waiting further back, watching everything.

   “We need the carriage,” Alice told him. He turned to Amelia for confirmation. She nodded silently.

   “Once more unto the breech,” he muttered.

   When the three of them stepped out of the building and into the carriage yard it was like the night sky itself had erupted. The rain was a torrent. Thunder growled like malevolence incarnate. The darkness was fractured by forks and flashes of bluish-white. Amelia hadn’t seen lightning like this in a long time.

   “It’s him, isn’t it?” Nathaniel asked above the din, his gaze tilted skyward. “Dear Lord…”

   The question was rhetorical. All three of them knew the answer.

   “Wait,” Alice called out. Amelia and Nathaniel turned.

   The brunette reached into her coat and removed the pocket watch she had snipped from the stuffed rabbit in Oxford. She peered at it with wild eyes.

   “No more of his rules,” she said darkly. “No more of his timeframe. We do this our way now.” She glanced at Amelia, who nodded.

   “Do it.”

   Alice dropped the watch and smashed it beneath the heel of her boot. She exhaled slowly, eyes closing for a moment, as though a great weight had lifted.

   Amelia took her friend’s hand, and the three of them hurried onward through the storm. When they reached the yard, Nathaniel pressed a handful of coins into the head porter’s fist. Dozens of carriages crowded the shelter, horses beyond counting. They snorted and neighed in agitation, bucking whenever thunder cracked like a bomb overhead. Porters struggled with the reins in attempts to keep the most terrified animals from bolting.

   Nathaniel spoke briefly with the head porter, who nodded and waved them through. They hurried to the Beckett family carriage. The porter worked to soothe the horses as Nathaniel flung open the coach door and ushered Alice and Amelia inside. Amelia shot him a final glance.

   “Foreign shores?” he asked over the roar of the storm. “Another world entire?”

   “Yes.”

   He considered it, then met her eyes. “Steady now, sailor,” he commanded.

   She nodded in agreement before he slammed the door, sealing them within.

   Inside it was calmer, and warm. She and Alice were already both soaked to the bone. It wasn’t a complete darkness. A measure of illumination from the lamps of the yard spilled into the red velvet interior.

   Outside, the rain raged, the wind howled. Thunder boomed, making them flinch. Lightning flashes lit their faces as they peered at each other, trying to reckon with what they were about to attempt.

   Amelia still wasn’t sure if it was possible, but there was the faintest hope within her now. They were no longer sitting opposite. They were side by side on the padded back bench.

   “Thank you, Alice,” Amelia said weakly, realizing how exhausted she felt.

   “Thank me when we have Penny’s soul-form in our sights.” Amelia nodded. Alice added, “Hurry, dear one. Take off the pendant.”

   Amelia quickly did as asked. She offered it, palm up. Alice took her hand. They both laced their fingers and closed them tightly. A shared fist with the pendant at its centre.

   A final look, and they both shut their eyes.

   “Remember how it used to be,” Alice said, barely above a whisper. “Before we fell, before the novel. Remember walking together. One mind…”

   “….one soul,” Amelia added, completing the phrase.

   “Picture Penny’s face. See her. Feel her. Her smile, laugh, and wit. All of her.”

   “Go within,” Amelia intoned softly.

   “Within,” Alice echoed.

   At first, Amelia was hesitant to trust it. But she was no longer alone. Alice was with her now. She began to relax. At last, her depths began to calm. Then, after only a few minutes at most, something subtle shifted in the connection between them. Their breath began to deepen, falling into the natural synchrony they shared as children. Sounds from the storm began to fade. The pendant in their grasp became oddly vital, as though radiating a palpable warmth.

   “Within.”

   “Within…”  

   And then – silence.

*

The interior of the coach was honeyed with warm sunlight. The doors were already open on either side. Beyond them, Amelia saw grass. She blinked a few times but didn’t feel too disoriented. In fact, there was a stillness at the centre of her. She turned her head to the girl beside her. Alice opened her eyes and blinked a few times too. Neither of them wore the pinafore and dress of Tenniel’s illustrations. Merely their own clothes now.

   “Did it work? Did we make it?”

   Amelia allowed herself a tiny smile. “I think so. Come.”

   She took Alice’s hand and they quickly stepped down from the coach, into beautiful, clear daylight. The horses were gone, of course. The Beckett family carriage was sitting amid an expanse of grass beside a river. Beyond it, Amelia recognised Parisian townhouses. Balconies brimming with flowers of every kind. Scent filled the air. The mingled delight of rose, lavender, and jasmine.

   Alice took a deep breath. “God, it’s wonderful…”  

   Amelia almost grinned. “This is Penelope’s shading at work, I’ve no doubt. I can feel her imagination everywhere. She listened. She heard me.”

   Alice’s eyes widened as she saw something. “Look at that!”

   The St Christopher pendant was making Amelia’s clenched fist glow as if lit from within. As though she were grasping the brightest star.

   Behind them, beyond the grassy expanse, stood an intricate structure that both had only seen in illustrations. Notre-Dame de Paris. Gone were the cobblestones of its forecourt. Instead, families were gathered on the grass. Fathers laughing, eating fruits. Mothers with parasols, grinning as their sons and daughters frolicked.

   Instinctively, the girls began crossing the sunlit grass toward the cathedral.

   Amelia picked up her pace and Alice matched her. Though it might seem like nonsense, or mere whimsy from afar, Amelia knew that nothing in the Vale was random. If they were here, Penny was close by.

   She scanned the faces of the families, a growing tension in her breast. She needed no one to tell her. She knew how short the time was. How little of it Penny had left.

   Ahead of them, two figures were striding across the grass towards a pale horse and a black carriage adorned with the official triregnum and crossed keys of the Vatican in Rome. The smaller figure was a clearly a child in a sundress, holding the hand of the larger figure, a robed priest. Amelia began sprinting across the grass towards them.

   A tightening in her stomach. The child heard something and glanced back.

   Penny’s beautiful, unsuspecting face. Whole and healthy. Amelia stopped in her tracks, perhaps only thirty feet away.

   She screamed, “PENELOPE!”

   She thrust her glowing fist aloft so the girl could see it. The pendant blazed brighter at that moment, pulsing like a beacon across the entire area.

   “Amelia!” Penny cried in delight.

   The robed priest turned his head too, savagely. It was the Watchmaker, of course. His long hair pulled back. Still blindfolded, still almost feminine in his beauty. But Amelia could see the snarl of his lips. He didn’t let go of the child’s hand.

   “It’s all right, Miss Meely,” Penny tried to assure her. “I feel so much better! Father Rossetti is taking me to Rome, to see mother! Isn’t that delightful?”

   Amelia looked at Alice, then at the pale horse and dark Vatican coach. Carefully, she got down on her knees in the grass. She gestured for the girl to approach. But Penny remained where she was.

   Her voice trembled. “The pain is gone, Ammy. At last.”

   Amelia inhaled slowly. “Listen to me, ma sœur. It’s a trick. Alice and I are here to rescue you. He’s a villain, don’t you see? Like the Archdeacon in Hugo’s novel. Look at him. Really look. See how he won’t reveal his eyes? Because he has none. Not like we do.”

   Penny turned to the tall, robed figure gripping her hand.

   “Piety, my child,” he said soothingly. “That’s all. In Rome we see only love, and the Lord.”

   An innocent smile spread across Penny’s face.

   She looked at Amelia. “It’s a beautiful light you wield, my sister. But you don’t have to be scared. Father Rossetti is my friend. I’m going to a better place!”

   “Penelope,” Alice warned, “listen to your sister. That man is not a friend. He’s a monster. A demon pretending an angel of light. Don’t trust the image, little one, trust the essence. See him with your heart.”

   Amelia nodded, desperate. “Remember what we called her, Penny. The name we gave to mother. Notre Dame du Coeur de Rubis. Our Lady of the Ruby Heart.”

   Penny turned to the vast cathedral behind her. Then she gazed at the robed, blindfolded priest.

   Above them, the sunlit sky began to darken. An overcast started creeping over everything, leeching the colours, fading the scent of flowers.

   Penny frowned as she stared at the priest’s beautiful face. His hidden eyes. “My sister is a teacher,” she muttered. “Wise, and kind. Why would she lie to me?”

   “Confusion, little one. Not lies. Come, the carriage awaits. As does Vanessa.”

   “Show me your eyes,” the girl demanded.

   “I can’t. It would be a violation of my faith. Please understand.”

   The sky above them darkened even further. Around them, the families sitting on the grass were no longer human. Instead, they were stone. Grey statues clustered in little groups. No laughter, or joy.

   Penny tore her hand free from the priest’s grasp, backing away several steps. “Liar,” she muttered. Then, again: “LIAR!”

   With an inconvenienced sigh the priest dropped all pretence. He stepped in front of Penny, blocking her path to Amelia and Alice. The little girl wasted no time. She turned and ran with all her might towards the cathedral, screaming in French, “Asile, Asile!”

   Asylum, Asylum! 

   Amelia and Alice began running too, but the priest didn’t. He simply stalked calmly after the child as the doors to Notre Dame opened on their own and swept her into sanctuary. Moments later, a shimmering ruby light pulsed across the threshold as the doors closed behind her. As the priest reached the entrance, he put his hand on the door but was repelled instantly, staggering back a few steps. For a moment he studied the threshold of shimmering light, then slammed a fist against it. The energies pulsed at the force of his blow. But the doors didn’t open.

   Amelia and Alice were still running toward the cathedral, but they slowed to a stop as the priest finally turned to face them.

   His shape had shifted somehow. He was much taller. His pale white face no longer beautiful. Every vein in his skin was stark, as if tattooed. Mouth distorted impossibly wide. Teeth all sharp and monstrous, covered in black saliva. A pin was pulled from his hair, and it tumbled to his shoulders.

   “You used her,” he growled at them. “Coeur de Rubis. My almost-queen. You let the little one hide behind her. Well, now you stand alone.”

   Alice took a step forward. “We’re not afraid of you. You’re in our world now.”

  The entity tilted his head, furious yet amused.

   “This is most certainly still my world. Hours, and industry. Did you really think menses would stand a chance against murder? I suppose you’re both still children, after all.”

   “Perhaps,” Amelia told him. “But we’re all smarter than you. Asylum, as in the stories. Outwitted by three girls.”

   The Watchmaker sneered at the boldness of her taunt. “Fine. Let the child hang by a thread, for now. But I shall tell you a terrible secret. I’m not a wolf, Amelia. I am a serpent, older than hours. You have no vorpal blade, no gleaming edge of angels. So, if you insist on using the ruby heart as a shield, I’ll use the silver sailor as weapon.”

   Amelia froze at those words. The silver sailor.

   Nathaniel.

   Her entire world fell away at the thought of it.

   The entity grinned with dragon’s teeth. “Yes, the warrior who loves you most. Unlike you, I have a contingency plan in place.”

   Amelia muttered, “Please, no. Not him.”

   “Murder,” the entity smiled, relishing her horror. “It won’t take much, Amelia. He touched my ink in the basement. My words. My violence is already within him. All he needs… is a push.”

   The robed priest thrust his taloned palms forward with such force that everything around them shattered. The cathedral, the sky, the Vale itself.

*

Amelia’s eyes snapped open with a gasp, heart thudding in her chest. Alice was also wide eyed beside her. Her chest heaved. They were breathing deep, shocked at the suddenness of their exit from the Vale.

   Amelia tried to catch her breath. Beyond the safety of the coach interior, it was still nighttime. The storm was still raging. They had crossed from night to false day, to night again. Unsettling, to say the least.

   “Nathaniel,” Amelia managed. “We have to find him.”

   Alice nodded, clearly still reeling from their forcible ejection. Amelia tore open the door and stumbled down into darkness and rain. Thunder crashed above the carriage yard as horses bucked and neighed in protest. Lightning split the sky. Alice hurried down a moment later. The two of them started running toward the main entrance despite neither being sure on their feet yet.

   Both were soaked upon reaching the hospital’s dim, gaslit interior. They tried to shake some of the rain from their hair.

   “This way,” Alice muttered. Amelia followed her lead.

   They hurried down corridors, dodging around several nurses with mops and buckets. The walls were weeping in so many places now. Amelia read genuine fear on many of the nurses faces. They hadn’t accounted for the ferocity of this second storm.

   At last, Amelia and Alice burst back into Penny’s ward. Lucy was still at the girl’s bedside. Head bowed, hands clasped.

   But Nathaniel was nowhere to be seen.

   Amelia frowned. Chest tight, stomach nauseous.

   Alice shook her head. “Nathaniel is strong. He’ll resist. But we must find him.”

   Then Amelia saw it. Spots of dark fluid leading away from Penny’s bed. At first, she thought it was blood the nurses hadn’t had time to clean away. But it was darker. It stopped and started, leading toward them and back out into the corridor.

   Alice followed Amelia’s gaze. “Oh, no…” the brunette murmured.

   They turned and hurried back into the corridor. For a moment, the trail of black blood was broken. But then Amelia caught sight of it further down. She glanced again at Alice.

   “He seemed fine, but…” Amelia couldn’t even bear to finish the sentence.

   “He wasn’t wearing his gloves at the house,” Alice replied softly. “He’d ruined them handling the book. But he didn’t say it reached his skin. A memory glamour?”

   “Or perhaps he was fighting it this entire time...” Tears sprang to Amelia’s eyes at the thought of her childish transgressions hurting the man who spent his life protecting her. “We must find him!”

   “We will,” the brunette assured her, though Amelia could hear the fear in her voice.

   Ahead there was a junction in the corridor. To their left, another thin trail of black fluid. Then nothing.

   They approached a door nearest the trail’s end.

   “Nathaniel?” Amelia called fearfully.

   “Don’t come inside, ma fille. Please.”

   Amelia hesitated. “Lieutenant, we can help. Alice and I.”

   “NO! Amelia, stop!”

   The door only opened an inch. He had dragged something heavy in front of it. A quick glance at Alice, who nodded. They both mouthed ‘one, two, three’ – and shoulder barged the door in unison. It was forced open just enough. A small medical cabinet had been blocking their entry.

  In the private room, on the unmade hospital bed, Nathaniel was sitting. He had taken off the jacket of his suit, his shirt unbuttoned, a hand pressed to his upper abdomen as he grimaced in agony.

   Amelia’s eyes flew wide. She had never seen him in such a weakened, terrified state.

   “My love…” she gasped.

   “Don’t come any closer!” he barked through clenched teeth.

   Black ink was spilling through the fingers of his hand as he clutched it to his bare skin.

   “Tell me what’s happening!” Amelia cried. Tears were already spilling down her face.

   “A war wound,” he grimaced. “Musket shot. Healed, till now.” He doubled over on the edge of the bed, grunting. “Oh, Jesus Christ…”

   “Dear God,” Alice said beside Amelia.

   Nathaniel slammed his fist into the mattress several times. “He’s showing me things. Horrors from the war. In my head. The pain is unholy…”

   Amelia couldn’t bear it. She hurried to him. He slapped her hand away. Tactically, not vicious. Amelia staggered back in utter disbelief. Alexander Beckett had occasionally raised his hand to her, but never her silver sailor.

   This is a night-terror. It can’t be real.

   “Get away from me, Amelia!” he begged. “It’s far too strong. An army of one. Lord in Heaven...”

   From behind her, Alice warned, “Get away, Amelia. Please. We need to leave.”

   Amelia was undeterred. She went to him again, pressing a hand to his cheek. This time Nathaniel shoved her away with real force. Amelia’s heart hammered.

  “Please, ma fille. You must run. It’s not Penny he wants from me. It’s you…”

  He looked down at something nestled beside him in the bedcovers. Amelia followed his gaze.

   A long surgical saw, its blade slightly rusty at one end.

   Amelia’s insides went like ice. She took an unsteady step back. Then another. Shaking her head.

   Nathaniel would never hurt me…

   He met her eyes with desperation. Tears were rolling down his face, the veins at his temples visible beneath a sheen of sweat. His gaze terrified, pleading. Then tendrils of ink filled his eyes, swallowing his vision in seconds.

   He snatched the surgical saw, black-eyed like a wraith, and screamed, “RUN!”

*

They ran. Hearts thudding, unconcerned with directions. Down the corridor. A left turn, then a right. Dodging nurses and porters. Stomping through puddles. Amelia risked a glance. Behind them, Nathaniel staggered down the corridor. Surgical saw in hand. Jolting his head this way and that, trying to fight it. A frightened nurse watched the approaching figure. His unbuttoned shirt, black-bleeding abdomen, and wild expression. She pressed herself against the wall, out of his way.

   Alice snatched Amelia’s hand and pulled her into a stairwell with RESTRICTED DUE TO FLOODING pinned to the door. They stopped for only a moment, to catch their breath. Nathaniel burst through the doorway behind them.

   They screamed. His presence at their back drove them downward against their will. They leapt two steps at a time, almost tripping more than once as they fled.

   “Run, Amelia!” he cried. She looked back again. Saw him spin away, slamming a fist against the wall. “I can’t much longer!”

   Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thine will be done…

   They kept descending. Another flight of stairs, and another. Finally, their feet landed in floodwater that swept upward to their knees. Amelia gasped at the cold. They staggered through the water, beyond the stairwell door, and into the restricted basement levels of the hospital.

   Down here, the only illumination was a single wall lamp at the hallway’s end. Gaslight still flickered feebly. All the others had apparently been extinguished by the leaks. There was barely enough light to see, but it was clear that the entire hallway was flooded.

   They heard Nathaniel’s booming footsteps echo as he descended.

   “Surely he won’t harm us?” Amelia gasped.

   But she knew anything was possible now.

   Alice shot her a look. She kept hold of Amelia’s hand, hurrying them onward. The water sloshed around their knees. Deeper into the dark. Amelia kept repeating the Lord’s prayer in her mind, as Lucy had done earlier. Her mouth was drier than ash, her stomach tight as a fist.

   They both spun round as Nathaniel came raging through the stairwell door, perhaps twenty feet behind them. Eyes blacker than a night-terror. The handle of the surgical saw still clenched in his fist.

   He growled wildly at them. Inhuman, almost animal. “The sailor isn’t a hero from one of your stories, little one. He has murdered before. He was trained to do it. And trained well.”  

   “Oh, sweet Lord…” Amelia murmured.

   Alice was already dragging her through the nearest doorway. They stumbled on unseen steps and they sank. Floodwater surged up around them to their waists. They gasped at the iciness of the water.

   In the meagre illumination from the remaining wall-lamp outside, Amelia realised they had stumbled into a vast boiler room. A multi-levelled industrial space containing a huge coal furnace with iron ribs, and a sprawling network of pipes that filled the walls and high ceiling like a labyrinth of wrought-iron. For the moment it was abandoned, inactive.

   They trudged through the water, hearts still thudding at the threat in the hallway.

   In the darkness, something began to faintly shine below Amelia’s vision.

  The St Christopher pendant was still clasped in her hand. Somehow it was glowing faintly within her closed fist. She opened her hand and gasped. A brilliant point of golden light. The pendant was glowing in her palm like a tiny star.

   “My God,” Amelia murmured, like she was witnessing a miracle.

   “It’s the Vale,” Alice intoned, gazing incredulously at the light in Amelia’s palm. “It has to be…”     

   The pendant’s brightness continued to gather until it was the only true illumination in the room. Amelia lifted it by the chain and let the pendant drop, hanging like a tiny lantern above the water.

   For a moment, Amelia felt a flare of hope.

   If the pendant was lighting this space as it had done in the Vale with Penny, then it meant the two worlds were bleeding together. It meant perhaps they weren’t entirely powerless. Amelia caught a glimpse of strange skies reflected in the shifting, dark surface of the waters.

   The skies of the Vale. Alice’s eyes went wide. She had seen it too.

   Immediately, Amelia understood. The Watchmaker had forced a rupture. A gate of sorts. He was using that gate to force himself from the place of dreaming into the waking world. Vanessa Beckett had always believed such a gate could swing both ways.

   On the other side of the boiler room, Nathaniel’s broad-shouldered outline filled the doorway. The light of the pendant was just enough to make out his features. Black, soulless eyes. An abdomen that still throbbed with ink.

   Calmly, he stepped down into the floodwater. It surged around him. He studied the rippling black surface.

   “‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.’ Do you know it, Miss Beckett?”

   It was a line from Shakespeare’s The Tempest, but Amelia wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.

   Instead she called out, “Fight him, Nathaniel! You’re stronger than him!”

   The serviceman in the doorway laughed in an impossibly low timbre.

   “Your silver sailor is forty-three years old, made on Cambridge dreaming. But I count my years by the thousands. I was made on Mesopotamian night-terrors. Plague pits, fire, and roasting human flesh.” He grinned, serpentine in the pendant’s half-light. “It’s how I got my wings.”

   “Damn you,” Alice muttered at Amelia’s side. “Damn everything about you.”

   Nathaniel began moving deliberately through the water towards them, careful to hold the surgical saw in his hand above the surface.

   “You would talk this way to seraphim, Miss Liddell? Didn’t Dodgson or your father teach you better?”

   “This isn’t you, Nathaniel,” Alice told him, her voice measured.

   “Oh, but it is. I trained for this.”

   With courage she didn’t feel, Amelia lifted the glowing pendant a little higher. A star in this subterranean space.

   “No, not this,” Alice told him. “I was there, remember? The way you held them. They way you carried them to bed. Tended to them whenever they were poorly. You raised those girls. You adored them.”

   Nathaniel’s stride faltered, He stopped, lowering the saw slightly, averting his gaze. The water around them trembled unnaturally.

   Slowly, carefully, Amelia approached the ex-serviceman standing in the floodwater. He was lit by the pendant’s golden glow.

   “Please hear me, Nathaniel.”

   But the black-eyed figure locked gazes with her again, and smiled. He calmly lifted the surgical saw and delicately placed the edge of its blade to Amelia’s throat. She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut.

   “Eat me, drink me,” she heard him mutter.

   Amelia forced her eyes open, body trembling. Sweat beaded at her forehead. She looked directly into his ink-filled eyes.

   “You won’t hurt me,” she murmured, stepping into the blade just enough to feel its tiny, serrated teeth press her skin without breaking it. “My Nathaniel would never. He fights for me. Always.”

   From behind her, Alice’s voice. “Please, Nathaniel. Fight.”

   Nathaniel glanced at the St Christopher pendant dangling from her fist like a tiny, impossible lantern. His eyes flickered. She saw him for a moment. Human, horrified. In agony.

   He cried out, so loud it was almost a roar. He shoved her away, seemingly to protect her. But Amelia stumbled backward. The pendant slipped from her grasp and vanished in the black water, its light instantly snuffed out. The room was thrust into near-darkness again. Nathaniel turned and hurled the surgical saw across the boiler room. It went spinning and plunged out of sight.

   Only the faintest illumination came from the remaining lamp in the hallway outside. She heard movement through the water, and felt Alice beside her.

   “Fight this!” the brunette cried.

   In the darkness, Amelia heard him laughing. Low, guttural.

   “Handmaids always imagine themselves healers. Redemption, salvation. Taming the wild wolf. Soothing the serpent. I expected better from you, Amelia. A little more rigor. But you aren’t half as wise or regal as your mother was.”  

   Amelia wasn’t going to let fear dictate her actions any longer. She ran to him in the dark, seizing him by the arms.

   “I adore you, Nathaniel! And you, me! Come back!”

   She heard him snarl. He grabbed her viciously by the shoulders, and hurled her into the iron plating of the boiler at her back. She grunted in pain.

   “NO!” Alice’s voice.

   In the near darkness Nathaniel stumbled away, sweeping his hands through the water in search of the abandoned surgical saw.

   Her eyes were already adjusting to the new darkness. Amelia saw the outline of Alice break into a sprint toward Nathaniel. She launched herself at him from behind. He staggered about in the water as she clung to his back, her arms crossed around his neck.

   “Run, Amelia!” she cried, as Nathaniel tried to shrug and claw her from him. Alice cried out again: “He chose you because you love her! You LOVE HER!”

  Nathaniel leaned forward and thrust his shoulders back with such force that Alice was thrown off instantly. She fell into the black water, half submerged. She didn’t get up.

   Immediately, Nathaniel started sweeping the water again for the saw.

  Amelia ran. Through the dark water, toward the fallen shape of Alice.

  But a triumphant laugh halted her a few feet away. Nathaniel spun round. The surgical saw in his hand again. He lunged. Amelia staggered back through the water.

   “Fight him, Nathaniel! PLEASE!”

   “I’m going to slit your throat, child. And then Penny comes with me. But first, I want to hear you say it.”    

   He grabbed a fistful of blonde hair at the back of her neck and savagely pulled her close to him. Their faces only inches apart. Tears spilled at being handled so roughly by the man who had raised her since she was three years old. Her chest heaved, but she held back the sobs somehow.

   “Say it. Call me king. Penny will, undoubtedly. But I want to hear it from you.”

   She nodded, shaking. Horrified at how black and empty the ink had made his eyes.

   Amelia searched deep within herself, to find any glimmer of light that might reach him.

   “You’re a king… because you never once raised your hand to me. Because… you stepped between me and my father when he tried to beat me with the belt that night. Remember? I was seven years old. But you didn’t care. You risked everything, standing up to your employer. Made him back down without saying a word.”

   For a moment, Nathaniel faltered.

   Amelia peered into his abyssal gaze. “I knew that day... who you really were to me, in my heart. I knew.”

   Instantly, Nathaniel let her go. Without hesitating he turned the saw on himself and pressed it to his throat. His hand was trembling. Black tears streamed. It took every ounce of will he had. This close, she saw tiny pinpricks of blood. She froze.

   “Please, don’t,” she begged.

   “I’ll do it,” he warned her. “I can’t let him hurt you, ma fille.” He peered down at the dark water as it trembled and shimmered strangely. “It’s eating me from the inside. Christ, forgive me…”

   “I can’t lose you, Lieutenant. I can’t. Hold the line, I beg you…”

   He pressed a little deeper with the saw-blade. A tiny bead of blood snaked his throat.

   Amelia abandoned all reason and called out to him from within.

  Share it, Nathaniel. If you can hear me, then trust me. Share it. Only for a moment. I’m strong. You raised me to be strong. You’re not alone. I’m with you.

   Nathaniel snatched her hand.

   Like a concentrated toxin, transferred directly through her skin. Instantly her vision dimmed, her stomach heaved like she was about to retch. Legs buckled. She fell to her knees in the water as it surged to her neckline. The raw intensity of the Watchmaker’s power. She could feel it within her.

   In that instant – time itself seemed to fracture.

   All sounds from the room were snatched away. The sloshing water, the groaning boiler, the storm raging outside. Instead, there was a perfect, unearthly silence. Nathaniel unmoving, a saw pressed to his throat. Alice half-submerged nearby. Even the waters were completely still.

  All of it a single breath, suspended in eternity.

   Sickness was flooding her veins. Yet somehow, Amelia knew it was only the tiniest portion of what Nathaniel was carrying. Cruelty, laughter, genocidal delight. Violence of every imagining—swelling her soul with sheer black chaos.

   She grimaced there in the floodwater, at the malevolent joy of it. The freedom.

   “Dear God in Heaven, protect me…” Her voice had an echo, like she’d spoken aloud in a chasm.

   Do you see me now, Amelia? Can you feel me? The truth of me? Lord of hours, indeed. Perhaps I picked the wrong sister, hmm? Tell me this doesn’t thrill you? Love is madness, Amelia. And we’re all mad here.

   “Damn you,” she gasped.

    I can make a bridal bed of this madness, if you’ll let me. My Queen of Hearts. Either you or the little one. I shall make you choose.

   But Amelia recalled the strange skies she’d seen momentarily reflected in the floodwaters. The skies of the Vale. The rupture was open. At Penny’s bedside, the girl had heard her from beyond the threshold. The gate swung both ways, just as mother had told her.

   Choose, Amelia. You or Penny. Or I shall slay you both.

   Amelia fought against the ink flooding her consciousness. Imagination was all she had left.

   She called out to her sister, eyes closed.

   “Penelope,” she grimaced, “If you can hear me… if you’re still in Notre Dame… run. Get to the tower. I can’t do this on my own. Ring those bells. Coeur de Rubis, for all the Vale to hear. Tell them the hour! Light of the heart!”

   She heard him in her mind again, uncertain for the first time.

   Amelia, no…

   At first there was nothing at all in the strange, suspended instant. And then, a pulse of ruby light from beneath the water.

   Amelia gasped.

   A second pulse of ruby light, brighter this time. Faintly illuminating the room itself.

   From behind her, a faint golden glow flared. She risked a glance and saw Alice rising from the water, the St Christopher pendant dangling from her fist as it shone. It flared more brilliantly as she watched. A star in the dark once more. Alice smiled.

   “Alter idem,” she muttered.

   Amelia felt him in her mind again. For the first time in nine years, he was terrified.

   The vorpal blade! Edge of angels! No, NO! The hours are mine, not yours…        

   Instantly, the suspended moment collapsed around Amelia. Sound came raging back into the subterranean space. She knew instinctively what would happen next, if she didn’t act fast.

   “Forgive me,” Nathaniel muttered, about to cut his own throat.

   Amelia launched herself to her feet from the floodwater, hurling herself into him with every ounce of strength she had left. Her forward momentum unbalanced him. He went crashing backwards into the water, taking her with him. The saw flew from his hand.

   “Do it!” Nathaniel cried.

   But Amelia grabbed fistfuls of his open shirt and shook him in the water, screaming into his face. “You are not taking anyone else!”

   Nathaniel submerged beneath her weight into the water for a few seconds, gasping and gagging as he surfaced.

   Suddenly, impossibly, bells began to chime. Church bells. All around them. Through the walls, the water, the wrought-iron of the boiler itself.

   A surge of strength flowed through Amelia’s entire body, as if those chimes were filled with pure healing vigour. She could feel the ink being forced from her flesh, spilling into the water.

   She blinked several times and glimpsed the musket wound in Nathaniel’s abdomen, still throbbing with black ink. The chimes clearly weren’t enough for him. Golden light brightened around her. Alice had hurried to her side with the glowing pendant.

   “Kill me,” Nathaniel begged. “Drown me, or he won’t stop…”

   Horrified, she shook her head, still clutching fistfuls of his shirt as she pulled him close to her face.

   “Dad,” she murmured, “I love you.”

   Then she turned, snatched the glowing pendant from Alice’s grasp—and thrust it into his festering wound. Nathaniel screamed. She held it there for a moment, his skin blistering instantly. Then she pulled it away and slammed the pendant down on his chest, directly over his heart.

   A roar of sheer agony. Nathaniel’s entire body was engulfed in golden light. First from the pendant, then from within. It was almost blinding. Amelia didn’t let go. He shook and convulsed beneath her, but she held on. The bells chimed all around.

   Finally, the light began to fade. And eventually the sound of bells too.

   Darkness settled in the boiler room once more.

   Amelia heaved herself away at last, stumbling into Alice’s side. The brunette grabbed her in the waist-high floodwater and kept her on her feet. They watched, uncertain. For an instant Nathaniel was frozen. Then he quickly turned his head and began coughing up the black ink.

   He heaved and retched, hauling himself to his feet. He bent forward and continued rejecting the last of it. Eventually, Amelia and Alice both heard his staggered breath. He took a deep lungful of air, like he was breathing properly for the first time.

   In the near-darkness, Amelia stared at the pendant in her palm. It was only sterling silver now. Treasured, simple, poignant.

   At last, Nathaniel turned to them. Slightly bent over in the water, hands on his knees. He smiled weakly, and Amelia knew he was back.

   She ran to him. Despite his ravaged state he pulled her into an embrace. They held each other as tightly as possible. He kissed her cheek. Softly, in her ear: “Forgive me, my love.”

   “There is nothing to forgive,” she murmured back. “I know who you are.”

   He kissed her cheek a second time, pressing his hand to the back of her head. Amelia felt him turn. She turned too.

   “Thank you, Miss Liddell,” he told Alice. “I am in your debt. Always.”

   In the feeble gaslight from the lamp outside, Alice smiled and dipped her head slightly in respect. Finally, Amelia pulled away and looked to the ceiling. She said only one word. “Penny.”

   It took a while for Nathaniel to find his feet again, so Amelia and Alice each took one of his arms over their shoulders to assist him. The journey back to the ward was slow, silent, and uncertain. Amelia wanted to believe, but until she saw with her own eyes, she couldn’t be certain of anything. Suspended, again.

   When the three of them finally entered the ward, Amelia knew something was different. Several nurses and doctors had clustered around the bed, obscuring her view. Dr Weiss was there too. For a moment her stomach tightened, but then she noticed their expressions. They were all smiling, eyes wide with wonder. Weiss was shaking his head in absolute disbelief. A nurse moved slightly, and a direct line of sight opened.

   Penny was sitting up on the bed, fully conscious. Aunt Lucy was weeping; her face buried in the girl’s chest. Penny held her, stroking her hair, saying gentle words that Amelia couldn’t hear.

   A few moments later, Penny looked up across the ward. She found Amelia peering back in shock, and the brightest smile spread across her face.

   Amelia looked at Nathaniel. He smiled too, and jutted his head in a gesture that said go to her.

   She left him with Alice and ran to the bedside, pushing past several nurses. For a moment she was hesitant to even touch the girl sitting wide awake in the bed. Like she was a pleasant apparition that might turn to mist the moment Amelia reached for her. Penny’s grey complexion had brightened somewhat. Not by much, but enough to notice life already returning to her skin. Amelia burst into tears as she gazed at a miracle.

   Aunt Lucy looked up at her, sobbing in sheer relief.

   Penny was beaming. Not only with gratitude, but accomplishment.

   “I heard you, Ammy,” she grinned. “I rang the bells!”

*

These last few days, Amelia’s breath had flowed easier. Deep, steady, almost unfamiliar. She could scarcely believe the darkness had passed. But there had been no night-terrors, no shadows moving in the corner of her eye. For the first week after the storm she was tense. Guarded, expecting the worst. But these last seven days she had finally begun to unclasp. Amelia prayed the feeling would continue.

   Soft afternoon light was filling the drawing room now. She stood with her aunt near the table in the corner, as the woman poured tea from their favourite pot into several cups. A tray of fresh pastries was already laid out. Amelia inhaled gently, enjoying the aroma.

   “And your studies?”

   “Hmm?”

   “Your studies, Amelia.”

   She roused herself from her thoughts. “Oh, I’m getting back to it soon. All in hand.”

   “Good,” Lucy said lightly, a faint smirk on her lips. "You know full well that slaying a dragon from another world is no excuse to fall behind on coursework."   

   Amelia laughed. She could allow it a little easier these days. "Such wit, my dear aunt. Temper that feist, or I shall have a challenger for Lady of the House.”

   Lucy smiled, eyes gleaming. “Age before beauty, my dear. I outrank you.”

   There was a firm knock at the front door. Alice and Nathaniel had returned at last.

   Amelia hurried into the hallway, her aunt a few steps behind. When she opened the door, Alice was standing there in her dark coat and scarf.

   She curtseyed with a mischievous smile and said, "We come bearing gifts.”

   Nathaniel stood a few paces behind her. Amelia noticed the large frame at his feet, wrapped in brown paper and twine. The family mirror.

   "We had it re-glassed," he said.

   Amelia smiled. "That's incredibly thoughtful, Nathaniel, but you didn't have to."

   "Actually, it was your aunt's idea. She sent it out for repairs a few days after the storm. The glazier worked wonders."  

   Nathaniel peered into the hallway and gave Lucy a look. She cast her eyes away. Bashful, smiling. Amelia and Alice both noticed. The brunette raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment.

   Amelia looked to the ceiling and called out, "My darling, they're here!"  

   A few moments later, Penny came bounding down the stairs in her favourite yellow dress. Her hair immaculate. Her cheeks almost ruddy with anticipation.

   She squealed in delight, ran to the doorway and hugged the young woman in the dark coat. "Auntie Alice!" 

   The brunette melted at the embrace. She looked at Amelia, who chuckled and ushered her into the house.

   They went into the drawing room. Alice and Amelia took a seat on the sofa. Penny hurried over and settled into Amelia’s lap, who smiled and made a show of kissing the little girl's cheek. Repeatedly, annoyingly, but Penny giggled and welcomed it.

   On the table in front of them, Alice noticed the small bundle of letters tied with a red ribbon. Beside it, a small gift-box. She smiled faintly but stayed silent.  

   Nathaniel and Lucy came into the room a few seconds later, placing the paper-wrapped frame by the quiet hearth. Nathaniel glanced at the three girls on the sofa and began helping Lucy to finish arranging the tea and pastries in the corner.

   "You must be so eager now," Amelia told her friend, “To see Edith and Lorina again. But we’ve loved having you here these last weeks. I pray you have a few hours before your train back to Oxford?"

   "A few, yes. Nathaniel kindly said he would escort me to the station."

   "We all shall," Amelia told her.

   "Indeed," Lucy offered from across the room. "A family outing. We'll make a day of it." 

   Alice tried not to get tearful, and nodded.

   Penny finally asked her the heaviest question, eyes narrowed. "I don’t mean to spoil the fun, but have you felt him at all these last two weeks?” She took Alice’s hand and held it gently. “Because all I feel is vigour, and delight! The urge to run everywhere! The other children in our square must think I've gone mad! The doctors are certainly baffled." 

   Alice smiled, full of relief for the little one. She lifted Penny’s hand and kissed it. But then her expression grew thoughtful, almost uncertain as she considered herself.

   "I feel nothing, my bell-ringer. No lingering paranoia. Only a strange calm. It's as though the shadow on my mind has lifted. I’m still cautious, I suppose, but it's quite remarkable."

   "Hurrah!" Penny exclaimed. "Alise!"

   They all laughed at that.

   Amelia let herself enjoy the lightness between them. She offered, "I think he fed on what we carried. We stopped carrying it, and starved him."

   Penny stuck out her tongue, curling her fingers in the manner of an emaciated corpse. Amelia and Alice shared a smile.

   The little one grew serious. She was still smiling, but her expression shifted. A depth in her eyes as she considered things. She looked down at her hands for a moment. “I knew you were there,” she said softly. “Both of you. Even when I couldn’t see anything. Merci, mes guerriers.” Thank you, my warriors.  

   The brunette knew enough French to be touched by the child’s words.

   Nathaniel was still waiting by the fireplace, the wrapped frame at his feet. He pressed a hand to his abdomen and winced slightly when he thought Amelia wasn’t looking. It didn’t scare her. She knew he could still feel echoes of the malevolence that tried to overpower him, but he was far stronger than he gave himself credit for. They had fought it together, and won.

   Aunt Lucy brought over the tray of pastries and teas, resting it on the small table.   

   "Some refreshment, ladies.”

   Penny grinned at her. Lucy playfully tapped the girl's nose. Amelia and Alice both took a sip of their teas, watching each other. Penny took a huge bite of a croissant. Alice stole another glance at the letters and gift-box on the table.

   "All right," Amelia said, in a tone of mock-fussiness, "I can't bear it a moment longer. We have a gift for Miss Liddell."  

   Penny put down the croissant and clapped her hands together in delight. "I've been sworn to secrecy! My lips are most assuredly sealed."

   Amelia laughed. "But first..." She handed the bundled letters to the brunette. "They were for you. I just couldn’t bear the sending. But they were never outside my heart."  

   Alice peered gratefully at the letters. For a moment she traced the red ribbon with her forefinger.

   Her eyes glistened. "Thank you."

   Amelia smiled and finally handed her the gift-box. Penny leaned forward in Amelia’s lap to better read the expressions on Alice's face.

   The brunette took a careful breath and opened the gift. Inside was a pressed red rose, framed behind glass. Around its border, Penny, Lucy, and Nathaniel had each written in French; 'Pour notre porte-lumière'. Amelia had written the same phrase in English: ‘For our light-bearer.’ Beneath the inscriptions was a final message. ‘For my sister of wonders, in this world and the next. Alter idem.’

   Alice was speechless. Amelia absently touched the St Christopher pendant around her neck. Alice noticed and they shared another smile.

   "The sister of wonders part was my idea!" Penny declared proudly.  

   Alice laughed, pressing the framed gift to her breast. "Thank you, Penelope. A fine idea it was." 

   “When the war is over, Ammy and I still plan for Paris. You should come with us.”

   Alice nodded, her expression thoughtful and soft. “Indeed, I might.”

   Then she looked at Amelia and put on a face of pretend seriousness. "Whilst we're all being incredibly charming, I suppose I should give you something too. I was intending to keep it, but I'd seem rather thoughtless now, wouldn't I?"  

   Amelia smiled. Penny giggled at the dryness of Alice's wit.  

   The brunette reached into her coat pocket and removed a small, rectangular box no longer than her palm. Immediately, Amelia had a sense of what it might be.  

   She bit her lip like a child and opened it. A golden dip pen lay nestled in felt. Exquisitely crafted, and inscribed with Amelia's initials: A.M.B. Beside the initials a discreet heart motif was edged with gold. Within the heart—a tiny silver flame. Amelia drew a breath, at both the care and craftmanship. She traced the motif with her thumb. For a moment, she could almost believe she had something worth saying.

   Alice’s eyes gleamed for a moment. She smiled. “So you don’t forget to write me this time.” Amelia began to laugh, but the brunette’s expression quickly softened. Her eyes were gentle and honest. "The world needs better storytellers, Amelia. And better teachers. I know you won't disappoint. Queen of my heart."  

   Amelia smiled, leaned forward and kissed the brunette's cheek. "Dearest one," she whispered in the girl's ear.

   Nathaniel had been watching them from the fireplace. "Shall we hang this frame at last?” he asked. “Together?"

   Lucy was standing beside him, a little closer than usual, the backs of their hands almost touching.

   Amelia wondered. Perhaps anything was possible now. She, Penny, and Alice got up from the settee, the air strangely expectant. Nathaniel crouched with her as they unwrapped the gilt frame together.

   “Mending well, Lieutenant?” Amelia asked.

   He looked her, seeing her like no one else could. “With all this help from my girls? Of course.” Under his breath, he added tentatively. "A promising day?" 

   "A wonderful day, mon pére." 

   Nathaniel closed his eyes and smiled, savouring those words.

   Letting them linger for a moment.

   Together they lifted the re-glassed mirror and carefully hung it back above the fireplace. Amelia hesitated for a second, her breath catching, but then she fixed her gaze on her reflection. She studied it. A young blonde in a pale-yellow gown, her eyes brighter and more alive than they had been in years. No flitting shadows behind her. Only the people she loved most in the world. Her family. All standing together, and smiling.

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