Theo spent the month collecting everything he could on the subject. In that short amount of time, the Mist rose another five feet. After recording his observations, he emerged from the Mist and headed for the nearest building. He sat down on the grass, pulled the gas mask from his face, and wiped the sweat that had collected across his forehead.

Nearby, a handful of children played in a patch of dirt, their faces and hands almost the same color as the soil. They hadn’t noticed him yet, but if he stayed any longer, someone was bound to see him. He watched them for a second, his heart constricting inside his chest. The Mist was almost to their doorsteps. If it continued, there would be another Purge. Or their homes would be covered.

He bowed his head. Elaeros, what can I do? Is there more?

Theo put the gas mask away inside his leather bag. If only he had the freedom to do his research in the open, it would give him more time. No hiding, no worries about someone seeing him and getting word back to the Alchemy Society. Or his grandfather. He purposefully wore old, tattered clothing and kept his microscope and journal in a worn leather bag. Yet only bluecoats and divers wore the gas masks, something he needed to access the gauges and study the spores in the Mist.

One of the children looked up at him.

Time to go.

Theo struggled to his feet, pulled the collar of his coat up around his ears, and headed off. His zipper was waiting at a landing platform over a mile away, which meant a long climb through the slums. The sky overhead was a shade lighter than the Mist behind him. One raindrop fell across his cheek, then another. Moments later, a downpour began.

He shoved his valise into his coat and pulled the fabric close around the notes and equipment. Within a minute, the dirt road became a slick, muddy trail with the muck clinging to his boots and making its way up his trousers and overcoat. He slowed so as not to risk slipping on the street. His nose grew cold, and his fingers numb in the chilly rain. The houses around him appeared even drearier in the downpour, and for a moment, he wondered just how waterproof they could possibly be when he could see gaps between the boards with his own eyes.

Would anyone care when the Mist rose and covered these slums? Probably not. It would certainly save them the trouble of a Purge.

He finally reached the zipper, pulled back the canvas covering, and placed his leather valise in the back before climbing into the front. He would need to have the vehicle wiped down when he arrived at the manse.

The key turned with a click, and the motor started, sending the wings on either side whizzing. Theo lowered the goggles over his face and eased up on the clutch. The zipper lifted up from the platform, and he steered it north toward the top of Belhold.

The rain had lightened to dewy rivulets along his windshield. Ten minutes later, the small sky island—home of the Winchester manse—appeared, hovering above the city of Belhold.

As he approached, he brought the zipper around to the west side where a platform stood.

Arthur came running from the garage with a rag in hand. “Master Theo.”

“Arthur, perfect timing. I need the zipper wiped down and covered.”

“Yes, sir,” the older man replied. His mustache twitched at the sight of the mud splotches across Theo’s coat and boots, but he didn’t say a word. He was one of the few allies Theo had in the Winchester household, and for that, he was grateful.

Theo grabbed his valise from the backseat and started for the manse. A heaviness hung over him. He had enough evidence to prove without a doubt that the Mist was rising and it was time to tell others. But who would listen? Maybe he should go to the Alchemy Society himself.

Theo pushed open the door and stopped in the foyer. He would need to remove his muddy garments before Hannah caught him.

He’d taken off the boots when there was a harsh cough from the drawing room. He knew that sound. It had been a constant companion of his ever since he was a child. The disapproval of his grandfather.

“Theo.”

Theo spotted his grandfather sitting in one of the recently upholstered chairs inside the study, legs crossed, hands folded. A single gas lamp had been lit, casting most of the room in the dreary shadows of an afternoon rain.

Theo’s mouth pursed. This was one discussion he did not want to have.

He slowly pulled off his coat.

His earliest memories of his grandfather were in their private laboratory, his grandfather’s hair pulled back, a special set of spectacles with three different lenses secured by leather straps, a white button-up shirt, and a leather apron and gloves. His grandfather specialized in alchemy, the turning of one substance into another by means of chemical processes. He also concentrated on inventions as well as experimentation. His grandfather always had one project or another brewing inside the laboratory while Theo’s father and mother would be at the workstation on the other end, creating a variety of new mechanisms and machinery.

But when his parents died, it was like they took his grandfather’s heart and soul with them, leaving behind only the cold husk of a once-vibrant man.

Crispin Winchester was a stately man, with long white hair, a full white beard that covered his face and jaw, and a set of silver spectacles perched on an aristocratic nose. Dark brown eyes peered over the eyewear at Theo as he entered. “Where have you been?”

“I was out.”

The eyes glared. “I know. Where?”

“I went to the dead zone.”

“After I specifically told you to stay away from the Mist?” His voice was hard.

Theo’s bubble of frustration burst. “No one else is doing anything about it! I think we have the power and means to find an answer, and yet you and all of the rest of the Families do nothing except Purge when the population grows too big to manage, or when we need more room for crops, or for a bigger house—”

“Enough!” His grandfather shot to his feet. Even in his old age, his grandfather was still an imposing figure. “I told you knowledge can be deadly, but you still go right in, head first, just like your father!”

“At least my father was doing something!” Theo retorted.

“And look where that got him!”

Theo started. “Are you saying the zipper accident was no accident?”

His grandfather’s nostrils flared. “I’m saying those who look into the Mist die young.”

Theo started at the familiar words.

A long finger pointed at him. “So you will stay away from the dead zone. If you don’t, not only will I remove your name from my will, I will ban you from our manse, including our lab.”

Theo took a step back in shock. Was his grandfather really threatening to disown him? “Please, Grandfather, listen. I found something. Something important, something you need to hear—”

“That is enough, Theo—!” His grandfather bent over with a cry, clutching his chest.

“Grandfather?”

The older man fell to the floor, struggling for breath.

Theo dropped to his knees and placed a hand on his grandfather’s arm. “Hannah! Arthur!” he shouted. “Somebody! I need help!”

Aunt Maude came around the corner, the severe look on her face matching her usual dark and severe clothing. “Theo, what is all this racket—?” She gasped. “Father?” She quickly moved to them. “Father!” Her eyes darted to Theo. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. We were talking.” Theo swallowed. “And then he collapsed.”

A tear trickled down her lined cheek, then her face turned rigid again. “I’m going to get the doctor. You stay here.”

Theo took hold of his grandfather’s hand, dismayed at how cold it was. The intense eyes were closed, cold sweat covered pale skin, and his breath came in short, labored spurts.

He tightened his grip on his grandfather’s hand. “Hold on, Grandfather. Help is coming.”