Chapter Twenty-One

 

 

 

THE DINGY, DANK DUNGEON the cancer-ridden guardsman marched Olivia into should not have surprised her. The laboratory space of mad scientists never came equipped with windows. Her own sister had set up research space in the back half of a chicken coop. In comparison, a wine cellar was a step up.

The door closed behind her and a key turned once more, leaving her alone in a vast room filled with wine casks, miscellaneous laboratory equipment and her thoughts. Disturbing, unwelcome thoughts.

She wrapped her arms across her chest, rubbing her shoulders against the dank chill emanating from the stone walls, but nothing could ease the cold knot that twisted low in her stomach.

A plan. They needed a plan. She began to pace. First they needed to gain the count’s trust. As much as she detested the notion, she was going to have to fashion herself into a biologist, into Ian’s laboratory assistant. They were going to have to produce measurable results in record time.

From what she could piece together from his instruction, her brief observation of the osforare apparatus, and the words he’d thrown at Warrick, it seemed that transforming the entire skeleton—‌hundreds of bones—‌was an impossibility. She spun on her heel. Well, not impossible, exactly, but Warrick’s method ended in certain death.

Ian possessed the ability to create a different kind of cell that could transform bones, one or two at a time—‌a lengthy procedure—‌but only with the assistance of the osforare apparatus, a device which still needed to be completed before its programming card could be adjusted and refined to deliver these cells to the surface of the bone.

With all those sharp needles, there was going to be blood. More blood than the simple incision she’d just witnessed. Black spots appeared in her vision and her steps faltered. She put a hand out, steadying herself against the wall. She took a deep breath and focused on contracting her muscles. There was no choice. She had to move past this irrational fear.

So. Create a new kind of altered cell. Make the osforare apparatus function. And the last and most significant hurdle, find a way to kill Warrick’s cells, the ones that multiplied without restriction, forming those horrible tumors that protruded from so many of the guardsmen’s hands and faces.

Warrick’s claim that he could stop the growth of cancerous cells would need to be investigated. She pursed her lips. If he truly possessed the means to cure the count’s guardsmen, why had he not yet implemented it? The man seemed to make a habit of practicing shoddy medicine while making unsupportable claims.

Nonetheless, Warrick’s assertion would have to be investigated because the moment those cells he’d injected Elizabeth with were rendered harmless—‌or the moment they held the cure in their hands—‌the three of them could escape, treasonous scientific equipment in hand.

Help might come. Or it might not. Best to plan on its absence.

Which was why Olivia had taken care to count every stair and every turn, forming a mental map of the castle. With lock picks in hand and Watson at her feet, she could have them free in moments. The greatest challenge would be avoiding the guardsmen.

Unless.

She recalled the small arsenal removed from Ian’s person upon docking and wondered at the possibility of finding him a serviceable weapon. The Queen’s agents were all well-trained and quite capable of improvising…‌

~~~

The moment Ian regained consciousness, Zheng forced him to his feet at sword point. Behind the bars lay the sleeping form of his sister, unbound and tucked beneath a thin wool blanket. The count and countess along with their guardsmen were gone. As was Warrick.

And Olivia. An icicle pierced his heart at the thought of her coming to harm.

“What have you done with my wife?” he demanded. Speaking made his head throb. “I need her.”

He was surprised to find he meant it. Though her loyalty lay with Queen and country, Olivia was the only sane, able-bodied ally he had in this pile of rocks. He hoped her programming skills were as good as she claimed, for they needed to work closely and quickly together if they were going to survive.

“I have done nothing to your lovely wife.” Zheng scoffed. “The count ordered her to the laboratory. Business concerns compel me to insist you join her without delay.”

The room tilted, and he reached for the iron bars to steady himself. He pressed his fingers against a large, painful lump on his head and prayed he hadn’t sustained a concussion. “Might I have a moment to speak with my sister?”

“A moment,” Zheng replied, but made no move to step away. It seemed their moment was not to be private.

“Elizabeth,” Ian called.

His sister’s eyes fluttered open, and she pushed herself onto her elbows. Her face was pale and drawn. His stomach twisted in despair. If those cells could drop a hulking guardsman, he didn’t hold much hope that his sister’s weakened immune system would be able to fight off cancer long.

“You shouldn’t have come, Ian.” Hand pressed to her hip, she rose, limping to the iron bars. “Bringing your bride! Whatever were you thinking? And why is it you never mentioned her in your letters?”

“Never mentioned?” Zheng stepped forward, taking far too much interest in his sister’s words.

“As if I would abandon you,” Ian said. “And Olivia…‌” His sister waited, her eyes wide and sparkling. For years now, she’d nagged him to take a wife, build a family. No doubt she expected an impressive tale, one full of stolen moments, heartfelt declarations and a romantic hot-air balloon proposal.

She wasn’t going to get one.

But, as it was safer for everyone if his sister believed the lie, Ian inhaled deeply and, ignoring his pounding head, attempted to provide a convincing story.

“Ours was a whirlwind romance.” Wasn’t that how they were always described? “And a forbidden one.” That part was true. “Romantic liaisons with staff members are prohibited. I’ve a new treatment device, one so complicated it requires an engineer to program it. Olivia was the engineer assigned to my project.”

“The Rankine Institute allowed a woman to enroll?”

Lister University School of Medicine had opened their doors to women last year. He’d assumed the engineering school had as well, but perhaps not. “The circumstances of her employment are complicated. When she learned of your plight, she refused to be left behind. We—‌er—‌eloped.”

There. All of it true. Nearly. Well, some of it.

Zheng grunted. Approval or disapproval, Ian couldn’t tell.

“Smart and necessary to your research.” Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Do not tell me you married her for me?”

Trust his sister to question the façade. Ian summoned indignation. “Not at all!” He’d “married” Olivia to save her from the count, but there was convincing to accomplish. “From the moment we met, Olivia made me feel…‌ alive. I wanted her and no other.”

His heart gave a great thump as Ian realized he’d presented his sister with a singular truth. He couldn’t recall the last time a woman had occupied such a large portion of his conscious thoughts. Despite Elizabeth’s condition, despite the nearly insurmountable difficulties they faced, he looked forward to being the sole focus of Olivia’s attention. His face grew hot. Even if it took every last ounce of gentlemanly willpower to turn down her intoxicating offer. She was a temptress, a lady and probably a spy.

“Enough about me.” Ian reached through the bars, caught Elizabeth’s hand and slipped his fingers around to her wrist. Her pulse beat steadily if weakly. “How long have you been here?”

“A week?” Elizabeth tipped her head. “Perhaps more.”

Zheng prodded him with the sharp tip of his blade. “Say goodbye. There is work to be done.”

Ian ignored him. “Is this the first time you’ve been experimented upon?”

She nodded, then drew in a shaky breath. “Don’t help them, Ian. My life is not worth the devastation the count would unleash.”

“He has no choice,” Zheng barked.

“Keep up your strength,” Ian said. “Watch for signs your body is rejecting the cells. Chills. Body aches. Nausea. Pain or swelling. I want details.”

“Very well.”

“Enough!” Zheng shoved the sword point into Ian’s shoulder, breaking skin and drawing blood. Pain bloomed.

Ian stepped and spun, slamming Zheng’s sword arm into the iron bars. Elizabeth screamed and stumbled backward.

But his only advantage had been surprise. Without so much as a stick with which to defend himself, the upper hand fell to Zheng, who blocked his next move. A second later, Ian froze as the sharp edge of the curved blade cut into his throat.

“Enough!” No spite laced Zheng’s voice. Merely a hint of amusement. “Now. Through the door and down the stairs. Doktor Warrick awaits you in the laboratory. With your wife.”

~~~

The hinges of the laboratory door creaked.

Olivia quickly shoved the various scraps of metal and sharp rocks she held beneath an empty wine barrel. She hadn’t found much. The most promising implement lay in plain sight, an iron auger, a corkscrew that someone had been using to tap into the count’s wine supply. Given it lay next to a wine-stained beaker, it wasn’t hard to guess that that someone had been Warrick, the very man who now stepped into the laboratory with the countess upon his arm.

“Ah, Countess, it seems Lady Rathsburn shares my fondness for your wine.” Warrick crossed the room and held out his hand. “Time for a new cask. Red or white, my lady?”

“Neither.” Olivia’s fingers tensed about the auger, but it was bad form to injure a man who might yet be useful. “How can you sample wines while your fiancée languishes in a cage? Perhaps it would be more appropriate to explain this supposed cure you’ve developed, Mr. Warrick.”

How could he care so little for Elizabeth as a person, preying upon her hopes and dreams of a family to ensnare her into a marriage where she would serve as his personal laboratory rat?

It struck her like a cane behind the knees. She too was equally awful. She had detested Carlton, yet planned to marry him, to bear his children, to manage his home all the while reporting his every action to the Crown. Yes, he was a traitor, but did that alone justify her actions? Could she have taken such steps without eventually coming to detest herself?

Katherine’s laugh brought her back to the moment at hand and reminded her now was not the time for self-doubt. “For all her lush beauty and golden locks, it seems Olivia is as intensely focused and relentlessly driven as her husband.”

“Beauty, you say?” Warrick narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips as he raked his gaze over her from head to toe. He clearly found her wanting.

She returned the favor, raising her eyebrows as she paused to take in the lack of a cravat, the fraying cuffs of his shirtsleeves and the buttons of his waistcoat that strained against a burgeoning waistline. It only made his lips curve in smug acknowledgement of her notice.

“Red it is.” He plucked the auger from her fingers and strolled off into the stacks of barrels, leaving the two women alone.

“I have to admit, the low cut of my blue silk was a poor choice on my part for today’s activities,” Katherine said conversationally. “Perhaps something more demure tomorrow?”

She wanted to discuss fashion? Now? After casually electrocuting a man whose bed she’d once shared? “Why are you involved?” Olivia lifted her chin and took a step forward. “What do you stand to gain by watching Germany invade British shores? Your family lives in London.”

“Do they?” Her voice was cold. “I should still claim them after they forced me to wed Count Eberwin? No, Lady Olivia Ravensdale, my loyalty is to myself. Remember that.”

Olivia’s mouth fell open. This woman was not at all who she seemed.

“Yes, I know well who you were. And perhaps are still.” Katherine moved to close the gap between them, looking down her nose. “Though I very much doubt your marriage and your skills, I have every desire to see Lord Rathsburn’s laboratory endeavors succeed. See that you make yourself useful.”

“Olivia!” Ian called from the doorway.

“How timely.” With an evil gleam in her eyes, Katherine faced him. “Our brilliant scientist arrives. Feeling…‌ inspired?”

Concern burning in his eyes, he stalked past her to Olivia’s side, catching her hand and lifting it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “I was so worried.”

A lump formed in her throat. How was it possible that he’d come to care about her in such a short time? She gingerly touched the nasty lump that had formed at his temple. “As was I.”

“Leave,” he snapped at Katherine. “We have work. Your presence accomplishes nothing but to waste my time.”

Warrick reappeared, a flask filled with red wine in hand. Smug smile firmly in place, he crossed to the countess’ side. Lines had been drawn. “Don’t let our presence disturb you,” he said. “We but wish to observe the count’s newest protégé. And his assistant, of course.”

Olivia was done with these two. She tugged Ian in the direction of the laboratory space. “If they will not assist, let them watch. We need to work. I didn’t want to start without you.” She hoped he heard the underlying cry for help in her words. He needed to orient her, and quickly.

“Of course.” Ian too turned his back on Katherine and Warrick and escorted her to a long, waist-high table that stood beneath overly bright lamps. Aside from a single rat in a cage, it was covered in glassware and rubber tubing and all manner of disconcerting steel items that she could not begin to name. Save the syringe. That horrid device would haunt her nightmares for years to come. Tensing every muscle, she forced down her revulsion.

“I thought we might set you up here,” he said, “in proximity to this odd collection of batteries.”

A thousand or more tiny, sealed copper canisters were lined up like an army of miniature soldiers across the back of the table. Wires protruded from their tops, coiling and twisting upward, connecting with the overhead lights and various pieces of equipment.

“Gantz batteries!” Olivia was desperate to lay claim to any expertise she could for the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on high alert under Katherine’s scrutiny; any misstep on her part could have fatal—‌or worse—‌consequences. “The Hungarians recently developed them to install inside steambots. Except, can they correctly be termed steambots if they require neither coal nor steam to function? Batterybots?” She looked at Ian with wide eyes, suddenly aware she was overplaying her role as a technician, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. “The Gantz battery is rumored to provide enough power to allow a bot to function uninterrupted for some twenty days. Days!”

“Is that so?” he said calmly as he stretched out a padded cloth. “Then one Gantz battery should easily generate enough voltage to drive the electromagnetic osforare apparatus motor. I expect you’ll need to modulate capacitance and resistance.”

The silver case of nightmares rested upon the counter. Time to release the fanged contraption from its prison.

Ian cleared his throat. He was looking at her expectantly, his eyebrows drawn together. “Ready?” he whispered.

She nodded, and he opened it with a flourish to reveal the osforare apparatus. Glass vials, India rubber tubing, wires, brass hinges, an iron framework. Horrid steel needles. She tensed every muscle in her body and counted to ten, then forced herself to relax. “It seems to have survived the journey relatively intact,” she pronounced.

Careful to avoid its many teeth, Ian lifted the device from its padded velvet case onto the table before her, positioning it so that she could easily reach the card-reading cartridge.

Katherine and Warrick drew closer, peering at the contraption as torchlight flickered in the reflection of its many sharp needles. Though black spots dotted her vision, Olivia congratulated herself upon remaining upright. Fainting at this juncture would plant seeds of doubt in their minds. It was unprofessional, and she could not afford to have doubt cast upon her story or her abilities.

“I thought we might remove the needles for now,” he said. “They require sterilization, and we wouldn’t want to inadvertently snap any while making modifications.”

Thank the aether. Olivia made herself busy, arranging the punch cards beside it in meticulous order. Anything to avoid looking directly at the apparatus.

Warrick inserted himself between them. “This is how you propose to deliver what exactly?” He lifted a finger and reached out to touch the device. “It looks…‌ painful.”

“No more than a bone marrow core.” Ian swatted his hand aside. “Do not touch. You will not be involved in this aspect of my work.” He slanted his head sideways. “Unless you wish to volunteer as a test subject?”

“How droll.” Though Warrick’s lips curled, there was worry in his eyes. Served him right.

“Then step aside.” Ian’s fingers flew over the osforare apparatus, unscrewing knobs and plucking out its sharp needles. “My wife has much work to do.”

“Come, Doktor Warrick,” Katherine commanded. “I grow bored. There are other matters that require your attention. Something copper if I recall correctly? Lord Rathsburn, let us know when you require a test subject. An aspiring guardsman will be delivered.”

The door banged shut and the key turned. Unsteady, Olivia sank onto a stool. She took a deep breath and wiped her damp palms upon her skirts. It was time to turn herself into that expert. “So these cells of Warrick’s will heal broken bones. That I understand. But how is it that they make the bone stronger?”

“Antimony.” Ian lifted a small glass vial from a wooden rack. At the vial’s rounded bottom rested a small amount of a silvery, white powder. “A poison in larger amounts, this element is key. It crumbles easily, but when it replaces the phosphate found in bone, when it combines with calcium, it forms a biological alloy that is four times heavier and at least four times stronger than normal bone.”

Her mind spun, but latched on to one particular word. “Wait. Poison?”

“Yes.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he began to pace. His voice shook with agitation. “Those cells you witnessed Warrick injecting into Elizabeth’s hip? They will migrate into every bone, demanding antimony at levels that would kill an untreated individual.”

Needy cells. Not only were the guardsmen—‌and Elizabeth—‌doomed to develop bone cancer, in the meantime they would be chemically dependent upon whomever controlled the supply of antimony. “And if she fails to receive it?”

“The cells will scavenge phosphate from any source they can.” Eyes glazed and distant, his hand waved in the air as if the answer ought to be obvious. “Hypophosphotemia would result.”

“There you go with those impossible words again,” she said. “I believe we’ve had this conversation.”

“Low phosphate levels,” he said. “Leading to mental confusion, muscle weakness and ultimately kidney failure. Should anyone withhold antimony from Elizabeth, she will die within a matter of days.” He rolled the vial between his fingers, his face drawn and tense.

Die. Too many lives were on the line. She looked at the small amount allotted to them. “Is it rare, antimony?”

“For our purposes, yes. Zheng, I’ve learned, is in possession of an antimony mine. He closely monitors and rations all antimony usage. No doubt he aims to become the principal supplier to the Kaiser’s unbreakable army.”

A profitable endeavor to control the substance that kept an army alive.

The count and his countess. Warrick and Zheng. Alliances constantly shifting as they all struggled to win at this morally reprehensible game. Time to control that which they could. “So. Cure your sister and the guardsmen. Plot an escape.”

“And prepare to demonstrate my device as if we plan to commit treason,” Ian finished. His expression was pinched, but he’d carried that contraption away from British shores knowing he might well be forced to use it.

This was not at all an assignment a Queen’s agent would undertake. “It won’t come to that, will it?” she asked.

“I desperately hope it will not.”

But with their backs against a wall…‌

“Well then.” Surviving this “adventure” was priority number one, and working on the device would buy them more time to plot an escape, more time for Mr. Black and his men to track them down. A demonstration was one thing, but pains must be taken to ensure technique was never placed into their enemy’s hands. Olivia rose to her feet, surprised to find she did not feel the least bit weak. Instead, she felt the urge to do something, anything. And to do it now. “My skills are yours to employ. Show me how this contraption works.”