The Duck & Drake was a venerable inn near Hampstead Heath, an almost historic institution. The heavy beams crossing its low ceiling sagged with age, and years of smoke from the massive stone hearth and the pipes of the customers stained the plaster. Mitchell Garnet walked slowly through the common room towards the table at one of the back corners. Hyde raised his glass cheerily, the amber whiskey glinting in the firelight.
"Come, join us!" he called heartily, his voice rising easily over the clink of glasses and hubbub of conversation. "If you are of a mood to dine, they serve a surprisingly excellent beef chop here. Plain fare, of course, but hearty. Just the thing after a night like this one."
Garnet found himself wishing for Weiss Schnee's presence, despite himself. Hyde was clearly in one of his moods, and she'd been one of the few people who'd been able, somehow, to get him to talk seriously.
"I don't know if you're a genius or a madman for setting up an alternative meeting place for if things went wrong," Garnet said, pulling out a chair. The third man at the table, a young doctor Garnet thought was named Edgar something-or-other, looked away, perhaps not wanting to get involved in an argument above his pay grade.
"Neither, I'm afraid. Merely the result of a lucky confluence of events. You see, other than the interrogation and dissection of the escaped subjects, our work at Saulbridge was finished. We would have been leaving London in no more than a couple of weeks. Tonight's debacle merely accelerates that timetable." Hyde offered a philosophical shrug. "I presume the destruction was total?"
"The fire brigade arrived in time to save most of the north wing. The south wing is all but destroyed, the roof fallen in and even some of the walls collapsed, while the central section and the tower were gutted but the exterior is intact. It will be easy to paint this as a tragic accident, since only bones will remain and no one will be too interested in examining them closely for signs of violent death—or in the case of your Faunus, other…conditions."
"Congenital deformities, present in certain patients. The sort of thing one commonly finds in sideshow 'freaks' at a carnival," Hyde responded casually and without hesitation. "And if some industrious coroner does ask questions, it's easy enough to blame signs of violence on certain lunatics, maddened by fire and lashing out in panic. Even the medical knowledge of mental disease is an infant science; laymen will believe any lurid nonsense that we tell them. Indeed, the more fearful the nonsense, the better. Perhaps we'll work up dossiers of two or three patients who can be 'unaccounted for'; that will give the constables something to occupy themselves with."
"Eleven of your guards are dead. Eleven good and loyal men, Mr. Hyde. I wouldn't be so smug about how things came out."
"Good? I hardly think so, my elegiac friend. At least not if they were also, as you say, loyal to a mission such as ours."
"Your grand scientific dream isn't what you'd call 'good'?"
"By traditional moral standards? Of course not. And I hardly think that ordinary soldiers or hired strong-arm men would share that dream. But the dead do not concern me, Mr. Garnet. Rather, it is the living that I am interested in."
Garnet shot a sharp look at Edgar.
"I'd better go," the young doctor said, rapidly getting up, nearly stumbling over his chair. Hyde's mouth drew into a tight line, the genial smile vanishing.
"You wouldn't have shooed that young pup off if your news was good. What happened to her?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I convinced the governess that she was following up on what she was doing and that she wanted her servants to return home. Given how she's been lately, I'm not surprised that it was easily believed, but I still don't know. You were supposed to have her with you, Hyde, so what happened?"
"We were attacked and separated, fleeing in opposite directions. Miss Schnee fled back into the building while I was pursued by two Faunus."
Garnet fell silent for a moment.
"You were together," he verified, "you were on your way to the escape route, you were attacked and separated by Faunus, and they chased you, not her."
"That is correct. Given that they recognized my face, I was not entirely surprised by this." He chuckled softly, like an actor or explorer whose fame preceded him.
"I see."
"Mr. Garnet, you obviously have something on your mind, so why not just come out with it?"
"Do you know what happened to your prisoner, Miss Black?"
"I assume that she is now the late Miss Black, if the internal destruction of that area of the building was as absolute as you said."
"On the contrary. I met her, loose and with Miss Schnee, in the atrium. A group of Faunus appeared to be interrogating Miss Schnee, so my men and I rushed them."
"They rescued her, then?" Hyde's face tightened in a look of distaste.
"Possibly, but that isn't the point I was making."
Hyde lifted his drink to his lips.
"Go on, then."
"When the fight broke out, Miss Schnee retreated towards the north wing, A reasonable proposition, you might say. Miss Black promptly pursued her, or so I thought. I threw an azure Dust grenade to trap her. Miss Schnee, however, saw this and pulled Miss Black out of the way with her own hands."
Hyde's surviving eyebrow shot up.
"Indeed?"
"What's more, do you remember that tricky little gun-sword thing we found when we captured her? Well, Miss Schnee was carrying that."
"You're implying that Weiss Schnee set our prisoner free, and moreover was working with her. This despite the fact that Miss Black was the one who scarred her face, and that they have fought twice so far?"
"I am starting to wonder about that."
Hyde's eyes glittered, and he leaned forward like a predatory bird, looming vulturelike over the table.
"You suspect her."
"Was it coincidence that the initial entry into the manor was made in her room? Do we really know what happened in that encounter?"
Am I being crazy, seeing shadows that aren't there? Garnet asked himself. The incident in the Schnee Manor study might have been between Weiss and the Faunus woman alone, but he had witnesses to the fight in the alley, Strauss, Bronzewing, and Sky. Surely that negated the doubts that were forming.
But then, Sky and Bronzewing were the only people actually injured in that alley fight. And Miss Black had picked up her weapon from Bell and gotten clean away, which wouldn't have happened if Weiss hadn't interfered with the stake-out. If one analyzed the results, not necessarily the process…
"What if," he began, "Miss Schnee was injured by the automata, not by the Faunus? What if her being so proactive in trying to hunt Miss Black was actually a trick to let her cover for her accomplice, interfering with the official search? Miss Black was seen by the guards who nearly caught her on the grounds, so Miss Schnee didn't have anything to lose by giving us a description."
"Do you really believe this?"
Garnet shook his head.
"I cannot be certain, but…I know what I saw. Someone let Miss Black loose, and Weiss Schnee did have her weapon and, most damningly, did put herself at risk to save her from my grenade. And while today's attack was bloody and savage, Miss Black's encounters with Miss Schnee have deliberately avoided bloodshed, almost surgically."
"And could therefore be faked, carefully choreographed like a fixed boxing match."
Garnet nodded.
"I don't want to believe it," he said, "but the Schnee family is just like the more typical form of aristocracy. There are factions, rivalries, resentments. Weiss turning twenty-one and assuming control of her own shares in the company opened everything up."
"That is the motive you suspect?"
Another nod.
"Some battle among rivals in the family. The Faunus make the perfect soldiers to direct against you, since they have their own motive. All she needs to do is aim them in the right direction. Then she'll be able to take control of Pandora's discoveries—or just destroy it utterly, taking it away from her opposite number's control."
Hyde held up his glass so the light fell on it and watched it sparkle, then drained off the last of his whiskey.
"Then you know what you have to do next, don't you, if you really believe Weiss Schnee is our enemy?"
"No, what?"
The hideous smile returned to Hyde's features.
"Of course you do. You're a soldier in this war of family factions that you deduce exists, aren't you? You've chosen a side—or it has chosen you. Miss Schnee's danger lies not just in that she and her friends can destroy us, but that she can expose us. That fellow Ashton, for example. How do you think that he would react to learning what has been happening under his nose?"
This time, it was actually Garnet who smiled.
"Do you know, I would actually enjoy watching that reaction. I think he might well fall down in an apoplectic fit right there on the spot." The smile vanished at once. "After that, of course, my enjoyment would be over."
"Indeed. And so you know, then, what needs to be done."
Hyde looked him square in the eyes, not letting Garnet turn or shy away.
"You need to find Weiss Schnee, Mr. Garnet, and kill her. Blame it on those animals she's allied with, perhaps, but in any case, if you truly believe that she is our enemy, then she must be destroyed before she destroys everything I've worked for these past years—and you along with it."
~X X X~
The first thing Weiss thought about Blake's rooms were how ordinary they looked. 116c was the rear suite of the upper story, consisting of a single large room that doubled as bedroom and sitting-room, with an attached bath. It was inexpensive but neither shabby nor dirty. The flat could have belonged to anyone, not something so exotic and unusual as a Faunus.
She'd found the keys in Blake's harness, and it had been no easy task to use them or to navigate the stairs while halfway dragging Blake, halfway acting as a crutch for her to lean on. She pulled off the Faunus's cloak, then steered her to the bed, where Blake slumped over on her side at once. Weiss hung up both cloaks on the coatrack, something that was probably just a nervous reflex to be orderly, as both she and they dripped water onto the floor and the hooked rug.
"Where is it?" she asked while turning up the gaslight. "This antidote of yours?" Without waiting for an answer, she immediately started to search through the desk, pulling out drawers and shuffling through papers and writing supplies. She found nothing, though, that looked like what she needed: no bottles, no pills, no paper packets of drug-powders. She was sure the documents and correspondence might be of interest, ultimately, but she didn't waste her time stopping to read. "Blake, I need you to tell me."
When she didn't get an answer, she went over to the bed.
"Blake, where do you keep the antidote?" And why would you have it here, anyway? It's not like you'd know in advance what Hyde would drug or poison you with. "Blake, talk to me."
Weiss pushed Blake over onto her back so she could look at her face. Blake's head lolled to the side, so Weiss cupped her chin and turned it to face her.
"Blake!"
The Faunus's eyes were shining and weirdly unfocused, like she wasn't looking at Weiss at all.
"Come on, Blake, stay with me!"
Gritting her teeth, Weiss released Blake's chin, drew back her hand, and for the second time that night smacked her sharply across the face. The reaction was instant, but not at all what Weiss was hoping for; Blake gave a harsh feline roar while lunging up at her, grabbing at her throat. The initial rush knocked Weiss back, her foot slipped, and she sat down hard on the floor, a sharp jolt going up her tailbone, but it also gave her the space to get her hands up and grapple with Blake's arms.
"Blake!" she cried out desperately. The other woman was bigger and had a manic strength to her, but her movements were clumsy and uncoordinated and Weiss was able to wrestle her off to the side as she fought her off. "Please, Blake, get hold of yourself!"
Maybe it was the jolt when Blake's shoulder hit the floor as well, or maybe Weiss's words had finally gotten through to her, but she stopped fighting back at once, and her lips drifted open.
"Wardrobe…bottom…"
It was low and feathery, barely audible, and Weiss had no idea what kind of mental effort it had to have taken just to fight through the haze to say them. She scrambled over to the wardrobe at once, pulled open the door, and started to hunt through the shoes and boots. There was nothing to be seen.
That can't be right.
She tossed the shoes out onto the floor, then ran her hand over the wooden bottom. Was there some kind of secret compartment or false bottom? Weiss knocked her knuckles against it, and thought the sound seemed a little bit off, possibly hollow. She ran her hands over everything, feeling at every edge and crack, poking or twisting at every irregular spot or bit of molding. Finally, she found it: a knot that depressed slightly. Weiss poked at it twice, but nothing happened. She was momentarily stymied, but then realized that it wasn't a button at all, but a spot that offered a finger-hold. Using it, she was able to lift up the false bottom to reveal a flat, rectangular box.
Weiss took the box out and opened it, revealing a hypodermic syringe and two vials, one containing a bright red fluid and one some white crystals, perhaps a chemical salt.
"All right, Blake, I found it, and—"
She broke off, all too aware that Blake was in no way able to carry on a conversation. The idea that she would be able to administer an injection to herself was laughable. Which meant that Weiss was going to have to do it, to inject Blake with this antidote.
Which she had no idea how to do.
Trial and error was not exactly the appropriate way to approach a medical procedure. Looking at Blake slumped on the floor, her legs still propped up on the bed from how she'd tumbled off it, black hair streaming wildly across her face, it was plain that it had to happen soon.
Maybe I could just let her sleep it off? Weiss thought. That might be better than administering a dose of unknown drugs on the orders of someone who'd only been half-coherent at the time she'd given them. If Blake had been merely drugged, then that might just be the best thing, to let her body metabolize the chemicals naturally instead of risking some kind of mishap when the antidote battled with the drug in her blood. Especially given that Weiss really had little idea what she was doing, it was an attractive thought.
The problem was that if Blake had been poisoned rather than only drugged, leaving her to her own devices would be the worst thing Weiss could do. Permanent harm or death would be the result. And Weiss knew that Blake had been very insistent on getting home to get this antidote, which didn't sound like a woman who just wanted to clear her head a few hours early. So it was more likely than not that leaving things alone would be a very bad decision.
A better choice would have been to call in a professional, a doctor or trained nurse who was familiar with administering injections and the preparation of drugs. Unfortunately, that was impossible. The two black-furred triangles peeking through Blake's hair ruled out calling in an outsider such as Anstruther. And Weiss didn't know any doctors associated with the Dust Company that she could control, be guaranteed their obedience.
It was ironic, perhaps, that after all the trouble she'd gone through to get away from Adam and the other Faunus, she'd have been relieved to see them barge in through the door. Weiss wanted nothing more than to hand this off to someone else better suited to take care of it, but she also had to face the fact that it wasn't happening.
This drug needed to be given, and it was up to her to do it.
She picked up the syringe. It looked much like those she'd seen doctors use, with a glass phial held in a brass frame, a gleaming steel needle, and a plunger with a rubber cap making an airtight seal. There were rings next to the base of the needle for fingers to go through, allowing the user to steady the syringe and better control it. What she didn't see was any way to pour the drug into the syringe's reservoir. She supposed that she could draw it up through the needle if that was the only way.
But draw what up?
Since there were two vials, she supposed that she was meant to dissolve the salt into the liquid. Unless they were separate, and she was supposed to add water instead? And how much was the correct mix? All of it? Half? A pinch? And even if she figured out the ratio, what was the dose she was supposed to give Blake? If she didn't give enough, it wouldn't work, but if she gave too much, the overdose could well poison her, just like drinking too much laudanum would be dangerous or even fatal.
"I don't suppose that you can help me with this, either?" she asked Blake. The question was purely rhetorical, and she got no answer from the unconscious woman. Weiss was entirely on her own for this.
She turned back to the inlaid box that had contained the materials and checked it carefully. There were no instructions carved inside the lid, no piece of paper tucked under the felt. She went back to the wardrobe and looked there, too, but the hidden compartment contained nothing but the box.
She'd just have to guess.
Logic helped. There was no spoon or other device in the box for transferring a fixed amount of the salt. True, it might be kept elsewhere, but why would it be, when both the syringe and vials were here? That suggested that a one-to-one relationship was most likely the correct one.
Do I have any better ideas?
No, she didn't.
Weiss uncorked the vials, then poured the crystals into the scarlet fluid. She moved her hand in small circles, agitating the mixture since she didn't have anything to stir with.
It took only a few seconds before the liquid started to bubble and fizz noisily, surprising her so much that she almost dropped the vial, but managed to close her fingers around it just in the nick of time. Almost at once, the liquid began to change color, so that by the time the frothing stopped it had become a rich, royal purple shade. Weiss didn't know if that was good or bad, but she figured it had to mean something.
That just left her with the next question: what was the dose she was supposed to give Blake? The syringe's cylinder was graduated with various markings to indicate the size of the dose to be given, so that was no help. Maybe the antidote's dose even depended on how much of the original drug she'd been given?
How could she pick?
Wait.
The antidote was obviously to some degree unstable. Otherwise, why would it be stored in two separate vials instead of all of the ingredients being pre-combined? That meant that once it was mixed, it had to be used. Logic would dictate that to avoid waste, only the minimum dosage should be mixed at once. Weiss had chosen to mix all of what was there, largely based on the assumption that if a lesser mix was required, there'd have been tools to do so.
"It's one dose," she decided. "Or at least, the best evidence is that it's one dose, and I don't know enough about the chemistry to say differently."
Having reached a decision, she picked up the syringe and prepared to load it, only to find that the purple liquid had changed again, fading to a pale, watery green. Weiss's heart caught in her throat. Was the antidote that volatile? Had it already lost its potency, by being exposed to the air or the like?
She hoped not, because at this point she had no options left but to give Blake the drug as it was and hope for the best. She used the plunger to draw up all but a few drops into the syringe and checked carefully to make sure there were no air bubbles.
"All right, Blake, it's time to do this. If you can hear me and I'm making a mistake, please tell me now."
But of course, there was no answer. Weiss pushed up Blake's left sleeve and was about to administer the injection, when she saw the marks on the inside of Blake's elbow. Red dots, like…needle scars, from previous injections?
Maybe…it's supposed to go directly into the vein?
Weiss really wished that she had someone there to offer medical advice. She just had no experience at this, and no knowledge of what the drug was or how it worked.
"Okay," she said, breathing deeply, gripping Blake's forearm with her right hand to just steady it. "Please don't move while I'm doing this; I don't think I can do it if you thrash around."
She guided the needle in slowly and carefully and then, in a sudden, single push, broke the skin. Her thumb depressed the plunger, and she emptied the contents of the syringe into Blake's bloodstream. She pulled the needle out and sat back, wondering what the reaction would be.
And then Blake screamed.
Her back arched, her limbs spasmed, her entire body seemingly drawn bowstring-tight as if every muscle had clenched at once, and the scream burst out as if torn from her lips. It wasn't a cry of fear or horror, but the brutal cry of an animal in torment. She thrashed and spasmed, and Weiss could not tear her horrified eyes away, even as the shrank back, scooting away from the Faunus.
Oh, God, what did I do what did I do whatdidIdo?
It went on and on; there were no more screams like the first one but gasps and cries as she continued to write in pain, until, slowly, it stopped, what could have been five minutes or an hour later, and Blake lay limp on the floor.
Trembling, Weiss crept forward. She didn't want to look, didn't want to see, but…what else was there to do? She had to know, if Blake really was dead or—
A low moan escaped the Faunus, cutting off Weiss's train of thought before it got any further along. Moving slowly, Blake pushed herself up to a sitting posture, hand cupping the side of her head.
"You…you're all right?"
Blake gave her a sidealong glance.
"Thanks to you. I'd never have been able to do it myself. It's never been that bad before. You saved…"
"Your life."
"No." Blake shook her head. "Something much more important than that. You saved me from becoming a monster." She chuckled bitterly. "Isn't it funny? Most people would say that I already am one, and yet it's what I'm most afraid of."
"I don't understand."
Blake looked at Weiss, taking in the near-ruin of the heiress's appearance, her hair tumbling loose from its pins, the ripped and sodden dress, the bandaged face, the roughened and scraped hands.
"Well, after all that you've been through, maybe it's about time that you did."