Lydia opened the door to her longtime home as quietly as possible, staring around the familiar space while listening intently. She had assumed that Aberlaine would be at the townhouse with Madame Red and the servants, but Tanaka had informed her that he had returned to his own home to do a bit of domestic upkeep. Lydia was hoping that 'upkeep' did not include cooking anything, or their home would surely take more damage than maintenance. Even so, the young girl broke into a spontaneous smile when she heard the voices of her father and their neighbor, Thoms Weatherstaff, emanating from the kitchen area. Hanging her cloak on a hook, Lydia padded softly down the hall and poked her head into the doorway. "Hello, father."
Fred Aberlaine knocked over his mug in surprise as the two men turned toward her. They had a small fire burning in the grate, and the windows were thrown open to release the smoke and let the afternoon light stream in. Her father's face lit up like the sun as he registered his daughter's presence, and he bounded from the table and wrapped her in a strong embrace. She could hear Thoms chuckling good-humoredly as the pair of them teetered off-balance under the alcove. Aberlaine finally released her and gripped her shoulders, looking her up and down before bursting into laughter. "I say, Lydia, what a sight you are!"
The brunette snorted and tapped the crest on her Weston College uniform. "I haven't had time to change yet, that's all. Anyway, this suit's been good enough for the lads these past few weeks."
"I cannot believe not one single person figured out you were a lady for so long," Aberlaine shook his head in bemusement. "Those boys are supposed to be the brightest youth of England!"
"So they say," Lydia laughed, feeling her father's good humor inject some energy back into her veins. The past few days had found her moving about London so much that even when she returned to Sebastian's room at Weston to sleep, she dreamed of movement, running to catch a train, sailing on a barge, riding in a carriage down the rickety cobblestone lanes of the city. She knew she had to keep on moving toward her goal, moving to throw her pursuers off her trail. Even now, she knew she could not stay long in her own home.
" 'Ow goes it wi' you, young liddy?" Thoms asked while rising and pulling out a chair for her. Lydia sat down gratefully and noted the sugary smell of cobbler from somewhere nearby. Thoms' wife must have sent over a treat.
"Not so well, to be honest," Lydia bit her lip and stared at the shreds of wood rolling from Thoms' hands as he whittled a strip of cedar. "I actually came here hoping for a bit of fatherly advice. And some neighborly advice wouldn't be amiss either, I'd wager."
"What is it? Have you seen the assassins again?" Aberlaine sat down and looked at her intently, his reddish bangs framing his youthful face. Lydia moved her fingers over the gritty kitchen table as she silently rehearsed the list of thing he did and did not know. She had informed her father by telephone of the most recent events in her life, including taking on a male disguise, encountering the assassin's leader, helping to extinguish an arson fire, and subsequently being found out and hunted by the prefects. She had not, however, mentioned her disturbingly life-like night visions of the ghoul-creature resembling Derrick Arden, or of the shadow specter which seemed to follow her everywhere, even throughout London. She did not know how to explain these things to her father in a way that he could understand, being so far removed from them. Furthermore, she had not mentioned that the arsonist responsible for Violet Wolf House's immolation was her own brother. This Aberlaine would understand all too well, and even though she knew how horrible Ciel's actions had been, she also knew that getting him in trouble with the law would make it nearly impossible for them to find the missing students at Weston. Sensing the men's eyes upon her, Lydia emerged from her memories and returned to the matters at hand.
"No, I haven't seen them, which is actually the problem. I was counting on confronting them again. I had a plan. I've been moving around to make sure they cannot corner me, and I was going to wait until they made an attempt on me in an open place, leap to somewhere nearby, and keep my eye on them to see where they went after they got tired of searching for me. If I could separate one of them from the group, I might have even considered attempting a capture. But so far, I have not seen any of them….at all." Lydia huffed in frustration. "I mean, technically speaking, I don't know if I've seen them or not. I've only ever seen the face of their leader, so I suppose I might have encountered the others without knowing it. But even if I have, they've made no aggressive actions against me. I haven't been attacked or stalked or even threatened by anyone." The young girl shook her head ruefully. "Is it bad that I find that strange?"
Aberlaine and Thoms looked at each other seriously. Thoms got up to close the window while her father leaned toward her. "Perhaps it is strange, although I must say I prefer it that way," the inspector confessed grimly. "It's not the only strange thing, though. My investigative team and I have followed up on the information you provided about Baron Kelvin and the workhouse he founded. It's been deserted for quite a few years now, but we…." He shook his head, frowning deeply. "So far, we've been able to find no records indicating where the children who lived there were sent after Renbourne Workhouse was closed."
"They wouldn't have just thrown them back onto the street, would they?" Lydia asked worriedly.
"It's highly unlikely," her father replied. "Something like that would have created a fuss with the newspapers and the local Churches. Bad publicity for everyone involved. And yet we've found no sign of such. Usually when a charitable institution loses its aristocratic patron, it either finds a new one or transfers its charges to another institution. There are always records." Aberlaine glanced darkly into the fire. "Only this time, there aren't. As to Kelvin's whereabouts, it seems he vanished from all of his social circles around the time his wife left him. He seemed to have been seeing a doctor quite regularly before that, and soon afterward he sold his home in London and moved away into apparent oblivion. Again, this is another instance where the records which ought to be present are very blatantly missing. I don't believe we can chalk this up to careless municipal agencies losing their files. The precision with which this information has vanished suggests premeditated deliberation."
Lydia thought of the way the files for the missing students had been removed from Weston's records hall. Whether the two cases were related or not, it all pointed toward the same activity- someone covering their tracks, trying to bury the past. And whatever they were trying to bury was the thing she needed to see.
Thoms sat down again with a husky hmph and drained his mug. "I don' suppose I kin be much use to ye 'ere, mates. I'm only an 'umble carriage driver, not some great scientist or ace inspec'ter. I dunno nothin' 'bout missin' orphans or missin' gents, that's sure. But I do 'ear things now an' agin whilst I'm plyin' my trade, an' a couple days ago there was somethin' I'd a mind to tell ye I 'eard. I reckon t'was concernin' ye." Thoms pointed at Lydia with a calloused finger. "I've driven 'bout some strange folk in my time, but this day I 'ad a mighty strange 'un step into my cabby. Young feller, looked like he 'ad some kinda skin trouble. Kept talkin' to 'imself too, like there were 'nother with 'im. Spooked me right well, I tell ye. He tol' me to jes' drive 'round London while he looked out the window. Seemed like he was spottin' fer someone. I finally asked 'im who t'was, an' he said, "We want to find a woman with a bandaged arm." An' then he said somethin' 'bout 'Goethe' or summat. Hit me right away, that did. Yer the only one I knows like that in the world, but I figured on it a moment an' I said to myself, "Now Thoms, this lad seems mighty dodgy. Best to not go flappin' yer gums 'bout Miss Lydia." So I said nothin' to 'im, an' I let 'im off near the fairgrounds when he was through lookin'."
Lydia sat still at the table as Aberaline's face hardened in concern. A strange person driving about London, searching for a woman with a bandaged arm. One of the assassins? It seemed almost certain. Were they on her trail after all, and simply had yet to catch up? Lydia's gaze turned worriedly to the window. "If that's the case, I suppose I mustn't stay here too much longer. I ought to leap back to the townhouse and hide there for a few hours. I thank you greatly for your vigilance, Thoms."
"Before you leave, there is something I've ordered for you from Germany. It's just recently arrived." Aberlaine stood up and strode into his study, returning a moment later with a parchment-wrapped item. Lydia worked through the papers to find a heavy, gleaming revolver, accompanied by an adjustable holster and two cases of bullets. Her eyes widened as she breathed in a tangled mixture of emotions. She had always known her father would present her with a gun of her own one day. She had grown up with them in the house as part of Aberlaine's profession, and he had seen to it that she knew how to assemble, clean, load, and fire a variety of models by the time she was fifteen. In a way, it almost made her proud, like coming-of-age provision. However, the fact that her father thought this particular provision was necessary at this time caused her heart to roll like thunder in her chest. Aberlaine patted her firmly on the back, and in his eyes she saw her complex feelings mirrored back at her. "I hope the moment never comes when you have no choice," he murmured lowly while Thoms gazed at them solemnly. "It's a terrible moment to face. But hoping against it won't stop it from coming, so you must be ready. You have the right to be alive. Do not let anyone take that from you."
Lydia stood and hugged her father again, her throat burning like a frightened child, like a tired soldier. She smiled up at him, the blueness in her mother's eyes crinkling like rippled water. "You are brave," Aberlaine told her, "and you are good. You make me proud. I wish I could protect you forever, but I'm not a man who lives in dreams. Your life has always been in your hands."
Lydia squeezed her bandaged fingers around the handle of the gun and nodded.
/
"Master, I can tell you are not sleeping."
Lydia grumbled to herself and burrowed her head underneath the covers of Sebastian's bed. The demon fell silent for several minutes, and she surmised that he planned to ignore her current sleepless state. A moment later, the covers were lifted from the bottom and Sebastian joined her underneath them, lying boldly by her side. "What is the matter?"
"It's nothing," the young girl muttered, which could not have been further from the truth. Lately it seemed like the world was brim-full of worries, all conspiring to keep her from a good night's sleep. But listing and discussing them would only delay her entry into slumber. "It's just the summer heat. I find it difficult to sleep when the air is so warm."
"I can ease that for you," Sebastian offered quietly, sliding his hands up the covers and bringing them to rest upon her cheek and collarbone. His skin, as usual, was cool and unaffected by the surrounding room's temperature. Lydia sighed and turned her face into the pillow as the demon moved closer, cooling his inner spirit with the refreshment of her soul. She had fallen nearer to sleep when she heard Sebastian's voice speaking quietly from the waking world. With great effort, she pulled herself back to hear him say, "The fire was not my fault, master."
Lydia raised her eyebrow as the demon donned a face of sincerity. "I did not know your brother's plan before he ordered me to take him to the grounds of Violet Wolf House after the final bell. Even if I had known, I have no power to disobey him. It was he who threw the lantern, not I." Sebastian traced his fingers in a gentle pattern across her shoulder blade. "Surely I do not deserve to be vilified for something I had no part in?"
Lydia scowled at him, but she did not remove his hands. "You would have thrown the lantern, even if you didn't have to."
"Not if I thought it would bring my master distress," Sebastian contended firmly. "You and I have an intrinsic bond. I am dedicated to shape myself upon the core of who you are, so I can honor that bond."
Lydia smiled into her pillow, then tiredly shifted her head and laid her palm upon Sebastian's shoulder. The curve of her mouth was affectionate and tragic. "If you were anyone at all- anyone other than a demon," she whispered, "I would ask you if you really meant that. And I'd hope you would say yes."
This time, the silence lasted until she fell asleep, unnaturally piercing fingers brushing through her hair and trailing off into nothingness.
/
Several days later, Lydia gazed mournfully over the expanse of Weston College from her rooftop vantage point, considering its angles and edges. The final bell had just tolled, and the last of the students had vanished into their dormitories (or, in the case of Purple House, the various buildings which they were currently inhabiting.) She had been keeping an eye on the school and its students for the last few hours while she meditated and waited for the bell to give her leave to return to Sebastian's room. She did not know most of Weston's students, but those she did know drew special notice as she watched them go about their lives. Soma and Edward ran to and fro from the cricket field while carrying equipment, no doubt practicing for the fast-approaching Fourth of June tournament. Bluewer and Clayton walked from the school library to their house, carrying large stacks of books. Redmond and Harcourt were seen patrolling the edges of the fence surrounding Weston. Greenhill stalked aimlessly along the pavement, hitting his cricket bat against his palm and shooting paranoid stares at everyone he came across, so the students gave him a wide berth. Violet had spent the last two hours sitting hunched over in the Swan Gazebo, joined in the last hour by Cheslock, who seemed to be trying to talk him around with minimal success. The only people Lydia had not seen were Ciel and Sebastian, but Blue House was further away from her vantage point, and they were probably also practicing for the tournament. Now all of them were gone, and the grounds breathed a sense of eerie desolation.
The young girl stood up and was just about to reach for her bandaged arm when she heard a noise begin nearby. It was deep and low and repetitive, almost like….a drum. Lydia glanced toward the music hall, but it did not seem to be coming from there. It sounded as though it was emanating from one of the buildings nearest to the gates. Perplexed, Lydia stared in that direction, searching for anything out of place upon the grounds. She could see nothing, and yet….the rhythmic noise continued, a pounding drum, waves on a shore, the beating of a heart…. Lydia's eyes widened as she was forcefully reminded of the plot of the book she had stolen from Violet's room, The Tell-Tale Heart. Chilled fingers slipped it out of the crevice in her robe's pocket. A man of questionable sanity had murdered his fellow, who by his accounts had never done him any harm, and hidden the body underneath his floorboards. He then attempted to carry on with his life, all the while being driven mad by the relentless sound of the dead man's heart, still beating, which apparently only he could hear. Eventually he lost his mind completely and began to rip at the floorboards, exposing the body and his guilt to the world. Lydia mouthed the last lines of the story to herself. " "Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed!—tear up the planks!—here, here!—it is the beating of his hideous heart!" " She turned the page to see the gruesome drawing of Derrick Arden. She shuddered, replacing the tract in her pocket and gazing stolidly across the grounds. There was no question of it. This sound….was exactly like the heartbeat she had imagined while reading the story. But what did that mean, and could it-
Lydia jumped and slid several inches down the roof upon raising her head and looking toward the source of the sound. This time there was something out of place on the grounds. The shadow specter was standing before the old administration building, somehow darker than the falling night around it. Its faceless head was tilted up toward her, and once again it was beckoning her to come.
The young girl considered for a moment before threading her fingers through her bandages and leaping down onto the darkened lawn. As soon as she arrived, the specter ghosted up the steps of the old, deserted building. It melted through the doors, and Lydia followed inquisitively. She tried the first door handle, then the second. Both were locked.
Lydia breathed deeply and began to walk back down the steps, feeling a vague sense of relief. If they were locked, they were locked, and there was nothing she could do about it. Just because the specter could move through doors and walls, it could not reasonably expect her to do the same. True, she could punch through the door if needed, but that kind of thing was appropriate only in emergency situations. One mangled door handle and they would know someone had been inside. Perhaps she should return to Blue House and bring Sebastian back here with her. He would be able to-
A creaking sound to her left drew her out of her thoughts. Lydia turned to see one of the ground floor windows slowly being pushed open by a long, black arm. The specter leaned eerily through the open space and beckoned again as the beating sound continued, slightly louder.
Bollocks.
Lydia stood on the front lawn, staring pensively into the open window. Every part of her experience as an inspector's daughter told her it was a bad idea to enter a deserted building alone. It was pitch black in there, and she didn't even have lantern. She had no idea what kind of space she would be climbing into. It was obviously better to go and get Sebastian….and yet….Lydia gritted her teeth as the relentless beating became louder still, corroding her thoughts. It seemed to lull her like a moth to candlelight, one peaceful, encompassing heartbeat perfectly aligned with her own. It was….better….obviously better…and yet….and yet….and yet….
"Hey, what are you doing?!"
Lydia's senses returned at the harsh whisper, and she realized she was halfway through the window. Losing her balance, she tumbled backward onto the lawn and stared blearily at the upside-down figure of her younger brother. Ciel approached her quickly and helped her to sit up. He was wearing a cricketer's uniform and carrying a wooden bat in one hand and a lantern in the other, his customary eyepatch replaced by a heavier one. Lydia blinked at him for a few moments before registering his presence. "Ciel? What are you doing out here? Your room monitors will notice you're out of bed!"
The young heir waved this information off. "They'll overlook it. I'm on Sapphire Owl's cricket team, and without my strategies, there's no way we can win. More importantly, what were you about to do?"
Lydia blinked again and stared up at the darkened maw of the window she had been climbing through. "I….it was….I don't suppose you can hear that steady drumming noise….can you?"
"Of course I can. That's why I'm out here investigating. I'm not sure where the bloody prefects are, though. This sort of thing falls under their jurisdiction." Ciel replied briskly, standing up as Lydia clambered to her feet and stared at the towering building. "What is it?"
"I've no idea," Lydia shook her head, narrowing her eyes at the empty window. "I saw the specter again. It wanted me to come inside. I was going to enter, but….it seems…. Do you reckon we ought to get Sebastian to come with us?"
Ciel shook his head, frowning at the mention of the name. "That demon is obligated by the contract to appear at my side whenever he senses danger approaching. If he is not here, that means we are not in danger at the present time."
"Ah," Lydia nodded faintly, noticing that her brother seemed to be going to great lengths to avoid her eyes. "In that case, we had better see this through. You take the lantern, and I'll lift you up to the window. If it appears safe, climb through and I'll follow."
Ciel huffed at this indirect reference to his short stature, but he allowed Lydia to boost him up on her shoulders. She could feel the drumming noise coursing through the building as she leaned against it, almost like a pulse. Ciel's voice rang out above her. "It seems all right. It's just a storage room full of boxes and filing cabinets. I don't see anything out of place."
Lydia moved her arm under her brother's knees and helped him maneuver through the small window. Nervously, she gripped the edges with her fingers and swung up after him, landing inside a room lit by the glow of his lantern. The light cast eerie shadows on the walls, but she saw no sign of the specter. "Keep your bat at shoulder level," she advised her brother as they tiptoed across the dusty floor. "We don't know what might be around the corner." Quietly, she patted the holster around her waist, where her newly loaded gun rested close to her hip.
"If there is danger, Sebastian will come," the young heir replied confidently as Lydia swung open the door. Ciel held his lantern out into the hallway, which was similarly deserted. Listening to the echoing sound of the drumbeat, the two siblings crept past covered statues and paintings with sheets thrown over the top. She had heard that the old administrative building was now used for storage, and this appeared to be the truth. Perhaps the specter was trying to lead them to another esoteric clue? She hoped no one in the nearby buildings would notice the light from Ciel's lantern moving past the windows. A few hallways later, this worry was negated as they moved deeper into the building, following the increasingly louder drumbeat cadence, and there were no more windows. Most of the rooms they passed lay empty. Ciel peered carefully into each one, and after a long bout of silence, he murmured to her, "You know, there's something strange about this building."
"Oh, you reckon? I hadn't noticed." Lydia steered them around a rather large statue, and her brother snorted sarcastically.
"I know what you mean, obviously. But now that we're inside it, I realize there's another strange thing. After the fire, when all the prefects and their fags were trying to think of places where we could set up temporary dormitories for displaced Purple House students, I suggested this building, since there's really nothing going on inside it. But I was told that all the rooms were full of stored items, and the school had nowhere else to keep them. Everyone took the prefects' word for it, and the old administrative building was never considered as a possibility for housing students. But I see now that many of these rooms have hardly anything inside them. We could have easily done some tidying and sheltered about half of Violet Wolf House in here."
"That's likely because the prefects are hiding something in this place," Lydia surmised, glancing down the hall and managing not to jump as she spotted the coal-black specter standing before a set of double doors. "And I think we're about to find out what it is." A second later, she did jump as her brother's hand unexpectedly seized her arm.
"I see it!" Ciel gasped, staring directly at the point where the specter was vanishing through the solid doors, still beckoning. "Bloody hell, that thing looks like a nightmare!"
"Too right it does. It hasn't tried to hurt me yet, though." Lydia stared down at her brother, taken aback by his sudden ability to see what had formerly been invisible to everyone but her. Did that mean the specter had intended to bring Ciel out here as well? Were they the only ones who could hear the heartbeat coming from all around them, as though they had finally reached the center of the great beast to which it belonged? Lydia wrapped her fingers around one of the handles and pulled. Locked tight. She tried and other one and got the same result. The brunette crossed her arms and waited, staying close to her brother as the beating continued. Nothing happened.
Ciel tugged softly on her sleeve. "Could you leap past the doors and open them from the inside?"
Lydia eyed the foreboding doors from top to bottom. She saw no light coming from underneath the doors' crack, but inside the rhythmic beating of the invisible heart, she thought she heard a faint scratching sound. "I could do that…I suppose. However, leaping blindly into a room when I have no idea what is inside has caused me to sustain injuries in the past. I try to avoid it if at all possible."
"Oh. That's true. Don't do that, then." Ciel drew in his breath as the two siblings crept closer to the double doors, huddling together instinctively. The young heir held his lantern up to the handle and peered closely through the keyhole.
Lydia waited, her own heart pounding almost as loudly as the rhythmic beating surrounding them. "What do you see?"
"Nothing," Ciel shook his head and withdrew his uncovered eye. "The whole room seems pitch black. What kind of key would fit into this keyhole, anyway? It's too big-"
Something clicked simultaneously in their minds. Ciel turned to look at Lydia as she reached into her pocket and withdrew the key the specter had laid before her in the aftermath of the fire. His eyes were wide; her hands were trembling slightly. She had a moment of doubt when she slipped the brass key into the lock; the door handle was intricately decorated, and the key itself was so plain. They didn't seem to match at all. The next moment, the siblings stopped breathing as they heard the click of the lock releasing. This meant that whatever was in this room, one empty space away, was the thing which had caused the prefects to upend the school searching for her when they learned she had the key. This was it.
"I'll go first," Lydia whispered as she slipped the lantern from Ciel's hands. She took a breath, braced her bandaged arm in front of her body, and pushed the door open with it. The hinges made no noise, and as the light from her lantern penetrated the room, the beating sound stopped cold. Its absence somehow frightened her, and she glanced around wildly, looking for its source. They were standing on the threshold of what appeared to be a completely barren room. There was no furniture or paintings inside; no windows or carpeted floors. The room had a strange smell to it, a scent she could place only to her grandfather's funeral. Formaldehyde. Even as the light entered the room, several long, thick shadows remained around the edges, outside the lantern's glow. Lydia's eyes were drawn to the far wall, where a dark, oily figure was approaching from the gloom.
For a moment it appeared like a shadow, but it was not the shadow specter. This figure had discernible clothes. A black suit and a dark red tie. Shoes which looked like they had once shone, but were now dulled beyond repair. A top hat tilted precariously over a strangely indented head. And a face. It had a face. Lydia's fingers began to shake so wildly that the flame in her lantern guttered and swayed, casting leaping flares of light and darkness across the shadow's visage. He had a face, and it was one she knew.
It was the face of Derrick Arden.
The boy stopped near them, staring at them with a blithe, open expression. From the shadows, Lydia heard the stirring of multiple footfalls upon the bare floor, but her gaze was locked to Derrick Arden's filmy eyes. He tilted his head for a moment and then smiled charmingly, a winning smile like the one in his school photos. His hat slipped back to reveal harsh stitches marring the indent of his brow.
"Hello, my friends."