The Nevers: Always Fine

by milk3002

Just as intrigued as you are, and probably more confused. But I do adore Mrs. True and Miss Adair. This will most likely verge from canon, but what is canon but a mere suggestion? Amalia and Penance, along with their fellow Touched, try to figure out just what it is they don't know about Maladie and who is truly hunting them.

5. Foul Play

Amalia walked briskly into the kitchen toward her three cups of tea, but they were not at their usual place on the table, as if her absence during her recovery had made her disappear altogether from the house routine. After spending the past two days with aching arms and Penance keeping the bed warm beside her, she had awoken that morning back on the cold, hard comfort of the floor of the girls' room. Penance had already vacated her bed, most likely abandoning it for her workshop and her own routine. Amalia expected this return to normalcy, but found it a bit dispiriting after their recent closeness. And yet despite this return to routine, she didn't have her tea.

Lucy turned to her from across the large chopping table, eyebrows raised in surprise and then reprimand. "You feeling better, then?"

"Much better," Amalia assured her, filling the tea pot with water from the tap. "As confused and as ornery as ever, but physically: spot on."

Lucy nodded slowly. "Hats off to Penance for finding a way to keep you in bed." Her cheeks reddened as if she'd popped her face in the oven to check on a loaf of bread, and she cleared her throat and turned away, pulling a bowl off fruit off a shelf.

"I'll make the tea," Amalia said, ignoring Lucy's strangeness and settling the kettle on the stove.

"You might want to give yourself more than a day." Lucy sighed, averting her gaze, which meant she was about to espouse an opinion. "Even if it's just for the rest of our sake, before you go running off and getting into trouble again."

Amalia didn't respond and devoted her attention to stoking the coals underneath the stove. She was used to reprimands and used to people telling her what they thought she ought to be doing, and she was equally as used to ignoring them. Her shoulder was still a bit stiff, but nothing that wouldn't loosen up after a few hours and some regular movement. She healed fast, a gift she never questioned nor considered, for it had always served her well. She turned back to Lucy, who was pulling out apples from the bowl and closely examining them for bruises. She had a knack for salvaging even the most damaged fruit and turning out something lovely-smelling and delicious. If Amalia had been in the mood for metaphors, she might have smiled.

"Is there any jam?" she asked hopefully.

Lucy studied her, narrowing an eye before firing an apple at her at an alarmingly speedy clip. Amalia raised her arm in reflex, then hissed in pain and thought better of it as the apple thumped cheekily off her chest.

"That's for making us worry so," Lucy said, her blue eyes two accusing torpedoes. "You took years off Penance's life. I've never seen her so worried."

"Penance is more than capable of handling herself." Amalia had no doubts about this, although it bothered her that others sometimes thought Penance more delicate than she was. "As are you."

"That she is and she doesn't need to prove it handling the likes of you, or the Beggar King, for that matter." Lucy crossed the kitchen floor and leaned against the table, one hand on her hip. "Me mom had a saying. Don't do stupid. You have to preserve yourself if you want to keep the people you love safe. My dad didn't do that." Her eyes melted then hardened again. "It was a burden."

"I'm sorry," Amalia said, feeling as if that was all she was doing as of late, apologizing, and for what she wasn't quite sure. "I will not put you or any of the girls here at risk. You know that."

"Then don't put yourself at risk, either. You're kidding yourself if you think your turn alone is going to keep any of us safe."

Amalia knew as much, and averted her attention back to the kettle. Her turn frustrated her more than it helped her, as if she were lugging around broken pieces of a half dozen crystal balls, each of them cutting into her with unhelpful fragments. Amalia worked on it, even resorting to touching the girls clothes or trinkets while they were out in the yard, hoping a premonition would come to her that would help her keep them out of danger. Lucy pressed on.

"You've got more gifts than your turn, so start using them." Her worry had depleted itself, and she eyed Amalia's arm before returning her attention to breakfast. "A few presses with a pound sack of flour will help get rid of that lingering stiffness."

Amalia saw to her own tea, and as the kitchen began to emanate the aroma of cinnamon and sugar and the girls trampled down the stairs, she slipped into her office with her last cup, where she had a view of her desk as well as the main hall. Mary and Desiree were the head and caboose this morning, leading the girls past her open door to the dining room. Amalia was immensely grateful for their help over the past couple of days while she was on the mend. The girls seemed taken with Mary, and despite their best efforts, enamored with Desiree, too. Amalia knew it was a relief to be able to share the rapid thoughts and surprising secrets that came with youth and discovery, and Desiree's cheerful temper seemed more than suited to it.

As the girls settled, Mary came to stand at the door of Amalia's office. "I wanted to say thank you for everything," she said, as Amalia gestured her in. "This place is quite something," she said. "I've never been around this many girls with turns."

"It's odd," Amalia said. "You will get used to it, though."

Mary gave a optimistic nod. "All of these girls from different places coming together like this. I'm fortunate that my turn didn't sever any ties with my family. But I hear differently from many of them. Terrible to lose touch over something you have no control over. Almost like a curse more than a gift."

"Well, in a way everyone on this planet is cursed. Life is it's own curse, leading towards certain death, and yet people diligently work to turn it into a gift. But that's quite a heavy thought before one's had breakfast." Amalia looked carefully at Mary. "How are you feeling?"

Mary sighed and offered a hopeful smile. "A bit less scared every day. A bit more confused every day."

Amalia nodded, sipping the last of her tea. "Penance said you encountered Dr. Hague while you were in the cellar. He wanted you to sing?"

Mary nodded. "But I couldn't, of course. I can't summon it unless I feel like I need to, usually when I'm frightened. I told him that I could only sing when I was incredibly happy. I didn't want to tell him it came when I was afraid, otherwise he might…" she trailed off.

"That was smart." Amalia studied the tea dregs in her cup and contemplated refilling it with brandy. "Although, clearly, Dr. Hague doesn't know what your song does, especially if he was expecting to be able to hear it. Makes me wonder what he does know and who told him." She paused, a prickle playing at the back of her neck as a certainty rose in her unprompted, that the light of Mary's song did more than just connect her to other Touched. "Like you said, confusion mounts by the day." Splashing just a thimbleful of brandy in her mug, she swallowed it down in hopes of numbing the prickling feeling back into something more benign and productive. "But you are safe here and you're welcome to stay as long as you like. Your song hasn't come to you since you've been here?"

Mary shook her head. "No. I've had no reason to share it, not here."

Amalia let her eyes run to the floor. "That's fine. There is no pressure here either way, to use your turn or not. But yours, I would take great care with-you saw what it can do. Some say that power is about getting people to do things at your will, but that's not quite it. Power, when used appropriately, brings people together. It creates something whole and new out of the parts."

Mary stared at her. "And you think my song can do that?"

"Well, it can bring people together. That's a start." The girls' voices rose and the sounds of silverware clanking from the dining room made Amalia realize how hungry she was. She motioned to Mary and escorted her to the table, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before taking her own seat.

As spoons rattled against filled bowls, Penance breezed in and took her usual place next to Amalia, inspecting her with a careful eye. She had woken that morning to an empty bed, already knowing where she would find Amalia and knowing that no matter where she ended up by sunrise, that wouldn't deter Penance from slipping into bed with her at night.

"I feel great," Amalia assured her. "Like a new woman." She considered this for a seconds and reverse course. "The same woman. I don't want to raise your expectations."
Penance smiled. "Good, I like that woman."

Horatio eyed them from his usual fly-by at the door, greeting them with a smile. He bent down and plucked up the last piece of bread just as Amalia reached for it and she blessed him with an irked stare.

"I saved your life and you lost my favorite hat," he reminded her. "I'd say this is a small enough payment?"

"I pay you enough," Amalia replied, yanking the bread from his fingers.

Before he could frown, Penance reached up and offered Horatio her own slice with a serene smile, choosing to be unbothered so long as Amalia was acting like her usual self. "Be kind, she's been cooped up and is a bit cranky."

"Well, that's music to my ears." Horatio looked down at Amalia as he took a gloating bite of his bread. "Someone spike your tea with opium to keep you in place?"

"That was all Penance," Lucy piped up from the other end of the table, then she blushed and put her head back to her oatmeal, ignoring Penance's pointed stare. Penance hadn't yet told Amalia about her first meeting with Desiree, nor the secrets she had shared with the group, and she wasn't keen on doing it now. She snuck a glance at Desiree, who looked at her with an apologetic smile. Then she found herself wondering whether there she could isolate what it was about Desiree that pulled out such information and if she could just help her control that particular frequency, then perhaps… she snapped out of her thoughts as she noticed Horatio peering down at her.

"It's no easy task, keeping this one in bed. Got any tricks to share with me?"

Lucy and Penance both glanced at Desiree and Penance blushed, but it was Amalia who swooped in inadvertently to save them. "She read to me," she replied to Horatio, a dry gleam in her eye. "One page into Physics for the Disinclined and I was out for hours."

Horatio shrugged, thanking Penance with a wink and continuing his detour through the dining room. "Lucy, your bread is fine as always, don't tell my wife."

Lucy rolled her eyes as she dug a spoon into her oatmeal. "Thank you, Dr. Cousens, but you know I doubt your wife cares about how her recipes compares to mine. Her purpose in life isn't to be respected for her bread!" she called after him.

Myrtle turned to Amalia. Since her arrival, several of the girls had learned to communicate with her, but she had taken up her rightful position next to Amalia whenever she could, knowing she may understand anything that jumbled out of her mouth. "You're dressed today. Where are you going?" she asked in Turkish.

Myrtle was cheerful, but Amalia could see the flash of worry across her brow, one that seemed to replicate itself on the other girls as they looked at her. Amalia slabbed some jam onto the piece of bread that she thieved from Horatio, hoping to sate their worry with her usual terse confidence. "I'm going to pay a visit to Ms. Bidlow's estate."

Primrose looked dreamily at her from her the higher table where she sat, four bowls of oatmeal in front of her. "I heard my parents describe it after they once attended a gala there," she breathed. "They say Ms. Bidlow has three stables and a squash court. And inside there are rooms and rooms of paintings and portraits that look as if they are staring down at you."

"That's creepy."

"It's art." Penance continued, undeterred. "And a piano covered in flowers."

"I heard she has gardens that stretch on for days," echoed Kate. "Do you think she needs a gardener? Oh, to see that much greenery would be so nice."

"And a swimming pool," Lila said. "I could float us all in the deepest part of it." She glanced up at Primrose. "Almost all of us."

Amalia sighed, placing her bread back on her plate and clasping her hands. The girls were being girls, as they should, but at times like this it was best to remind them that all of their precautions to stay within the orphanage walls were in their best interest. "I know you all have been cooped up," she said, "but it is for your safety."
"It will pass," Harriet said, putting a finger in her mug to cool her steaming tea.

"It may not pass," Amalia warned.

Penance sighed and tossed a pleading glance toward Amalia, who, for all of her strengths, sometimes spoke to the girls as if they were small, pastel-draped soldiers in some larger battle that she seemed to keep in her head. She turned a placating smile to the girls, attempting to soften Amalia's words. "What Mrs. True means is that we'll always look out for you, no matter what. Even if it requires a little extra precautions if we want to go out and about."

"I heard Ms. Bidlow has her own circus bear."

Penance grinned. "I don't think she has a bear." She paused with a tilt of her head. "That I've seen."

"She also has her own security," Lucy said tossing a suggestive glance at Amalia. "Securest estate in all of London, I imagine."

Lila looked down at her oatmeal, her spoon floating lightly above it. "That must be grand. Better than here. Of course, here is lovely. It's just… here." The spoon landed with a plop in her bowl.

Harriet smiled, trying to cheer her up. "But we have a wonderful garden, don't we, that Kate takes care of so beautifully? Lots of green, right? In those tiny boxes? Spread out on top of the dirt and gravel?" She sighed, abandoning her effort before she even started. "It has been a bit of a dreary week."

Amalia looked at each of the girls in turn, meeting Lucy's raised eyebrows. Her priority for the past week had been to keep them safe, but that had also meant she'd kept them prisoners within the gates, something she swore she wouldn't do when she took on the orphanage. She closed her eyes and relinquished the jam knife, wondering how soon she would come to regret her next question. "How would you all like to accompany me to Ms. Bidlow's estate? It's a terrible idea, but I heard that those sometimes work out for the best."

The squeal around the table answered for her and she smiled, feeling a bit like someone deserving of love. Penance gave her a pleased glance, which was almost enough to take away any thought of potential consequences from bearing on Ms. Bidlow's estate with all of her charges. Amalia looked longingly at the slice of bread she'd won so handily from Horatio and placed it on Penance's plate with a wink.

It hadn't taken long for Amalia to regret her decision. The first time was the squeal and panic as the girls ransacked their closets for appropriate clothes to wear to the estate, forcing her to close the door to her office and pour another cup of brandy. The second time she regretted it was in attempting to outfit enough motor carriages for the dozen or so of them and convincing Primrose that she shouldn't walk in her good shoes. The third time she regretted it was when she had to outfit a motor carriage just to carry Primrose's good shoes so that she could change into them when she got nearer to the estate.

And now Amalia regretted it once more as she waited in Lavinia's sparkling white marble foyer, hands clasped daintily across her front for fear of reaching out and breaking one of the many porcelain figures that stared back at her, simply because she found all of the things money and wealth bought a bit suffocating. She had left her calling card with the butler, but had not bothered to mention the dozen or so girls waiting excitedly in the drive. It was a societal faux paux, to say the least, but in spite of Lavinia's many expectations of her, decorum was not one of them. Even if they had to succumb to manners and turn immediately back home, then at least the drive and the thought of an adventure had done them all some good.

Lavinia came toward her wearing her vague smile, an expression that did her well with her peers, if not endearing her to Amalia. She didn't bother with the niceties. "You have business to discuss, Mrs. True?" She waved away the butler.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm sorry for not giving more advanced notice."

"No bother, dear, I always have time for you when I wish to. How are the girls?"

"Funny you should ask," Amalia replied, walking the few steps to the door and swinging it open, revealing the gaggle of them standing expectantly just beyond it. "They would love to tell you themselves."

Lavinia was too much of a lady to show discontent or annoyance, especially to those who she was so inclined to help. But Amalia had the sense she did not appreciate her charges showing up at her doorstep, preferring to keep a boundary between herself and the Touched who she so wished to protect. Amalia could appreciate her money and her philanthropy, but at some point wondered why she hadn't settled on a fuzzier cause, like the plight of elephants.

The butlers and maids were put to extra work, showing the girls around the grounds, while Lucy, Penance, and Harriet kept their eyes keen for signs of an unexpected slip of a turn. Lavinia, most likely to separate herself as much as possible while still seeming friendly enough, set Amalia and herself up on the back portico with a pitcher of lemonade, a bottle of brandy, and a view to the immense gardens. As the girls played on the lawn and frolicked back and forth between their games and a three-tier set of cookies that Lucy seemed to be guarding with her life, Lavinia looked cooly at Amalia.

"I am sorry for springing all of us on you," Amalia reiterated. "But what with all of the strangeness happening, they have been within the walls of the orphanage too much as of late. It can get a bit dreary."

"I've tried to get you to accept my florist. A bit of spring color might do the place some good." She glanced at Lavinia's dark blouse and evergreen-colored skirt. "The same might do for you, too." Lavinia sighed, turning to Amalia with what appeared to be some guilt. "I imagine I should have sent an invitation for the girls long before now. I didn't for the life of me fathom they would want to come here." Amalia sensed a tacit apology there, and took pains not to disagree with Lavinia, though anyone with a right mind would know that adolescent girls would gnaw off an arm to step foot on her grounds.

Lavinia stared down at Mary, who sat in the grass beside Penance, her legs tucked beneath her like a gazelle. "That one is new."

Amalia followed her gaze. "Mary Brighton. The girl taken from the opera." Her intention had not been to regale Lavinia with the events that occurred in Dr. Hague's cellar, but as of late she had been questioning even her most solid intentions.

Lavinia gave a small, disappointed nod as she pursed her lips. "I do hope at some time you quit beating around the bush and tell me why you decided to pay a visit to Dr. Edmund Hague and just how exactly Mary came into your care?"

Amalia couldn't help looking over at Lavinia, surprised and rather annoyingly caught off guard. "It's not even mid-morning yet. Which of your society gossips told you that?"

"Lord Massen."

Amalia was struck speechless, as if Lavinia's hand had slapped across her cheek, her mind whirring to catch up and all she could manage was a churlish, "Doesn't he have more lordly things to do?"

"He informed me because he thought that as benefactor of the orphanage, I should know that the police may be questioning me about the woman I hired to run it."

Amalia's goodwill was already suited to a glass less than half full and Lord Massen's interference was siphoning what was left of it. "Did he inform you that Mary Brighton was in Dr. Hague's cellar? Was that also in this morning's scandal sheets?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Lavinia replied calmly. "Dr. Hague told him the entire story just as he told it to Inspector Mundi: that you came to visit him and after assaulting him with a parasol, no less, disappeared into his cellar. And then he saw several Touched women flee with Mary Brighton. He assumes Maladie had been keeping her there, toying with him much like she's toyed with her previous doctors, only he was thankfully spared his life."

Amalia stared at her, dumbfounded. And for the first time, she sensed just how much she had under estimated the extent to which people would believe falsities in order to free themselves from any sense of accountability. In a world such as this, the pit of societal maltreatment was bottomless. "You don't honestly believe that?"

"I don't have to believe it or not believe it, I just have to be aware of it." Lavinia morphed her unreadable expression into a smile as Kate leaned toward one of her rose bushes and made the buds open in a burst of red. "That is quite a helpful turn," she breathed, then turned a still gaze back to Amalia. "Do you want to tell me what you wish me to believe?"

Adrenaline pushed Amalia out of her chair, and she paced for a few moments before leaning against the marble stone wall and crossing her arms, as if to physically check her anger. "I did visit Dr. Hague."

"Mhmm."

"I did assault him."

"So far, we're two for two."

"I assaulted him after he pulled a pistol on me. I only went down to his cellar because I heard a scream. Mary Brighton was already there and -" she thought better of dragging Penance into her mess "- and she was able to flee. But not with me. Dr. Hague strung me up by my arms and meant to experiment on me." She balled her hands into two fists.

"Amalia, you'll have to do better than that." Lavinia raised a hand at her incredulous stare. "I'm not saying I don't believe you. I'm saying no one else will. Dr. Hague is known for his work with the Touched. That's how he came to know Maladie. He said as much to the police. You might notice he is at an advantage because he went immediately to the proper authorities." Lavinia looked squarely at Amalia. "If what you say is true, then why didn't you go to the police?"

"They're not exactly known to be working overtime in order to help the Touched, are they?" Amalia shook her head. "Masked figures have been kidnapping Touched girls for weeks and no one has batted an eye. They were there, by the way, in his cellar. That most likely didn't make his report to the police."
"As he says, they were not known to him."

Amalia glanced at Lila and Myrtle laughing in the distance and suddenly her stomach dropped at the thought that they were too far away from her. It was a bad idea to bring the girls here and to remotely play at the idea that they could immerse themselves in a place that didn't quite want them. She turned back to Lavinia, feeling the breath moving in her own chest, her fingers twitching at her side. From this vantage point, her vacated chair appeared much more solid than her own two feet. She sat, her fingers now twitching in her lap.
"You are making serious allegations," Lavinia said. "And as you just stated, you don't have many allies." She gave her a pointed stare. "And the one that you do have is starting to believe the theory that you are somehow involved with Maladie."

Amalia felt the expanse of the estate closing in on her. She did not like it when she was put into a box, especially one not of her own making. "Dr. Hague meant to keep you in the cellar, you say," Lavinia continued. "How did you escape?"

Amalia trusted Lavinia with some information. She did not trust her with secrets nor generally her own thoughts. She didn't trust anyone with her thoughts anymore, a lesson learned brutally and not forgotten. Amalia's fingers brushed against one another and she felt the patio and the lawn begin to slip away from her. Lavinia reached over and grabbed her hand harshly, placing a half-filled glass of brandy in it.

"Don't avoid my question," she directed, her blue eyes as commanding as a physical tug.

Amalia slipped her hand from Lavinia's grip and stood again, if only to rid herself of Lavinia's stare. The girls were starting a game of red rover, which Primrose was sure to win, and she hoped Penance might put a stop to it before there were serious injuries with which she may have to contend. "I am your employee, but you are not my handler," she said coolly, avoiding the question. She didn't appreciate Lavinia's knowing glance and turned her eyes instead to studying the brown liquid in her glass. "How does Lord Massen come to run in the same circles as a man like Dr. Hague?"

"He's very well-respected in certain circles." Lavinia sighed. "Every side has their scientists and their doctors. Everything is true and nothing is true. It's all a part of the war of ideals."

"It isn't a war of ideals if it hurts people. Then it's just a war."

"Then you should be right at home, dear." Lavinia leaned back in her chair and looked thoughtfully up at her. "I should think the Touched would want to know more about their gifts. Aren't you curious as to the machinations of the event?"

"No, I'm not," Amalia answered, unthinkingly. "I've never felt more like myself."

"Amalia, you must understand something about Lord Massen. The day that you all received your gift, is they day that his daughter died. He is convinced that the event itself killed her. That sort of grief has primed him even more for certain beliefs. Dr. Hague helped pioneer early research into the Touched and Lord Massen funded the start of it. He wasn't very happy to be funding an American researcher, but you know the Americans. Always the first to jump into chaos."

Amalia instinctually moved her slightly less stiff arm. "It isn't research, it's torture." She wheeled on Lavinia. "Is your money funding this?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

Lavinia didn't answer right away. "I am interested in studies on the Touched, although perhaps not Dr. Hague's. I can, however, find out where his funds are coming from. And you can do your part to tell Inspector Mundi about these masked men, especially if you think that they are connected to Maladie. It may help him abandon this theory that you are working in concert with her."

"The masks are one of the reasons why I am here." Amalia sat back down. "We've gotten three new charges in the last two weeks alone. I imagine we'll be getting more in the weeks ahead." Amalia was so certain of this because she was intent on exposing Dr. Hague and anyone else who was hunting the Touched and who might have taken girls like Myrtle. "I'd like to expand the orphanage. The lot behind us for sale. We could easily fill it. With your support, of course."

"Are you still tracking the girls' turns and their progress in controlling them?"

"Of course. We keep meticulous records."

"And are they making progress?" Lavinia had the knack of asking questions to which she already knew the answer. But that didn't stop Amalia from lying to her from time to time.

"Brilliant progress."

"For this new wing you propose, have you thought about a pragmatic compromise in which we intake those whose turns are not quite as drastic as some?" She looked at her. "We can't take in every Touched. We must make some choices and we may as well make the ones that benefit our cause."

"No. We take any who come to us."

The icy stare returned. "Amalia. You have said yourself this is a delicate time. It would be pragmatic for us to have some sort of system to determine who should come into our care and who is better left to other means."

Amalia felt a lump in her throat that she tried to swallow. "Like an asylum, you mean. Or a fucking prison." She shook her head. "No. I know my girls and I know how to handle them. The goal is to gather as many as possible."

"That's not what my orphanage's charter says. You'd do well to re-read it in your spare time. The goal is to house the Touched who need a helping hand to reintegrate them back into society. We're not here to restore the likes of Maladie."

"Whether we have Primrose or Maladie or Bonfire Annie, we're not going to win the public's favor."

"You certainly won't." Lavinia sighed. "I will okay the expansion with one condition. More security at all times."

Amalia eyed her. "Security for us or for those outside the walls?"

Lavinia was losing her patience. "Your mistrust is diabolical. You believe the worse in everyone, including me," she said with a shake of her head as she poured herself a glass of lemonade. "Funny, considering you ask the rest of us to believe the best in the Touched."

"I won't allow the girls to be kept as prisoners or their whereabouts questioned."

"Last time I saw you I tried leveraging kindness to appeal to your sensibilities, but that clearly didn't work so today I'll try guilt."

"I'd argue that you used guilt last time, too," Amalia pointed out.

"You need my money for your expansion, Amalia, don't pretend you are above it. Money is the common denominator of any good cause. And more than once, it has been the destroyer of a bad cause here and there. Money is a tool. And I happen to be very good at using it." She raised a hand and rang a small bell on the side of her chair. "Lord Massen took an interest in you at the opera. He has even more of an interest after your supposed run-in with Dr. Hague."

"You say Lord Massen is your friend."

"I have a lot of friends, Amalia, many of them who I dislike greatly."

"He seems to have a lot of opinions about the Touched, for never having stepped foot in your beloved orphanage or interacted with any outside of a medical study."

"I believe he's contemplating a committee on the Touched. Who better to find a spot on this committee than a woman who works closely with them?"

"You would be a great asset to the committee," Amalia agreed.

"How pious of you," Lavinia replied dryly. "I meant you."

Amalia shook her head and angled her nose to her glass, as if she meant to avoid her duty by swimming in drink.

"You'll come to Church on Sunday," Lavinia stated. "Lord Massen attends regularly, as do the rest of the Conservative caucus. You can bring Miss Adair with you, she has a way of thankfully grounding you." Lavinia eyed Amalia as she tossed back the rest of her brandy. "You may want to brush up on The Lord's Prayer."

Amalia watched the girls toss their heads back in laughter as they braided flowers in each other's hair, their demeanors so strikingly different from the somber and scared girls that had initially come to her. They may not have learned yet to completely control their turns, but they had learned to take pride in themselves once again. It took time to overcome trauma. "What if there is a higher purpose than feeding them and putting clothes on their backs?"

"You don't strike me as the type to preoccupy yourself with a higher purpose."

Amalia was surprised by how much the comment cut her. She didn't think so highly of herself, either, but she couldn't ignore the prickle that kept reminding her that somewhere, underneath her own anger, there was a latent purpose waiting if only she could access it. She back glanced at Lavinia. "Have you got a football?"

On the lawn, Penance and Mary ignored the perfectly fine benches just a few feet away and instead allowed themselves the luxury of sitting in the freshly cut grass. They watched as Augustus Bidlow tried his best to get a kite to take flight, but the wind refused to cooperate with him, forcing it to draggle near the ground. After a few moments of faster and ever fruitless running, Lila walked up to him and gestured at the kite, and suddenly it was floating magically high and the girls stood in the field watching it with their heads turned up like recently bloomed flowers. Penance inhaled the scent of fresh air untouched by grime and soot and proximity to progress. She turned to Mary.

"How are you holding up?"

Mary fidgeted with her hands. "I'm constantly expecting the worst and hoping the worst is behind me."

"Well, you're in good hands with us."

"How did you come to the orphanage?"

Penance watched the kite float higher, and thought perhaps Lila would be unable to bring it back towards them. "I heard Ms. Bidlow was considering opening up a place for the Touched and I offered myself as a teacher. I hadn't been to University, and still haven't, but I thought perhaps I could be useful in some regard." She steeled her face. "I knew I could be useful," she corrected. "And Mrs. True saw it. She brought me on and the rest is history."

"And the other girls?" Mary asked. "Some of them don't come as willingly?"

Penance shook her head. "No. Some come with sadness, fear, some just plain exhaustion of being alone and uncared for." She motioned to the smiling girls in the grass. "But after awhile, they find themselves again."

"Has anyone left the orphanage?" Mary asked suddenly. "Gone back to their homes?"

Penance shook her head. She'd never thought about it and hadn't questioned it until that moment, but all of the girls stayed on, either due to their own wishes or the wishes of their families that refused to take them back and paid a small severance fee to assuage their guilt. "No, not as of yet. We're all still here." She picked a blade of grass, letting her finger run along its side. "And more come each day, it seems. But each of us is free to leave should we want."

Augustus walked up to them, his normally pallid face flushed with exertion. "That young lady is a godsend," he panted, motioning to the kite, which had found its place again just below the clouds. "I couldn't for the life of me catch the wind today."

"It's very nice of you to entertain them," Penance offered with a smile. Next to her Mary shifted and got to her knees. She still wasn't one for strangers and Penance could see the sudden need for her to flee as she eyed Kate near the rosebushes. Begging her leave with a gentle but unsure smile, she got up and left Penance to get to her feet and stand next to Augustus.

"If you want to catch a lift on a passing bird," Penance said, "I won't judge you for it. I can stand in companionable silence with you and make sure you don't slump to the ground or fall asleep." She chuckled as her effort pulled a bashful smile from Augustus. "What a wondrous turn. If I had a turn remotely like yours, I would want to be a star and observe the universe and what it looks like and then burn out." She shrugged. "And of course return to my body, after. Whole and unburnt, preferably. But it would be something."

"That would be fascinating," he agreed.

"I'm afraid of heights," she confessed. "Do you think that would matter? Are you frightened of heights?"

"Well now that depends. I am afraid of ladders, I don't like to go near them. I'm not afraid of bridges. But no, when I'm flying, I'm not afraid. I don't think you would be afraid being a star. It would be almost like you weren't high up at all. Like you were grounded up there. A star doesn't recognize space just as a fish doesn't recognize water. It's just home, isn't it?" His face fell as he watched the kite sail towards a tree and he put his hand out nervously as if to stop it himself.

"Oh dear," he said as it came to a sudden stop in the branches of a large maple. "I should also note that I'm not afraid when climbing trees, either. Although it would be much easier to dislodge it as a bird. But I don't yet have full control over it." He smiled at her and walked at a fast clip toward the tree.

Amalia walked down the small green slope towards her. "Ms. Bidlow is ordering luncheon to be prepared for the girls." She looked at Augustus as he ran for the tree. "You got caught out with him," Amalia said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be cruel. He's nice to talk to," Penance said.

Amalia glanced at Penance's open and unhindered smile. "How do you find it in yourself to be so nice all the time? Is it not tiring?"

Penance shrugged. "I can't really make sense out of people, so I just let them be."

"He likes you," Amalia pointed out with an amused grin.

"He does," Penance agreed lightly.

"Poor thing."

"Are you jealous?"

Amalia laughed confidently as she watched him uncertainly place a foot on a low tree limb before clambering up it. "No."

"He is very sweet. He's Touched. I found out at the opera, but he just told me about his delightful turn. Apparently he can fly. Well, he can't fly. He can sort of fly along with the bird in his mind's eye. He said he saw us coming today, followed us down the lane."

"Very male turn, if you ask me," Amalia replied, watching as Augustus uselessly shook the tree limb, until Primrose walked up behind him and reached for the kite, easily untangling it. "Using a bird's eye view to stalk women."

"So just a tad jealous, then?" Penance playfully shoved Amalia and then stepped closer to her. "You and Lavinia chatted for awhile."

"Long enough for me to right her impressions about what happened in Dr. Hague's cellar. He's quite the diabolical gas lighter. And unfortunately for me, very well connected." She shook her head. "Society has exhausted me today."

Penance laughed. "I'd say we're society-adjacent."

"I'm tired," Amalia said candidly, and Penance caught her chewing the inside of her cheek.

"What if you tried not saving the world for a bit?" Amalia looked at her with the same dark eyes, but for a brief moment she wasn't there. Not in the way of being pulled into a ripple, which now Penance was more than familiar with, but with a strangeness as if she had stepped into the skin of a stranger and found that her hands were not her own.

"That's counter to my mission," Amalia said slowly, blinking and putting a hand to her neck. Now her eyes were back and they peered back at Penance with some confusion. "Penance, I'm getting these snippets -"

She stopped mid sentence as Augustus lumbered back over with timing that tested even Penance's limitless patience. He smiled at her as he brushed a leaf from his shoulder. "All of your girls are quite helpful," he said.

"Mr. Bidlow, have you done any pheasant hunting as of late?" Amalia asked, ignoring Penance's admonishing glance.

His face went pale. "Oh no, I no longer partake in bird hunting of any sort."

Amalia shook her head in faux disappointment. "Shame, our dear Primrose has quite excelled at it since her turn." She raised her arm and pinched her fingers together. "Just reaches up and plucks them right out of the sky. Just like that."

Augustus's normal pallid color returned and Penance gave Amalia a quick whack on her arm. "She's teasing."

One of the butlers came up to them, face mild and holding two newly stitched round footballs on a silver platter.

"Your balls, Mrs. True."

Lucy bounded over and plucked one from the butler's hand with an excited gleam in her eye. "Ay, I haven't played in awhile." She tossed a ball in her hand and eyed Amalia, sizing her up. "What do you say, noodle arms? Are your legs up for a scrimmage?"

Amalia squared her shoulders and stepped toward her, gamely ready for the challenge.

Penance simply sighed, staring at the both of them. "Might I remind you, this is a bad idea and so forth and so on." She gave up with a wave of her hand and glanced at Augustus. "They won't listen."

"That depends," Amalia said to Lucy, not listening. "Are you ready for the hurt your pride will take if my noodle arms beat you?"

"Ain't gonna happen, lass."

"Oh no," Penance muttered under her breath, taking the other football and politely dismissing the poor butler.

"What?" Augustus asked, one fascinated eye still on Amalia and Lucy, as if he were on safari and reserving the right to flee as he watched two birds of prey prepare for a fight.

"They're quite competitive. Violently so."

Amalia was already plotting a win, hands on her hips and boots apart as she stood and looked out across the grass toward the girls. "I get Wendy as goalie. Primrose's legs can be our goal markers."

Lucy mirrored her stance, sucking her teeth. "I get Lila. Katie can grow us a couple of trees for markers."

Penance watched apprehensively as the girls divided themselves into teams, prancing into place like cranes nipping at the crest of a tidal wave. At Amalia's direction, Wendy headed straight for their made up goal between Primrose's parted feet, stretching one of her legs up to her ear. Katie made her way to the opposite side of the grass, sticking her hand in the soil and growing two small fir trees as goal posts.

Augustus looked at Penance. "How will they play with those skirts on?"

"How do we do anything with these skirts?"

Amalia turned and yelled back at them with the authority of a league owner. "Augustus and Penance, we're down a couple! Come on!"

Augustus covered his panic with a demure shake of his head, but Penance tried to shore him up with a conspiratorial smile. "I'm horrid at sports," she assured him. "It could be fun, though. Maybe you'll be so lucky as to get out there and find your way into a bird. The trick is to just stay out of their way."

He nodded. "That's my usual way with women."

"Penance, you're with me!" Amalia called, but Penance shook her head as she passed her, heading toward Lucy instead.

"I'm putting Augustus on your team, if only to keep you from unintentionally pummeling him."

Amalia shrugged and squared away with Lucy at the center of the pitch, each hiking their skirts up and staring at one another with the look of two lions squaring off over the same meal. Amalia started, tapping the ball with her foot and driving toward Lucy's left, picking up speed as she dribbled between Lila and Harriet. Lila, her small legs spry and unhindered by extra fabrics of skirt and petticoat, caught up quickly and Amalia attempted to maneuver around her, but the ball began to float off the ground, hovering knee high. Amalia jumped and tamped it back down with her foot. "Lila! That's foul play!"

"I'm not using my hands," Lila insisted with a grin and the ball moved slowly up again.

This time Amalia jumped and used her head to bump it over to Myrtle, who was calling out to her. "Passa la palla!"

Myrtle controlled the ball with a tip of her boot and beamed as she dribbled towards the makeshift goal, but Lucy came up from behind her with the speed and strength of a hunting hound, her foot finding its way around Myrtle's leg and stealing the ball backwards. Myrtle let out a frustrated laugh, panting as she worked to slow herself enough to turn back, and Lucy cackled her way down the field.

"Better watch out for me, girlie!" She wove the ball around Mary's half-hearted attempt at a steal, a joyful whoop frightening a couple of birds sitting along a flowered veranda.

Amalia gave Myrtle a thumbs up of encouragement and then ran toward Lucy with both the speed and hiss of steam engine, almost colliding with her from behind. She caught herself and snaked a foot around in an attempt at a steal, but Lucy hopped over it with the grace of a colt leaping over a felled tree and doubled back, spinning the ball under her foot and making Amalia grunt in frustration. Augustus stood, shocked in place at the unforeseen talent, Lucy coddling the ball forward like a mother hen moving a duck.

"Augustus, move your arse!" Amalia bellowed, just a flash of dark hair as she sped by and gave him a push on the shoulder. He started running, if only to avoid another push from her rock of a fist.

Lucy passed the ball to Penance, who stopped it with her toe as she let out a reluctant groan, watching as Amalia changed course and railed towards her.

Penance ran blindly toward Wendy and Primrose's goal, kicking the ball in small spurts. "I hate sports!" she yelled nervously and kicked it desperately, forcing herself to keep her eyes open and watched with a surprised smile as it sailed over Wendy's outstretched leg. She let the victory sink in as she stood in place for a moment, Lucy running too quickly at her and giving her a high five that stung her palm.

"I love sports!" she yelled again, pumping two fists in the air as Lucy ran too quickly at her and slapped a stinging high five into her palm. Penance winced. Victory hurt sometimes.

Amalia couldn't help but give Penance a reluctant but genuine grin. "Beginner's luck!" she called towards her, Penance's smile pricking her competitive bubble just for a second. Amalia glanced back at Wendy with what she hoped was a good-natured huff. "You couldn't have gotten to that one? You can bend backwards."

"That's one to blitzing nothing," Lucy pointed out needlessly, as Amalia did her best to ignore her and reset the ball in the center. This time, she let Mary start off, and found an opening far enough from Lucy to allow for Mary's clumsy but helpful pass. Amalia caught Katie's terrified eyes as she sped down the pitch, Lucy's pounding steps behind her. She stopped short and moved left, letting Lucy pass her and then brought her foot back and kicked the ball with enough force that Katie simply stepped aside, letting it sail through her two small trees.

"Line drive!" Amalia shouted as she pumped a fist, doubling back to Mary and giving her a quick pat on the shoulder.

Soon the girls learned to lean in and out as needed, lining up and assisting with a pass here and there, but for the most part staying out of Lucy and Amalia's way enough to enjoy the show the two of them were unwittingly putting on. At one point, the two of them seemed to be locked together like two fighting crabs, their legs tangling in control of the ball.

"That's a foul!" Lucy yelled up at Amalia as she tumbled to the ground after an errant elbow found its way into her side.

"You let these noodle arms knock you about?" Amalia asked her coyly.

"From my view, it did look intentional," Primrose cut in.

Lucy took her chance as Amalia tossed a glance up at Primrose, breaking away with a clean line toward the goal. Myrtle playfully ran alongside her, smart enough not to actually try and stop her. Lucy pegged a side kick toward the goal, but this time Wendy managed to block it with a knee toward her ear, sending it back out into play. Lucy wasted no time driving again to the goal, but Amalia was gaining speed and Lucy turned, bounding her back end out and splaying it into Amalia's hip. That gave her space to send the ball right into the side of Primrose's feet. It hit her toe and Primrose widened her stance, allowing it to roll in.

"Goal!" Lucy called again, two-stepping her way back to the center line.

"Time!" Amalia called, rubbing her hip as she beckoned to her girls, darting an annoyed but respectful look Lucy's way. As the girls huddled around her, she leaned forward and put her hands on her knees, breathing hard. "It's not about winning or losing," she said to them. "It's about how we play the game." She nodded, as if convincing herself. "But if you girls don't move your arses out there and play the game a bloody hell of a lot better then we are going to lose."

"But it's not about winning or losing."
"Right, but we still want to win."

"I'm having fun, I don't really care."

"Yes, it is fun, but winning is even more fun." Amalia looked at them each in turn, both aware and uncaring of the amused glances they were giving her. "Drive the ball harder and don't be afraid of running into them a bit here and there. They can take it."

"Mrs. True, you're very red."

"Are you going to vomit?"

"No." Amalia pushed a sweaty strand of hair from her face. "This is what determination looks like, girls."

Myrtle smiled at her and spoke in Hebrew. "Mrs. True, you are funny."

Amalia could see that she was getting nowhere and sought to close her speech. "Use your minds, use your bodies, and WIN!"

She clapped her hands and held them out to the girls who raised several tepid eyebrows and met the palm of her hands with gentle slaps. Amalia watched them run gleefully back to the game, shaking her head. She looked back at Wendy with an over-determined stare and pointed two fingers at her own eyes before pointing them at her goalie's. "This is up to us," she said seriously.

Wendy tossed a nervous glance at her. "This is why Miss Adair won't invite you to game night, isn't it?"

Amalia waved her away and made her way back to the center of the pitch, where she saw Penance watching her with a knowing and very amused expression. Amalia glanced at Augustus, trying to mediate her tone so as not to scare the poor boy. "Can you imagine yourself as a bird looking down at us?"

He arched his eyebrow at her, wondering at her sudden change in demeanor. "Of course."

"Then use your bird's eye view to place yourself on the pitch where there are open holes and keep in mind where I am at all times. When I pass the ball to you, just kick it into the bloody goal. Can you do that?"

He nodded at her, still somewhat fearful, but looked forward, determined. Amalia dribbled slowly, towards Penance this time, coming at her with a smile. "Are you having fun?" she asked gaily.

"There are different degrees of fun, I suppose," Penance answered, pushing a curl out of her face as she kept her eye on the ball.

"Remind me what Newton says about equal and opposite forces?" Amalia tapped the ball lightly as she walked.

"Don't distract me, Amalia, it won't work," Penance warned her. But it had worked and she straightened. "You're thinking of the third law. But I think you mean the first: once a thing is moved, it continues to move."

"Ah, right," Amalia breathed, and kicked the ball past Penance, picking up speed as she rounded her with a grin and took back control of the ball, but Lucy was already there waiting for her with a fixed, determined face. Amalia passed the ball to Myrtle, but Lila was in front of her, ready for a block, and Myrtle sailed the ball over to Mary, who was already more than eager to be rid of it. Mary passed the ball back to Amalia, but the kick was high and the ball sailed across the pitch over their heads.

Amalia took a running leap and saw the ball coming towards her, ready for the productive thump of it against the top of her forehead. But instead, she felt herself being pulled away from the grass and had no time to contemplate whether she had ever had a ripple in mid-air before she found herself under ground, fear thumping her heart at an unsustainable place. She was crouched low, underneath a wooden scaffold that shook as footsteps passed across the top of it. Amalia scooted backwards, staying along the wall and keeping her eyes on the roof of the scaffold, tracking the steps. She saw legs descending a makeshift staircase at the end of it and she looked panicky at the overly large boots, knowing that she wasn't sure who they belonged to and that finding out may indeed put her in even more danger. She continued inching backwards, until suddenly the dirt and ground gave way and she felt herself falling, a choked scream echoing against the dirt walls around her.

The darkness shifted to light, too bright, and then Amalia saw the grass beneath her again and the ball coming towards her head. Her mastery of exiting ripples, if it could even be called that, did not extend to air bound exercises and she braced herself for a come down. She had barely registered the ball before her head did indeed tap it, although lightly, and she went down hard, skidding along the grass, teeth clacking as her chin hit the ground. She glanced up as she saw Augustus stare at the ball for a quick second and tap it delicately into the goal.

"Yay, Augustus!" yelled the girls, jumping on him in joy. "You got a goal!"

Amalia rolled onto her back, slowly catching her breath, feeling as if a tire iron had come down on her chest. She blinked, still attempting to right herself back to the moment, where she was all but certain that she set up Augustus with an invisible assist that may have tied the game. Penance's head appeared above her, concern crossing her brow. Amalia blinked and then Lucy's head appeared, too.

"Ms. Bidlow is calling for lunch," Lucy said down to her. "Truce for now?"

Amalia coughed, tasting blood on her cheek as she pulled a blade of grass from between her lips. "Never."

"Will the two of you give it up," Penance sighed, reaching for Amalia's hand and pulling her to her feet. Amalia tottered for a moment, leaning into Lucy, who pushed her lightly back into Penance's arms.

Penance continued. "Find your manners again, I know they're buried deep."

Amalia steadied herself, beaming from the rush of energy and the sunshine and this time leaned into Penance for pure pleasure. Lucy was gleaming, too, not only from the fine sheen of sweat but from joy. The girls were still congratulating Augustus.

"I'll recommend Ms. Bidlow serve luncheon on the patio, if only to save her carpets," Amalia said, skimming her toe over the now scrappy patch of grass where she'd fallen. "Kate can grow this patch of grass back before we leave."

Penance laughed, watching as the girls, bedraggled but invigorated, made their way toward the house. "Look at us," she said, pointing at their found family. "We look very fine."

Amalia smiled. "I think so, too." She couldn't resist a last comment as Lucy walked ahead of them. "You arse is mine next time."

"Shaking in my corset!" Lucy called without turning her head. "You two lovebirds dawdle all you want. More cakes for me."

Amalia looked strangely at her, then at Penance. "We're not that obvious, are we?"

Penance sighed, pulling away from her. "I've been meaning to tell you," she started uncomfortably. "When I first met Desiree, I was all worked up about your certain death and all and I happened to perhaps alluded to the fact that I loved you - "

"Desiree's used to that," Amalia interrupted, unconcerned. "She's forgotten all about it."

"I said it in front of Lucy." Penance toed her foot in the grass. "And the girls. And Two fingers."

Amalia's eyes wised. "Ah. Which girls, then? I'll have a chat with them."

"All of them," Penance replied with a sigh. "I might as well have screamed it from the rooftop. I did scream it, come to think of it." She let out a shaky breath. "I told everyone but Horatio, basically.

"Oh, I've told Horatio," Amalia said with a wave of her hand. She felt Penance's eyes. "He's seen my insides, I can tell him anything."

"I can have a talk with the girls," Penance offered, wondering where this left them. It wasn't the type of tale one told in polite society, much less in the yard of Ms. Bidlow's very grand estate.

"No," Amalia said, shaking her head as she watched the girls climb the stairs to Ms. Bidlow's incredibly overdone luncheon spread. She watched as the girls politely sat themselves, their eyes as big as their stomachs. Lucy adjusted her gloves, carefully eyeing the china. "We're teaching them to take pride in who they are, we can't very well hide ourselves." Amalia glanced at Penance, measuring her. "If they ask, I'll affirm it. Shout it from the rooftops." She smiled. "That is, if that's all right with you."

Penance took her hand, pulling her across the lawn, but Amalia stopped her with a curious glance. "So it has to be a near-death sort of thing, does it, to get an 'I love you' out of you?"

The girls had long been in bed as Penance wandered just outside her workshop, night having fallen a few of hours earlier. She had skipped dinner, still too full from their large lunch, and holed up in her lab in hopes of coming up with something that could preserve Mary's song once she found it again. Sound recording was a tedious process and the Americans were already attempting to profit off of Edison's invention, but she was interested in how to record Mary's voice on her own. This knowing of what it is she needed to know that she didn't already know always helped calm her. She had reached the point where she could opt to keep going and crash on her cot or head up to her room. Instead, she sat along the table near the edge of the garden and glanced at the sky.

Footsteps rustled behind her and then she heard Amalia's voice. "I thought I'd find you still working," she said, holding out a steaming mug of tea. "Want some?"

Penance took it, letting the steam evaporate some of the soot off her face. The smell of chamomile made her want to wash up and fall into a nice, warm bed, preferably next to Amalia. It felt nice, to be enveloped in a warm vapor. "Just looking at the stars a bit. Always nice to remind myself that there are creations I'll never be able to top."

"Oh, I doubt that," Amalia replied, stretching a leg onto the bench with a wince. "Legs are a bit sore after that scrimmage."

"Sometimes I feel sorry for your body."

"It's been good to me," Amalia said with a grin, although the familiar tug at her neck was back, begging itself to be noticed.

Penance took a sip from the mug and cringed. "Good Lord, what is this?"

"Tea," Amalia said, taking the mug from her and sitting beside her atop the table. "Mostly whiskey, but some tea." She took a long sip and enjoyed the faint burn of the liquor in her throat as she craned her neck toward the sky. "You know there's a better view of the stars from atop your workshop."

This surprised Penance and she reached for the mug. Now that the initial burn had dissipated, she craved its spreading warmth again. "You've been scaling the roof of my lab? Can't you just read a novel or something?"

Amalia laughed. "I was retrieving a tennis ball for Lila one afternoon and happened to find an expedient route up."

Penance was now studying the roofline. "How on earth did you get up there?"

Amalia leapt off the table and took the mug from Penance, taking another long sip, and then another one, before setting it on the table and flashing her a mischievous curl of her lips. "I thought you'd never ask."

Penance followed Amalia around to the side of the orphanage where a trellis covered in wisteria ran halfway up the wall. Amalia began to climb, then heard Penance call up after her.

"You'll ruin the flowers."

"Kate can grow them back tomorrow." Amalia scaled the trellis nimbly, setting way too high of a bar for Penance, who watched as she pulled effortlessly onto the small balcony by the second floor window. The longer Penance watched her, the more she thought she should resign herself to a view of the stars from no higher than the top of the picnic table. Amalia hopped the small gap between the balcony and the workshop's slightly sloped roof and lovingly gestured Penance up.

"This is more athleticism than I've attempted to exhibit in a long while," Penance said, climbing slowly up the trellis, pausing to breathe in the musky scent of the flowers, which reminded her a little of Amalia, if paired with amber and whiskey. She set a tentative foot on the balcony and took tiny steps toward Amalia's hand, afraid that even attempting to speak would throw her off balance. She grabbed Amalia's outstretched arm and felt a little spark of exuberance as she was pulled safely across the the gap. Still holding Penance's hand, Amalia walked carefully up the low slope and perched at the even crest at the top.

Penance followed suit and lay back on the roof, holding her breath in awe because she was certain that perhaps she'd discovered what it felt like to be a star. She was burning so bright, knowing her own impermanence contributed to the glow. "It's like everything beneath us has faded away, like we're on some ship in the sky."

"There's an invention for you to build," Amalia said, turning her head to look at her.

"Are you ready for church tomorrow?"

"Can we talk about something more pleasant?"

"Church isn't meant to be unpleasant," Penance replied with a smile. "I never really minded it. People trying to understand something incomprehensible. And you need something to help you make sense out of all this." She waved her hand toward the sky. "Religion just gives you the tools to hold things in you that you don't all the way understand. Some people need it more than others."

She looked at Amalia, wondering what fueled the yearning in her, and the sometimes sadness, knowing it wasn't science, which worked for Penance, or anything like the religion she was used to.

Amalia lay back, pensive. "I can't really speak on it, but I sense people cling to religion out of fear, to strike themselves apart from things they don't understand and plop it into one of two buckets: good or evil. Thousands of years and yet people succumb to a binary." She looked over at Penance and reached for her hand, placing her own on top of it. "You're never frightened by what you don't understand."

"Of course I am," Penance protested. "I just know my fear won't help me understand it any better."

"I wish more people were like you," Amalia replied, then turned to her a spark of unadulterated attention in her eye. "Give me a sermon, Miss Adair. Take me to your church."

Penance blushed, grateful for the dark and less grateful for the sudden sweatiness of her palm. "That's blasphemous."

Amalia's eyes locked on hers and she spoke with a dogmatic certainty. "You're a work of God, aren't you? Tell me your truth."

Amalia might as well have been God at that moment, because it was as if Penance had been struck by lightning, all stillness on the outside and constant, pulsing vibration on the inside. Amalia's awareness of her sparked that bolt of lightning into her eyes, down her spine and through her pelvis where it pooled into a deep, spreading warmth between her thighs. She was in awe of how raw it made her feel.

If she had her wits about her, she might have laughed at the sudden dawning in Amalia as Penance reached a lustful hand toward her. Amalia's eyes widened as if someone had surprised her with cake, and she pounced, rolling over Penance and snaking a leg between her thighs. Their skirts, their plentiful skirts, were in the way, but it didn't matter. Amalia slid Penance's up as best she could, keeping her head on a constant gravitational rotation between Penance's lips, neck, and breasts.

Penance moaned quietly, expecting to feel the pinch of the night air on her skin, but Amalia was on her, and in her, covering her with heat. She finished, her eyes locked onto the sky, finally feeling what it was like to blaze as brightly as a star, her hips buckling as she burned out. But even after she finished, she wasn't ready to stop, her body still pulsing. She wrapped an arm around Amalia's back and clamped her down to her as she let her other hand dip into her skirts, reciprocating the pleasure and pleading for Amalia to look at her before she collapsed completely, sealing them together once again.

Amalia's breath was heavy on Penance's chest and she shuddered as Penance ran her fingers along her thigh. "If church was more like that, perhaps I'd go." Her voice was still spent. "You are a goddess, Miss Adair."

"Shut up, you'll get us both struck down by lighting." Penance kept her mouth nibbling on Amalia lips, her hand brushing against the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. Amalia tensed underneath her fingers.

As if she knew that Penance felt her stiffen, Amalia spoke. "I think god is nothing. Not in the pejorative sense, but just space. I find myself in that space sometimes, this blank knowing. Not emptiness, but…" she trailed off, wondering when she'd last fully felt absorbed in that deep and peaceful knowing and her chest clenched as the realization hit her: the very first time Maladie zapped her with her eye glow. Amalia felt a coldness run through her at the thought of Sarah, the asylum, and pulled Penance closer for fear that if she didn't, her mind would split them apart. "I'm tired."

"An emptiness, but not," Penance echoed, her brain whirring. "Like a quanta carrying force."

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean," Amalia replied dryly.

"No, I mean the space you're describing. Like the space between atoms, it's a vacuum of sorts, but that's underestimating it because it's filled with s-orbitals and exchanges of tiny charges. An emptiness to the bare eye, or microscope, but always calibrating and steadying."

"So a very necessary nothing." Amalia waited for Penance's nod. "That is exactly how I wish to feel." She turned a bit so that she could look up at the stars, their fingers intertwined. After a few minutes, Amalia spoke again. "Is this where I shout from the rooftops that you're my very necessary something?"

Penance laughed. "No need to shout it."

"Shall we retire to more comfortable quarters?"

"If you'll promise me you'll get me down from here in one piece." Amalia stood, shifting her skirt as best she could and helped Penance up. "Will you bring that stimulator device of yours?"

Penance arched a worried brow. "Is your shoulder stiffening up?"

Amalia raised both eyebrows, a spark of longing firing in them. "No."

Penance laughed at the gleam in her eye, letting the pleasure build in her once again. With a last look at the stars, they made their way back toward solid ground.