Grace
The Earl urged Lottie, Henry and I to go on ahead while he brought up the rear. I could tell Henry's knee was paining him; spending a night out in such a damp cold was not good for him. A fine sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and he was pale, and once on the way up I saw him lean on Lottie for support.
'Henry,' I said when we reached the top, Lottie venturing forth first to push at the door. It swung open. 'Are you all right? You're limping.'
'Yes, Lady Grace,' he said, giving me a bracing smile. 'I am just a bit stiff is all.'
The Embassy was deathly silent and still when we entered. The weak grey light from outside filtered weakly through the windows, their heavy drapes drawn nearly all the way over them. It was so dark, in fact, we had to go slowly to make sure we didn't trip on anything.
'Where on earth is everyone?' Lottie asked, probably more to hear the sound of a voice than anything else.
'All chased away by the war, I should think,' I said, although there was a prickling on the back of my neck that I didn't particularly like. I had the sneaking feeling that we were being watched.
We made it to the top of the stairs, met with a junction of two hallways branching off in opposite directions. One was lit, dimly, by a wall sconce about halfway down. The other disappeared into a gloom that seemed especially uninviting. I hoped the Earl and his rear guard were coming soon.
Henry began to drift towards the lit corridor, and Lottie and I followed him. He had to stop and lean on the rail for a moment, but continued without a word soon after.
'Henry, where are you going?' Lottie asked, making no effort to disguise the worry in her voice.
'The Anathema's close, Lady Charlotte,' he answered, stopping again and leaning against the wall. 'I can feel it. A pull in my stomach.'
'Does that mean Wittenberg is with it?' I closed my sweating palms into fists. Too many times I'd been too afraid to do something, but not now. I had to have courage.
'I cannot tell for sure,' he said, straightening and pushing on. 'But there is only one way to know, and that is to keep searching.'
We began searching the rooms, working our way forward. Most were large studies, walls covered with books. One overlooked the park and had an impressive expanse of street along with it. For a moment I glimpsed the Elementals milling about under the trees, but I couldn't see the Earl. Maybe he'd already come inside.
As we entered the room with the lighted sconce outside, however, Henry groaned and doubled over, leaning heavily on the doorjamb. I spun around, just in time to see Lottie hurry over and cup his face, inspecting it worriedly. He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead against hers.
'Are you all right?' she asked quietly. 'What is it?'
'The Anathema,' he said, making a valiant effort to straighten up. 'It's close. Very close.'
'But where?' I turned slowly on my heel, making sure I had seen every corner of the room. 'Why would he have hidden it and fled?'
'He didn't,' Henry said. 'It's likely he's got it.'
'Where the bloody hell is he, then?' Lottie said, her irritation apparent.
'Try the shelves.' Henry nodded at the wall behind the massive carved desk. 'Maybe there's a hidden compartment somewhere...'
'Of course,' I said, cursing inwardly for not thinking of it right away. I ran my hand along each shelf, as high as I could reach, searching for a hidden catch or hinge of some sort. Lottie did the same opposite me, glancing over at Henry occasionally. And every time he must have urged her forward, because she kept going.
Right then my fingers tripped over a small notch on the bottom of a shelf, and an entire section of the wall swung out. I'd seen this kind of trick before–a hidden doorway, disguised as a bookshelf or papered over to make the seams invisible. We even had one in our house, between the library and Father's study. Alf and I used to pretend it was a portal into another world as children.
'That is bloody brilliant,' Lottie breathed, before turning back to Henry. 'So this is how he was moving around undetected.'
'Seems so,' he answered, coming to join us. 'And if we proceed up the stairs here, we may find a secret roof passage by which he might have escaped.'
'That old Kraut's going to keep surprising us, isn't he?' Lottie shook her head, awed but frustrated.
Henry nodded. 'It certainly does appear that way.'
||
Peter
I was in and out of surgery for what seemed like days. The nurses were doing their best to pull all the shrapnel out of me, even bringing in a couple doctors to help. But I received the worst news yet after a week in the hospital–my right leg had to be amputated below the knee. It was mangled beyond repair, and if they left it, I'd certainly get gangrene.
'But why?' I asked, shaking my head in disbelief. 'Why is that the only option?'
'Sometimes it happens that way, Second Lieutenant, I'm sorry,' said the RAMC surgeon, his expression grave. 'Many men have lost limbs. I assure you, this is the best way. You do not want infection setting in. We would rather this be done than trying and failing to save you from that.'
'I'd've rather it been blown off, by that explanation,' I said bitterly.
'I know, Second Lieutenant. I wish I could say different. But if you want to return home, I would suggest you don't argue anymore.' He set his mouth in a thin line, with no compassion there whatsoever.
I knew I should have been grateful. Some men wouldn't be able to go home at all. They hadn't just lost their legs, they'd lost their lives. And then there was Alf, who didn't even get that. Both his legs were ruined now, and he couldn't even walk. It was a stroke of luck, according to everyone here, that I'd be able to get off with one less leg.
'When does the surgery start?' I asked, resigned to my fate. Crutches and a wheelchair it would be, until I could have a prosthesis.
'As soon as we possibly can do it, Second Lieutenant,' said the soldier. 'Sister Emerson here will prep you.'
'I wish I didn't have to do this,' I said to her when he was gone.
'I wish you didn't have to, Second Lieutenant,' she said, her eyes a melancholy blue. They shifted like water, and over the last few days I'd come to realise why she was the only one who ever tended to me–she was Elemental. 'You're alive, leastways.'
'Yes, there is that.' I sank back into the pillows. My life as I knew it would be ending soon, but a new one was beginning. I could feel it coming without anyone having to say anything.
||
Charlotte
We hobbled up the stairs, Henry and I, in an awkward four-legged gait. Grace went on ahead, checking behind her every so often. Her expression was worried, but I waved her forward each time. We'd make it, step by step, slowly but surely.
'Excuse me, Lady Charlotte, I...' Henry let go of me and leaned up against the wall again. He pulled at his collar and loosened it, his skin shiny with sweat. 'Go. I don't want to be the one holding you back.'
'No,' I said, cupping his cheeks and kissing him on the lips, just lightly. 'I'm not leaving you.'
His hand rounded around the back of my neck and he kissed me again, pressing our bodies together. I tasted his desperation, his fear, his apprehension. For one brief second, before we separated, he crushed his lips harder against mine, making a strange dark heat uncoil in my abdomen.
That seemed to give him the motivation he needed, bringing up the rear as we ascended the final set of stairs. I had to admit to myself that I was utterly bewitched by this man, under his spell so deeply I was reluctant for it to break. And Grace knew it too, I could tell, as we came to another door, this one made of rough wooden planks. The knowing expression in her eyes was enough for me to figure as much.
'So we go through?' Grace asked, her eyes flicking from us to the door. 'And we face whatever is on the other side?'
'It seems we must,' Henry said from behind me. 'If it is Wittenberg, the only object is to get to the Anathema before he does.'
'Right,' I said, hoping I didn't sound too nervous. 'How're we getting through here, then?'
'Like this,' said Henry, nudging between us and laying his palm flat on the wood. For a second, there was nothing. Then all at once the door burst into flame, crumbling to ash at our feet.
I had no time to marvel at his seemingly endless abilities. This door led out onto the roof of the Embassy, a mostly flat surface with a large glass dome in the center, where we'd emerged. And huddled in the corner, close to the ledge, was Wittenberg. He spun towards us as we neared him, eyes wild. In one hand he held the Anathema, and in the other, a revolver.
'Take one more step,' he said, leveling the revolver at us and pulling back the hammer. 'And I shoot.'
||
Grace
We could only stare at him for a moment, unable to say anything. I took in the broken glass scattered around Wittenberg's feet, glittering in the weak sunlight. There was a deep cut across the underside of his lower arm, almost looking like he'd done it himself. The skin around the cut was red and irritated.
'Step back,' he said. 'Or I shoot.'
'Your Excellency...' Henry began.
'You,' barked Wittenberg, swinging the revolver towards Henry. 'Shut up. Unless you know how to help me.'
'Help you?' Henry seemed confused. 'Help you how?'
'You're Benedict Huntley's son!' bawled Wittenberg, his eyes wild. 'Surely you've got something useful!'
'I barely knew my father,' Henry said, raising his hands and stepping back, nodding at us to do the same. 'In fact, I never met him once.'
'Lies,' snarled Wittenberg. 'Tell me how to do this, or I'll shoot these ladies.'
'You've got some nerve, threatening to shoot a woman,' Lottie said.
'Shut up.' Wittenberg shoved the Anathema away and punched Lottie in the mouth. She reeled backward, and as I leaped to help her Henry threw out an arm, catching me across the middle.
'Don't,' he hissed. 'His weapon is cocked. He could shoot you in a second.'
'But...Lottie...'
Henry shook his head, whipping his eyes back to Wittenberg. 'You want to try that again?'
'Keep at this, and I will,' Wittenberg said, his eyes glinting dangerously as they flicked to me. 'Who's next? You?'
'Go ahead,' I said, narrowing my eyes as he aimed the revolver at me. 'Shoot. See what good it'll do.'
'Brave one, aren't you?' He stepped forward, the revolver pressing into my forehead. 'But it seems I have the power, my dear. Not you.'
I said nothing, every sense in my body keenly aware of the revolver's muzzle, pressed firmly against my forehead. I kept one eye on his trigger finger. A single movement, and I would be dead.
'Step away from her.' Henry rose up behind Wittenberg, his service pistol pressed into the back of his skull. 'And throw away your gun, if you know what's good for you.'
'Why should I?' Wittenberg spat, but I saw fear dart across his face. 'She will be useless after I obtain her Essence.'
'You won't be getting that, I'm afraid.' Henry cocked his pistol. 'Now do as I say.'
With a venomous glare at me Wittenberg dropped his gun arm. He seemed incredulous and angry that he'd been beaten, but I had the feeling there was something else he wasn't telling us.
'Now give me your gun.'
Reluctantly, Wittenberg swung his arm back. Henry took the revolver and pushed the hammer forward again before tossing it away.
'Now tell us,' he said, motioning for me to back away, towards Lottie. 'What exactly were you doing up here?'
'I want Essence,' said Wittenberg, sounding more like a whiny child than anything. 'I want what your father wanted, another golden age of Elemental rule. But since the Essence Machine is no more, and its location is undisclosed, I knew I had to find another way. Happy?'
'No,' Lottie said, recovered now. 'Tell us why you sent us on a wild chase after the wrong man.'
'He was the perfect proxy,' Wittenberg said with a scowl. 'He was an Elemental outcast, but you were all afraid of him. He could intimidate Elementals and no one would be the wiser, because that was his reputation. And then, once they were good and frightened, I could do my work.'
'So you used his own reputation against him?' I shook my head, appalled. 'Who does that?'
'I got what I wanted, didn't I?' snapped Wittenberg. 'Now I have even more Elementals that fear me, because of what I stand for. What you learn here today will soon spread, and my influence will be inescapable. Your Order will become obsessed with tracking me down. But you will never find me. Not until it is too late.'
'How will you manage that?' Henry's grip tightened on his pistol. 'You're cornered now, and the rest of the Order will be here very soon.'
'Then we will strike a deal,' Wittenberg said, with an evil smile spreading across his face. Henry couldn't see it, although I wish he had. 'Agree to the terms, and all three of you will be left alive.'
Henry seemed conflicted, his gaze flicking up to us. I bit my lip and tried not to look away. If we could keep him here until our reinforcements arrived, we wouldn't have to agree to any deal at all. The only thing to do would be to talk our way around it until then.
'All right,' Henry said finally. 'What kind of deal?'
'You let me go, right now, without a scratch, and I will not touch your Order. Not for the moment, anyway. I will not try to contact you. I will not even stay in this country, if you so prefer it. But you try to fight me now or detain me, none of you will live to see tomorrow. Do we have a deal?'
'How can we trust you?' I asked, willing my courage to stay a bit longer. 'You've given us every reason to want you dead.'
'Ah yes, but you see...' He reached into his belt and took out the Anathema again. It caught the filtered light, glinting with a strange gold spark. 'I have this now. Just another key to my end goal. And once I begin searching for the Essence Machine, there will be no stopping me.'
'That's a bloody vote of overconfidence in yourself,' Lottie snapped.
'It may be, but the deal still stands. Will you take it?'
'No, of course we bloody don't,' Lottie growled, glaring at Henry. 'You deserve to be locked up, Wittenberg, and to rot...'
'Yes, we will,' said Henry, dropping his pistol and tucking it away. 'But on our terms. You must leave, immediately. Once you step off this property, you are no longer on your own soil. The others may call the police, but I expect you'll already be halfway home. Is that clear?'
'Fine,' Wittenberg bit out. 'I agree.'
The two men turned towards each other and shook hands. Wittenberg slid the Anathema into his belt, buttoned his suit jacket, and then took off towards the neighboring roof at a run. He cleared the gap between them, landing on his shoulder and rolling. Then he was up again, disappearing through the closest dormer window.
'Coward,' Lottie grumbled, wiping at her bleeding mouth. 'How could we take him at his word, after that?'
Neither of us got time to answer. The others had arrived, spilling out onto the roof sweating and pale. I saw the Earl and Countess at the front of the group, Father following close behind. We hurried to meet them, all of us converging at once.
'Gracie, there you are,' panted Father, kneeling in front of me and cupping my face. His worried grey eyes searched mine, checking me for injury. 'We were worried we wouldn't reach you in time.'
'You came right on time, Father,' I said, remembering Wittenberg's words. You let me go, and I will not touch your Order. I will not try to contact you. I will not stay in this country. 'Wittenberg's gone.'
'Gone?' Father stood, his expression darkening. 'Gone where? Not escaped, surely?'
'He's not coming back, Father, that's all I know,' I said. It was perhaps the only thing I knew. It was the best we had, and we'd taken him at his word. Whether or not he would continue to be a problem was yet to be seen.
||
Peter came home to us about a fortnight later, exactly three months before what was to be the end of the war. Mother and I were busy once again helping the convalescing soldiers when a shout went up from the entryway. We dropped what we were doing and hurried out to see, finding Mr Lowell and two of the maids wrapping Peter in a tight embrace, all of them crying and laughing at once.
Then his family descended on him–his mother cried and kissed him over and over, his father pulled him into his arms and held him tightly to his chest, and Lottie wrapped her own arms around him for such a long time it seemed she would never let go. But once she had, his eyes landed on me, standing apart from them. He limped towards me, slowly at first but soon he was running, and before I knew what was happening I was running as well, my vision blurring as tears flooded from my eyes.
We collided, his arms going around me and his lips seeking mine desperately. I clasped my arms around the back of his neck and kissed him hard. I tasted salt, and our faces were nearly sliding past each other as wet with tears as they were. But he was home, here in my arms, and I never wanted him to leave again.
'Oh, Grace.' He caught my face in his hands, cupping my cheeks. His own was streaked with tears, and his eyes seemed so much older than the rest of him. 'I never thought I'd see you again...'
'I knew you would, Peter.' I laid my hands over his and kissed his rough palms. 'I never doubted it.'
He pulled me to him and kissed me again, and I welcomed it. I wanted to make up for all the kisses we'd lost while the war was on, for every day we were separated.
'I want to show you something, Grace,' he said when we pulled apart, many minutes later. 'I haven't shown anyone yet, not even Lottie.'
'You're certain you don't want to tell her first?' I took his hand and squeezed it gently. 'She is your sister, after all.'
'Because I want you to know first,' he said simply, and I believed him.
He led me into the drawing room and closed the doors behind us, shutting out the noises from the rest of the house. Then he pulled out a chair and sat down, rolling up his right trouser leg. I gasped at what I saw, my hand flying to my mouth. The bottom half of his leg was gone, replaced by a contraption of string, metal and wood. It ended with a sock inside a shoe.
'Peter...' Tears jumped to my eyes and coursed down my face before I could stop them. 'What happened to you?'
He explained that it had happened as he was trying to drag Major Kingsley off the battlefield after he'd been stabbed to death. A shell had exploded much too closely, knocking him unconscious and filling him with bits of shrapnel. His leg had taken the brunt of it, and needed to be amputated to avoid infection.
'I would have told you sooner, Grace, but I...' He cupped my face and wiped my tears away. 'I didn't want you to know until you'd seen it with your own eyes. I may not be whole anymore, but I love you with everything that's left.'
'I love you too, Peter, with everything I am.' I dropped my forehead to his. 'It has always been you, right from the beginning.'
He smiled gently, and then kissed me. And I tasted the truth on his lips.