“That energy—the animundi—is what will drive the creation of carmot. Before that happens, however, we must incite the process of projection, which requires re-creating the exact circumstances of the original source’s creation.” Aurora spoke as if imparting wisdom to a curious student rather than an estranged daughter moments from unconsciousness. “Does that make sense? Your energy will carry us through the process of transmutation and into projection. Once that is achieved, the animundi I’ve cultivated will be used to duplicate the result over and over again.”
It made sense in a roundabout way, Zaria supposed, but the explanation had terror lodging in her throat. “Youcan’tre-create the exact circumstances of my father’s creation. I won’t survive.” Itzal had been suffering long beforehand, but of one thing, Zaria was now certain: Making the primateria source was what had ultimately killed him. It would kill her, too. And if it didn’t, there was the possibility it would drive her to near madness.
Aurora shrugged. “You’re far younger than he was. I suppose we’ll see if you’re better equipped to endure it.” She frowned into the fountain. “More.”
Zaria swayed as a wave of nausea crashed over her, nearly collapsing into Pritchard. He grunted, shoving her back up. “Do as she says.”
“Ican’t.” Her vision was unclear, but this time it wasn’t only from exhaustion. She bit her lower lip, trying to see her mother clearly as the misery overwhelmed her. “You’re mymother. I can accept that you didn’t want me, that you don’t love me, but using me like this? Knowingly condemning me to die? What did I do to deserve that?”
Aurora turned to face her, expression softening. “I’m not condemning you, Zaria. Some things are more important than the bond between parent and child. This is about changing theworld. It’s about bringing alchemology into the light. It’s about getting the world to appreciate our study as the art it is.”
“Really?” Zaria injected the word with all the scorn she could muster. “So it has nothing to do with your desire to forcibly clear out the slums?”
There was a heavy beat of quiet, punctuated by the rush of the fountain in the background. “Who told you that?” Aurora said softly.
Zaria didn’t answer, heaving a breath through her teeth. “When you speak of changing the world, you mean changing it into one thatyoufind acceptable. Purging it of the thingsyoufind unsavory. How is that any different from what the crown did to alchemologists?”
Her mother ignored that. When her lips curved into a smile, it was pitying. “Youwouldthink that, having lived the pathetic life Itzal forced upon you. Look around us.” She indicated the shadowy Exhibition. “This is what London is capable of. This is what it should be known for. Not our wretched slums and our increasing willingness to let anyone in its boundaries. As for the crown… Well. Several of the queen’s advisers share my views already, and I expect she and the prince consort will be easily swayed, once I get my hands on that ledger. Once again, I’m forced to do everything myself.”
Despite how badly she wanted to argue with everything else Aurora had said, Zaria’s attention snagged on the last point. “How do you expect the ledger to help with that?”
Aurora made a sound of bored disdain. “Do you really need to ask? Do you evenknowhow often Buckingham Palace enlists the services of an alchemologist? They may cover their tracks well enough for most people to miss it, but I pay attention. How do you think this place was constructed so quickly? How do you think industry in this country accelerated the way it did?”
“You can’t honestly believe alchemology was responsible for that,” Zaria said, stunned.
“Of course I do. And if I know anything about Alexander Ward, he kept records of every last transaction—even those that predated him.”
For a moment, Zaria wasn’t sure how to respond. “You plan toblackmailthe crown?” She shook her head in disbelief, promptly regretting it when her vision wavered. “I’ve seen the ledger. There’s only one entry on there, and it’s from years ago. You’re mad.”
The beams of light were about to meet above the crystal fountain.Aurora watched them raptly, not seeming to have heard anything Zaria said. Finally, however, she replied in a singsong voice. “Maybe. But Ward isn’t the only one with evidence. It adds up, you see.”
As she spoke, the water in the basin turned a vivid, sparkling red. Aurora began to laugh, clasping her hands together, the sound distorted as it collided with the buzzing in Zaria’s ears. The world seemed to tilt beneath her feet as the last remnants of strength were siphoned from her bones. Black filled her vision. She went limp, the knife slipping from her fingers to clatter against the floor. She was only vaguely aware of Pritchard bellowing something as his grip tightened painfully on her upper arm.
She hoped shewasbetter equipped to endure this than her father had been. She hoped she didn’t die this way, with the last of her life bleeding out to bolster a goal she’d never supported, never believed in.
And then everything stopped.
Shouts filled the air as Zaria was released none too carefully to the ground. She just barely managed to stop her head from hitting the tile, and squinted through the sudden gloom, trying to understand what had happened. Fear slammed into her as she saw a dozen or so dark figures silhouetted by the windows behind them. Pritchard and Shaw were suddenly nowhere to be seen, and Aurora’s voice cut above the rest of the clamor as she shrieked their names. Zaria scrabbled backward, her breaths labored, when yet another figure loomed in her periphery. This one, though, was familiar. She froze in place.
It was Kane. His face was lit red from beneath, thanks to the still-glimmering fountain, and his hands were shackled. Beside him stood a large mustached man wearing a Metropolitan Police uniform bearing an inspector’s medallion. The man leveled his gun at Aurora where she stood by the fountain’s basin, cornered and furious. Analchemological gun, Zaria saw with abject confusion.
“A thousand pardons,” Kane said. His voice was uncannily pleasant. “Did we disturb something important?”
Aurora cast a panicked gaze around at the other figures who were, Zaria realized now, more coppers. She gnashed her teeth, her voice a snarl. “Do you understand what you’ve done?”
“Indeed,” said the officer beside Kane, who could only be Inspector Price. “It occurred to us that the best way to disrupt your magical devices was, most likely, with more magic. And what do you know?” He lifted the gun, pointing it past Aurora to aim at the device among China’s exhibits, and pulled the trigger. Aurora unleashed a furious scream as the glowing orb shattered. “It works. Now, Aurora Vaughan, you’re under arrest.”
When Aurora replied, her voice was suddenly, unnervingly calm. “I don’t think so.”
ZARIA
Aurora procured something from her skirts and hurled it to the ground, sending dark smoke billowing into the air.
“Cover your face!” Zaria screamed at Kane, but her warning proved unnecessary. He appeared before her, his coat drawn up to conceal his mouth and nose, his hands still shackled. Before she could fathom what was happening, he grasped her bicep and pulled her behind the fountain. The last she saw of Aurora was a flash of blonde hair before she disappeared into the smoke.
Aleuite explosives. An idea that, Zaria was sure, her mother had gotten fromher.
She whirled to face Kane, drinking in the now-familiar lines of him. “How did you…?” Zaria began, but he shook his head, lifting a finger to urge silence. He remained in a low crouch, eyes narrowed as he tried to see through the impending darkness. Price’s voice echoedin the near distance as he bellowed orders for his men to spread out and find Aurora.
