Lady Ott made an exasperated sound. “Where hasn’t he been? I kept him in the larder for a time, but that proved untenable. He gave the kitchen staff too much of a fright, no matter how often I assured them he was tightly bound. Then I shut him into one of the guest rooms, but I couldn’t bear the thought that he’d enjoy all the lovely natural light that room afforded him. In the end I put him in the cellar . . . though only after I’d had all the wine removed.”
“We have yet to thoroughly interrogate Coe,” Meg said. “We wanted to ensure you were safe before anything else.”
“I understand,” Charlotte said. “And I’m incredibly grateful, but I’m ashamed to have left Grave behind.”
Meg and Margery exchanged a glance.
“We were told an attempt to rescue Grave would be futile,” Meg said.
That’s why Linnet questioned me in the way she did.
“By Coe?” Charlotte asked. Who else?
Meg nodded.
Charlotte’s grief over Grave’s absence smoldered, becoming rage at Coe—the instigator of these sorrows. Then she remembered the key. The note.
I had a choice. So do you.
It didn’t seem like the Coe who had betrayed them could be the same person who’d helped her escape. And who would he be now that he’d been taken prisoner? When he hadn’t been exchanging insults with Jack, Coe had struck Charlotte as steadfast, skillful, and intelligent. She didn’t think those qualities could be fabricated. Was that the true Coe, the man who remained when the Empire, the Resistance, his father had all been stripped away? If it was, Charlotte held on to hope that her friend-turned-adversary might somehow be redeemed. Only time and trial would reveal his true nature. She had to reach the Coe she believed existed beneath the treachery, beyond the fear and shame that bound him to his father.
“Coe can get Grave back for us,” Charlotte said. “He has to.”
“There are many things Commodore Winter should be made to do for us,” Lady Ott spoke in a gentling tone. “He has much to answer for.”
A familiar, uneasy chill settled over Charlotte. Once again she found herself at a crossroads, where it was likely her priorities differed from those of her companions. Of course Coe’s crimes against the Resistance would be considered of greater import than retrieving Grave. Charlotte’s hands balled at her sides as she grappled with her emotions. The last time she’d been put into this position, she’d run. She didn’t have anywhere to run this time. More than that, when Charlotte had fled New Orleans, it had been to escape her mother’s and Coe’s machinations regarding Grave. Circumstances had drastically shifted since then. Coe was a prisoner. And Charlotte couldn’t know how her mother would react upon learning that her co-conspirator was in fact an agent of the Empire.
The people surrounding Charlotte now were her friends. She trusted them. Despite the strength of her fears, she wouldn’t let her feelings overcome her belief that together they would find a way to help Grave while still serving the goals of the Resistance.
The Resistance . . .
Alarm charged through Charlotte’s limbs. “We need to talk to Coe now.”
“What is it, Charlotte?” Meg asked.
Charlotte waved the question off. “Gather the others. Have Coe brought here—”
Pausing, Charlotte looked at Lady Ott. “Unless you’d like to have us question him in the cellar?”
“No, no.” Lady Ott smiled at Charlotte, though her gaze was full of puzzlement. “It would be far too cramped.”
“I’ll get Linnet, Jack, and Lachance. We’ll retrieve Coe,” Meg said, her expression as bemused as Margery’s.
When Meg had gone, Lady Ott said, “Something put spurs to you, my dear. I must confess I’m quite desperate to hear what it is.”
Charlotte’s smile was stiff, but determined. “It’s something everyone needs to hear.”
“Very well.” Margery gestured to the silver service with its sparkling crystal glasses. “Are you certain you won’t have something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” For what was about to happen, she needed to be sharp. She didn’t want to be softened in any way, only relentless.
Standing straight, Charlotte stared at the door where Coe would enter, while Lady Ott chattered about quotidian things to which Charlotte paid no mind. She wasn’t worried that her host would think her rude or take offense. She knew the older woman’s running chatter was more to ease her own nerves than to engage in real conversation.
Charlotte heard their footsteps before Linnet and Meg came into the room. Lachance and Jack followed, Coe held between them. His wrists were bound. The scowl on his face faded when he saw Charlotte.
“I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not.” Coe smiled at her. “You made your choice.”
“Yes,” Charlotte answered, ignoring the puzzled, inquiring glances of her friends.
Rather than address Coe again, she turned to her companions. “What was the last communication the Resistance received from Lazarus?”
At first no one replied; the already tense room simmered with unease.
“Charlotte, I say this without wanting to give offense,” Jack said at last. “You’re not at the rank required to be involved with intelligence coming from Lazarus. Only a small circle within the Resistance has access to him.”
“Just tell me.”
Charlotte’s cutting tone made Jack glance at Lady Ott. When the older woman nodded, Jack said, “Nothing of great interest, and the information has been confirmed by other sources—”
“Go on,” Charlotte said.
“Lazarus encouraged us to seek better terms with the French before moving forward with any offensive measure,” Jack told her. “He said the Empire is in the process of refitting and redistributing its air and naval craft. They won’t be prepared for major action anytime soon.”
“But wouldn’t you want to take advantage of their lack of readiness?” Charlotte pressed. “Why wouldn’t that be the ideal time for attack?”
“In some ways it would be,” Jack replied with hesitation. “But Lazarus relayed the dates of craft dispersal, and in six months, the majority of the naval fleet will be in the Mediterranean and the air fleet distributed evenly between the continents, significantly reducing their capabilities here. That’s when we should strike, and it gives us time to negotiate more balanced terms of alliance with the French. At the moment, they’re pushing for territorial oversight of any lands we take from the Empire. We’d prefer complete independence.”
Charlotte nodded. “I understand the reasoning behind that point of view. But it will lead to the Resistance’s downfall.”
Jack stared at her in disbelief, but Lady Ott walked straight up to Charlotte, peering at the young woman with hawk-sharp eyes.
“Why do you say that, Charlotte?”
“Because Lazarus has been lying.” Very deliberately, Charlotte held her gaze, then slowly moved her focus to Coe, then back to Lady Ott.
Lady Ott’s face drew taut with distress. “No. It can’t be.”
“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said. “But it’s true.”
“What?” Jack glanced between the two women. “What are you talking about?”
Margery turned to face him, her expression grief-stricken. “Your brother is Lazarus.”
Jack actually laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it really?” Coe smiled placidly, gazing at his brother. His eyes lit with satisfaction as he watched Jack’s incredulity become horror. “You’ve always underestimated me, Jack, despite my being your elder.”
Charlotte watched the brothers’ exchange, abhorring the appearance of Coe’s prideful, vicious side.
“I didn’t think I could loathe you more,” Linnet whispered. “I was wrong.”
The confidence and satisfaction in Coe’s expression didn’t flicker. He took time to rega
rd each of their reactions as if he were enjoying the first bites of an exquisite dish.
He is two people, Charlotte thought. Part of him was still the hopeful youth, wanting to change the world, but his other self had been created when Coe surrendered his fate to his father. The latter Coe was her enemy, and Charlotte would do whatever it took to defeat him, while hoping that victory didn’t also mean the untainted side of Coe was past saving.
“This goes beyond Coe. Your father conceived the plan,” Charlotte said to Jack. “He learned that Coe had joined the Resistance and used Coe’s life as the bargaining chip to turn him. Lazarus was what Admiral Winter contrived as the best way to put Coe to use.”
“Our father . . .” Jack stared at Coe with a mixture of fury and regret.
Meg was the least troubled by this revelation. “A clever ploy. Admiral Winter’s son would be in a unique position to operate as an effective double agent.”
“And he has been,” Linnet murmured, her expression mirroring Jack’s. “Remarkably effective.”
“Well, that’s at an end,” Jack said bitterly. He leaned over Coe, letting his anger drive out whatever sympathy he might have had for his brother. “You may think Winter blood is worth preserving, but I don’t share that belief. I’ll be happy to see you executed as soon as we turn you over to the Resistance.”
“No.” Charlotte moved between Jack and Coe. “We won’t be handing Commodore Winter over to the Resistance without securing their promise to spare his life.”
Linnet and Jack both gaped at Charlotte. Even Coe was taken aback.
Meg kept a reasoned tone. “Why would we do that, Charlotte?”
“Coe has committed grievous crimes,” Charlotte answered, her gaze fixed on Coe. “He knows that. But I believe Admiral Winter shares in the blame. If we show mercy, I hope that Coe will give us what aid he can. And there are things we need him to do.”
“Such as?” Jack sounded incredulous.
Though Charlotte wanted to say Grave, she instead replied, “He can tell us what the Empire’s plans are. Something is about to happen. An engagement was the word he used, as I remember.”
Coe began to shake his head.
Charlotte smiled at him. “Regretting your words, Commodore?”
“Do you think the Empire is about to launch an attack?” Linnet frowned. “Even if Lazarus, or Coe, was feeding us false intelligence, there haven’t been any other signs of those kinds of preparations being made. Lazarus isn’t our only operative.”
“But how many operatives was Coe aware of?” Charlotte countered. “I’m sure it wasn’t all of them, but could it have been enough that he would have been able to influence the information they gathered?”
Linnet’s frown deepened, and Lady Ott answered for her. “Yes. It is possible.”
“Then we have to assume we know nothing,” Charlotte said. “And if Coe values his life, he will tell us the truth now. We could use pain to pry information from him, but I want to offer a choice.”
Coe glared at her, but the anger in his gaze was matched by sadness.
“Charlotte could be right,” Lady Ott said. “I believe that the commodore is most concerned with self-preservation; thus, he knows it’s in his best interest to do what we ask.”
Coe’s eyes remained fixed on Charlotte, but he didn’t contest the statement. Lady Ott caught Charlotte’s eye, and Charlotte gave a slight, affirming nod.
Lady Ott addressed their captive. “I won’t claim I speak for all of us, but I want it to be clear that should you attempt to double-cross us, it won’t be a matter of handing you to the Resistance. I’ll have no qualms about shooting you on the spot.”
Coe didn’t speak. His shoulders sagged.
He would help them. Charlotte was certain of it. But she could find no joy in this victory. At some point, Coe had been broken, and she didn’t believe it had happened in this room or on this day. But as she watched him crumple inwardly, defeated and resigned, Charlotte felt not only grief, but also fear.
What would happen to a man when he abandoned himself?
23.
THE MOOD IN Lady Ott’s parlor was grim at best. The fact that Coe had been locked away in the cellar once more provided little satisfaction, given what they’d learned.
“There’s no time,” Jack muttered. “Even knowing what we do, I doubt we’ll withstand the attack.”
“You can’t assume that,” Linnet said. “All we can do is prepare as best we can. But there’s no time to waste. We need to get word to the officers so they can begin a counterstrategy. Doubtless, once it’s clear that Coe has been taken, the Empire will take action. The attack will occur as soon as they can reasonably manage.”
“I’ll send word to Roger immediately,” Lady Ott said. “He can reach the right people in a timely fashion.”
She exited the parlor so swiftly that her skirts left a breeze in their wake.
Meg took a seat in the chair beside Charlotte that minutes ago Coe had occupied.
“You’ve done a great service, Charlotte,” Meg said. “You may have just saved the Resistance. But you have yet to tell us about Grave, and I know you must be concerned for his welfare.”
Having held her emotions in check while trying to adhere to the ideal of a greater good, Charlotte felt her eyes well up at the kindness in Meg’s voice. She nodded, unable to speak for the moment.
“Where is he?” Meg asked gently. “What’s happened to him?”
“He’s in a makeshift laboratory near the air docks.” Charlotte concentrated on the facts to keep her voice from breaking. “They have a tinker studying him in an attempt to learn how to replicate Hackett Bromley’s experiment.”
Meg sighed. “The Sisters in Athene’s Temple suspected as much. What fools they are to meddle with such power.”
“Do you think Bromley was a fool as well?” Jack’s question was curious, not hostile.
“In a way,” Meg replied. “But his madness was driven by grief. He understood what he was risking and was willing to accept the consequences. The Empire desires only a great weapon. They have little regard for the forces behind the miracle that is Grave.”
“They won’t be able to make an army in Grave’s likeness,” Charlotte said with conviction.
Meg nodded. “They don’t know how to access the other realm from which spirits might be drawn into a vacant body. Even if they obtained the rites in the Book of the Dead, they do not have the faith required to manifest the spell.”
Although she’d felt certain she was right, Charlotte was relieved to hear Meg’s confirmation. “They don’t know that. I couldn’t afford to let them think their efforts were futile . . .”
“You were right to protect Grave, Charlotte,” Meg said. “And we will find a way to rescue him.”
Charlotte closed her eyes, her voice quaking. “I don’t know how we can . . . What they’ve done . . .”
“What have they done?” Jack asked. Charlotte was surprised by the fear in his voice.
She looked at him, drawing strength from his concern for Grave.
Charlotte told them what she’d seen. The horror of it. The seeming impossibility of it.
When she’d finished, they were all silent. The visceral depiction of what Grave had endured, was still enduring, suspended their movements. Jack looked as if he were about to be sick, Linnet’s expression was one of aghast amazement, while Meg kept her face an unreadable mask.
Several minutes passed before Meg said, “You’ll need help if you want to save him.”
“But who can help me?” Charlotte asked, frustration making her seethe. “No one understands who or what he is. I know him better than anyone else, and I have no idea what to do.”
“Someone else might be able to,” Meg said. “The right mind. Sufficient belief in the extraordinary.”
“Io!” Jack exclaimed.
“That’s who can help you.”
“Aunt Io?” Charlotte asked, startled by Jack’s outburst.
Jack’s excitement had him practically babbling. “You know her as Birch’s aunt, but the rest of the Resistance—by Hephaestus, the rest of New Orleans—know she’s the most brilliant tinker of her generation. If anyone can bring Grave safely through this ordeal, it’s Io.”
“Aunt Io,” Charlotte repeated softly. The idea planted itself in her heart and bloomed into hope. It wasn’t her reputation for genius that moved Charlotte; it was Birch’s admiration.
“Jack is right,” Linnet chimed in. “I don’t mean this in a cruel way, but Io is . . . crazy enough to think of a way to recover Grave. She could, um, fix him?”
Charlotte nodded, and nodded, and nodded. She couldn’t find words. Grave wasn’t lost. She wouldn’t break her promise. Somehow, she was going to save him.
24.
THE WAITING WAS awful.
They spent a day and a half in Lady Ott’s apartment, restless and on edge. Until they received word from New Orleans, they were paralyzed as well as plagued by the fear that somehow—however unlikely—Coe’s abduction would be traced to Lady Ott. They watched through windows and spoke in hushed tones. While they took meals together, their conversations were strained and brief.
On the afternoon that news finally arrived, Lady Ott swept into the parlor bursting with enthusiasm.
“Roger has negotiated your return to New Orleans,” she said matter-of-factly. “To say he’s smoothed things over would be an oversimplification, but enough has changed in the meantime that you won’t be condemned for leaving. However, there are conditions attached to this arrangement.”
“Do those conditions involve Grave?” Charlotte asked. As much as she wanted to rejoin her friends in New Orleans, she couldn’t abide any plans on the part of the Resistance to use Grave just as the Empire hoped to. If they demanded his return as a condition of cooperation, Charlotte didn’t see how she could agree. But it wasn’t just Grave. Ever since she’d escaped the Military Platform, Charlotte had worried what the consequences for her father might be. It all depended on the chain of command. Had her father already been transferred to a medical ward? How closely was his status being followed? If Admiral Winter still saw Charles Marshall as a bargaining chip, then Charlotte’s liberation could put her father in grave danger. By contrast, if Winter had dismissed her father’s importance the moment the deal at the Crucible had been made, then Charlotte’s choices likely had little to no bearing on her father’s fate.