Quicksilver - Amanda Quick [112]
Cold energy shivered in the atmosphere.
There was a fourth click. The manacles parted and fell to the floor.
The energy from the three clockwork weapons was heightened rapidly.
“Dear heaven,” Mrs. Crofton whispered. “What is that terrible sensation?”
“Glasslight,” Virginia said.
She jumped to her feet and kicked over the praying mantis. The device toppled onto its side. The terrible chill from the remaining two curiosities was so strong now that she could scarcely breathe. She managed to topple the spider and then the scorpion.
But all three machines continued to respond to the presence of the human auras. The mechanical legs thrashed rhythmically. The glass eyes rattled in their sockets, pouring energy into the atmosphere as they attempted to fix on their targets.
Flames leaped in the mirrors, so powerful that even Mrs. Crofton could perceive them. She stared into the looking glasses, horrified.
“Oh, damn,” Virginia said.
“The room is on fire,” Mrs. Crofton said, and gasped.
“It’s paranormal fire, Mrs. Crofton. I think the energy from the curiosities is fueling it. For now the flames are still trapped in the mirrors, but I do not know how much longer that will be the case. Come, we must get out of here. Hold on to my hand. Whatever you do, don’t let go.”
Mrs. Crofton needed no urging. She took a tight grip on Virginia’s fingers.
Perhaps “death grip” was the most appropriate description, Virginia thought. They started toward the door.
The cobalt urn began to glow an eerie shade of blue.
“What’s happening?” Mrs. Crofton demanded.
“The energy in this room is so strong now, it is activating some of the artifacts.”
Virginia picked up a glass vase and hurled it at the mirror that concealed the door. The looking-glass panel cracked, splintered and fell to the floor, revealing the doorknob. Virginia seized it with her free hand.
“Locked,” she said. “I’ll need both hands. Keep a grip on my shoulder, Mrs. Crofton. Do not lose contact.”
She went to work with the pick. The mirrors burned around her.
FORTY-TWO
Something has gone wrong,” Alcina said. “I can sense it.”
“Nonsense.” Welch examined his pocket watch. “I have calculated very carefully. Miss Dean is dying at this very moment. Her energy is being infused into the mirrors. You can sense the power because there is so much of it, but that is a good sign. It means that my Great Engine has begun to ignite. I have achieved what the ancients failed to accomplish, an astonishingly powerful alchemical furnace that will deliver up the secrets of the paranormal.”
They were standing together in the library of the mansion, awaiting the conclusion of the experiment that was taking place on the floor above. Welch was beside himself with excitement. He had waited so long for this moment, he thought, overcome so many obstacles. Now, at last, success was within his grasp. By dawn he would be the master of alchemical power beyond description. The arrogant Joneses of Arcane would be forced to bow to his superior talents. Royalty would be dazzled.
But the true prize was beyond measure. He was certain that the energy trapped in the mirrors could do more than bring him great wealth and power. It would do what Sylvester Jones’s formula had failed to achieve. It would enhance his paranormal senses, and if the ancients were correct, that enhancement would add decades to his normal life span.
A small, muffled explosion rumbled through the ceiling of the library. Alcina looked up, horrified.
“My artifacts,” she shrieked. “Your engine is destroying them.”
“Perhaps one or two of the relics will not survive the storm of energy in that room, but that is no great matter,” Welch said.
“No, I cannot allow that to happen. They are too precious. They enhance my talent.”
Alcina grabbed fistfuls of her skirts and ran out of the library. He heard her footsteps on the staircase.
“Alcina, wait,” he called. “Come back.”
He started after her, but the window behind him exploded inward