form of chemical rays. The violet lens picks up those rays.” She gave a nod in the direction of the stairwell. “He left strong traces all the way down, but they trailed off here. I suspect because he calmed down once in his element.”
She handed him the goggles. “The rays are strongest when they are afraid or exerting themselves.”
They’d reached the stairwell. Torn between gaping at his wife—she of the demon hunting expertise—and the goggles, he took a moment to put them on. The world dimmed to a soft violet, not nearly light enough to see properly. Winston gnashed his teeth. Poppy had walked into that hold nearly blind.
“Here.” Poppy leaned in and fiddled with something on the side of the lens. A click and a soft whirring sounded. Win started as a series of lights flickered around the rims of the lenses.
Beside him, Talent made a sound of pleasure. “Would you look at that. Brilliant.”
Poppy’s crisp voice was at Winston’s ear. “Now you look.”
He turned his head toward the iron stairs and sucked in a breath. Footsteps of eerie, glowing violet covered the treads, and a ghostly mist of the same glowing substance hovered in the air.
“Fluorescence,” he said.
“Just so,” said Poppy. “Special lenses, designed by the SOS, capture the refrangibility of the light within the demon’s essence.”
With a resigned sigh, he took off the device. “First werewolves, now this. As a man of logic, I cannot believe I’m saying this, but there are times I think I preferred my state of ignorance.” Win handed Talent the goggles so that he might try them, then turned his attention upon Poppy. “Hell of a thing to discover that the crackpots raving in Piccadilly Circus about monsters among us aren’t all mad.”
Poppy flashed Winston a rare grin. “Don’t go picking out your corner of Piccadilly just yet. There are far greater curiosities than mere demons and werewolves.”
And wasn’t that the truth? “Do not worry, sweet; if anything is to drive me mad, it will be you.”
Mary hated death. Which was rather ironic considering that, as a GIM, she was exposed to as much death as the average grave digger. Though they had the fortune to work with death that was safely boxed up. Fresh death was a GIM’s specialty, and the corpse upon the first class promenade deck was certainly fresh. She edged farther away from the crowd of officers that hovered over their fallen comrade. Mrs. Lane had sent her to watch the proceedings and guard over the corpse, but Mary could not fathom what she could guard it from. The poor man was dead. And beginning to smell.
Discreetly as possible, she pressed a lace kerchief to her nose. It would be intolerable for Mrs. Lane to find out that Mary had a weak stomach when it came to these matters. Somebody had placed a blanket over the man’s upper half, but his legs peeked out from beneath it. Blood, blackening from exposure to the air, seeped around the white trousers of his uniform. Swallowing hard, she looked away and into the eyes of a young officer.
“Oh.” She hadn’t even heard him approaching.
His pleasant face broke into a kind smile. “You shouldn’t be here, Miss. This isn’t a sight for a lady.”
Mary had no response. She was also instructed not to break her cover. Damn but she ought to have come in her ethereal form.
The officer’s genial smile remained. “Besides, the gulls have begun to make a play for him.”
Bile rose in Mary’s throat.
“Don’t worry, Miss. We’ll keep them away.”
She stumbled, bumping into the metal call box that jutted out from the wall. Instantly, the officer was there, grasping her arm. It wasn’t until he touched her that she felt the sting. Gasping, she pulled away. Blood smeared her arm and stained his white glove red.
“I fear you’ve scratched yourself,” he said with a frown at her arm and then to the call box.
“Bother.” Mary cursed herself for being so affected. This could not continue. She had to master death. Yet even as resolve filled her, the breeze sent the stench of decay over her, and she blanched.
Thankfully, the officer was too busy inspecting her arm.
“We can’t have our lovely guest bleeding, now can we?” His dark eyes gleamed with good humor as he stripped off his glove, and with gentle care, wiped the blood from her arm with his bare thumb.
His touch was a lovely warmth against her cold flesh, and she couldn’t find it in herself to protest.