shook his head at Sam and straightened his spine. He even waved Finley off as she tried to offer him support. Emily’s chest tightened. She’d known Griffin quite a while now, and she knew that stubborn expression on his face. What was he about?
The bubble containing the Kraken began to float toward the society’s vehicle. The crowd gasped in unison.
“Bloody hell!” someone gasped.
Sam scowled. “Now he’s just showing off.”
Emily stared as the water-filled Aether field slid down into the tank as carefully and precisely as though gently placed there by a giant, invisible hand rather than the force of Griffin’s will. The men on the tank slammed the top down as the bubble burst and water splashed over the side.
One of the men from the society turned to Emily and Sam, his eyes wide. “What did that?” His mustache twitched.
“It’s a new scientific advancement for the navy,” Emily lied, jaw clenched. “A device meant to save sinking ships or drowning men. It’s still being tested.”
“Brilliant,” the man replied, looking slightly dazed. “Simply brilliant. Who built it? I would very much like to ask the fellow to speak at one of our gatherings.”
Blast. “I cannot tell you that, sir. Only His Grace has that information, and you know how close he likes to hold such things.” And she was going to kick His Grace’s backside for such a blatant display of his abilities.
The man nodded and set off toward Griffin, who looked as though he might fall down at any moment. He swiped at his nose with a handkerchief, then shoved the linen in his pocket, but not before Emily saw the blood on it.
Damn fool. He wouldn’t learn his limits until his brain slid out his nostrils.
“You reckon sending him after Griff was a good idea?” Sam asked.
Emily scowled at him. “Let him tell his own lies. He wants to show off in public, that’s his business. He can ruddy well figure out how to explain it.” Maybe that wasn’t fair of her, but she was worried about him, afraid for him, and that often manifested as annoyance in her.
Thankfully people would believe that a machine could do such things. These days folks lapped up science like it was fresh cream and they were a hungry kitten. No, machines they could forgive for doing fantastic things. People, on the other hand, were a different kettle of fish.
People like the five of them—people who weren’t “normal”—scared the rest of the world. She’d read Mary Shelley’s book about the monster, Mr. Stevenson’s book about Jekyll and Hyde (said to have been based on Finley’s own father), Stoker’s vampire novel…none of them ended well for the character who wasn’t simply “human.” None of them—herself and her friends—were monsters, but she didn’t want to try arguing that point against a pitchfork and torch-carrying mob. To them there’d be little difference between herself and the Kraken.
Griffin’s little stunt called attention to them, just as Sam would have done if he’d moved that tank with his remarkable strength. A mob would be the least of their worries if people found out about them. Better the wrong end of a pitchfork than in a cage being poked and prodded, or in a freak show. Griffin’s power as a duke would help them, but she’d had to put it to the test.
The Royal Society packed up and left and the crowd dispersed, having realized that there was nothing more to see. Sam went to Griffin’s side and, after a few seconds, Emily followed after him. It would be stupid for her to remain apart when the rest of the group stood together. Petty, as well.
Finley turned to her as she approached. She looked bulky in her underwater suit, but she grabbed Emily up in a fierce hug. Good thing she was already wet and chilled.
“Are you all right?”
Emily nodded. “I’ll have a few bruises later, but nothing my wee beasties can’t fix. You?”
Finley shrugged. “As right as I’ll ever be. At least we got it.” The subtle shift in her voice said more than words ever could. We hadn’t gotten anything. Griffin was responsible for the thing’s capture. If she gave herself any credit it would be that she drove it to the surface so he could seize it.
“Let’s get out of here,” Emily suggested. “Griffin’s not looking so good.”
Griffin turned to shoot her an indignant glance. “Will the lot of you stop fussing over me like I was an invalid? I’m perfectly—” His eyes rolled back in his head as he collapsed to the rough wooden planks.
“Griffin!” Finley was the first to reach him, even though Sam was closer. She gave his pale cheek a light slap. “Griff?”
“Jasper,” Emily commanded, watching blood trickle from Griffin’s nose at an alarming rate. “Get the carriage.”
Chapter 2
“Has he said anything to you?” Finley asked Sam when they were back at King House in Mayfair. Griffin was in his room, asleep. He’d regained consciousness on the way home and insisted he was fine, he just needed to rest.
No one really believed that. But, this was his house. He was the Duke of Greythorne, and his power over the Aether had been known to topple buildings. His power had also been unpredictable as of late, so no one wanted to push him. Not because they were afraid of what he might do to them—Griffin was their friend—but because they were afraid of what he might do to himself. There was something wrong, and he wasn’t sharing it with his most trusted friends.
Sam shook his head. The four of them—Finley, Sam, Emily and Jasper—were gathered in the red parlor having sandwiches and little cakes for tea. “He’ll tell us if he wants us to know.”
“That’s the problem,” Finley shot back, in no mood for his brusque tone or ever-present scowl. She was hungry and she’d tied her corset a little too tightly. “He doesn’t want us to know. Which means he thinks we’ll worry. Which means whatever’s wrong with him is something we should worry about.”
“Blokes are different than girls,” Sam informed her—still scowling. “We don’t need to talk about every little thing. You don’t hear me whining when I break a nail.”
Finley’s own brows pulled together. “Do you ever think before you open your mouth?”
“Did I offend your delicate sensibilities?” Sam asked sweetly. He seemed to take great pleasure in riling her. “Or are you afraid Griff might say something to me he might not tell you? If he had, I wouldn’t betray his trust by telling everyone.”
Finley’s shoulders straightened. She could kick him in the throat. That would remove the smug smile from his face. How did he manage to get under her skin and know what she was thinking sometimes? It wasn’t like Sam was all that bright, which meant she was completely obvious in her feelings. She’d have to change that.
But she was the one who’d cradled Griffin’s head on the ride home, and the one whose clothing was stained with his blood.
“No,” she agreed. “You’re a good little lapdog.”
His
