Born of Deception

Seventeen

“Anna, wait!”

Billy tugs on my arm and I impatiently pull away. I’d been practically running ever since I left Dr. Boyle, while Billy’s been chasing me down the street, trying to get my attention. Part of me appreciates how humorous we must look—a cowboy chasing a flapper down the staid streets of London—but the larger part of me is terrified and horrified and desperate to reach Cole.

Billy finally grabs me around the waist and picks me up off my feet.

“What are you doing? Let me go!” I struggle and fall just short of clobbering him on the head with my umbrella.

“Stop it. What the hell are you involved in? Murder? Blackmail? What?”

He holds me easily in his arms and I’m aware that I am being held so that the lines of our bodies are flush against one another. I stop struggling. “Please put me down.”

He does what I ask, and I begin walking again. “I can’t tell you everything. Suffice it to say that a friend of mine was murdered and that man knows who did it. For reasons I can’t explain right now, I can’t go to the police. And, no,” I say, spotting the look on his face, “it’s not because I’ve done anything wrong. It’s actually to protect innocent people.”

“I don’t understand,” he says flatly. “And exactly what are Sensitives?”

I stumble before catching myself and moving on. “Never mind. Just . . . thank you.” I stop and look around. “You know, I have no idea where we’re going.”

He shakes his head. “I was wondering about that. The next street looks busier. We can get you a taxicab.”

We walk in silence until he flags a taxicab. “You can trust me, you know,” he says, opening the door for me.

I look into his eyes and they are so pure and openhearted that my throat swells and tears rise. “I know.”

It feels criminal to leave him there on the street, knowing he would do anything for me. But I don’t have room for regret. I have to find Cole as soon as possible. I ask the driver to drop me off at the Wrights’.

“We need to talk,” I tell Leandra as soon as she enters the sitting room I’d been escorted into.

Her green eyes widen as she greets me. “Your hands are like ice. What happened?”

“I had a run-in with Dr. Boyle. I know who killed Pratik and I know who Jonathon is with. We need to get Cole and Harrison here right away.” I almost sob with relief as the weight of my knowledge is off my shoulders.

She nods and calls in her housekeeper. “Could you please contact Mr. Wright at work and tell him to come home? It’s an emergency. And make tea. Oodles of tea.”

She turns back to me. Her concern is so evident that I’m ashamed I ever mistrusted her. I shouldn’t have judged her for the darkness that lies just beneath her surface—God only knows what sort of things she has seen in her nightmares.

“Cole telephoned Harrison to tell him he was getting back this morning and they made plans to meet. Hopefully they will both be here soon. Now who killed Pratik?”

“Calypso.” I watch her face carefully.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “That explains my nightmare.”

“You had a nightmare?”

Leandra nods and I freeze, my heart pounding. “What was it?”

Her voice is strangely composed as she describes her dream. “I saw Calypso, screaming. She looked like Satan was chewing her up from the inside. Then I saw Pratik, only not the man I remember, but like he was already dead yet still moving and talking.” Then she looks at me, frowning. “Then there was a young man in uniform whom I’ve never seen before.”

Walter.

My heart races in my chest and it takes me a moment to catch my breath. “I had a vision the day before yesterday. It was exactly like you described.”

We stare at one another for a moment, the hair on the back of my neck prickling.

“Are you saying instead of seeing your nightmare, I saw your vision? How can that be?”

I shake my head. “How does any of this happen?”

Leandra takes another deep breath. “I think you had better tell me what happened from the beginning.”

I tell her everything. When I get to the part about Dr. Boyle, Harrison and Cole come in. Cole pauses upon seeing me, but then concern crosses his face and he hurries to my side. Leandra pours us tea and nods.

Cole stops me. “Wait. You took Billy with you? He doesn’t know about the Society, does he?”

I wave my hand impatiently. “Of course not.”

“So he went with you even though he had no idea what was going on?”

I can feel my face heating. “I told him I was going to be meeting someone I didn’t trust. What was I supposed to do? Go by myself?”

“No. I just don’t know why he would do that.” Cole’s eyes are probing and I swallow.

“Because he’s my friend,” I finally say. “Can I continue?”

He nods, his mouth tight.

By the time I’m finished, Cole is shaking his head. “This is so hard to believe. Calypso is such a flibbertigibbet . . . Are you sure?”

My head snaps up. I had expected many reactions, but not this. “What do you mean, am I sure? Don’t you think I would know if he were lying?”

“Yes, of course, but have you felt anything sinister about Calypso? If she were capable of Pratik’s murder, don’t you think you would have sensed something?”

“Calypso’s emotions change so quickly it’s difficult for me to feel anything concrete from her. At the séance I felt nothing at all. Cole, what is going on? Why don’t you believe me?”

I feel as though I’ve been kicked in the stomach. Doesn’t he trust my judgment at all? After everything we’ve been though?

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” he says slowly. “It’s just that I am wondering why you are so quick to believe Dr. Boyle over someone you called a friend.”

For a moment I am tempted to get up and walk out on him, but I know from experience that won’t solve anything and we have to stop Calypso.

I take a deep breath. “Cole, I know what he told me is the truth. I can feel it.”

I turn to Leandra and Harrison. “What do you two think?”

Leandra twitches a shoulder. “I’ve never liked her. Of course, not liking someone is different from suspecting her of murder.”

Harrison reaches up to massage his neck. “The Yard has a dossier on Crowley almost a foot thick. He’s written several books and has apparently created a new religion.”

“Yes, it’s called Thelema, and apparently he was given the text by his guardian angel. He was also involved in the Order of the Golden Dawn,” I tell them.

“How do you know so much about it?” Leandra asks.

“I read quite a bit on the occult while growing up. I was trying to find clues about my abilities,” I explain and she nods.

“Understandable.” She turns toward Cole. “I’ve been to the Society almost every day but haven’t seen Calypso in a week. But that isn’t unusual. She’s always avoided me. When was the last time you saw her?”

Cole shifts in his seat and I raise my eyebrows.

“This morning. She came by the Society while I was talking to Jared.”

“What did she want?” Harrison asks.

Cole glances over at me, his eyes unreadable. “She wanted to know when you were coming back. I told her you got in two days ago but that you had been busy.”

I look down at the floor. Billy’s face leaps to mind and I push it away. Focus. I draw in a deep breath. “So what should we do?”

No one says anything and we all look at one another helplessly. “Well, don’t everyone talk at once,” I say.

“Can’t Scotland Yard do something?” Cole asks Harrison.

“Of course, once we have enough evidence. But we need to find the Sensitives before we do that. If we try to question Calypso now, she’ll either clam up or go over the deep end if she really is as demented as Boyle says she is. Neither one would help us. You don’t think she’s holding four men all by herself, do you?”

I rub my forehead. “I hadn’t even thought of that. She has to have help from somewhere.”

“What are the chances this is some kind of trap set by Dr. Boyle to get Anna?” Cole asks.

I shake my head. “Slim to none. I’ve been traveling in foreign countries. If he really wanted me, he could have had me. There were plenty of opportunities.”

“All right. Then we go on the assumption that Calypso has squirreled away the Sensitives, is a ritualistic murderer and an occultist. Considering who her father is, that’s not difficult to believe. But what is her motive?” asks Harrison.

“Do insane people have to have a motive?” Cole wonders.

Harrison nods. “In this case, yes. Everything she has done has been planned out. She has a reason. The problem is, it may not make sense to anyone but her, but if we are going to find where she has hidden the Sensitives and who is helping her, we need to know what it is.”

Leandra stands. “It’s almost time for supper. Anna, would you help me? Leave the boys to figure this out?”

We stare at her, puzzled, as the Wrights have a very good and capable cook and she’s not the type to leave anything to the “boys.” “Check in on Cook,” she explains patiently.

I finally get her meaning. “Of course.”

Instead of taking me into the kitchen, she pulls me into a small office near the back of the house and shuts the door behind her.

The room isn’t as neat as the rest of the house. In fact, it’s a mess, with piles of paper on the desk. The small settee is stacked with books and shelves are leaning precariously under the weight of even more books.

“It’s Harrison’s office. He won’t let the housekeeper near it. Claims she hides things. We almost lost her over it once so we made a deal, he cleans it every spring, whether or not it needs it.”

I smile and automatically walk over to the bookshelf. “I take it it’s that time of year again?”

Leandra waves a hand. “Oh, no, he just did it.”

I laugh. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Was I that obvious?” She smiles. “I actually wanted to talk to you about a couple of things. First, I want to know what is wrong with you and Cole. And if it’s none of my business, go ahead and tell me.”

I bite my lip, torn between very politely telling her it isn’t any of her business and confiding in her. Girlish secrets have never been my forte—confiding in my mother was not an option—and though I adore Cynthia, she’s currently on another continent, so I can’t ask her for advice either. “I don’t know,” I finally say. “I thought everything was fine. Different, of course, because we’re now living in his country instead of mine, but I thought it would all sort itself out. Then Calypso happened. I’m jealous. He’s clueless and distant and has a hard time understanding when I need reassurance. And then there’s—” I stop suddenly and Leandra gives me a shrewd look.

“It’s bound to be different here,” she agrees. “It’s also difficult when you happen to be smitten with a gentleman who has a difficult time telling you how he feels or showing affection. Harrison and I love the brat, but he spent most of his life among strangers. He isn’t overtly affectionate. And his grandmother is a terror.”

I snort in agreement.

“I know you will work it out but if you don’t . . .” Leandra shrugs and my stomach hollows. “You’re young. Cole may not be your one and only. And it’s all right if he isn’t, you know.”

I shake my head, feeling helpless. “The problem is I don’t know what I want anymore.”

She nods. “Very well, then. You do know that whatever the boys are planning right now, it won’t involve you or me, don’t you? They’re trying to come up with a way to try to catch Calypso without either one of us knowing what they’re doing.”

“Then why did we leave?” I ask, alarmed. I hurry to the door, but she catches my sleeve.

“They would have done so at their earliest opportunity anyway. This way, we can plan what we’re going to do without them knowing.”

I relax. “You have a plan?”

“Not a plan, really, more like a thought. What motivates women? I mean really motivates them?”

I frown. “Ambition?”

Her eyebrows shoot up on her forehead at my answer. “No, silly, love! Women are motivated by love.”

“You don’t know my mother,” I mutter.

“Pardon?”

I shake my head, remembering how different Mother is now that she has Jacques. Maybe Leandra’s right. Or partly right anyway.

“So you think that’s Calypso’s motivation?” My stomach clenches. “Do you think she’s in love with Cole?”

Leandra’s face screws up. “Oh goodness, no. I never got that from her. She’s one of those women who flirts with every man around her. It’s a game. And combined with her ability to influence people, let’s just say I kept Harrison as far from her as I could. I think she wanted to get to you.”

“Why would she want to get to me? I didn’t even know her.”

“I think she was concerned about the power of your abilities,” Leandra says. “All the scientists and board members have a great deal of respect for Cole . . . He’s male and his abilities are so different. Cole told everyone he thought you were one of the most powerful Sensitives he had ever known.”

“So she was threatened by me. Maybe afraid that my abilities would be able to detect her plan, whatever it is. Or maybe she’s jealous.” I think of her haircut, and how she ran out and bought a cloche just like mine. “But what does that have to do with love? Who could she be in love with?”

“Perhaps it’s not the kind of love we think.” Leandra’s face scrunches up as she thinks. “Did she ever say anything about her father?”

I straighten, remembering. “Yes. They’re estranged. When she speaks about him, she sounds rather bitter.”

“Perhaps this has something to do with him?”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to relieve some of the tension. “Maybe, but that doesn’t address the original question: What are we going to do?”

Leandra shakes her head and shrugs at the same time. “I just know that we need to come up with something or the men will leave us out completely, and, quite frankly, it’s going to take a woman to catch a woman.”

She has a point. I chew on my lip for a moment. “I think I have an idea. But it could be dangerous.”

“We’re talking about a person who murdered a fellow human being in an unspeakable manner. It’s bound to be dangerous.”

I shake my head. “Even more frightening. We have to get it past her father.”

Before Leandra and I formulate a plan, I decide to go visit Harry Price. If anyone knows about Aleister Crowley and how we can protect ourselves, it’ll be Mr. Price. Or at least he should, with all his knowledge of the occult.

The next morning I wash and dress quickly, planning to forgo breakfast in order to get to the Society before Cole does. He’d been quiet when he brought me home last night and when I tried to sense what he was feeling, he was so blocked off I felt nothing, not even that warm individual feeling I always get from him. Even though I knew he was doing it just to keep me from knowing he was planning on going after Calypso himself, it still hurt. Or maybe he is still upset over my friendship with Billy and this is going to be the way it is from now on.

It hadn’t helped that Billy had been reading a book on the couch when Cole walked me into the hotel. Billy’d stood and stretched, his long lanky frame towering in the lobby.

“I just wanted to make sure everything was all right,” he drawled in his best Texan.

Cole had tensed next to me and for a moment they eyed one another like rival bulls over a heifer. Not very flattering to me, but an apt description.

“Everything is fine,” Cole said stiffly. “Thank you for assisting Anna.”

“Of course. I would pretty much do anything for a friend.” He had given me an easy smile and ambled off to his room. Cole had given me a quick kiss, but I could tell he wasn’t pleased.

That’s all right. I wasn’t pleased that he was putting himself in danger and cutting me out of helping him.

The sun is just coming up as I hurry down to the corner to catch the tram that will take me to the tube. Being spoiled by being driven everywhere in Cole’s motorcar, I wouldn’t have known how to get around in London had Calypso not shown me how to ride the underground wherever I wanted to go.

The thought of Calypso turns my stomach. All along she had been conning me, but for what?

Within half an hour I am ringing the Society’s bell. To my surprise, Mr. Casperson opens the door. He’s wearing a plaid woolen jacket and a hat, as if he were on his way out.

His eyes widen. “Anna! I am surprised to see you. I thought you were on tour.”

He looks much better than he did at the séance, but still rather wan. “I got back several days ago. Is Mr. Price in this morning?”

“Yes, yes. You do know where his office is, don’t you?”

He glances at his wristwatch and I narrow my eyes. He’s jittery, nervous, and I sense panic coming off him in waves.

“Yes, I can see myself up. Are you all right?” I ask.

He nods. “I’m fine, I just have an early morning appointment. So if you’ll excuse me . . .”

He looks meaningfully at the door and I move aside. Waiting for a moment after the door closes before peering out the blinds covering the tall window next to the door, I huff in frustration when he climbs into a motorcar across the street. If he had been walking, I would have followed him. Right now, everyone seems suspicious to me. Pulling off my gloves, I pause before the door, taking in the beautiful wooden marks. I’ve never asked what the marks mean and suddenly recall how Calypso wouldn’t touch it that first night. A connection? Perhaps.

I open the door and move down the hall to Mr. Price’s office. The heels of my Mary Janes click-clack across the floor and it sounds so loud to my ears that I’m surprised no one sticks his head out of his office to see what the clatter is. Perhaps no one is here yet. I’m glad when I make it to Mr. Price’s office without seeing anyone, though. It’ll be easier if I can just slip in and out without getting waylaid. Leandra is picking me up out front in an hour for stage two of our plan.

I rap lightly on the door and take a deep breath before entering. Nerves whirl in my stomach. At this point, I suspect everyone of colluding with Calypso.

Mr. Price has a book on his desk and I note he closes it when I walk in. “Anna! Sit, sit. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

I take off my wraparound coat and then sit, laying it and my gloves across my knees. “I’m hoping you can give me some information.”

His lips curve and his dark eyes look pleased. “I can’t promise anything, but I will do my best. What sort of information has brought you out so early in the morning?”

“I want to know more about Aleister Crowley and about black magic.”

His response is immediate. He stills, his genial smile disappearing and his wide face becoming impassive. “I know of Mr. Crowley, of course, but what makes you think I have any more information than you could get from the newspaper archives?”

I smile and nod toward his massive bookshelf. “Anyone who has studied the occult knows about Thelema and Aleister Crowley. I know about him and my studies haven’t been nearly as extensive as yours.” I lean forward, my shoulders tense. “It’s incredibly important that I discover as much as I can about him.”

He relaxes but his dark eyes are still watchful. He leans back in his chair and knits his fingers across his chest. “So tell me, Miss Van Housen. What do you wish to know?”