Street. It was a stately stone building, which looked as though it might have been a wealthy family’s address rather than a place where art and scientific discoveries were displayed.
The area teemed with steam carriages, horses and street cars. Men and women in elegant clothes and glittering jewels streamed into the facility, their conversations a low buzz mingling with the sounds of the street and city.
Finley felt like a princess as she entered the society building on Griffin’s arm. She hadn’t said anything, but he looked absolutely gorgeous in his black-and-white evening clothes. Really, if she was honest with herself, she thought he’d look gorgeous in a burlap sack. Jasper and Sam looked very handsome, as well. It was odd to see Jasper in anything but his hat and casual kit.
The building was just as impressive inside as out. Pale walls showcased beautiful, colorful paintings of all sizes. Glass cases on tables and pedestals held delicate and priceless treasures.
“It’s amazing,” she breathed.
Griffin smiled at her. “We can go to some of these sort of events in London if you like.”
For a moment, Finley’s heart jumped at the idea, but then she remembered that she was not of the same social sphere as Griffin. Here, they could pretend, but back home, everyone would know she was lower-class and shun her. They might shun him, and she didn’t want to be responsible for that.
“Perhaps,” she replied around the fist-size lump in her throat and then glanced away before he could see the truth in her eyes—that they would never attend such an event in London.
Griffin didn’t seem to notice her change in demeanor, for which Finley was thankful. He turned to the rest of their party. “Keep your eyes open for Dalton or any of his gang. Check your communication devices.”
Emily offered each of them the small metal buds to put in their ears that amplified sound and voice. Each was attuned to the frequencies of their individual voices, so while they would pick up some background noise, they would amplify anything they wished to communicate with one another so that it could be heard by the rest, even in different parts of the building.
Each of them said something in a whisper and the others nodded if they heard it. When they were convinced the system was working, they split up: Finley and Griffin, Sam and Emily, and Jasper on his own. Since he would be a primary target for Dalton, the rest would make certain to keep an eye on him, as well.
Then they waited.
They mingled, ate, drank, but all the while, they were constantly on guard, waiting. It was exhausting. Mr. Tesla had recovered enough to join them but seemed uncomfortable with all the attention he garnered. He was so “twitchy” and withdrawn that Finley didn’t know if he’d be any help to them if they needed it—and the machine was his bloody creation.
Finally at half past eleven, Griffin suggested the inventor go home and get some rest. Tesla didn’t argue and quickly made his getaway.
“He’s an odd man,” Finley remarked.
Griffin stared at her as if she had just made a gross understatement. “You have no idea. Come on, let’s look at the ‘realistic’ automaton dog in the corner.”
They spent the next half hour visiting the exhibits, marveling at some, chuckling at others, all the while waiting for Dalton to strike. Finley knew she wasn’t the only one wondering if he had fooled them and actually had a different target in mind. Her anxiety grew with every tick of the clock.
Then at midnight, Dalton appeared. Literally, appeared. One moment, there was a wall with a schematic on it, and the next, Dalton stood in front of that drawing, Mei at his side.
They had walked through the wall.
Finley’s hand tightened on Griffin’s arm. “They’re here,” he murmured so that the others would know. “Far east wall.”
It was so tempting to jump on both of them right then, but Dalton hadn’t done anything wrong just yet, other than sneak in without an invitation. Hardly the sort of thing that warranted police attention. Whip would be waiting outside to swoop in when needed, just as Jasper would now make his way to the roof, where he would be less of a target and where he had set up a rifle earlier that day. From there, he would keep watch over Dalton’s carriage in case the criminal managed to escape the building.
“I’m here.” Jasper’s voice rang in Finley’s ear. She marveled at his speed. Before Griffin announced Dalton’s arrival, Jasper had been in the same room. Now he was in position on the roof.
“We see Dalton” came Emily’s comment. “We’re not far behind you, Griff.”
Finley kept her gaze glued to the criminal. He didn’t seem so pretty to her, now that she knew how evil he really was.
“He’s moving,” she said.
Sure enough, arm in arm, Dalton and Mei made their way through the crowd. They looked like any other influential young couple. They were gorgeous together, Mei’s bright magenta gown a contrast to Dalton’s black- and-white attire. They were heading straight toward the display in the center of the room—a rare diamond on loan from Mrs. Rothschild, which she had been gifted by some European royal. It was as big as a baby’s palm, set in gold filigree. It sparkled under the chandelier, so brightly that at just the right angle it could blind a person. It had been cut using some new process that was apparently a technological marvel—which was why it was on display here rather than in an art museum.
The diamond wouldn’t be the only prize Dalton had his eye on for the evening, but it would be the most prestigious and certainly the most illustrious. For all they knew, he might have already helped himself to other items located within different areas of the building or the vault. This was his primary objective—it made sense that he would save it for last.
Slowly, they closed in on Dalton. He hadn’t noticed them yet, or perhaps he had and just didn’t care. Finley watched in fascination as he pressed a switch located on a wandlike thing in his hand. The glass case holding the diamond shimmered for what might have been a second and then appeared completely normal again. That was when Dalton stuck his hand—the one Finley hadn’t broken—right through it.
It caused a bit of a sensation, as there were other guests to witness his display of criminal bravado. Security approached, as well. Dalton appeared unconcerned, until Griffin said his name.
Dalton’s gaze locked with hers, and that was when his face lost all trace of prettiness. An ugly snarl twisted his features. Would he be brazen enough to try to kill her right then and there?
She and Griffin lunged into action, but they weren’t fast enough. Dalton yanked his hand from the case, diamond clasped in his long, greedy fingers. He took off running, Mei at his heels. Finley and Griffin raced after them, Sam and Emily close behind.
In the corridor, Dalton pointed the wand at the opposite wall, and he and Mei ran through it. It had resolidified when Finley reached it, and she banged her fist against it in frustration.
“Split up,” Griffin commanded. “We can’t let them get away.”
“They won’t” came Jasper’s voice, and Finley thought she heard him pull the hammer back on the rifle. Dalton had better hope they got to him before Jasper did, because Jas was likely to kill the bounder.
She raced down the corridor, rounded a corner and came face-to-face with Mei. That was when she noticed that Mei had one of those wands, as well. Wonderful.
The smaller girl didn’t waste time being surprised. She whipped out her leg and kicked Finley hard in the chest. All the air swooshed out of her lungs, but not before she managed to land a solid punch of her own to Mei’s pretty face. While Finley was bent over, gasping for air, Mei slipped through the wall and was gone.
Cursing and panting, Finley took up the chase once more. She ended up in a storage room on the outside edge of the building. All of the windows were shuttered and reinforced with bars to prevent break-ins, but they wouldn’t be able to stop Dalton. If he made it through the shelf-lined walls he would be free and clear, because there were no doors through which Finley and the others could run.
Sam grabbed hold of Dalton, but the villain pointed the wand at him and slipped out of Sam’s grasp. Sam cried out, clutching his arm to his chest. There was blood on it, even though it appeared to be whole. “It was like he ripped right through me,” he whispered, face white. It must have brought back memories of the automaton attack that had killed him.
“Griffin!” Finley shouted. Dalton and Mei were both headed to the back wall, wands outstretched. She raced to Griffin as he stopped dead in his tracks and began to concentrate.
His hands shook. Was he afraid that the “ghost” might be waiting for him? Or was he worried that he might
