Copperhead

his head. “When his body washed up a couple weeks later, the human courts ruled it an accident.”

“Oh, Rook…,” said Helen. “How did the dwarvven find out?”

“I told them,” he said. “During the dwarvven trial. They censured the others and sent them home for community service for six months—by which time the war was over. But someone had actually died in my case—and then, I was havlen. I was officially told it was my bad blood showing. In public I was told off and sentenced to six years hard labor in the mines. I went there. It was … miserable. A month into it a man ‘unofficially’ came and told me I could better serve my people as a spy.…” He trailed off. “Sometimes I think it’s worse than the mines.”

She was silent and he said, “You see I’ve thoroughly managed to depress you. I propose all the secrets we share from now on be light and scandalous. Back in school, we did a production of The Pirate Who Loved Queen Maud, and I played the pirate—mostly because as the tallest I was best able to carry off our leading lady on my shoulder. All went well until I was required to leap from the set of the deck to the crocodile-infested waters. The boy playing the crocodile sat up and roared, and I tumbled end over end onto the deck, splitting my trousers in the process. Your turn.”

The gap between the two stories was so large that it took her breath away, and she could not immediately find her clever response.

And so he picked up the flashlight and shone it elsewhere, away from them, and said lightly, “Well, keep your secrets then.”

“I have no secrets,” she said, finally picking up her cue. “I was just wondering how well the rest of the dwarvven danced.”

“Come and find out,” he said immediately. “Goodness knows we could use a lift around here. Times are hard and getting harder. So many dwarvven let go from their employment. Finding work never used to be a problem, until Copperhead gained a foothold in the city. Some dwarvven have already headed back to our own country, deep in the mountains. Given up on the city for a generation. But come back tonight and dance. We will have fun.”

Helen sighed. “No, I was being silly. I have so much to do, now that I’ve found Jane. Frye’s helping me convince The Hundred, but she can’t do it all herself, even with her fey charisma. I should be doing that now, but I came down to ask you about your involvement with Copperhead. Which I guess if I believe you is nothing worse than I already knew. But after I found Jane at the warehouse I just didn’t know what to think or whom to trust.”

He stared at her. “What warehouse?”

“You mentioned the statue of Queen Maud,” Helen said, “I thought as a joke. But Alistair mentioned it, too, and that led me to Jane, who was wandering around this strange warehouse full of cages, and Grimsby’s invention; you know, from the meeting? Jane didn’t exactly seem to be trapped there, but she was certainly there. And the warehouse must belong to Grimsby—Jane thought so, too. And if you’re spying on them as well as for them, anyway … well. Tell me what you know.”

“You found the warehouse? I wasn’t sure there really was one. And you just, what, stumbled on it?”

“Well, it was kind of lit up blue,” Helen said. “Not exactly hard.”

“Lit up blue,” Rook repeated. “To you, you mean?”

She stared at him. “To me only? Is that what you mean? But why me? Because of my face?”

Rook shook his head. “I don’t know. Look, I need to find that place.”

“So you guys can blow it up?” He looked wounded and Helen raised her lilac-gloved hands. “Look, I’m tired of pretending I’m a scatterbrain, even if it’s generally true. If you’re spying for the dwarvven, then clearly you have a reason. So even if I trust you—which might be a big if—then still still still. You guys are after Copperhead and Copperhead is after you and you can’t just all go around acting tiresome and manly and declaring war.”

Rook slumped down. “I’m not,” he said. “But my history is against me.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Even with you and you barely know it. Look, I won’t make you show me the warehouse tonight. But I think you should bring Jane here, to me. If what you say is true, then Copperhead wants Jane for something she’s able to do. They must have put her there in the warehouse, right?”

Helen’s mind worked. “Or not all of Copperhead,” she said slowly. “Alistair thought Jane was still missing. He thought that’s why Grimsby and Morse and Boarham were mad at him. But this is Grimsby’s warehouse, so he must have known Jane was there. Or even put her there, without telling Alistair and the other top party members. Which means … which means that Jane didn’t run away after all. Jane said something about thinking there was a man in the attic.… Someone could have grabbed her.”

Rook looked sober. “We were both right there, watching that machine like fools. If it hadn’t gone haywire from interfering with Jane’s process, you wouldn’t have known she was missing for another hour.” He puzzled it over. “But most of the key Copperhead players were by the machine.”

Helen tried to focus, tried her damnedest to replay that scene in the attic, after the lights went out. Who was missing? “Boarham,” she said slowly. Hefty thug Boarham. One of the two right-hand men. “Grimsby must have planned all along to kidnap Jane. He must have sent Boarham to grab her. Take her out the garret window and down the fire escape. Take her to the warehouse. Ransack her flat for those faces while I was busy taking the trolley…”

“With a motorcar he would have had plenty of time to beat the trolley,” Rook agreed.

“But then, if Grimsby planned to take Jane, he must have known about my plan with Millicent to have Jane replace her face,” Helen said. She clutched Rook’s arm as her voice rose higher, connecting the dots. “He knew he was going to be leaving her in the fey sleep because of this. Where she might die. His own wife. His own wife.” She realized what she had done and let go.

“Has Millicent recovered?” said Rook, tactfully not flinching away from her grasp.

Helen shook her head, trying to shake off the rising sensations of guilt and fear. “I don’t know. I’m just now realizing that Jane was very vague on that point. And I don’t even know where Grimsby’s stashed her. He said someplace safe but … oh goodness. He could have just offed her and how would I know? She was trying to run away from him.”

“Maybe he knew that part, too.”

“And maybe she knew he knew. She told Jane something.” Helen flung up her hands. “Ugh, that man is awful. I didn’t know it was possible to hate him more.” She paced, thinking. “All right. So why kidnap Jane? I knew Copperhead disliked Jane but they claimed it was because she was working against them. What if, for Grimsby at least, that’s not entirely true? Jane did have extra powers before. She could actually use her fey substance in a way most women couldn’t.” Helen whirled, bits of gravel skidding off the walkway and down to the water below. “What if he took her to the warehouse to test his machine out on her? Three days of torture—that would make anyone lose it.”

“Where is she now?”

“I left her at Frye’s.”

“Frye’s trustworthy. No matter what you think of me.”

“Trustworthy but not there,” returned Helen. “Frye was going to try to find some of those women and win them to the cause. Jane’s all alone in the house. And she said—she said about the warehouse that things were patchy—going in and out. What if her mind’s gone again? What if she was just temporarily sane this morning, and not all the way better? And then, with no one watching her … anyone could just waltz in and take her away.”

Rook nodded, watching her come to the inevitable conclusion.

“I have to hide her where no one knows where she is,” Helen said. “I have to bring her here.”

“You can trust the dwarvven,” he said. “We might be grouchy, but we’re forthright. We always pay our debts, and we’ll always tell you when we hate you.”

Helen managed a weak smile. “Good to know.”

* * *

Heart in throat, Helen rang the bell at Frye’s for ten minutes before Jane finally answered the door, apparently all alone. Frye must have lent her clothes, too, for Jane now wore a bulky royal purple cardigan over her grey evening dress. Helen’s heart sank as she saw the vague expression on Jane’s face, just as she had been