down the stairs. 'We assume he has a goal. We assume he's not just a madman.'
'He just turned a house of innocent people into flowers, Ange. That's one hell of an assumption.'
The solitude of the bizarre garden upstairs was broken by an argument, coming from the still-open door to the garage. Several voices going back and forth in tense whispers as we came downstairs. When the considerable bulk of Angela's engine reached the hallway, the voices cut off and a woman stepped into view. Quite a woman.
She had a lot of very dark hair that fell in broad curls over her shoulders and across her face. She had the tall, broad frame of a woman who could become heavy if given to a life of sloth, but everything about her spoke of a life lived out of doors. Her skin was dark with the sun, her face dusted in freckles, her arms strong and long. She was wearing a riding dress and shoulder shrug, the coat coming to the middle of her torso. The colors were muted, greens and blacks and browns that would have looked common if they had not been so finely cut, so expertly tailored. She put her hands on her hips and stood in the middle of the hallway, blocking our path.
'Lady Tomb. I see that you've taken your liberty with our property again,' she said. Her words were precise and clear, the anger in them packaged in courtly politeness. Clearly she and Angela were cut from similar cloth, if perhaps by different tailors, for different reasons.
'Veronica. I am here on Council business, and as such have free access to any property that might pertain to our current investigations. If you insist…'
'I insist, Angela. I insist that you notify the Bright estate whenever you intend to conduct Council business on our property. I insist that you have a family escort during your investigation; if not a member of the Brights, then someone we can agree is trustworthy and will not merely serve the interests of the Founders. I insist…'
'Enough, girl,' Angela snapped. 'I will not stand here and suffer your insinuations. This is a matter for the Council, and for the committee duly appointed to handle this situation. If you have a problem with that, you can bring it up in the chamber. Until then, I ask you to step aside.'
'The committee duly appointed, eh?' The girl named Veronica sneered, a look that sat strangely on her face. 'Are you referring to the committee that you created from your friends, the committee that operated without the full knowledge of the Council for months, that did not come to the light of day until' — she hurled her arms around the hallway, indicating the whole house — 'until this attack made it necessary for you to share with the industrial families. That committee?'
'It was unclear if it was a matter for the full Council until…'
'Enough. We have filed an order of dissolution for the committee. The votes are with us. You are going to turn over your findings' — she stabbed at Angela with her finger — 'with documentation to support your claims. This has been a witch-hunt, conducted in the shadows by you and your friends. And when I read those documents, Angela, I expect to find a report detailing your reason for being here today.'
'She was just showing me around,' I mumbled. Veronica turned to look at me, as though I had just popped out of the wall.
'Another one of your lackeys, I assume? Does this one know how to properly search a house without killing the witnesses?'
'Veronica Bright, I'd like to introduce you to Jacob Burn.' Angela nodded between us, presenting me with a flick of her hand. 'Jacob, Veronica.'
Veronica stared at me with open tension. I wondered if my father had done something to offend her, or if she'd merely heard the stories of my exciting and disaster-laden youth.
'Another one of your Founders. Of course. Is this the one being groomed to fill Alexander's seat?'
'My father is more than capable of holding his seat in the Council, ma'am. And when the time comes, I doubt he'll be passing that honor on to me.'
She gaped at me like a fish, then rounded on Angela.
'He sounds perfect, Lady Tomb. Where did you dig him up? Somewhere downriver? He has that perfect scent of blind ignorance and entitled arrogance I've come to expect from the Founders. Will you sign his birthright yourself, or is Alexander still capable of that?'
'Veronica, please. Jacob is the legitimate heir of Alexander Burn, and more than capable of sitting the Council.' She shot me a look that promised violence. Well. Violence she would get. 'What the elder Burn intended cannot be disregarded, of course, but there are considerations that must be weighed. In fact…'
'Whoa, whoa, whoa,' I said, stepping angrily between the women. 'I think I can say pretty clearly that my father has no intention of naming me heir to anything other than his contempt. He was pretty clear about that, the last time we spoke.'
'And tell me, Jacob — it's Jacob, right? I do remember that Alexander had a wayward child by that name, though honestly when he had you struck from the histories I was a little surprised.' Veronica Bright smiled smugly. 'When was the last time you spoke to your father?'
'He and I are not on what you'd call speaking terms.'
'Hm, yes,' she said, then nodded to Angela. 'He is quite well done, Tomb. It's a pity Alexander won't be able to appreciate your work.' She turned to me and gave a little bow. 'A pleasure meeting you, young Burn. I'm sure we'll be speaking again.'
She left, going into the garage where she resumed her argument. Within seconds the garage door rattled open and her voice receded. When it was quiet again, I turned to Angela.
'Lovely girl. What did she mean about my father not appreciating your work?'
'Alexander can be a difficult man,' she said, sighing as she retrieved her gloves from her pocket and flipped them in her hands. 'More difficult than most. You should know that by now.'
'That doesn't really answer my question,' I said.
'Perhaps not. Perhaps I'm not the one who should be answering. Come, we have things to do. Things to discuss.' She moved to the door.
'No we don't.'
That stopped her. She turned back to me, rotating like a top on the hundred little feet of the engine. Her face was neutral, but she was wringing the gloves.
'You're after something, Angela. You said this was only the second attack, but that girl claimed your little committee had been around for months. There have to have been others.'
'Don't listen to Veronica, Jacob. She wants nothing more than to bring the Founders down to her level. To make trouble.' She clattered closer to me. 'The Council is fragile. Our hold on power…'
'Your hold on power. No, Angela, something is going on here. She may be playing politics, but I know you are. And that's a game I'd rather stay out of.'
'Don't think you can run from this one, Jacob. This isn't the kind of trouble that goes away on its own. It'll find you.'
'Maybe. Or maybe I'll find it. Either way, I'm going to do it on my own.'
'I can help you, Jacob,' she said, her cold hands curled into fists. 'Don't throw that away.'
'Any help you give me is only going to be because it's to your advantage. No, I'll do this myself, or not at all.' I pushed past her, down the hallway. This place had to have a front door. 'Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to show me a house full of dead bodies and corpse-plants. It's been special.'
She watched me go. I had to step over a couple of bodies, but I found the front door. Got out. From outside, the house looked like any other, the facade dirty and black, the stones of its foundation muddy. Nothing to indicate the horror inside.
I had a list in my head. People I wanted to talk to, people I wanted to avoid. Things I wanted to know. Top of that list: find Wilson, and get my hands on that mask. And then maybe talk to this Veronica lady. Or my dad.
I didn't really want to talk to old Alexander. I shoved that one further down the list, then headed to where I thought Wilson might be. Which could be anywhere.
Chapter Eight
