The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

in his laboratory.”
    Blenheim frowned at her.
    “Who have we
not
troubled?” Miss Temple asked him patiently.
    “Francis Xonck,” whispered Mr. Blenheim.
    “You have said it, Sir, not I.”
    He chewed his lip. Miss Temple went on. “Do you see …
we
have not divulged a thing … you have seen these things for yourself and merely deduced the facts. Though … if we were to help you … Sir … might it go easier with us?”
    “Perhaps it would. It is impossible to say, unless I know what sort of
help
you mean.”
    Miss Temple glanced to Elöise, and then leaned toward Blenheim, as if to share a secret.
    “Do you know where Mr. Xonck is … at this very moment?”
    “Everyone is to gather in the ballroom …” Blenheim muttered, “ … but I have not seen him.”
    “Is that
so
?” replied Miss Temple, as if this were extremely significant. “And if I can show you what he is doing?”
    “Where?”
    “Not where, Mr. Blenheim—indeed, not
where
… but
how
?”
    Miss Temple smiled and, slipping it from Elöise’s grasp, held up the blue glass card.
    Mr. Blenheim snatched at it hungrily, but Miss Temple pulled it from his reach.
    “Do you know what this—” she began, but before another word could be uttered Blenheim surged forward and took hard hold of her arm with one hand and wrenched the card free from her grip with the other. He stepped back, and licked his lips again, glancing back and forth between the card and the women.
    “You must be careful,” said Miss Temple. “The blue glass is very dangerous. It is disorienting—if you have not looked into it before—”
    “I know what it is!” snarled Blenheim, and he took two steps away from them, toward the door, blocking it with his body. He looked up at the women a last time, then down into the glass.
    Blenheim’s eyes dulled as he entered the world of the glass card. Miss Temple knew this card showed the Prince and Mrs. Marchmoor, no doubt more entrancing to Mr. Blenheim than Roger ogling her own limbs on the sofa, and she reached out slowly, not making a sound, to the nearest display case to take up a sharp short dagger with a blade that curved narrowly back and forth like a silver snake. Mr. Blenheim’s breath caught in his throat and his body seemed to waver—the cycle of the card had finished—but a moment later he had not moved, giving himself over to its seductive repetition. Taking care to position her feet as firmly as she could and recalling Chang’s advice for practical action, Miss Templestepped to the side of Mr. Blenheim and drove the dagger into the side of his body to the hilt.
    He gasped, eyes popping wide and up from the card. Miss Temple pulled the dagger free with both hands, the force of which caused him to stagger in her direction. He looked down at the bloody blade, and then up to her face. She stabbed again, this time into the center of his body, shoving the blade up under his ribs. Mr. Blenheim dropped the card onto the carpet and wrestled the dagger from Miss Temple’s grasp, tottering backwards. With a grunt he dropped to his knees, blood pouring from his abdomen. He could not draw breath nor—happily for the women—make noise. He toppled onto his side and lay still. Miss Temple, gratified to see that the carpet bore a reddish pattern, knelt quickly to wipe her hands.
    She looked up to Elöise, who had not moved, fixed on the fading breaths of the fallen overseer.
    “Elöise?” she whispered.
    Elöise turned to her quickly, the spell broken, eyes wide.
    “Are you all right, Elöise?”
    “O yes. I am sorry—I—I don’t know—I suppose I thought we would creep past—”
    “He would have followed.”
    “Of course. Of course! No—yes, my goodness—”
    “He was our deadly enemy!” Miss Temple’s poise was suddenly quite fragile.
    “Of course—it is merely—perhaps the quantity of blood—”
    Despite herself, the prick of criticism had punctured Miss Temple’s grim resolve, for after all it was not as if murder came to her naturally or blithely, and though she knew she
had
been clever, she also knew what she had done—that it
was
murder—not even strictly a
fight
—and once more she felt it all had moved so quickly, too fast for her to keep her hold on what she believed and what heractions made of her. Tears burned the corners of each eye. Elöise suddenly leaned close to her and squeezed her shoulders.
    “Do not listen to me, Celeste—I am a fool—truly! Well done!”
    Miss Temple