am not to talk to people very much, especially other children.” Edward made a face. “They are all afraid that I might forget and tell someone our secrets.”
Every time Edward used the word secret, he employed the plural. How many confidences was the boy keeping?
“It must have been difficult pretending that your sister was a widow for the past few months,” Gabriel said.
“Master Edward?”
Mrs. Trench’s voice sounded from the foot of the attic stairs.
“Your aunt sent me to tell you that you are not to bother Mr. Jones. Come down to the kitchen. I’ll cut you a slice of plum tart.”
Edward rolled his eyes but he went obediently, if reluctantly, toward the door. When he reached it he paused and looked back at Gabriel.
“Actually, it hasn’t been very hard pretending that Venetia is a widow,” he said. “She wears black every day, you see.”
Gabriel nodded. “I can understand how her attire would constitute a daily clue.”
“I think it is the other secret that they all worry about the most,” Edward explained. “The one about Papa.”
He turned and vanished through the doorway.
Gabriel stood for a while, neckties in hand, and listened to the sound of Edward’s footsteps on the stairs.
This is, indeed, a house of secrets,
he thought. But then, what house didn’t have a few?
Chapter 11
No more fish had died.
They floated just beneath the surface, pale bellies gleaming a dull silvery color in the light of the gas lamp.
The new aquarium was massive compared to the previous tanks. The size and depth of three bathtubs placed side by side, it was fashioned of wood and glass supported by a sturdy metal frame. The front of the tank was made of glass. An underwater jungle of aquatic-plants had been installed to provide nutrients and natural concealment for prey and predator alike.
The killer picked up a net and scooped out the dead fish. An examination of the bodies would be necessary to rule out illness or some other natural cause but from the looks of things, the new species of plants were evidently not producing enough oxygen. Half the fish in the tank had died in the past two days.
Reproducing a Darwinian world in miniature was proving to be far more complicated than one would have thought. The laws of nature seemed so dazzlingly clear and straightforward when one considered them in the abstract but in practice there were so many variables. Temperature, weather, disease, the food supply, even coincidence and chance came into play when one was dealing with the real world.
But regardless of the variables, the laws were immutable. And overarching all others was the greatest law of all: Only the fittest survived.
The killer took particular satisfaction in the obvious corollary: Only the fittest
deserved
to survive and prosper.
Nature had of course, taken care to make certain that prey enjoyed some protections. It was necessary to maintain a balance, after all. Where would all the predators be if there was no prey?
But there could be no doubt whatsoever about which group had been designed and refined by the relentless, implacable forces of natural selection to rule.
The knowledge that nature had ordained that there be predators and prey was vastly pleasing. It was self-evident that the strong had every right, indeed, a
responsibility
, a
destiny
, to dominate and control the weak. To show compassion or mercy was to deny the natural order.
The fittest also had a duty to pass on the strong traits with which they had been endowed. Finding a suitable mate, a healthy female who also possessed superior characteristics, was an imperative.
His first choice of mates had proven to be a disappointment, the killer reflected. But he was now quite certain that there was another, more appropriate selection available: a woman who was in all likelihood endowed with the unique talents he wanted in the mother of his offspring.
The long-standing traditions off the Arcane Society were known within the society.
Every time Edward used the word secret, he employed the plural. How many confidences was the boy keeping?
“It must have been difficult pretending that your sister was a widow for the past few months,” Gabriel said.
“Master Edward?”
Mrs. Trench’s voice sounded from the foot of the attic stairs.
“Your aunt sent me to tell you that you are not to bother Mr. Jones. Come down to the kitchen. I’ll cut you a slice of plum tart.”
Edward rolled his eyes but he went obediently, if reluctantly, toward the door. When he reached it he paused and looked back at Gabriel.
“Actually, it hasn’t been very hard pretending that Venetia is a widow,” he said. “She wears black every day, you see.”
Gabriel nodded. “I can understand how her attire would constitute a daily clue.”
“I think it is the other secret that they all worry about the most,” Edward explained. “The one about Papa.”
He turned and vanished through the doorway.
Gabriel stood for a while, neckties in hand, and listened to the sound of Edward’s footsteps on the stairs.
This is, indeed, a house of secrets,
he thought. But then, what house didn’t have a few?
Chapter 11
No more fish had died.
They floated just beneath the surface, pale bellies gleaming a dull silvery color in the light of the gas lamp.
The new aquarium was massive compared to the previous tanks. The size and depth of three bathtubs placed side by side, it was fashioned of wood and glass supported by a sturdy metal frame. The front of the tank was made of glass. An underwater jungle of aquatic-plants had been installed to provide nutrients and natural concealment for prey and predator alike.
The killer picked up a net and scooped out the dead fish. An examination of the bodies would be necessary to rule out illness or some other natural cause but from the looks of things, the new species of plants were evidently not producing enough oxygen. Half the fish in the tank had died in the past two days.
Reproducing a Darwinian world in miniature was proving to be far more complicated than one would have thought. The laws of nature seemed so dazzlingly clear and straightforward when one considered them in the abstract but in practice there were so many variables. Temperature, weather, disease, the food supply, even coincidence and chance came into play when one was dealing with the real world.
But regardless of the variables, the laws were immutable. And overarching all others was the greatest law of all: Only the fittest survived.
The killer took particular satisfaction in the obvious corollary: Only the fittest
deserved
to survive and prosper.
Nature had of course, taken care to make certain that prey enjoyed some protections. It was necessary to maintain a balance, after all. Where would all the predators be if there was no prey?
But there could be no doubt whatsoever about which group had been designed and refined by the relentless, implacable forces of natural selection to rule.
The knowledge that nature had ordained that there be predators and prey was vastly pleasing. It was self-evident that the strong had every right, indeed, a
responsibility
, a
destiny
, to dominate and control the weak. To show compassion or mercy was to deny the natural order.
The fittest also had a duty to pass on the strong traits with which they had been endowed. Finding a suitable mate, a healthy female who also possessed superior characteristics, was an imperative.
His first choice of mates had proven to be a disappointment, the killer reflected. But he was now quite certain that there was another, more appropriate selection available: a woman who was in all likelihood endowed with the unique talents he wanted in the mother of his offspring.
The long-standing traditions off the Arcane Society were known within the society.
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