factories are the tipping point in the balance of power.’
‘John’s—Lieutenant Hardwick’s—assignment in Cheshire has undoubtedly uncovered part of this terrible plot,’ said Lillian. ‘But I do not understand how it links with the murders in the East End. What has poor Molly Goodheart to do with this?’
‘Nothing,’ said Marcus Hardwick, ‘but her killer may have everything to do with it. Your brother uncovered the identity of a man we believe to be a prime agitator in the north, and has long evaded the law—operated above the law, in fact. His name is Lord Lucien de Montfort, though his claims to the peerage are tenuous at best. He belongs to a group calling themselves the “Knights Iscariot”—a cabal of occultists and aristocrats who claim to be older even than our Order. When he is not lobbying for devolution of political power to himself and his allies, he has been known to indulge in… somewhat salacious and even barbaric activities here in London. If your cabman can admit dealings with de Montfort, then our suspicions will be confirmed.’
‘Until now,’ Sir Toby said, ‘our enemy has hidden in the shadows. It is your job to unmask him, and drag him kicking and screaming into the light.’
‘De Montfort is a man of prodigious power,’ John said. ‘I stabbed him and he did not bleed. He was physically strong and fast, and yet also possessed powers of foresight. What manner of man is he?’
‘Barely a man at all,’ said Cherleten. ‘A Majestic, yes; but something more, also.’
‘There are forces at work here that threaten the very fabric of our society,’ Sir Toby said. ‘You three agents are the first of our Order to make contact with these creatures in over a century. They are growing in number and audacity, but what exactly they are planning is unclear. De Montfort is the key to their plans, we believe, but his true motives are known only to him.’
‘Please, Sir Toby,’ Lillian said. ‘If you will forgive my bluntness, you are speaking in riddles. What are we dealing with and what must we do?’
Sir Toby almost smiled
, Lillian thought.
Almost
.
‘Do not be so keen to get back into the field, Agent Hardwick,’ he said. ‘That these monsters are not from the Rift is troubling indeed, for if they did not tear their way through to us like the other creatures of the night, then they must have been among us all along. I trust you understand the implications.’
In spite of everything that had befallen the Empire—indeed, humanity—in the last few years, Lillian had never heard Sir Toby talk in such a manner.
‘How do we know that they are not from the Rift? What are they?’ Lillian grew impatient. More than that, her shoulder was throbbing, and she was starting to feel nauseated. She realised that the sensation had been growing gradually since she had first set foot in the room, and as soon as she had thought this, it became harder to push her discomfort from her mind.
‘It is not easy to explain,’ said Sir Toby. ‘So I will begin with our more recent evidence, and you can draw your own conclusions. It began with wild reports of bodies being desecrated in funeral parlours and churchyards. Increased reports of bodysnatching followed and then, just two months ago, human remains were discovered by the Yorkshire constabulary in a small village on the edge of the moors.’
‘I remember reading about that in the newspapers,’ Lillian remarked. ‘They attributed the killings to an old legend about a beast on the moors, did they not?’
‘They did. And no one took it seriously, except perhaps to wonder if it was the work of the Riftborn; if perhaps the bones belonged to some Majestic who had overdosed on etherium.’ At those words, Lillian felt sure Arthur shifted uncomfortably. ‘And yet,’ Sir Toby went on, ‘when the same phenomenon occurred five more times, around York, Whitby and even Manchester, it came to the attention of Apollo Lycea.’
‘I had not
‘John’s—Lieutenant Hardwick’s—assignment in Cheshire has undoubtedly uncovered part of this terrible plot,’ said Lillian. ‘But I do not understand how it links with the murders in the East End. What has poor Molly Goodheart to do with this?’
‘Nothing,’ said Marcus Hardwick, ‘but her killer may have everything to do with it. Your brother uncovered the identity of a man we believe to be a prime agitator in the north, and has long evaded the law—operated above the law, in fact. His name is Lord Lucien de Montfort, though his claims to the peerage are tenuous at best. He belongs to a group calling themselves the “Knights Iscariot”—a cabal of occultists and aristocrats who claim to be older even than our Order. When he is not lobbying for devolution of political power to himself and his allies, he has been known to indulge in… somewhat salacious and even barbaric activities here in London. If your cabman can admit dealings with de Montfort, then our suspicions will be confirmed.’
‘Until now,’ Sir Toby said, ‘our enemy has hidden in the shadows. It is your job to unmask him, and drag him kicking and screaming into the light.’
‘De Montfort is a man of prodigious power,’ John said. ‘I stabbed him and he did not bleed. He was physically strong and fast, and yet also possessed powers of foresight. What manner of man is he?’
‘Barely a man at all,’ said Cherleten. ‘A Majestic, yes; but something more, also.’
‘There are forces at work here that threaten the very fabric of our society,’ Sir Toby said. ‘You three agents are the first of our Order to make contact with these creatures in over a century. They are growing in number and audacity, but what exactly they are planning is unclear. De Montfort is the key to their plans, we believe, but his true motives are known only to him.’
‘Please, Sir Toby,’ Lillian said. ‘If you will forgive my bluntness, you are speaking in riddles. What are we dealing with and what must we do?’
Sir Toby almost smiled
, Lillian thought.
Almost
.
‘Do not be so keen to get back into the field, Agent Hardwick,’ he said. ‘That these monsters are not from the Rift is troubling indeed, for if they did not tear their way through to us like the other creatures of the night, then they must have been among us all along. I trust you understand the implications.’
In spite of everything that had befallen the Empire—indeed, humanity—in the last few years, Lillian had never heard Sir Toby talk in such a manner.
‘How do we know that they are not from the Rift? What are they?’ Lillian grew impatient. More than that, her shoulder was throbbing, and she was starting to feel nauseated. She realised that the sensation had been growing gradually since she had first set foot in the room, and as soon as she had thought this, it became harder to push her discomfort from her mind.
‘It is not easy to explain,’ said Sir Toby. ‘So I will begin with our more recent evidence, and you can draw your own conclusions. It began with wild reports of bodies being desecrated in funeral parlours and churchyards. Increased reports of bodysnatching followed and then, just two months ago, human remains were discovered by the Yorkshire constabulary in a small village on the edge of the moors.’
‘I remember reading about that in the newspapers,’ Lillian remarked. ‘They attributed the killings to an old legend about a beast on the moors, did they not?’
‘They did. And no one took it seriously, except perhaps to wonder if it was the work of the Riftborn; if perhaps the bones belonged to some Majestic who had overdosed on etherium.’ At those words, Lillian felt sure Arthur shifted uncomfortably. ‘And yet,’ Sir Toby went on, ‘when the same phenomenon occurred five more times, around York, Whitby and even Manchester, it came to the attention of Apollo Lycea.’
‘I had not
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