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  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, because there’s an intruder on base.”

  “I’ll report if I see anything suspicious.”

  The other soldier moved on, and Claire relaxed slightly.

  Patrick and Radcliffe mimicked the other soldiers’ movements as Claire darted from shadow to shadow. They passed the next row of buildings and found a courtyard where the general’s balloon sat inflated and ready to go. Claire wondered if he had it going so he could float back to Montgomery at first light and report his victory in capturing the inventors of the aether weapon. That would give the Confederates new hope.

  Unfortunately four of the general’s private guards surrounded the balloon.

  “Private Greely, let’s create a diversion,” Patrick said.

  “With pleasure, Mister O’Connell. The armory is this way.”

  “Perfect!”

  “Patrick, wait!” Claire said and darted out. Chad caught her arm, and she felt his fingertips against her scars but wasn’t ashamed of them anymore.

  “Let him do what he needs to do.”

  He held her against him, and an explosion lighted the courtyard.

  “Water! Start a water line!” someone shouted.

  The general’s guard ran to help, and Chad and Claire ran for and tumbled into the basket. Chad bent over it to untie the moorings.

  “But Patrick!”

  Chad’s mouth tightened into a line that didn’t reassure her. “He’ll get out. The others will help him, and he’s quicker than most give him credit for with his size. Meanwhile, we need to get back to General Morley and tell him not to attack with La Reine. This is our only chance to make it back before he gives the order.”

  Claire helped him, and the balloon lifted. Patrick ran full-speed into the courtyard and grabbed one of the ropes with one hand, a group of Confederate soldiers behind him. He fired at them with the pistol he held in the other, and they fell back.

  “Shoot the balloon!” One of them yelled.

  “No! You’ll start a helium fire, and the whole fort will burn!”

  “It already is!”

  Chad hauled Patrick over the side as Claire increased the flame to make the balloon rise faster. The soldiers must have settled the argument about the helium fire because bullets whizzed past them. A few made small holes in the silk, but not enough to down the balloon or set it aflame. They stopped when there was more gunfire on the ground.

  “Good, our boys must’ve found them,” Patrick said and wiped his sooty face with his cap. “That was fun!”

  Claire peeked over the side and saw they had left Fort Temperance behind them and floated toward Fort Daniels. Explosions rocked Fort Temperance. The resulting pressure waves nudged the balloon and set the basket swinging. Flames shot over Fort Temperance, and she hoped the Union soldiers were all right.

  She clutched at Chad as her memory dragged her back to the steamcart, fire surrounding her. Chad took her in his arms and held her against him, and the images faded.

  “You’re safe now,” he told her.

  “I know,” she said and leaned into his strength.

  The holes in the balloon made them lose altitude until the basket landed on the ground just inside the border. Chad and Patrick helped Claire out. They could still see the glow to the south.

  “I hope it was worth it,” Claire said. She tried not to imagine the screams of the soldiers at Fort Temperance as their base burned.

  “Regardless, we have each other.” Chad got on one knee and took her hands. “Claire McPhee, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

  “Happy birthday to me,” she said. “Of course I will!”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Fort Daniels, 27 March 1871

  A crowd gathered around the wagon from town, which carried the last round of telegrams, mail, and most importantly, newspapers.

  Claire clutched Chad’s hand. Would the nail-biting days waiting to see if that last battle and La Reine had accomplished what was needed be over? The cries of the wounded in the flames still haunted her dreams.

  The driver tossed a paper down into the crowd, and Bryce snagged it with his one hand, his eyes widening when he read the headline.

  “Confederates surrender in face of new weapon developed by Union and destruction of Fort Temperance! A decade of war ends!”

  Patrick led the men in a “hip hip, hurrah!” cheer, and Claire and Chad kissed. Of course they knew about the fort. Private Greely and the other prisoners had made it out and returned with a report of the destruction including the death of the elderly General Lee. There was no word on Nanette, but it wouldn’t have surprised Claire if she escaped somehow. People like that always managed to survive.

  Claire rubbed the tears off her cheeks with her bare hands. She knew she would have to start wearing gloves again when she re-entered polite society, but for now, she showed off her scars. Like the soldiers’, they were signs of what she had survived and overcome.

  “Are you all right?” Chad asked. He kissed one of her hands.

  She nodded. “It happens now with any strong emotion. But don’t worry, I’m happy.” She turned to Patrick and hugged him next. “You did it! You ended the war!”

  “We did it, lass. Your father would have been proud.”

  More tears fell, but she didn’t mind, and she turned to Chad for comfort to calm the overwhelming emotions. The nightmares grew less intense each night, and when she woke from them, she was in Chad’s arms, and he whispered in her ear how she was safe and how he would never let them be separated again.

  Bryce handed Claire a letter. “It’s from Aidan,” he said. “Did you write to him?”

  “Yes, but there hasn’t been nearly enough time for a reply.”

  Bryce shrugged with one shoulder, and Claire ruffled his curls. “Maybe he was worried about you.”

  “He always has been.” She tucked the letter in a hidden skirt pocket.

  Bryce handed Chad a telegram. “This came for you as well.” With a wink, he disappeared into the crowd.

  “Well, I guess we’re all out of jobs,” Patrick said, but it was a statement of relief.

  “Not necessarily.” Major Longchamp tapped Chad on the shoulder. “The general would like a word with you three.”

  Claire narrowed her eyes. The major didn’t put off much emotion, and she couldn’t read his expression. She slipped her hand into Chad’s, and they followed the major to his office.

  * * * * *

  Chad opened the telegram. It was from Iris.

  Heard about battle. Hope all is well. Did you use Ottoman metal?

  Chad’s heartbeat pounded in the middle of his chest. Any lingering doubt that he’d had about whether he’d traveled somehow to see Iris the afternoon after the Confederate attack disappeared. Which opened up the possibility for even more strangeness.

  The small rational part of his mind that believed in shared hysteria changed its opinion—Mrs. Soper really must have been some sort of supernatural being who had managed to be in bed and still lead Claire out of the General’s House the night of the attack. She’d disappeared from the hospital, and no one had been able to find her or her body. Some had speculated the Negroes had spirited it away, but Chad didn’t think so. He just didn’t have a good explanation for where it had gone, and now the possibilities had opened up.

  “What’s wrong?” Claire asked.

  “Things just got very strange.”

  “Even more than usual?” she asked with the teasing grin he loved.

  “Oh, you have no idea.”

  “Try me?”

  “After this meeting.” He owed her yet another apology.

  When they walked into the office, Chad stopped. The general sat behind the desk, and another man stood by the window. Chad recognized his long, fr
eckled face and lean physique, but he hadn’t seen him since Paris.

  “Inspector Davidson?” Chad asked.

  The man turned from the window and smiled. “Ah, Doctor Radcliffe and Mister O’Connell, it’s good to see you again.” He shook hands with the two of them in turn and then held out a hand to Claire. “And you must be the Doctor McPhee I’ve heard so much about.”

  “Yes, that’s me.” She looked over her shoulder at Longchamp and mouthed, “What does he know?”

  Chad would have to ask about that later. “I saw you got my telegram.”

  “Yes, and I looked into things as you requested. Please, have a seat, and I’ll explain. General, Major, would you mind?”

  They both departed without argument, and Davidson took the seat behind the desk. Chad, Claire, and Patrick sat on the three chairs in front of it. Chad glanced at Claire to see if she was comfortable. She studied the inspector with a quizzical expression.

  “You’ll not get much information from your hyper-empathy,” the inspector told her. “I’ve been trained to block others’ extra perceptions of me.”

  “I was wondering.” She shrugged. “I thought you must be someone important to order around a general.”

  Davidson grinned, and Chad resisted the prickle of jealousy that bloomed under his sternum. What were they talking about?

  “Have you explained to your betrothed yet?” Davidson asked. “And his friend?”

  Claire’s cheeks turned a rosy color. “Not yet, but I suppose I must now.”

  “Allow me.” Davidson leaned back and crossed his left ankle over his right knee. “Gentlemen, there are the five senses everyone has, and then there are extra senses some are gifted with. You’ve already met Iris McTavish, who has a special touch-sense that allows her to detect the thoughts and feelings objects hold on to from the people who have handled them. Also Marie St. Jean, who is a great actress because she becomes the roles she takes on at a deeper level than anyone else may. There are also hyper-empaths, people who can detect the feelings of those around them. Doctor McPhee is one of them.”

  Chad had known Iris and Marie were very talented in their respective fields, but Claire? “Is that why you decided to become a neuroticist?” he asked. “And have you been able to do this your entire life?”

  “No,” she said. “Just since the accident.” She shivered. “The asylum was awful as my empathy awakened. I didn’t know others could.”

  “Yes,” Davidson said. “And those who were with you in the asylum likely had their own extra abilities they didn’t understand, which drove them mad.”

  Claire pursed her lips. “Yes, I can understand that.”

  “But you learned to harness it?” Chad asked. He felt relief that she hadn’t been able to detect his youthful lust simultaneously with a sort of violation. Had she been observing—worse, feeling—his emotions the entire time she’d been there? Could she detect what he felt now?

  She must have because she asked, “If I had told you, would you have believed me? Or would you have thought me still hysterical?”

  “I don’t know.” He kissed her hand closest to him. “But I’m glad I know now. You’ll have to teach me how to shield myself. Not from you,” he added when he saw the hurt on her face. “From others like you.”

  She turned to Davidson. “Can you teach him? And me?”

  “Someone will have to. Doctor Radcliffe contacted me with suspicion that it was more than coincidence that all of you plus your cousin Bryce were stationed here at this particular fort. He is a smart man, and he was correct.”

  “What do you mean?” Chad had the feeling of staring over the edge of a precipice into a misty valley. Were there monsters or wonders below?

  “You realized that Parnaby Cobb survived his encounter with the mad inventor in Paris, right?”

  “I suspected so,” Chad said. “I thought that’s why you went after him.”

  “I did, and then I got detained. Apparently my contacts here wanted me to lay low to see exactly what he is up to. Meanwhile, they wanted to see what you would do with the Eros Element.”

  “You mean the weapon?” Patrick asked.

  “No,” Davidson said. “Although that was a clever distraction. We’re more interested in the therapeutic device. I’m afraid, however, that so is Cobb.”

  Claire listened to the conversation but also the emotions beneath it. Chad was cautious, as always. Patrick curious. And Davidson, of course, emanated nothing. It made him almost as unreal as his words sounded.

  “Wait,” Claire said. “What do I have to do with all of this?”

  “Who better to help with the development of a device that will control emotions than a talented, European-trained neuroticist?” Davidson asked.

  The muscle in Chad’s cheek that twitched when he was furious jumped. “Or who better to test it on? That’s really why she was sent here, wasn’t it?”

  “A happy circumstance,” Davidson said. “It worked, didn’t it? It brought your Claire back to you.”

  Chad wasn’t convinced, but he sat back and waited. It didn’t take someone with extra-sensory empathy to tell he tried to fit all of this into his own strategy.

  “And now that the war is over, you’re going back to Boston, right? To finally have your wedding.”

  “Yes,” Claire said hesitantly. “If Chad is able to. He still has to serve out his commitment to the Army.”

  “He will.” Davidson smiled. “And he’ll be treated as a war hero, as you all will for rescuing the Union soldiers from Fort Temperance before it burned. And, of course, for inventing the weapon that ended it all. Our contacts in the government will ensure that happens. Then Doctor Radcliffe will have his own lab at Harvard to continue testing the aether therapy device.”

  “With government grants?” Claire asked.

  “No, with a private grant endowed by our old friend Parnaby Cobb.” Davidson stood. “You know the old adage to keep your friends close and your enemies closer? That’s what we’re doing.” He paused and looked at them each intently in turn. “Remember that—no matter what happens, we’re working for the common good.”

  Claire and the others stood as well.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game, Inspector,” Chad said. “Doesn’t he have the Clockwork Guild involved somehow too?”

  “And the neo-Pythagoreans aren’t going to give up,” Patrick added. “They don’t want any of this to happen.”

  “Ah, that reminds me, Mister O’Connell.” Davidson drew an envelope from his inner jacket pocket and handed it to Patrick. “I have orders to protect you myself because I have a special assignment for you. These are your train tickets. You’ll be accompanying me back to Boston. I have someone packing your things as we speak so we can sneak away from here as soon as possible.”

  Claire bit her lip so it wouldn’t tremble. She didn’t want them to be separated so soon. It had been just like old times, but better since they had the freedom to make their own decisions.

  “Don’t be upset, Doctor McPhee. You’ll see him again soon enough.”

  Claire nodded. “Goodbye,” she said and hugged Patrick. Chad shook his hand and then hugged him.

  “Be careful,” he said.

  “Aye.” Patrick’s voice sounded gruff. “I’ll see you soon. Goodbye, lass.” He kissed Claire on the cheek, and his whiskers tickled her.

  Davidson put on his hat and tipped it, and then he and Patrick left.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Fort Daniels, 10 March 1871

  Patrick lowered his hat over his brow and moved to climb out of the coach. The inspector put a hand on his arm.

  “Remember what I said about working for the common good,” Davidson said. “Things aren’t going to feel like they make sense for a while, but that’s as it should be. Talent like Doctor McPhee’s is rare but not unheard of, and the
re are other women with unique abilities.”

  “So you’re saying I need to be confused.” He didn’t like this situation.

  “You’re going to be surprised, but not all of it will be unpleasant. I wish I could tell you more, but in this case, the truth could endanger your life.”

  With that cryptic comment, Davidson exited the carriage. Patrick shook his head and followed, but he drew up short when he saw the private rail car Davidson walked toward. It had a “C” surrounded by stylized olive branches painted on the side.

  It can’t be.

  He approached slowly and stopped when a familiar gray-haired figure stepped from the door.

  “Ah, Mister O’Connell,” Parnaby Cobb said. “My man Davis said you’d be joining us on our journey. I’m pleased to see you again.”

  Patrick looked at Davidson, who mouthed the words, “Trust me.”

  Patrick didn’t. He tried to turn and leave, but two thugs flanked him, and one of them pressed something hard and metal into his ribs. With one more angry glare at Davidson, Patrick held up his hands and allowed himself to be bundled into the car behind Cobb. Once in the passenger compartment, he found a second surprise.

  “I need you to talk to Davis,” Cobb said to a young woman who sat on one of the velvet-cushioned benches with magazine in hand. “He’s hiding something.”

  “Yes, Father.” She sounded bored, like she was asked to ferret out the truth from unsuspecting males frequently. Is that what Davidson meant, that she had a talent for interrogation?

  “Oh, and I believe you’ve met our guest. It was so long ago you may not remember.”

  Cobb’s daughter turned her autumn-blue eyes to Patrick and wrinkled her nose as she studied him. “You look familiar. Oh!” She clapped her hands. “You’re that young tinkerer from Claire McPhee’s ill-fated birthday party.”

  Patrick cleared his throat, which simultaneously went dry and clogged. “Aye. Hello, Miss Cobb.”

  What the devil has Davidson gotten me into?

  * * * * *

  “Will we see Patrick again?” Claire asked Chadwick that night after dinner. They sat in the laboratory, where a new aether disk undulated in the glass globe. Chad noticed how she didn’t approach it.