Page 59 of Disturbing the Dead
Isla smiles. “Our Mallory is not vain, but nor does she wish to try conducting her secret investigations as a bald woman. Could I help? Something I can concoct?”
“Can you make anything magical?”
Isla and I exchange a look.
“The market is a place of magic,” Queen Mab says. “Not true magic. I don’t believe in such things. But it is a place of superstition and lore, particularly regarding the fairy folk. I think that is why they allow me in. They cannot believe that the queen of the fairies does not traffic in magic. Surely I must, for those I trust. Which means they all want to earn my trust.” She smiles. “It is very beneficial.”
“Fairy… folklore… superstition… Wait! I have a Hand of Glory.”
Queen Mab’s brows shoot up.
“It’s from folklore,” I say. “I don’t know whether it’s fairy lore or not. It’s a hand that’s used—”
“For thieving,” Queen Mab says. “The hand of a hanged man, coated in wax and used as a candle.”
Isla slowly turns to stare at me. “Where on earth did you come by that?”
“Your brother gave it to me last week. As a gift.”
Isla stares harder, and Queen Mab bursts into musical laughter, which Isla joins with a sputter.
“Such a lovely present for a young lady,” Queen Mab says. “So much better than a bouquet of flowers. Far more useful, at least. Your brother is terribly romantic, Mrs. Ballantyne.”
“He does know the way to a woman’s heart.” Isla sneaks me a sly look. “Or to the heart of one woman, at least.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not that kind of gift. He found it in a shop and brought it home for us to dissect together.”
“To dissect together,” Queen Mab says with a swooning sigh. “And to think I only meet men who want to take me on promenades and picnics.”
Isla snickers.
I lean against the lab table. “While I do hate to interfere with your fun, you do realize the stereotype you are perpetrating, right? That no man is going to offer a woman a job unless he wishes to get under her skirts. Really, I expected better.”
Queen Mab gives me a stern look. “You aim low, Miss Mallory.”
“She always does,” Isla says with a sigh. “Fine. We will stop teasing you, now that you have called us out on it, but be aware that you have spoiled our fun, and we shall certainly hold it against you. Also…” She leans toward me. “We are well aware you only said that to make us stop.”
“Like the queen said, I’m not above low blows. So I have a Hand of Glory. The problem is that Dr. Gray does expect us to dissect it, and I’m not sure it was meant as a gift in the sense that it belongs to me. He found it, thought it was interesting, and gave it to me as a joke. More of a shared project than an actual gift that I’m free to dispose of as I like.”
“Duncan is always willing to lend a helping hand,” Isla says. “Even if it is not his own.”
I snort at that and shake my head. “Fine. If the hand would work, I can talk to him. Will it work? And would I need to give it away?”
“It will most certainly work,” Queen Mab says. “For giving it away, that will depend, but you had best be prepared to do so, though I would expect something in trade for it. Perhaps a severed leg?”
“He already has one of those. Keeps it in a jar. Okay, so the hand gets me in. Who else can come? Mrs. Ballantyne? Dr. Gray?”
Queen Mab shakes her head. “Neither could affect a proper disguise, and the fewer people I bring, the better.”
“So I need a disguise?”
“Oh, no. You are a pretty housemaid who works for a notorious mad scientist. That is all the disguise you will need.”
NINETEEN
“You wish to abscond with my Hand of Glory, use it to gain entrance to a secret goblin market… and leave me behind?” Gray stands behind his desk, arms crossing. “What, pray tell, have I done to deserve such ill treatment?”
“I—”
