Free The Dark Enquiry by Deanna Raybourn Page A

writhe and cry out, and I watched her fall silent as she slipped into the coma, the sleep of death. And I witnessed Agathe, bursting in with the doctor to find her there, the light of life completely extinguished.
    Madame was not beautiful in death. Her eyes were only half-closed and her mouth was slack and stained with sick, and I saw it all through the veil of unshed tears. I saw Agathe fall to the floor, sobbing into her sister’s skirts, and I saw the doctor searching fruitlessly for a pulse. I saw him close Madame’s eyes and drape a shawl over her face, and I saw him draw Agathe from the room, consoling the grief-stricken woman.
    When they had gone, Brisbane hauled me roughly to my feet and shoved me along the passageway, back the way we had come. I stumbled down the stairs, and if he had not had hold of my collar, I would have fallen heavily. But he pulled me to my feet and when we reached the spirit cabinet, he paused. With his thumbs, he wiped at my cheeks.
    “You must bear up, Julia,” he said. “This next bit is the most dangerous. I will do everything I can to get you out of here safely, but you must follow my orders instantly and without question.”
    I nodded and he eased a finger through the velvet drape to peer through. He ducked back immediately, shaking his head to signify that someone was in the room. He motioned for us to go back the way we had come. We slipped into Madame’s room, and I kept my eyes studiously averted from the draped figure on the sofa. Brisbane tried the door, swearing softly.
    “Locked. From the outside.”
    “Pick it!” I ordered. I had no desire to spend the night trapped in a room with a fresh corpse.
    He shook his head. “No time. They might return at any minute. There’s no help for it. We must take the window.”
    He moved directly to the window, easing aside the heavy velvet drapes. There was a small bit of coping outside, surely not enough to support him, but he opened the window and flung a leg over the sill, testing the stone with the tip of his boot.
    “Brisbane! You’re mad. You will be dashed to the stones below,” I warned him.
    He fixed me with a quelling look. “Instantly and without question,” he reminded me. “Now, climb onto my back and hold tight. You might want to close your eyes.”
    I did as he suggested, clinging to him with all of my might and never once daring to look down. To my astonishment, he did not descend when we quit Madame’s room. He went up, climbing the wall until he reached the mansard roof above. He ducked his head and gestured for me to climb over him. My limbs trembled, but I did as he commanded, finding myself atop the roof of the Spirit Club. Alone. I threw myself at the edge of the roof to see what Brisbane was about, and to my horror, realised that he was climbing back down to secure the window and remove all traces of our departure. I huddled on the roof, too numb even to pray, shivering in the cool night air as my head swam from the height. There was a sliver of a moon, and I kept my eyes fixed upon that as I waited. At last, he sprang onto the rooftop, dropping lightly to his feet.
    “Oof,” was the noise he made as I flung myself at him.
    “Brisbane, you are never to do such a thing again,” I commanded. “You frightened me half to death. It was far too dangerous and I forbid it. Do you hear me? I forbid it.”
    I was babbling, but to his credit, he merely enfolded me in his arms and held me close to him for a moment. “I had no choice,” he murmured. I burrowed closer, borrowing his warmth, until he patted me gently upon my posterior. “We must go.”
    He took my hand and led me to the edge of the roof. A narrow gap divided this house from the next, and Brisbane leapt lightly, holding out his hand for me to follow after.
    “Madness,” I muttered. “I do not have a head for heights.”
    Brisbane gestured impatiently. “I have seen you stare down murderers. If you think I will permit you to turn missish now,