One thing that didn’t feel odd was having Gavin beside her. That felt perfectly right. She was theoretically about to walk into the den of a notorious clockworker who was also her own aunt; yet right now she felt happier and more secure than she had since before her mother died.

Gavin dismounted from his own horse with a creak of leather, and the animal snorted hard. His pale hair shone almost like a halo from under the simple cloth cap he favored. They were in the middle of Hyde Park, some distance north of the Serpentine. Trees and bushes and lawn stretched out around them, and a misty drizzle made the moon a fuzzy disk. Yellow gaslights shone here and there, but the park itself was deserted. Alice glanced around, wondering exactly where to start looking.

“This is more or less where the map coordinates would put us,” Gavin said. “It may take several hours of searching before—”

“Here it is!” Alice called out. She was examining a small gardener’s shack that stood beneath a spreading beech tree. It appeared completely normal, except for the overly complicated lock on the door. Gavin trotted over and shone a large electric torch on it. Brass gleamed, and Alice saw scratches above the lock.

“Too much for a simple gardener,” Gavin agreed.

Alice’s heart rate climbed, and her lips were parted with excitement. “How do we get in?”

“These scratches.” His fingers dragged across them. “It’s musical notation, but old-fashioned—medieval. Doctor Clef showed me some stuff like it.”

“What happens if you sing it?”

Gavin sang, a short, quick melody that trilled like a nightingale. Alice found it pretty, but she glanced nervously around. Staying in one place after dark was a good way to encounter a plague zombie, especially in a place like Hyde Park, where the lights were scattered and far apart. Even as the thought crossed her mind, a shadow moved to their right. Two plague zombies lurched out of a clump of bushes. Both were women in tattered dresses. One carried a battered parasol. To their left came a trio—three teenaged boys, barefoot and in rags.

“Gavin!” Alice hissed.

He caught sight of the zombies, and the melody stopped with a startled choke. A red light flashed above the lock.

“Let’s get out of here,” Alice said. “The Ward can find this place again.”

“Agreed.”

But more zombies oozed out of the damp darkness, a crowd of pale men, women, and children, all groaning their misery. There was no way through them. Alice shrank back against the shack, her excitement forgotten.

“Where did they all come from?” she asked desperately. “Why are they coming for us?”

Gavin turned back to the door and started the song again, but his voice shook, and he got only a few notes in before the red light flashed. He started a third time. Alice drew her pistol. There didn’t seem to be much point in using the net rifle against a whole crowd, though the single pistol in her hand didn’t seem a great defense, either. Could she kill a plague zombie? They had once been—perhaps still were—human beings. The closest ones were only a few paces away now, and she could smell the rotten meat, even see the maggots that crawled around their open sores. Gavin continued to sing. Alice drew back the pistol’s hammer and aimed with a shaky hand.

The lock clunked and the bolts drew back. Gavin’s torch revealed a staircase heading down.

“Go!” Gavin shoved her inside without waiting for a response, then dived after her and slammed the door shut. Alice leaned against the shack wall, breathing heavily. Her knees quaked inside the unfamiliar trousers.

“Are you all right?” Gavin put an arm around her shoulders. “Did they touch you?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I’m fine. They didn’t touch me.”

Fists thudded slowly on the door and walls. Alice shied away from them. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous about them. I faced down a small army of them at the bank.”

“You were sitting atop a mechanical at the time. Drink this.” He handed her a flask, and she sipped something that burned all the way down. “Brandy. For the jitters.”

It did help. What helped even more was the way Gavin took her hand as they stood at the top of the stairs.

“Since we don’t have much choice,” he said, “let’s see who’s home.”

They descended the creaky staircase and came to a wide tunnel lined with brick. A deep trench ran down the center. Water dripped, and rats scuttled away from the light of Gavin’s torch.

“This looks like part of the sewer,” Alice said. “Though it smells rather fresher.”

“How would a baroness know what the London sewers are like?” Gavin flicked a foot at a passing rat, and it squeaked angrily at him.

“I do read. Let’s go.”

They followed the tunnel cautiously, weapons drawn. Alice’s world narrowed to quiet footsteps, dripping water, and the scrabbling of rat claws behind Gavin’s strip of light. Gavin halted, and Alice nearly ran into him.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“That.” He pointed the light at the floor. A wire glimmered at ankle level above the bricks. Alice took the torch from Gavin and followed the wire along its length. It led to an enormous round weight suspended on a heavy pole at the opposite side of the tunnel. Tripping the wire would cause it to swing across the tunnel and crush whoever might be standing there.

“It’s almost halfhearted,” Alice said critically. “It wouldn’t fool a child.”

“Maybe it’s a distraction from the real trap,” Gavin offered. “Simon and I once went after a clockworker in Germany who cooked up—I swear I’m not making this up—a variation of Limburger cheese that exuded deadly gas. Except it turned out the Limburger was to cover up what he was really making.”

“What was that?”

“Exploding crackers.”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “You did make that up.”

“Ask Simon! Anyway, maybe something else is going on.”

They searched for several minutes but turned up nothing. Alice grew cold, and her earlier excitement deflated entirely now that she was on her hands and knees in a chilly, damp tunnel inhabited by rats.

“If there’s nothing, there’s nothing,” Alice said at last. “Let’s keep going.”

Alice had to admit to a certain amount of trepidation as they both stepped over the trip wire. Still, nothing happened. They continued on their way and rounded a corner. The tunnel went on a little farther and ended in a simple door limned with light. They each pressed an ear to the wood. Nothing. Gavin set his shoulder against it and mouthed, Ready? Alice drew the net rifle and nodded.

The door yanked itself open, and Gavin stumbled with a yelp into the space beyond. Painful light blinded Alice, and she fired the net rifle. It jerked in her hands with a muffled phoot. Gavin yelled again, and she heard a scuffling noise. Alice’s eyes adjusted and she could see. The space was a large underground laboratory filled with esoteric equipment. Lying on the floor in front of her wrapped in a net was Gavin. Standing over him was the strange clockworker in the long coat, top hat, and grinning skull half mask.

“Halt, Edwina!” Alice fired the net rifle again. A pellet the size of a rugby ball burst from the business end and rushed toward the clockworker, but she twisted out of the way. The pellet exploded into a full-sized net that wrapped itself around a support pillar. The clockworker thrust a hand into one pocket.

“Don’t move!” Alice barked. “I will fire, Edwina. You know I will.”

The clockworker froze.

“I could use some help down here,” Gavin said from inside the net.

Alice didn’t move. “I want answers, Edwina. You’re not getting away, and you’re going to tell me why. Why would you send plague zombies to attack your own niece? Why would you leave me a house filled with death traps? And why didn’t you help me when I really needed you?”

Aunt Edwina just stared at her, the skull mask hiding all expression. Gavin was trying to untangle himself from the net without much success. Words poured out of Alice in a geyser of acid.

“Did you think that sending me a bunch of stupid automatons would make up for leaving me alone to take care of a sick old man all my life? You could have slipped me money, or visited in secret, but you didn’t. Was I that horrible? Was I that ugly and stupid? How terrible I must have been for you to abandon me when I needed you the most, and only your ticking clockwork automatons to comfort me.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Edwina said. “Truly I am. And I’m afraid it’ll get worse before it gets better.”

Alice froze. The voice. The tone. It couldn’t be. “Louisa?”

“Please, darling. Call me Aunt Edwina.” The clockworker swept off the mask and hat to reveal the face of Louisa Creek.

Alice was struck speechless. All she could do was stare while Gavin continued to struggle within the net on the floor.

Louisa—Edwina—clapped her hands in glee. “I know I’ve put you through a lot, darling, but look at you now! You’re wearing trousers! A true Ad Hoc lady. And you’ve trussed up that delicious young musician for yourself. How can the night get any better?”

“What the bloody fucking hell is going on?” Alice shrieked.

The room went silent. Gavin stopped moving within the net. Even Louisa/Aunt Edwina seemed at a loss for words.

“Well?” Alice asked dangerously. “I want an explanation, Louisa or Aunt Edwina or whoever you are, and it had better not involve transplanting a human brain.”

“Of course, darling,” she agreed. “But why don’t we help your young man out of that net first? Unless you want to leave him all tied up and helpless.”

“He’s not my—oh, never mind. Just stand over there and don’t move.”

She looked hurt. “You don’t trust me.”

“Should I?” Alice knelt down. “Hold still, Gavin. Squirming only makes it worse.” She twitched him free, and he rolled away. He’d lost his hat and torch, but his pistol was in his hand.

Edwina wrung her hands. “Don’t be too put out, darling. I put the kettle on the moment you entered the park and sent my helpers up to ensure you came down here instead of haring off to the Third Ward. I have eyes all over, you know.”

“You know about the Ward,” Gavin said.

“Obviously. Oh, Alice, may I give you a kiss? It’s been so long. Well, it hasn’t really, but you thought I was Louisa Creek.”

“Don’t come close,” Gavin warned. He still had the pistol trained on her, and in his other hand he held a syringe. He flicked the cork away with his thumb.

“I’m confused.” The angry geyser had ended, leaving Alice feeling empty and uncertain. “I don’t know who’s who or what’s what.”

“You already figured out that I’m your aunt Edwina,” the woman said. “I adopted the guise of a wealthy Ad Hoc lady and arranged for your invitation to the Greenfellow ball so I could become your friend. I had no idea that idiot Norbert Williamson would make a serious run for you. He set me back months.”

“Father and Norbert arranged for that invitation,” Alice said weakly.

“No, darling. The old dear was a stiff-necked traditionalist to the end, wasn’t he? His business contacts were long dried up, and your former fiancé is a perfect liar. I arranged for the invitation. I was sure you wouldn’t recognize me. It’s been almost fourteen years, and Louisa wears padded dresses, a wig, and an excess of cosmetics.”

“But why?” Alice cried again.

“Could we discuss this sitting down?” Edwina asked. “I have tea. You can still shoot me whenever you like, Mr. Ennock.”

Gavin thought about it, then gestured with the pistol. Only now did Alice notice how tight his face was, how stiff his movements. He was angry, too. But of course—Aunt Edwina was the Red Velvet Lady who had drugged him, tested him, and locked him in a lonely tower. Seeing Gavin in distress brought her a twist of pain, and Alice wanted to comfort him, to put her arms around his shoulders, but this wasn’t a good time.

Edwina led them around the edge of the laboratory. It was equipped with glassware and the newfangled Bunsen burners. Three microscopes stood on a table surrounded by notes and glass-topped dishes. The strange musical instrument she had used to control the plague zombies hung on one wall.

“None of this is about automatics,” Alice observed.

“No,” Edwina said. “I’ve moved on to other fields. Come, sit.”

A long laboratory table held tea things, including a tray of cakes. Aunt Edwina poured tea into three cups, then took hers and a cake to the far end of the table, where she sat down, still wearing her long brown coat. Alice sat opposite her. Gavin, in an understandable display of bad manners, half sat on the table itself, his pistol trained in Edwina’s direction. Neither he nor Alice touched the tea or cakes, though Alice was glad of the chance to sit down.

“Much better.” Edwina sipped her tea, and Alice saw her friend Louisa in her movements. Strange grief touched Alice’s heart. In a way, Louisa had died. “All right. You know I suffer from the clockwork plague.”

“You’re a clockworker,” Gavin said flatly.

“I don’t care for that word, or for the term zombie,” Edwina said. “These people are infected with a deadly disease, and they deserve compassion, not fear or scorn.”

“How did you survive it for so long?” Gavin asked.

“Through a great deal of research and hard work, Mr. Ennock. You might say the clockwork plague has allowed me to survive the clockwork plague.”

Alice stiffened. “Your work with zombies. All this medical equipment. You’re working on a cure.”

“More than that, darling. I’ve found one.”

The words hung in the air for a long moment. Finally, Edwina took a bite of cake and washed it down with tea. The gesture seemed so prosaic. After a pronouncement like that, the earth should move or thunder should roll. Instead, there was only the click of china. Finally, the last bits of strength drained out of Alice, and she slumped again. “I think you need to start at the beginning, Aunt Edwina.”

“Which one, darling? Genesis has two accounts of the creation, which—”

“Not that beginning,” Alice interrupted. “Are you . . . ?” She trailed off.

“Mad?” Edwina flicked a crumb away. “Of course, though some days are worse than others. That was a small joke to break the tension.”

“We like tension,” Gavin said in a flat voice. “Just explain.”

“No one appreciates me,” Edwina complained. “All right. Eight or nine years ago, not long after your dear mother died, Alice, I came to myself in the middle of my own house. The place was a wreck. Clockwork devices were everywhere, including a new valet who told me his name was Kemp. I had built them all in a mad fugue. I realized the disease that plagues our family had turned me into a rare genius, and I was enjoying a rare moment of lucidity after a prolonged period of madness. I managed to turn my newfound intelligence toward two areas—keeping my finances in good order so I could continue to build whatever I wanted, and finding a damned cure.”

“And succeeded at both,” Gavin said.

Edwina nodded. “It didn’t happen all at once, of course. I learned that the plague is caused by a type of bacterium, to use the word coined by Doctor Ehrenberg. It’s an organism so small, only a microscope can see it. It’s actually a kind of plant, and very pretty, with tiny—”

“Aunt Edwina,” Alice interrupted. “The cure?”

“Right.” Edwina rubbed her forehead. “I fear I’m heading for another bad spell. I still get them. After a lot of work, I gained some control over the plague. I could speed its course, or slow it down. The latter meant I wouldn’t die, but it was only a treatment, and it was difficult and time-consuming to make. I was spending nearly all my time just keeping myself alive. But then I made a breakthrough. An actual cure. And that’s why I’m on the run, darling.”

“I don’t understand,” Alice said, but that was a lie. Terrible understanding was growing like a mushroom inside her, pushing out everything else she’d been feeling and filling her with airy decay.

“At this point, the Third Ward broke into my home. They came looking for me, and I had to flee.” Edwina produced a handkerchief and wiped delicately at her eyes. “I had only a few moments’ warning, just enough time to nip out. The cure was locked in my laboratory safe.”

“But the Third Ward found it,” Gavin said, and Alice remembered the wall safe that had been ripped open in Aunt Edwina’s basement workroom.

“They did”—she gave her eyes another delicate wipe—“and they destroyed my laboratory so I couldn’t continue my work.”

“So Phipps lied,” Alice said. “She said the Ward left after your first trap killed one of its agents, and she said the Ward didn’t know who demolished your laboratory. Why did she lie?”

“You know the answer to that, darling,” Edwina said.

“Because,” Alice said slowly, “Phipps didn’t want me to know the cure existed.”

“Or because you’re lying now, Edwina,” Gavin pointed out.

“Why would I lie now, dear boy?” She sipped her tea again and made a face. “Cold.” She reached over to a nearby table, pulled a Bunsen burner over, lit it like a pet dragon, and held her cup over it. “The Ward left me little to work with—a few drugs, some rudimentary equipment, and the early stages of my research. I built a second laboratory down here and lived as Louisa Creek up there.”

“I want to know why you grabbed me off the street,” Gavin growled. “What did I ever do to you?”

“A perfect segue, Mr. Ennock,” Edwina said. “This is exactly the point where you came in. My plan to create and disperse a cure wasn’t working quite right, so I had to expand it. I needed Alice.”

“That’s not an explanation about me.” Gavin’s face was hard with a hatred Alice had never seen before, and it chilled her.

“I’m trying to stay chronological, Mr. Ennock, as Alice requested. We’re arriving at you.” She shut off the hissing burner and added a sugar lump to her tea. “I needed a way to get my cure back from the Third Ward. But Ward headquarters are tightly guarded, and the Ward knows how plague geniuses think. My only hope of getting at it was to draw out my dear niece, Alice.”

“Draw me out?” Alice came upright again. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“You were so timid after the clockwork plague struck the family down, darling.” Edwina got up to pace, and Gavin tensed. “No, that’s not the right word. I think the Americans call it hidebound. You wouldn’t budge outside the safety of traditional society. All that talent gone to waste. My dear, stubborn brother wouldn’t let me see you because he thought—quite rightly—that I’d try to corrupt you into Ad Hoc society, but he decided a few presents couldn’t hurt, and he let my little automatons through. I had already been working on you for your own good, hoping those little machines would stimulate you enough that you would start to chafe and finally break free of your father. I didn’t send you help of the monetary sort because then you would have had no need to break free. My hope was to starve you into the open. By sheer luck, the groundwork for furthering my plan was already there. I just needed to act on it.”

“What does this have to do with kidnapping me?” Gavin demanded. He had gotten to his feet as well, tense as a lion.

“Patience, Mr. Ennock. You waited in my tower for weeks. You can wait a few minutes more. The problem was, you stayed stubbornly with your father, Alice, and refused to try anything on your own. So I involved myself more directly.”

“You disguised yourself and became my friend and mentor,” Alice said dully.

“Exactly! What better way for me to mold your thinking than to become your best friend? After I met you, I took Patrick Barton home with me from the Greenfellow ball and drugged him senseless so I could—”

“You drugged Patrick Barton?” Alice interrupted. “What for?”

“I had to. I did tell you I would leave the ball with him.”

“Oh my God,” Gavin whispered. He sank back to his perch on the table, and his revolver shook. “You infected him with the clockwork plague. That was why he showed no signs of the disease before the ball, and that was why he became a clockworker so quickly afterward.”

“I injected him with my own accelerated recipe, yes. Mr. Barton did everything I’d hoped.”

“And that was?” Alice asked, feeling more than a little sick. For a moment, she had been lulled into seeing Aunt Edwina as merely odd, someone who dressed up in strange clothes and played an elaborate prank. But the incident with poor Patrick Barton slapped her back into sensibility. Aunt Edwina was completely mad.

“I’m getting ahead of myself.” Edwina sipped at her cup, realized it was empty, and tossed it over her shoulder. It shattered on the stone floor behind her. “After the ball, I arranged that little plague victim riot so you would get some exposure to the Third Ward, Alice. I didn’t have high hopes that you would come out of your shell right then, so I continued with my plan—until that idiot Norbert Williamson whisked you away into betrothal, anyway. I tried to talk you out of it, but I was handicapped by having to be subtle. It was infuriating. So I had to bring in Mr. Ennock.”

“I don’t follow this.” Gavin was clearly expending a lot of energy holding on to his temper, and Alice was afraid he was going to leap across the table. “Tell me why you kidnapped me and held me. Why you killed those airmen just to grab me again.”

Edwina nibbled a cake. “Frankly, you enchanted me, Mr. Ennock. Your fiddle and your voice and your natural charm—irresistible! In addition, you’re young and strong and have no children. Perfect material for the Third Ward, if only they noticed you. I suspected Alice would find you as attractive as I do, and I was fortunate to learn that she took all those rides in Hyde Park. I dressed in red velvet so you would notice me, and I paid you plenty to ensure you would play there often. And when the time was right, I hired a pair of men with a rope and a sack. Then it was just a matter of time before Alice rescued you.”

Alice’s mouth fell open. “You locked Gavin in that tower because you wanted to introduce us?”

“Well, obviously! Good God, girl, I practically threw the two of you together!”

“I don’t believe it,” Alice said faintly. “It all comes down to a maiden aunt who plays matchmaker—clockwork style.”

“Why did you leave the traps running?” Gavin said. “They almost killed us.”

Edwina stared at him. “I couldn’t deactivate the traps. The wrong person might get in.”

“Indisputable logic,” Alice muttered.

“Mr. Ennock is worth a few traps, don’t you think? He’s much better looking and far more talented than dull, drab Norbie.”

Anger thundered through Alice. “How dare you manipulate us this way.”

“I see.” Edwina looked genuinely hurt. “Your father arranges a marriage that makes you unhappy, and that’s all right, but I match you with someone you actually love, and that’s wrong?”

Alice felt ready to explode, and Gavin’s gentle hand landed on her shoulder. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “You don’t want to throw the teapot. Let’s hear the rest.”

Was she holding the teapot? She was. Alice set it down with careful control.

“Thank you,” Edwina said. “At any rate, you rescued Mr. Ennock but refused to contact the Ward, so I talked to you as Louisa and ‘accidentally’ found the card with the agent’s name on it. And then there was the incident with the paper bomb outside the solicitor’s office. I was hoping you’d notify the Ward then, too. It was a relief when you and Mr. Ennock went off in that dirigible, and I was very upset when you agreed to marry little Norbie anyway and moved Arthur into his house. I had to come up with a whole new plan to break you free. Once young Mr. Barton was ready, I distracted the rest of the Ward and turned him loose so it would be just the two of you going after him. So romantic!”

“How could you possibly have known you’d need Patrick Barton?” Alice said, surprised at how level her voice was. She felt more and more as if she were attending a tea party in a lunatic asylum. “It was a year between the time you met him at the ball and the time he attacked the smithy.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure I’d need him. I was only planning ahead, just in case. It takes time for the plague to develop, especially for someone who’s going to become a genius, and I was sure my new version of it would develop Mr. Barton into one.”

“What if I had joined the Ward right away?” Alice said.

“Then Mr. Barton would have had a wonderful time inventing any number of things before the plague took him off. Really, darling, I don’t know why you’re so upset. You didn’t even know him. And he wasn’t very good in the bedroom. Though now that I think of it, that may have been the drugs.”

“Your version of the plague burns clockworkers out even faster than normal,” Gavin said. His voice was tight. “I watched him die. It was horrible.”

“I was afraid of that. Fortunately, he served his purpose first. You two did become closer. But then my automaton spies gave me the news that Alice was planning to elope, so I had to act fast. I’m sorry the plan was so crude—short notice and all. Still, your adventure with the war machine did make it clear how much you need Mr. Ennock, Alice. My dear brother’s death was a minor complication, but in the end you made the right decision. If it makes you feel any better, darling, you’re going to get notice tomorrow that all your debts have been paid off by an anonymous benefactor. You don’t owe Norbert a thing.”

Oddly—or perhaps understandably—the news didn’t make Alice didn’t feel any better. “Edwina,” she said in a dangerous voice, “I need you to tell us what the point is. Why did you want Gavin and me to . . . to fall in love and join the Ward?”

She held up a finger. “You haven’t asked why I attacked the Bank of England.”

“You needed money?” Gavin said.

Edwina laughed like a society woman who had heard a small joke. “I have pots of money, Mr. Ennock.”

“Then why did you do it?” Alice sighed.

“Partly to bring you two lovebirds closer together, and partly so I could play those notes for you, the ones that gave you the map coordinates for this little den of mine. I knew you and your perfect pitch would eventually figure it out, Mr. Ennock.”

“Alice figured it out,” Gavin told her coldly. “I just gave her the frequency numbers.”

Edwina waved this away. “It still worked. You’re here.”

“Aunt Edwina, I’m quite confused. Why did you lead us here?”

She stared at Alice. “So we could have this little chat, of course.”

“We have a wonderful telegraph system,” Alice nearly shouted. “And the Royal Mail. You didn’t need to attack the National Bank to get our attention.”

“Paper communiqués can be intercepted. Your sharp mind and Mr. Ennock’s perfect pitch gave me the means to send the perfect coded message. It was the only way to be safe.”

“Safe?” Alice echoed. “Attacking the bank with an army of zombies was safe? Blowing up a dirigible and killing dozens of men was safe?”

“Safer than sending a letter or telegram.” Edwina finished her cake.

“You sent me a telegram,” Gavin pointed out.

“That was from Louisa, not me. And I signed it ‘L.’ Could have been anyone.”

Gavin groaned.

“Getting back to the cure,” Alice said. “What do Gavin and I have to do with it?”

“The cure. Yes.” Edwina leaned forward. A red light, one among many, flashed on the wall not far from Edwina’s chair. It went out, and another one flashed. “We don’t have much time. The first cure I discovered was only partially effective. I had . . . manufactured another microorganism that attacks the clockwork plague bacterium. It’s smaller than bacteria and structured quite differently. I suspect similar agents already exist in nature. I call it a ‘virion.’ Do you like the term? I think it might catch on.”

“I thought we didn’t have much time,” Gavin said.

“Right, right. My first virion, the one the Ward stole, is very delicate and can only survive inside a living host. It must be injected directly into the bloodstream. Very disappointing, if one wants the cure to spread throughout the world. I put it in my safe, and then the Ward chased me away and stole it. I had to start again down here.”

“Did you do it?” Alice leaned across the table. “Did you succeed this time?”

“Of course.” Edwina dabbed at her cheek with a napkin. The lights were all flashing red now. “The second virion is much hardier. Once a person is infected with this second virion, he becomes a carrier, and his saliva and mucus will spread it to other people, who become carriers in their own right. Once released, it will spread throughout the world and destroy the plague entirely. The only problem”—and here she sighed—“is that it doesn’t cure plague geniuses. Their bodies change the plague somehow and make it immune to the cure. I tried an early version on poor Mr. Barton and a few others I’ve come across, and it didn’t help any of them.”

“But even so!” Alice breathed. “Edwina! We have to release it right now!”

Edwina held up a hand. “It’s not that simple, darling. I can’t finish incubating the second virion down here, with these limited facilities. It’s going to take some—”

“Wait,” Gavin interrupted. “You’re lying.”

“Oh?” Edwina’s tone was light, but with an edge.

“You said the Third Ward stole your first cure months ago,” Gavin said. “So why haven’t they—we—used it?”

“Ah.” Edwina steepled her fingers and stole a glance at the lights. They all went out. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to explain that quite yet. You need to play má què with the Queen.”

“I—what?” Gavin said.

“Play má què with the Queen. Play má què with the Queen.”

“What are you talking about?” Gavin demanded. “What’s—?”

The main door burst open, and a dozen agents flooded the room.