Burning Lamp by Amanda Quick Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Quick
time.
“I am Griffin Winters,” he said, “a direct descendant of Nicholas Winters.”
“Should I be impressed, sir?”
He was briefly disconcerted. “Not necessarily impressed, but I expected you to recognize the name.”
“Why is that? Winters is not an uncommon name.”
“You are aware of the Arcane Society, are you not, Mrs. Pyne?”
“Yes. My parents were members. My father had a passion for paranormal research. I was registered in the genealogical records of the Society shortly after I was born. But I have had no contact with the Society since the age of fifteen.”
“Why is that?”
“My parents were killed in a train accident that year. I was sent off to an orphanage for young ladies. What with one thing and another I lost my connection to the Society.”
“My condolences, madam. I lost my parents when I was sixteen.” He realized that he had spoken on impulse. The knowledge worried him. He never did anything on impulse. Above all he did not discuss his own past, not even with his closest companions.
Adelaide inclined her head in a graceful gesture of silent sympathy. For a moment he had the sense that a delicate bond had been forged between them.
“As I said,” she continued, “My father was fascinated with all things paranormal. I recall a few of the subjects he talked about but I do not recall him mentioning a Nicholas Winters.”
“Nicholas Winters was a psychical alchemist. He was first a friend and later a rival and finally a mortal enemy of Sylvester Jones.”
“You refer to the Jones who founded Arcane?”
“Yes. Like Jones, Nicholas was obsessed with discovering a way to enhance his talents. He constructed a device that he called the Burning Lamp. Somehow he succeeded in trapping a vast amount of dreamlight inside it. His goal was to employ the device to acquire a variety of powers.”
“You think to follow in your ancestor’s footsteps?” The disapproval was once again crisp in her voice. “I admit that I am not well acquainted with such matters, but I recall very clearly that my father often mentioned that individuals endowed with multiple talents are not only quite rare but also invariably mentally unstable. He said that within the Society there was a word for such people. It was the name of a creature in some ancient legend.”
“The word is ‘Cerberus,’ the name of the monstrous, three-headed dog that guarded the gates of hell.”
“Yes, I remember now,” she said, appalled. “Surely you are not so lost to reason that you would wish to transform yourself into a psychical monster? If that is your objective, rest assured you will get no assistance from me.”
“You misunderstand, Mrs. Pyne. I have no desire to become an insane rogue talent. On the contrary, I would very much like to avoid that fate.”
“What?”
“You really don’t know your Arcane history, do you?”
“I just explained—”
“Never mind. You will have to take my word for this. According to my ancestor’s journal, I am doomed to become a Cerberus unless I can find the lamp and a dreamlight reader who can reverse the process of the transformation to a multitalent.”
“Good grief. You actually believe this?”
“Yes.”
“But how can you possibly know such a thing?”
“Because the transformation has already begun.”
Her sudden stillness told him that she was starting to wonder about his sanity.
“I am in need of saving, Mrs. Pyne,” he said. “It appears that you are the only one who can help me.”
“I really don’t think—”
Sensing weakness, he pounced. Like the predator that I am, he thought. Not that he would let that get in the way of achieving his objective.
“I am prepared to trust you,” he said quietly. “I have allowed you to see me clearly. Will you honor me by returning the favor?”
For a moment he thought she would refuse. She tapped the tip of her umbrella against the pedestal again, thinking.
“I’m quite certain you could find me again
“I am Griffin Winters,” he said, “a direct descendant of Nicholas Winters.”
“Should I be impressed, sir?”
He was briefly disconcerted. “Not necessarily impressed, but I expected you to recognize the name.”
“Why is that? Winters is not an uncommon name.”
“You are aware of the Arcane Society, are you not, Mrs. Pyne?”
“Yes. My parents were members. My father had a passion for paranormal research. I was registered in the genealogical records of the Society shortly after I was born. But I have had no contact with the Society since the age of fifteen.”
“Why is that?”
“My parents were killed in a train accident that year. I was sent off to an orphanage for young ladies. What with one thing and another I lost my connection to the Society.”
“My condolences, madam. I lost my parents when I was sixteen.” He realized that he had spoken on impulse. The knowledge worried him. He never did anything on impulse. Above all he did not discuss his own past, not even with his closest companions.
Adelaide inclined her head in a graceful gesture of silent sympathy. For a moment he had the sense that a delicate bond had been forged between them.
“As I said,” she continued, “My father was fascinated with all things paranormal. I recall a few of the subjects he talked about but I do not recall him mentioning a Nicholas Winters.”
“Nicholas Winters was a psychical alchemist. He was first a friend and later a rival and finally a mortal enemy of Sylvester Jones.”
“You refer to the Jones who founded Arcane?”
“Yes. Like Jones, Nicholas was obsessed with discovering a way to enhance his talents. He constructed a device that he called the Burning Lamp. Somehow he succeeded in trapping a vast amount of dreamlight inside it. His goal was to employ the device to acquire a variety of powers.”
“You think to follow in your ancestor’s footsteps?” The disapproval was once again crisp in her voice. “I admit that I am not well acquainted with such matters, but I recall very clearly that my father often mentioned that individuals endowed with multiple talents are not only quite rare but also invariably mentally unstable. He said that within the Society there was a word for such people. It was the name of a creature in some ancient legend.”
“The word is ‘Cerberus,’ the name of the monstrous, three-headed dog that guarded the gates of hell.”
“Yes, I remember now,” she said, appalled. “Surely you are not so lost to reason that you would wish to transform yourself into a psychical monster? If that is your objective, rest assured you will get no assistance from me.”
“You misunderstand, Mrs. Pyne. I have no desire to become an insane rogue talent. On the contrary, I would very much like to avoid that fate.”
“What?”
“You really don’t know your Arcane history, do you?”
“I just explained—”
“Never mind. You will have to take my word for this. According to my ancestor’s journal, I am doomed to become a Cerberus unless I can find the lamp and a dreamlight reader who can reverse the process of the transformation to a multitalent.”
“Good grief. You actually believe this?”
“Yes.”
“But how can you possibly know such a thing?”
“Because the transformation has already begun.”
Her sudden stillness told him that she was starting to wonder about his sanity.
“I am in need of saving, Mrs. Pyne,” he said. “It appears that you are the only one who can help me.”
“I really don’t think—”
Sensing weakness, he pounced. Like the predator that I am, he thought. Not that he would let that get in the way of achieving his objective.
“I am prepared to trust you,” he said quietly. “I have allowed you to see me clearly. Will you honor me by returning the favor?”
For a moment he thought she would refuse. She tapped the tip of her umbrella against the pedestal again, thinking.
“I’m quite certain you could find me again