Heart of Veridon by Tim Akers Read Free Book Online Page A

have been the frictionlamps that glowed along the tight, immaculate hallway, but who knows. The whole place smelled like bad weather. The polish of the dark wood flashed as I walked along it, shinier than silver.
    High and White led me to a parlor, a room carpeted in deep blue with walls of dark wood and old metal fittings. The Lady was waiting, faced away from me. She was still in her black and gray, but in this empty room the get-up looked unnecessarily fancy. The room might have once been a library or shrine. There were walls of shelves and glass display cases on three sides, but they were all bare. Nothing but dust and the Lady. She held a glass of wine and gazed at a plaque on the wall. There was another glass on a shelf by the door, condensation beading on its side and running down the fragile stem. The servant nodded to Tomb and left, closing the door behind him. I took the wine and went to stand by her.
    “Did you enjoy our show, Mr. Burn?” she asked. Her voice was soft, none of the mocking formality from earlier.
    “I did. It was chosen well.”
    She nodded absently. “I thought Mr. Valentine might send someone, eventually. When I saw your name on the guest list, I thought it might be you.” She took a drink of wine and turned to face me. “Is it?”
    “I can’t visit my childhood haunts? Have dinner with some of my old Corps mates? See a show? You offered me an invitation. I accepted.”
    She snorted and looked back to the plaque. It was old brass, set in a stone that had probably been hauled here from Veridon in secret. It was the Tomb Writ of Name. We had one too, somewhere. I hadn’t seen it in years.
    “It doesn’t seem like much, does it? Just metal and words.”
    “Metal, words, and power, my Lady.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “We do many things for that, Angela. We do what we must.”
    She turned her head to me. “So why are you here then, Jacob Burn? Here to visit old friends?”
    For a moment I wished it was true, that my visit was just social, that my invitation had come from her, rather than Valentine. I gave her the music box. She opened it, glanced over at me as the music filled the room. She set her wine down.
    “Well,” she said, quietly. She placed the music box on the shelf by her head and stared at it absently. “Such a thing. Not what I was expecting. I suppose I see why they sent you.”
    “Pardon?”
    “Oh… it’s nothing. A bit of nostalgia. Someone is playing a bit of a trick on me.” She closed the box almost sadly, then turned to me.
    “It is good to see you again, Jacob. Even in these circumstances.” She leaned casually against the plaque, her fingers brushing the ancient metal. “Even if you are on the job.”
    “Good to see you, too. How are things in the Council?”
    “More interesting than they’ve any right to be. You should visit more often. The Families, I mean.” She giggled quietly. “I can’t imagine you wanting to visit the Council sessions.”
    “Not someplace I’d be welcomed, anyway.” I smiled. Angela and I had never been that close, but it was nice to be remembered.
    “Yes, your father. And those horrid factory people, buying out so many of the Families. But I’m glad the Burns have stayed with us.”
    “Well. None of my doing,” I said. She shrugged.
    “Perhaps. Will you be staying the night?”
    “What, here? I hadn’t known it was that sort of party.”
    She laughed again, and years fell away. She suddenly looked overdressed, like a noble daughter in her mother’s finest, awkward.
    “It’s not, not yet. We’ll see how things end.”
    “I can’t stay. Business in the city. But perhaps some other time. It’d be good to spend some time in the country again.”
    “Hm. Yes, perhaps.” She closed the music box and took up her glass of wine. “You’ll forgive me, but I have a party to attend. Um.” She paused as she crossed to the door. “Perhaps you should stay here for a bit. You know, for propriety.”
    “Of