The Wondrous and the Wicked by Page Morgan

Author:Page Morgan [Morgan, Page]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-98083-0
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2015-04-14T04:00:00+00:00

Gabby hadn’t returned to Waverly House after bringing Hugh Dupuis the case of angel blood. She, Nolan, and Rory had arrived on the Daicrypta’s Belgravia doorstep that morning and had made themselves comfortable in Hugh’s study. He had offered them refreshments while he and his assistants—he’d scoffed at calling them disciples the way his father had, as if they were simply followers of a godlike doyen—had accepted one pint of Ingrid’s blood and disappeared into his laboratory to commence work separating the blood and then testing it against the lodestone mixture used in his diffuser nets.

Gabby had paced endless circuits around the study, had sipped tea and nibbled on biscuits and cold sandwiches, and had even taken to inspecting Hugh’s bookshelves—a true testament to how deliriously bored she was. Rory and Nolan had spent the passing hours happily reclined in club chairs before the fire, or actually reading books, when Gabby had only enough interest to look at the cover and title page. Neither of them seemed at all anxious or pressed for time. She supposed they knew to reserve their energy for when it would truly be needed.

The noon hour waxed and waned, and later, when Gabby’s feet and back finally ached enough from pacing the room all day, she collapsed onto the sofa. The leather was fire-warmed and plush, and with the first golden-rum rays of sunset bleeding through the windows, she’d felt her eyes growing heavy. Nolan left his chair to ease himself down beside her. He’d spread a velvety blanket over her lap and Gabby had ignored propriety and relaxed against his side. She must have drifted off, for when she opened her eyes again, it was to darkness. The fire was the only light in the room, and Gabby was snuggling a pillow instead of Nolan.

Disorientated, she sat up and glanced about the study. The hidden door to the laboratory was cracked open, as was the door to the corridor. She was alone, and though a little bit of light spilled from the laboratory, it was quiet enough for the sparks and crackles from the logs in the hearth to sound like pistol shots. As Gabby swung her legs to the floor, she fought the puerile anger that something important had happened and no one had woken her.

She got up and had taken a step toward the laboratory door when a cold gust of wind blew against her ankles. She stopped. It had blown in from the corridor. She changed direction and went to the study door, where the chill increased. Wind licked at her shoulders and the crown of her head as she stepped into the corridor. Craning her neck, she saw that the skylight shaft, which cut through all three stories of Hugh’s home, had been levered open to a smoggy night sky. Air barreled down the shaft and snapped at Gabby’s cheeks and nose. The moonlight was just barely starting to cut through the brume when a pair of wings eclipsed the rectangular opening.

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