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 if you wished to do so,” she said finally. “So I
suppose it no longer matters if you see my face.”
It was not precisely the gracious capitulation he had hoped to provoke but he did not argue. She
was right; he could find her again.
Everything inside him tightened as he watched her crumple the black netting up onto the brim of
her hat. It was as if his entire future was about to be revealed to him.
Her intelligent, expressive features riveted his attention. Her whiskey-colored hair was pulled
back into a chignon that was at once severe and stylish. But it was her hazel eyes that fascinated
him most. They were the eyes of a woman who had seen something of the darkness in the world.
He had expected as much. She was a widow, after all. In addition, she had spent several years
abroad in the wilds of America. She conducted daring raids on brothels and rescued girls who
were otherwise destined for short, hard lives as whores. She was acquainted with the rather
dangerous Mr. Pierce, a remarkable accomplishment in itself.
She might be an irritating social reformer but Adelaide Pyne’s gaze told him that she was far
more aware of the hard truths of the world than most ladies of her class and station in life. Such
forbidden knowledge always appeared in the eyes.
What astonished him was that there was also a bright, determined spirit about her. She was, he
concluded, one of those foolish, willfully blind individuals who, even when confronted with
harsh realities, continued to believe that goodness and right would ultimately prevail.
He could have told her otherwise. The war between Dark and Light was eternal. Victories were
fleeting at best and went to whichever force happened to command the most power at any given
moment. In his experience the elements that thrived in the shadows could be beaten back but
only temporarily. Yet there were always those like Adelaide Pyne who would fight these battles
regardless of the odds.
Such naïveté was incomprehensible to one of his nature, but he knew very well that it had its
uses. The quality could be easily manipulated.
He smiled again, satisfied.
“Mrs. Pyne, you are the woman of my dreams.”
5
“I SINCERELY HOPE THAT I AM NOT THE WOMAN OF YOUR dreams,” she said.
He narrowed his eyes just a little. It seemed to her that the energy in the atmosphere around him
grew heavier, more ominous. The hair on the
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 if you wished to do so,” she said finally. “So I
suppose it no longer matters if you see my face.”
It was not precisely the gracious capitulation he had hoped to provoke but he did not argue. She
was right; he could find her again.
Everything inside him tightened as he watched her crumple the black netting up onto the brim of
her hat. It was as if his entire future was about to be revealed to him.
Her intelligent, expressive features riveted his attention. Her whiskey-colored hair was pulled
back into a chignon that was at once severe and stylish. But it was her hazel eyes that fascinated
him most. They were the eyes of a woman who had seen something of the darkness in the world.
He had expected as much. She was a widow, after all. In addition, she had spent several years
abroad in the wilds of America. She conducted daring raids on brothels and rescued girls who
were otherwise destined for short, hard lives as whores. She was acquainted with the rather
dangerous Mr. Pierce, a remarkable accomplishment in itself.
She might be an irritating social reformer but Adelaide Pyne’s gaze told him that she was far
more aware of the hard truths of the world than most ladies of her class and station in life. Such
forbidden knowledge always appeared in the eyes.
What astonished him was that there was also a bright, determined spirit about her. She was, he
concluded, one of those foolish, willfully blind individuals who, even when confronted with
harsh realities, continued to believe that goodness and right would ultimately prevail.
He could have told her otherwise. The war between Dark and Light was eternal. Victories were
fleeting at best and went to whichever force happened to command the most power at any given
moment. In his experience the elements that thrived in the shadows could be beaten back but
only temporarily. Yet there were always those like Adelaide Pyne who would fight these battles
regardless of the odds.
Such naïveté was incomprehensible to one of his nature, but he knew very well that it had its
uses. The quality could be easily manipulated.
He smiled again, satisfied.
“Mrs. Pyne, you are the woman of my dreams.”
5
“I SINCERELY HOPE THAT I AM NOT THE WOMAN OF YOUR dreams,” she said.
He narrowed his eyes just a little. It seemed to her that the energy in the atmosphere around him
grew heavier, more ominous. The hair on the
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