The Golden Spider (The Elemental Web Chronicles Book 1) by Anne Renwick

sharply‌—‌and it was done.
    “Oops.” He smirked, passing her a handkerchief. “And galvanic skin conductance.”
    “You nasty man.” She laughed. “You only wanted to see me jump.”
    “Caught,” Mr. Black admitted.
    She wiped her finger clean and entered the code he’d had her memorize earlier.
    The screecher flashed green, and gears the size of dinner plates began to turn. With a click, a hiss and the sound of rushing air, the lock disengaged.
    “Shall I set aside my paltry manners and allow you to open it yourself?” Mr. Black asked.
    He was suppressing a grin. Laughing silently at her awe. Was her excitement that obvious? She supposed it was. She nodded, reaching for the bold, brass handle. The well-balanced door swung open with her slightest touch. Not a creak or a groan issued forth from its hinges.
    The smell of acetic acid and neuroglycerol met her nose as Amanda stepped into the room‌—‌the best-equipped laboratory ever. Yet her eyes were immediately drawn to Thornton himself.
    A protective leather apron covered his shirtsleeves. Thick gloves and brass goggles protected his hands and eyes. He stood before a long bench, amid shelves of glassware and tubing, flasks and beakers filled with various liquids. A rack held vials containing an array of powders. His head was bent over the bench as he and another similarly dressed man manipulated an oddly shaped device beneath a high-powered microscope.
    She would not gawk at Lord Thornton like a lovesick debutant, no matter that his very presence made her heart beat faster. She pulled her gaze away and examined the rest of the laboratory.
    Windowless walls were covered in shelves from floor to ceiling. One wall held a variety of instruments. The usual balances. A tritrometer. A fuge. A large incubator in the corner. But the function of many was a mystery to her.
    Two other technicians hurried about, one mixing solutions, and the other bent close over his own work. A scurrying, scratching sound and a distinctive scent drew her forward, and as she stepped about the bend in the L-shaped facility, a wall of wire cages met her eyes.
    She estimated fifty-two. Inside each one was a rat. Rattus norvegicus . Though with all the wires and tubes and gauges sprouting forth from their heads and bodies, a novice might be forgiven for thinking them an altogether new species. Larger than mice, rats made better medical test subjects, but they were‌—‌thankfully‌—‌harder to find near her chicken coop. Known to hold grudges, they were also known for a tendency to bite. Hard.
    Stepping closer, Amanda peered into the nearest cage. The rat lifted its hardware-laden head from its nest and peered back. A twist of fine wire coiled about its left ear. Enhanced hearing?
    Suddenly, Mr. Black was at her elbow, clucking his tongue. “Not functioning so well, the acousticocepts, though the transmitter works fine once the patient recovers. Thornton keeps muttering something about needles not tracking right, but every time he fixes them, they go wonky again.”
    “Wonky?” She smiled. If there was a receiver, there must be a transmitter. She looked along the rack of cages, searching for the rat to which this one was paired.
    “That’s the scientific term.” Mr. Black leaned against the wall. “That’s what they’re busy with over there.” He jerked his head toward Thornton. “The sooner they fix the problem, the better.”
    “Thornton’s invented an artificial ear that transmits sound?” She heard her own voice rise in excitement.
    “Quick study, aren’t you?” Mr. Black affected a leer. “Omitting the ‘Lord’ already, Lady Amanda?”
    Her cheeks grew warm, but attributed it to the heavy jacket she still wore. She busied herself by pulling it from her shoulders and draping it over a nearby stool.
    But Mr. Black wouldn’t let it go. “His first name is Sebastian.” His voice dropped to a low, conspiratorial level.
    She cleared her throat, gathering what