Burning Lamp Read Free Page A

energy.
    She raised her talent again, gritting her teeth against the dreadful sensations, and focused every ounce of energy she possessed on the currents of Smith’s dreamlight. In the past year she had occasionally manipulated the wavelengths of other people’s nightmares but she had never before attempted what she was about to try now.
    For an instant Smith did not seem to realize that he was under attack. He stared at her, mouth partially open in confusion. Fury quickly ignited in him.
    “What are you doing?” he demanded. “You will pay for this, whore. I will make you freeze in your own private hell for daring to defy me. Stop. ”
    He raised his other arm to strike her but it was too late; he was already sliding into a deep sleep. He started to crumple. At the last second he tried to grab the edge of the table. His flailing arm knocked the candle off the stand and onto the floor.
    The taper rolled across the wooden floorboards toward the bed. There was a soft whoosh when the flame caught the trailing edge of the satin drapery.
    Adelaide rushed back to the wardrobe and took out the cloak and shoes that she had stashed inside earlier in preparation for her escape. By the time she was dressed the bed skirt was fully ablaze, the flames licking at the white quilt. Smoke was drifting out into the hall. Soon someone would sound the alarm.
    She pulled the hood of the cloak up over her head and went toward the door. But something made her stop. She turned reluctantly and looked back at the artifact. She knew then that she had to take the strange object with her. It was a foolish notion. It would only slow her down. But she could not leave it behind.
    She stuffed the relic into the black satchel, fastened the buckles, and started once more toward the door. She paused a second time over Smith’s motionless figure and quickly searched his pockets. There was money in one of them. The dark ruby-colored crystal was in another. She took the money but when she touched the crystal she got an uneasy feeling. Heeding her intuition, she left it where it was.
    Straightening, she went to the door, stepped over Rosser’s dead body and moved out into the corridor.
    Behind her the white satin bed was now engulfed in crackling, snapping flames. Down the hall someone started screaming. Men and women in various stages of dress and undress burst out of nearby doorways, seeking the closest exits. No one paid any attention to Adelaide when she joined the frantic crush on the staircase.
    Minutes later she was outside on the street. Clutching the satchel, she fled into the night, running for her life.

1
     
     
     
    Thirteen years later . . .
     
     
    “Got her.” Griffin Winters drew a circle around Avery Street and set the pen back into the brass inkstand. He flattened his palms on the desk and studied the large map of London spread out before him. Intense satisfaction swept through him. The hunt was all but over. The lady did not know it yet, but from now on she belonged to him. “I’m certain of her next target.”
    “What makes you think that you can predict where she’ll strike next?” Delbert Voyle asked. He reached into his pocket and took out a pair of spectacles.
    A large, powerfully built man in his early forties, Delbert had only recently concluded that he needed spectacles. They had an oddly trans-formative effect on his appearance. Without them he looked like what he was: a hardened man of the streets who made his living as an enforcer for a crime lord. But whenever he plunked the gold-rimmed spectacles onto his lumpy nose he suddenly metamorphosed into a slightly overweight scholar who belonged in a library or behind the counter of a bookshop.
    “I saw the pattern this morning after I read the account of last night’s raid on the Avery Street brothel,” Griffin explained. “It all became clear.”
    Delbert leaned over the desk to get a closer look at the locations of the brothels. He knew every alley and unmarked lane in