Evil and Evening Wear

By Alicia Peterson

Beyond the laughter of the party and the company of her odious fiancé, Kytt crept through silent halls until she came to a door. There were many doors, but this one bore a Stormer & Sons detector lock. Her source was correct: Sir Dorian Gray was hiding something.

She pressed one ear to the polished wood. Nothing. She drew two lockpicks from within the coiffure atop her head and set to work.

As she maneuvered the instruments inside the keyhole, Kytt wondered again why Sir Dorian should be the culprit. Why would anyone steal memories, especially someone so charming, handsome, and universally admired?

In the end, she didn’t care why. She only wanted to stop him and rescue Captain Gearlock.

The tumblers clicked into place, and Kytt swung the door open on silent hinges, closing it quickly behind her.

The room was pitch black. She withdrew a slender aether torch hidden in her voluminous skirts and switched it on.

A monster stood before her.

Kytt stumbled back, landing on the floor with a stifled scream as her torch rolled quietly across the Persian rug. But no attack followed.

She crab-walked awkwardly to retrieve the light and trained it back on the monster.

Relief washed over her, and she stood. “You’re only a painting,” she whispered into the dark. “Not dangerous at all, are you?”

“If only that were true.”

Kytt gasped and swung around. She stood in a richly paneled room that held only that monstrous painting and, in the far corner, a jail cell.

Inside the cell sat a man wearing robes and sandals.

Kytt stepped closer. “Who are you?”

He inclined his head. “My name is Ptolemy.”

“Ptolemy the Greek astronomer? Inventor of Ptolemy’s Astrolabe?”

He stood. “You’ve used it?”

“I have.” Her hand strayed to the astrolabe’s hiding place under her crinoline.

“And have you found…”

“Liminalis?” She nodded. “My friends are trapped there. Here, allow me.” She began to pull the picks from her hair again.

He stepped forward. “Never mind me. You must stop him.”

“How is Sir Dorian stealing memories?” Kytt asked. “And why?”

Ptolemy pointed to the far wall. “With that thing.”

Kytt forced herself to turn and look again at the portrait.

She was not squeamish by nature, but the sight of it made her stomach turn. The figure was human or once had been. With its dead, drooping skin, weeping sores, and bloodshot eyes, the humanity was all but gone.

She shivered, and her voice fell to a hoarse whisper. “What is it?”

“That, my dear, is your charming host. The true reflection of Dorian Gray’s soul.”

Kytt wrenched her gaze away with a shuddering breath. “I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I, entirely. I believe it absorbs the bad consequences of his choices. He remains young and beautiful no matter what he does. But he’s no longer content with his own pleasures. He’s greedy for the pleasures of others, and he found a way to steal them.”

“Through memories.”

Ptolemy nodded. “He found Liminalis by chance and saw the potential. A world full of people considered missing or dead already. He forced the artist to add a few touches to the portrait, so now it also transfers memories to himself. With the unpleasant bits filtered into the portrait, of course.” He smiled tightly.

“Why does he need you?”

“He needs a stable connection to Liminalis. I maintain one.” His voice was sharp with self-loathing.

“How do I stop him?”

“Destroy the portrait.” He gripped the bars with sudden fervor. “Do it now! Before more lives are ruined. If we’re lucky, the memories will return to their owners. But nothing is sure.”

Kytt strode across the room to the portrait. From a gap in the folds of her dress, she withdrew a small dagger, a gift from Captain Gearlock—Sebastian. Welcome to the pirate’s life, Ghost. I recommend carrying a dagger at all times.

She lifted it to the top corner of the frame. She could return his mother’s memories with one swipe and free them both to return.

But then what?

Her hand froze over the canvas. She was still obligated to marry a villain in three days or see her family ruined. There would be no more sneaking off with pirates, no more adventures. No more Sebastian.

Unless.

Unless there was a way to solve both her problems at once.

She lowered her arm and turned. “Sir, this may seem indelicate, but how are you at fastening women’s clothing?”

###

Kytt returned to the party. When Sir Dorian smiled and bowed over her hand, she managed to hide her disgust. In his handsome face, she saw only the portrait now.

“You disappeared, Miss Windthorn. Was it something I said?” He leaned in. “Or was the Ghost trying to find my safe?”

Kytt’s heart froze. Only one way he could know her secret identity. He had started stealing Sebastian’s memories already.

She forced an easy smile and whispered back, “I beg you not to give away my little hobby, Sir Dorian.”

He gave a honeyed laugh. “On the contrary! I’m quite jealous. The thrilling memories you must have.” A covetous look passed like a dark spirit across his angelic visage. Just as suddenly, it was gone.

His smile broadened. “May I offer you a wedding gift? Come choose your bridal bouquet. My floating garden off the starboard bow is second to none.”

She held a hand to her chest. “What a generous offer!” And what a boon. If he was luring her to the gardens, then that’s where his gateway to Liminalis was. Exactly where she wanted to go.

“Lead the way, Sir Dorian.” She took his arm.

If he noticed that her skirts were thrown slightly off-balance by the roll of canvas strapped beneath, he was too polite to mention it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alicia Peterson is a former librarian and lifelong nerd. She writes genre-blending flash and YA fiction with strong character voices and quirky humor. She’s drawn to stories at the crossroads between worlds, where the lines between reality and fantasy, sacred and profane get a little wibbly-wobbly. She lives in Northern Minnesota with her husband, two young sons, one old dog, and two dozen accidental chickens.

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