“Oh, now you’re eager.” She walked toward the table.

A bright but earnest gaze locked with hers. “Not really, but at least I’m not totally convinced that I’m going to end up having to bury both you and Griffin.”

Fair enough. Finley hadn’t thought of things that way. It was still odd for her to think of herself as having a friend who would miss her if she died. She’d almost had a friend like that once, but they drifted apart. She didn’t even consider how her mother would feel to hear such horrible news. She hadn’t thought of anything beyond how painful it would be for her to lose Griffin.

She really was a terrible, selfish person. The realization didn’t stop her from jumping into the suit once more.

The lift dinged just as she fastened the last latch and was about to let Emily place the helmet over her head. Sam and Ipsley walked out of the box. The medium looked so incredible fragile and lanky next to the much larger bloke. Ipsley’s jacket was tailored to fit his lean frame perfectly, while Sam’s shirt threatened to burst at the shoulder seams.

“Wait,” Ipsley requested, coming toward them. “I need a personal item of Miss Jayne’s.”

“Why?” Finley asked.

The ginger smiled. “It will make it so much easier for me to find you in the Aether without physical contact.”

Of course. He was going to shadow her in the Aether so that he could report to Emily and Sam on everything that happened. Normally Finley would protest such a plan—she would be afraid of Ipsley discovering her secrets, but she didn’t care what he discovered about her if it helped save Griffin. If she was honest, she would have to admit that she rather liked the idea of having company on the journey, in case Lord Felix and his hellish girls decided to show up again.

She removed the earrings Griffin had given her a few weeks ago and placed the rubies into the medium’s palm. As his hand closed around them, she wrapped her own fingers around his. “I didn’t kill him,” she said softly, trusting he would know what she meant.

Ipsley’s gaze rose to hers. “I know. The father of a girl who committed suicide after being one of Lord Felix’s victims had that pleasure. His lordship was a nasty bit of work, and well on his way to becoming even more of one.”

Now that she understood a little better just what sort of monster Lord Felix had been—and had evolved into—she wished that she had been the one to end his miserable life. “You might have told me that the day we met,” she said. Ipsley had made a point of mentioning the bastard, but had then left her in suspense, afraid to know the truth. She had thought she might have done the deed and not remembered—a pity. She’d also believed that Jack had done it. She was both relieved and a little peeved that he hadn’t.

She truly was a horrible person sometimes.

The medium didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “You didn’t need me to tell you a truth that in your heart you already knew.” He pulled something from his pocket—it was one of Griffin’s watches. “Hopefully this will help me guide you to him.”

Why hadn’t they done this originally? Finley wondered. Oh, yes—because she hadn’t waited long enough. If she’d had patience Griffin might be home now, and Lord Felix wouldn’t be waiting for her to enter the Aether once more. And he would be waiting for her; she was certain of that. Like he’d said, she was the one that got away. Not only that, but she’d taken him down and humiliated him. That was more than enough for him to want revenge. She could only imagine the pleasure he’d take in adding her to his little harem.

Once she saved Griffin, she was going to set those poor girls free.

Emily put the helmet over her head and secured the clamps, enclosing Finley in her little bubble. Instead of trying to listen to what everyone was saying, she focused on remaining calm. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little nervous about going back into the Aether after her encounter with Lord Felix and his victims. How was he able to control them? Why didn’t they turn on him for what he’d done to them? It made no sense, and it was unsettling. And they had been so strong. She wasn’t accustomed to going up against more than a handful of people at one time. They would have ripped her apart had Emily not pulled her back out.

It made her all the more worried about Griffin. Not just worried, but terrified. She refused to let herself think about it, because her mind went immediately to the worst thing—and that was that Griffin was dead, or soon would be. Or even worse, that Garibaldi had totally destroyed Griffin’s mind and soul, but left him alive.

For the first time since meeting him, Griffin wasn’t there when she needed him. He was the one who gave her the strength and confidence to do half the mad things she did, even if he often gave her the very devil for doing some of them. She couldn’t afford to second-guess herself, but that didn’t stop her mind from doing it anyway. And she couldn’t seem to stop herself from thinking those awful thoughts for much longer than a few moments.

What would she do without him? Who would challenge her? Who else would want to be with her even though she tested his patience on a daily basis? Who would test her patience on a daily basis? She pushed aside the useless wondering when tears began to burn her eyes. Time to pull herself together, if not for her own sake, then for Griffin’s. If she couldn’t stop these terrible thoughts, then she would at least endeavor to ignore them.

Emily knocked on the helmet, and Finley raised her gloved hand. Within seconds she heard the suit’s system come to life. She began to breathe in the chloroform that would put her to sleep before the suit more or less killed her. Her eyelids grew heavier with every deep breath. And then, it was as though someone flicked a switch inside her, although she knew time had to have passed.

The dark that overtook her quickly faded to the familiar gray of the Aether as her eyes cleared. She stood on the side of a street lined with incredible mansions, beautiful grounds and ostentatious vehicles. It was truly an upper-class neighborhood—even more so than Mayfair, but in an overblown manner, she realized as she took a closer look. It was as though a satirist had designed the entire area—the incredibly tall homes, the perfect lawns that lacked character, and vehicles that were spotless, shiny and far more fancy than anything she’d ever seen. Everything was immaculate and pristine. She’d wager the cobblestones were all the exact same height—same for all the gates and walls and windows—and that the roads and drives were perfectly straight, any curves completely symmetrical.

It was the most god-awful place she’d ever seen. Completely lacking in personality or beauty.

“Heaven for the privileged,” said a voice beside her.

Finley jumped, and turned to find Ipsley standing with her. Or rather, a shadow of Ipsley. He was almost completely transparent—she could just make out his features. It was unsettling because he looked like a ghost.

“Aetheric projection,” he explained, seemingly reading her mind. “You can see me because I’m connected to you in our world, and I am able to travel the realm of the dead. This place is obviously the construct of someone who was very wealthy and very obnoxious in his or her life.”

“His,” Finley informed him. “Only a man could create this.”

“How so?” His interest seemed genuine.

She shrugged. “If a woman had made it, there would be curtains in the windows and birds singing. The houses wouldn’t be quite so austere. The gardens would be perfect. There’s not a flower to be seen here—women care about flowers.”

Ipsley nodded. “An interesting deduction. I hope to investigate it someday.”

“I don’t,” she replied honestly. Then she turned from him and glanced down the street, as though her eyes were following an invisible finger. She felt a pull. “Down there.” She pointed. “The house at the end.”

The medium walked beside her. “Yes. I feel the same pull. His Grace is in that house.”

Of course he was. It wasn’t the biggest house, but it was the most obnoxious with finials and towers and flags flapping in the breeze. It was also a bloody fortress, complete with guards at the door. Only these guards were swirling black clouds—the things Griffin called Aether demons. They were Garibaldi’s pets, and they were nasty. Finley had gone up against them before.

“You are stronger in this world as a ghost than I am as a projection,” Ipsley told her. “You bring your strength from the living world with you when you die. You can become stronger, as well, by harnessing the energy around you. Garibaldi has had time to grow his strength, but Griffin is already strong. You are strong, and I will give you whatever strength I have.”

“Thank you.” How was she going to harness the energy around her? She had no bloody idea how to do that! But she did know how to hit, and these demons had fallen under her fists before.

“Surely you’re not planning to go through the front door?”

She stopped and turned. Ipsley stood beside a perfectly boring hedge a few feet away. It was odd, seeing leaves where his eyes ought to be. “New to this world, remember.”

“I sincerely doubt you’re new to the concept of sneaking about? Subterfuge? Those are the same here as anywhere else.”

Normally she’d be offended by his tone, but in this case he was right. “Won’t he have prepared for such a thing?”

“Men who think of themselves as geniuses often make the biggest mistakes.”

True. And no doubt Garibaldi believed that it would take them longer to get into the Aether—if he’d even entertained the notion of them having the technology. He probably thought he had plenty of time to torture Griffin. He probably didn’t think they’d find this place at all if they could access the Aether.