“Only temporarily,” said Nancy. Indeed, Edith’s eyes were already darkening. “It is not good to get too cocky about what we can do, sister mine.”
“Pardon me for implying diabolism might be fun!”
“What’s not fun about spending all day, every day in a dark library under the earth, all alone, in silence?” Nancy smiled archly down at her pastry as she worked on shaping little vines and leaves for the top of the pie.
Edith’s eyes rolled to meet Jane’s, and for the first time since she’d realized how poorly things had gone during her Test, Jane’s smile was genuine.
Diabolism was her birthright. A test couldn’t tell her she was ill suited for it. She was just a bit different from the average diabolist. There had to be room for a range of experiences, surely; otherwise, all diabolists would be the same, and that just wasn’t the case.
“Ah, girls,” said Edith. “I’m ever so glad you passed. Why, if you hadn’t . . .”
Jane’s smile faltered.
“Edith!” Jane and Miriam both snapped to attention at the tone in Nancy’s voice. She was angry for some reason Jane could not perceive.
“What?” Now Miriam was the one asking unnecessary follow-up questions. “What would have happened?”
Nancy answered, speaking over Edith. “Not that it’s important, given you both passed, but when apprentices fail, it can be a bit of a problem. By then, they have intimate knowledge of our organization and our ways and even the locations of our members. Sometimes stern measures have to be taken.”
As this sank in, Jane’s eyes found Miriam’s. The revelation was just as shocking to her, given her pale face and pinched expression, though she of course had no reason to fear for her personal safety.
Jane, on the other hand . . .
Edith, who was never one to read a room, elaborated on her sister’s point. “Nobody’s ever thrilled for it to happen, but it does. We try to make the best of it, but sometimes failed apprentices are deemed to be more useful as their physical components. There are, as you know, more arcane armamentaria that use bits of people. The Société tries to keep a stockpile on hand, so that people don’t have to run the risk of obtaining what they need through baser means.”
Everything about the Société had always seemed so civilized to Jane. It had never occurred to her that the Art’s more outré practitioners might to this day be accepted within its ranks.
“Oh, stop looking at me like that,” said Edith, as Nancy continued to glare. “They passed, didn’t they? And now they’re on to the next phase in their education, which means their understanding of the Art will only increase.”
Jane willed herself to stop sweating. She could not betray herself now—not ever.
“No need for them to learn it all in one day, much less the same day as their Test,” said Nancy. “Besides which, I’m sure neither of you girls would have been rendered for parts. Your family connection to the Société makes you an ideal candidate for a number of jobs that Master diabolists aren’t able to do, for one reason or another. Being amenable to that sort of employment has spared many a failed apprentice.” Nancy paused, and after looking from Jane’s face to Miriam’s, seemed to realize she hadn’t made either of them feel any better. “What I’m trying to say is that we’re not bloodthirsty monsters; we are, after all, a society. But of course it’s for the best that you both passed!”
Jane nodded on instinct; a purely animal sense of self-preservation.
So, a failure like her wasn’t seen as useful for merely her organs and bone fragments. Her labor could also be made use of. And that was considered mercy!
Jane knew in that moment she’d need to find a way to hide her failure, and hide it perfectly, hide it forever. She wouldn’t let the Société consign her to the scrap heap, nor would she be their grateful servant.
She would become a phenomenal diabolist, no matter what anyone else thought.
There was her answer: no matter what anyone else thought. If they all thought she was phenomenal, her position would be secure. The best and the brightest always received the least supervision. So, she’d just have to fool them all.
Edith had finished her tea—and, incredibly, another slice of cake. She now reached for a red-cheeked apple that sat in a low wicker basket on the table. “So, you’ve passed your Test, and Nancy says you both have strong ideas for your Practical—really, I’m quite astonished at your ambition. But I wonder, have you given much thought to what you’ll do afterward?” She bit deeply into the fruit, as if she hadn’t eaten for hours.
“They have plenty of time to think about that,” said Nancy, and Jane perceived a note of warning in her mother’s voice.
She suspected that Edith would ignore it.
The subject of “the future” had always been a sore one in the Blackwood household. Nancy would only say, “We’ll just have to see what life holds for us all, won’t we?” whenever either girl had mentioned the question of “what’s next”—and the way she said it invited no further remarks. Thus, Jane had always felt a vague sense of shame surrounding her desire to go beyond Hawkshead and see the world. She knew it would not please her mother.
“Plenty of time?” said Edith, after swallowing. “Not at the rate they’re going! Really, they can’t start any sooner. They may not come away from their studies certain which demon they want to summon, or what they want to do with their lives. An internship could provide some helpful guidance, but they have to apply for those, and that means researching what’s available. But it’s something that could really broaden their horizons.”
“They have every book on diabolism ever written below their feet.” Nancy had paused in her adorning of the top of their dinner pie with a magnificent pastry bird. “Their horizons are sufficiently broad.”
The mood in the room had changed, the warm kitchen now downright icy. Jane looked from one woman to the other, and then to Miriam, who looked as unhappy as Jane felt about suddenly being the subject of bickering.
“I’m not saying their education has been neglected or that they’re ignorant little beasts, Nance,” said Edith. “I’m just saying that it seems the world will be ours again, soon, and they might want to experience a bit of it. We did at their age—and they’ve been cooped up here for years now.”
“Cooped up! They’re not chickens.”
“No, but you’re being a goose! There’s no harm in them thinking about what they want to do with their lives.”
“Yes, but—”
“I’d like to do an internship. Abroad.” Jane interrupted her elders—rude, yes, but she couldn’t bear their sniping at one another a moment longer. Usually something like this happened once or twice during Edith’s visits, but Jane really didn’t want to be the cause of a fight—not after everything that had already happened.
“See?” said Edith, but Jane cringed at the triumphant tone in her aunt’s voice.
“Well!” said Nancy. Her mother was very obviously offended, so it didn’t quite ring true when she said, “That’s fine. Where would you like to go?”