Read Online The Baskerville Tales (Short Stories) by Emma Jane Holloway - Free Book Online

sob.
    Evelina couldn’t afford to comfort her. When Tom rounded the corner, she fired the Webley revolver. Once, twice, thrice. His head exploded in a shower of bone shards and muck. The body toppled, landing in a twitching heap. The pistol fell from Evelina’s numbed hand.
    Her ears rang, but it was as much from horror as from the noise of the shots. A tremor ran through her, leaving her cold and sweating at once. She fell back, bracing herself on the wall. Her legs had gone weak as a fever victim’s.
    Violet picked up the gun, tears coursing down her face. “Oh, Tom.”
    “What are you doing?” Evelina spun, and gasped.
    Violet had been standing too close. Her dress was ruined, covered in gore, her face splattered with a fine mist of blood. None of that was as feral as the look on her face. She resembled a wolf suddenly finding itself caged, ferocious and panicked at once.
    She rounded on Evelina, her eyes wild. Evelina flinched, expecting a bullet between her eyes, but Violet gave a smile that was more a baring of teeth. “There’s no point in us both facing ruin.” Her voice was curiously calm. “There’s no hope for me. Get out of here before they see you.”
    Evelina glanced down at herself. Gore blotted the front of her coat. “I was the one whoshot him.”
    “Don’t be an idiot,” Violet snarled. “I’m throwing you a rope, Cooper. Take it.”
    Evelina fell back to the shadows, and not a moment too soon. Suddenly people were everywhere, shouting, screaming, and grabbing at Violet. Someone took the gun from her hand and identified it as the one stolen from the groundskeeper. Violet said nothing, not even looking Evelina’s way.
She’s taking the blame for everything
. Yes, Violet had started it all, but somehow it didn’t seem fair.
    But by then, Evelina had slipped even farther to the back of the crowd, the dark, drab clothes making her as invisible as a servant. Operating automatically, as if she were made of clockwork, she unbuttoned her long coat, slipping it off and folding it to hide the splatter of Tom’s blood. Cold air bit through her dress.
    She looked at the corpse, a bloody, still ruin on the grass. Her stomach rolled queasily, but stayed put. Tom dead wasn’t as bad as Tom alive.
And it wasn’t really a question of alive and dead. You can’t kill a corpse
. She’d just made him stop. A confused guilt still pummeled her, though. Tom’s risen body had still borne a face she knew—until she’d shot it off.
    That did it. Evelina dropped her coat and ducked behind a tree to be ill. Her head spun as she clung to the bark, but she just managed to hold on to her stomach.
    Firm hands pulled her around. Evelina was confronted with the hard, square face of Mrs. Roberts. The headmistress spoke in sharp, clipped tones. “Will you kindly tell me what were you doing back here with Violet?”
    Evelina looked at her feet, guilt and failure rising like a foul tide. “I tried to help her, ma’am.”
    “From her own folly!” Suspicion pulled at the headmistress’s features. “Why are youdressed like that? Where were you tonight?”
    Evelina swallowed back a stammer. “I went to check on Dr. Larch. He’s not been himself lately.”
    “You expect me to believe that you went calling on the night of the ball?”
    Evelina shook her head, desperation making her speak too fast. “There was no place for me, ma’am. I had nothing to wear. My dress was ruined. My family did not come.”
I used magic. I shot Tom. I am as guilty as Violet!
    “And how was the Reverend Dr. Larch?” The headmistress said, sarcasm thick in her voice.
    Curiosity gnawed at Evelina despite her panic. Why
had
Mrs. Roberts ignored his warnings? “Anxious, ma’am. He suspected someone had used magic from the book you returned to him.”
    Mrs. Roberts drew herself to her full height. She was as tall as most men, and Evelina suddenly felt very small. “There is no
magic
at Wollaston Academy,” she said fiercely. “That