“No!” she said quickly. “And I’m Violetta, by the way, not ‘you.’”
“Violetta. Good.” He looked around the room. “This is a medical lab? Fine. See if you can find me…let’s see…a large syringe, some Ichor of Somnia, at least one hundred grams of Hesperidial Salts, some kind of disinfectant, oh, and a hammer.”
Von Zinzer jumped to attention. “Oh, yeah! On it!”
Gil turned back to Violetta. “And stick Zola here in a safe place for a while, okay? In another room, if possible.”
Tiktoffen stepped forward. “I think I can handle that, sir.” He lifted Zola, sticky web and all, and carried her out of the room.
Agatha put her hand on his arm and he turned.
“Okay, let’s look at this friend of yours,” he said to her.
Agatha held her other hand up to stop him. “No.”
Gil was surprised. “What? But you said—”
“First I’m going to have a look at you.” She steered him toward a nearby workbench. Violetta disappeared through the door she and von Zinzer had come through. She returned with a small, standard-issue Wulfenbach medical kit—probably something von Zinzer had been carrying, Gil thought—and a basin of water; then disappeared again, leaving Agatha and Gil alone together. Agatha turned her back to him while she washed her hands.
“Now, remove your shirt, please.” Her voice was brisk.
Gil cleared his throat. “Look, I’m sure I’m fine. Shouldn’t I be looking at this person who’s really sick?”
Agatha half-turned toward him. She was picking through the medical kit. “You just said he’s not as bad as we thought. Whereas you just got shot, threw a clank across the room, were severely disoriented, and are now insisting you’re fine. Don’t you think that’s a bit odd? If it was your patient…”
Gil considered this. “I’ll get my shirt off.” He turned away to hide his embarrassment and searched for something to say. “So…you’ve had medical training?”
Agatha glanced over her shoulder and quickly turned back to the workbench. “Took a lot of classes. Observed a lot of procedures. Did a lot of assisting in the university labs…” she said.
“But they never let you practice.”
“Nope.” Agatha tried not to sound bitter. She stole another glance at him over her shoulder; then turned fully around, her eyes lowered pointedly to his wounded shoulder. She was clearly avoiding his eyes.
When Gil had removed his shirt, he had felt the ring around his neck turn on its chain until it hung down his back and now he wondered if she had noticed it. He wondered if she recognized it, and what she felt if she did…
“Well, you’re pretty smart,” he said, finding it difficult to speak, “so…so you’ll probably be fine.”
“Thank you,” she said, and began to examine the bandaging Zola had applied. Her hands were cool and every touch sent an electrical jolt through him. Her fingertips were slightly rough. She likes to work with machines. He thought of the devices she had built in his lab, the times they had spent working together under the influence of the Spark. It was all he could do to hold still while she examined him. He wanted to sweep her into his arms…
Her hands brushed the chain around his neck, and he heard her breath catch. She tentatively touched it again, like she was reassuring herself of its existence, then she moved on.
The silence stretched out for several minutes. Gil stared at the ceiling. His cheeks were burning. Finally he stole a glance down, just as Agatha glanced shyly up. Their eyes met, and held. He caught her upper arm and pulled her closer. He could feel her hand resting gently on his chest and his breath stopped.
Finally, she looked down again, and spoke. “Gil—you…you were right.”
This was not what Gil had expected to hear. “What?”
“You were absolutely right. And I felt so bad and I’m really sorry.”
Gil was confused. Right about what? Wanting to marry her? Bringing her to his father? Entering the Castle? “Ah—What about, exactly?”
“Othar.” Agatha stepped away and waved her hands in front of her. “I was so mad at you—you threw him out that window—and then, within the hour, I threw him out of an airship, too!”
Gil waited. “And you felt bad for throwing him—”
“I felt bad for yelling at you!”
Gil understood. “Oooh. Yeah, it’s okay. Othar does that to people.” He pulled her toward him again. “And listen, while we’re talking about annoying people, let’s talk about Zola.”
Agatha tried to pull away. “Oh. Yes, I suppose we should go and—”
He held her firmly and tried to look her in the face. “No. What I mean is, she’s just someone I knew in Paris. I came into the Castle to find you. At least—I hoped it was you.”
Agatha kept her head turned away from him, looking at the floor. “I really want to believe that…” she said.
Gil pulled the ring back around his neck and tapped it. “I thought you were dead.” He felt his hand shaking. “And there was so much that I wanted to say to you. Needed to say…and I thought I never could.” Agatha turned to meet his eyes again, and he put one hand to her cheek. She wasn’t trying to get away, now. “And then my father told me that you were alive…and I just—when I thought you were dead, I just—”
His voice faltered. “Please. You’ve got to believe me. Please.”
“I…do believe you,” Agatha said. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, resting her cheek on his bare chest.
Gil had more to say but it all flew out of his head as he wrapped his arms around her. He buried his face in her hair. His lips were close to her ear and he whispered to her. “But it is you! I’m so glad. I know about the Other—your friend, Zeetha, told me some of what’s going on. She said…”
He remembered the green haired girl’s sharp-toothed grin. “The best thing to do is get it all out of your system first, so you can start talking to each other intelligently.”
Gil closed his eyes. “…She said a lot of things. But I’ll help… somehow, we’ll find a way to—” he faltered. He just wanted to stay that way—to lose himself in the scent of her hair.
Agatha’s breath was warm against his chest as she spoke: “I’m sorry I…upset you—I wouldn’t…couldn’t risk getting captured again and I was so scared.” Gil tightened his arms protectively around her. “Tricking anyone who came after me into thinking I was dead was the only thing we could think of. And then…then it was you who came to get me—and with that crazy pirate girl—and all those clanks—and I didn’t know what to think.”
Agatha lifted her head. Her hand brushed the ring lightly. Gil saw tears in her eyes. “But if you were really unhappy when you thought I was dead, then you’ll understand why you need to leave. Now.”
Gil’s entire body had been awash in a growing bliss but at this pronouncement, it changed to cold shock. “Leave? But I’m here to help you!”
Agatha hugged him tighter. “You can help me. This place is too dangerous. I need you to get yourself and Tarvek, somewhere safe. Away from the Castle.”
Gil stared at her in horror. “Tarvek?” his voice rose to a shout. “Tarvek Sturmvarous? That smug, condescending snake?” Spark harmonics were creeping into his voice.
Agatha looked up at Gil in surprise. “You know him?”
“I most certainly do! Of course someone tried to kill him! Who wouldn’t want to kill him? Where is the little toad? I’ll—”