THE FRIDAY SOCIETY
Be your own hero
An action-packed tale of gowns, guys, guns--and the heroines who use them all
Set in Edwardian London, The Friday Society follows the stories of three very intelligent and talented young women, all of whom are assistants to powerful men: Cora, lab assistant; Michiko, Japanese fight assistant; and Nellie, magician's assistant. The three young women's lives become inexorably intertwined after a chance meeting at a ball that ends with the discovery of a murdered mystery man.
It's up to these three, in their own charming but bold way, to solve the murder--and the crimes they believe may be connected to it--without calling too much attention to themselves.
Told with Adrienne Kress's sharp wit and a great deal of irreverence, this Steampunk whodunit introduces three unforgettable and very ladylike--well, relatively ladylike--heroines poised for more dangerous adventures.
And then there was an explosion.
It was loud. It was bright. It was very explosion-y. Cora dove under the table and held her breath, waiting for the tinkling sound of glass to cease. It could have been a nice sound, actually. If it didn’t reflect her total incompetence.
Stupid tinkling sound of glass.
She’d fixed the calculations, she’d double-checked the equipment. How was it possible to change everything about an experiment and still have it result in the same thing?
Kablooey.
That was the technical term for it. Cora crossed her legs under the table and pouted. Pouting didn’t really solve anything, but she was annoyed. She was also covered in green goo. And it was hard not to pout when covered in green goo.
Now, it wasn’t that she didn’t love explosions. Quite the opposite. She even remembered her very first explosion. (Some girls remembered their first corset or first grand ball, but she wasn’t “some girls.”) It had been seven years ago. Lord White had her put on the goggles he’d had custom made to fit her tiny ten-year-old features, handed her the strangest-looking gun she’d ever seen, pointed it in the right direction, and told her to pull the trigger.
Just like that.
So she had. And the dummy’s head in front of her had exploded into a million pieces.
“Great aim!” Lord White had laughed enthusiastically for a good five minutes after the destruction.
She had been in love with things exploding ever since.
What she didn’t love was green goo.
And failure.
Cora noticed her notepad and pencil floating beside her. She extracted both from the gloop and examined her calculations. She knew she’d only have a few moments of peace before—
“Cora! You all right, love? Cora!”
Cora sighed.
“Yes, Mrs. Philips, I’m fine.” She maintained focus on the paper in front of her.
“That was a loud noise. . . . Where are you, pet?”
“Over here.” She rolled her eyes and glanced up, watching Mrs. Philips’s skirts sweep toward her.
“What a mess.” Cora watched the feet of the housekeeper as they maneuvered carefully through the broken glass and goo on the floor. “I’ll send for...
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