Anxious glances. Mary almost began to cry as Henry and Lucille comforted her. Their team hadn’t managed to pass either round despite their efforts. She tried her best to repeat it in Fon so that Rin could understand. Rin, ever the warrior, didn’t seem moved at all. Well, Rin was confident enough in her skills. Maybe she thought she could fight back. But there was no telling what kind of death the Committee had planned for the losers of the tournament. Iris cared enough for the both of them. For all of them.
“Fool has no reason to lie,” Iris told them. “He wants the mayhem. You got a taste of mayhem a few nights ago, Henry. How did it feel?” She looked around the hall. “How do you all feel about being slaughtered for Club Uriel’s enjoyment?”
The champions glanced at each other, none daring to speak.
“I have something I’d like to discuss with you,” Iris continued. “But before we do, I want to make sure our conversation remains private.” She turned to Max, who gestured toward Jacob.
“What do you say, Jacob? Just like when we were kids?” Max’s expression brightened a little with nostalgia.
Jacob tucked his black hair behind his ear. The two shared a connection, Max told her; they were both scouted and brought to Europe by the same headhunter: the Norwegian Johan Adrian Jacobsen. They came at different times and at different ages. They lived in different zoos before escaping to the London streets. But their common history had built a close connection.
Jacob brushed, first, Cherice’s throat with the back of his hand. With Hawkins, his touch was a little more tender. Their eyes connected softly for just a moment. Once he was done, Hawkins gave him a little wink before Jacob moved on to Henry, blushing. Lucille. Then Mary. No one fought him. It was clear that gentle Jacob was hardly a threat.
“Jacob here has a special gift,” explained Max. “The gift of language. He can make people understand and speak different tongues. Or forget how to. He even made up his own. Cool, right?” Max laughed, wistfully remembering simpler times. “When we were kids, we needed a way to communicate among ourselves. The effect only lasts a little while, but it should be long enough, wouldn’t you say, Jacob?”
“That depends on what Iris needs to tell us,” Jacob answered, moving to Rin.
Once Jacob had finished, they were all speaking a language Iris had never heard before. A language that existed only in Jacob’s imagination.
“When I first came here as a child,” Jacob said, returning to his spot next to Hawkins. “I was so overwhelmed by the language. The loudness of the streets. The faces. But nothing was more terrifying than the language. That feeling of listlessness, of loss. It’s never left me.”
Hawkins took Jacob by the wrist. “You don’t need to explain yourself, Jake,” he said, but Jacob shook his head.
“I want to. I think we should all try to know each other a little more. To understand why we’re each in this tournament. Being able to communicate with others is so important for too many reasons.”
“Jacob and I made a pact when we were children,” said Max in the newly acquired language Jacob had given them. “That we would find Jacobsen. If we can just find him, he could lead me to my sister. And Jacob may have a way to go back to Labrador.”
Cherice jumped off her chair. “What? You’re not still thinking of going, are you?”
Jacob’s nervous look toward Hawkins was met with a noncommittal shrug. “At the very least, I’d like to visit. See my people again. But finding Max’s sister takes precedence.”
Max stared at his hands as if he saw something fresh and warm upon his palms. “The night we were separated, that moment I saw the carriage ride away with my sister inside, it felt like a lifetime. And I…” He paused. “I told myself I’d do anything to get her back.”
Max’s gaze slid toward Iris, but she was too busy thinking to pay attention. Communication. A moment lasting a lifetime. A strange thought came to mind.
“Hawkins,” Iris said. “You once told me that you were always good at hiding.”
“Still am.” Hawkins slyly brushed his hair out of his face. “As you’ve seen yourself.”
“Cherice’s gambling scams,” Iris whispered, absently tracing a line on her lip with a nail.
“Oi, they’re not scams!” Cherice insisted, bristling when the others rolled their eyes. “Okay, they’re scams, but so what? Look, I’ve always been good with cards, right?” Some slipped out from underneath her white sleeve and floated in the air above her. “My big brother taught me. And we weren’t doing anything wrong anyway, you know; everyone needs a bloody retirement fund. And besides—”
As Cherice babbled on, Jinn nudged Iris in the ribs. “What are you thinking?”
“What I’m thinking is,” Iris said loud enough to stop Cherice in the middle of her tirade, “these aspects of yourself. You’d consider them important parts of you, wouldn’t you? Important characteristics. Moments. Each defining you. What if that has something to do with the nature of the abilities you got after the explosion that day at the South Kensington fair? I’m sure you’ve thought about it by now.”
Everyone exchanged looks. They probably had.
“Something that defines you,” Iris continued. “If you all think deeply about your abilities, I’m sure you’d find a connection.”
She glanced up at Jinn, who seemed lost in his thoughts. Perhaps of his father at the fair. He’d told her himself that he remembered the flames burning the ground so strongly. An image that stuck in his mind for all these years. An image that became a secret power he despised. Iris slid her hand into his so that he wouldn’t float too far into his memories.
“Even if what you’re saying is true, why are we discussing this?” Henry demanded.
“Because I’m sure our Patrons are aware of this.” Iris gripped Jinn’s hand even tighter as she thought of it. “I’m sure they’re aware of much more. They hold all the cards. They’re battling among themselves. Do you really think it’s just for a bit of macabre entertainment?”
Iris told them what Adam had said. The Committee’s belief that the world was ending and only one among them had the right to choose the next steps of mankind. But when Iris prodded the others for information, she received baffled looks.
“And you believed him? My, you are a gullible young woman, aren’t you?” Though Lucille looked like a drab fisherman’s wife, she gestured like an extravagant opera singer in the middle of an act. “We’ve received no such information from our Patron—in fact, I’d say your Patron has a bit of a loose tongue. Maybe he likes you.”
She winked, making Jinn glare daggers at her.
“It sounds like a crock,” Lucille added flatly.
“Because he’s always on business, we’ve only been in contact with Bosch through a surrogate,” Jacob said. “But England’s rife with spiritualists and cults. The end of the world is a bit hard to believe.”
“Some say the same about us Fanciful Freaks.” Iris wouldn’t back down. “Don’t any of you want to know why we are what we are? What the bigger picture is that our Patrons are keeping to themselves? Or are you happy to play the puppet and slaughter each other for their sport?” She stepped down the aisle, making sure all eyes were on her. “How do we even know if the final round will be the end of it? The Patrons can do whatever they want; Fool said so himself. It’s already a fight to the death, with only one team surviving. Maybe after they declare the victor, they’ll kill even the winning team to keep their secrets secret.”
Iris had thought about it over the past few days. By the way the champions squirmed and fiddled with their clothes, it was clear they were considering it too.
“I want to know what they know.” Iris jumped onto the stage and sat on the edge. “Truth is power. And with the truth, we may have the leverage we need over the Patrons to stop any further bloodshed.”
“You mean blackmail?” Jinn folded his arms.
“Once we have their secrets, we can use it against them. And for that, I’ll need your help.”
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But unlike Adam, the other Committee members hadn’t told their champions of their true motives. Why would they? Adam had a special connection with Iris… a special affection, though she hated to admit it. For the other Patrons, their champions were just a means to an end. Frustrated, she spoke terms and phrases, hoping they’d recognize them. Until—
“The Moon Skeleton.”
Rin.
“Madame Bellerose often speaks less carefully around me because she thinks I’m not as fluent in her language as I really am. That phrase… She’s uttered it more than once.”
“We’ve let these bastards play around with us for far too long,” Max said. He hopped onto the floor. “The only way to get the upper hand is the hard way.”
A little smile played on Jacob’s lips. “This isn’t heading anywhere good, I’m sure of it.”
Max flexed his arm. “We find a Patron and make him talk. Beat him senseless if we have to.” And he added darkly, “I say we go after Adam. It’s finally time for him to get his due.”
“I second that,” Jinn said a little too quickly.
Iris waved her hands. “Wait a moment.”
“Why?” Jinn pushed back. Iris didn’t like the look Jinn was giving her. “He isn’t someone we should be trying to protect.”
“I’m not trying to protect him,” Iris insisted in a huff. “I just know he’s not gonna give up his secrets that easily.”
“Because of all the time you’ve been spending together,” Jinn mumbled.
“What?” A flurry of heat swelled in her cheeks. “You are such a child,” she blurted out.
“Excuse me?”
“Can you get over yourself and concentrate for a second?”
“Oh my, lover’s quarrel.” Hawkins laughed as Jacob covered his smile with his hand.
Now it was Max’s turn to flare red. “Lovers? What? Hardly!”
“Why, are you jealous, Max?” Jacob teased.
“Jealous? Of them? You two, I swear—” Cherice punched Hawkins hard in the arm and went in to strike Jacob, only for Hawkins to catch her wrist before the hit could land.
“Oh, it’s some kind of love polygon? This is so much fun!” Lucille clapped her hands in delight as the room continued to descend into chaos.
“Enough, enough, enough!” Iris let out a growl that silenced the room. “There’s someone else on the Committee that will be much easier to trap and question. Ease of operation is what I’m aiming for,” she added, shooting daggers at Jinn, who scoffed and turned away. “Italy.”
Everyone understood. Riccardo Benini. He was clearly the blabbermouth of the group, and judging from what Bellerose had told her at Club Uriel the other day, he’d been investigating John Temple as well. It would be much easier getting him to talk than Adam.
“But h-how do we trap him?” Mary squeaked, stepping out from behind her teammates.
At this, Hawkins stroked his chin mischievously. “Benini, you say. Well, if it’s him, I might have a way. Though it won’t be for the faint of heart.”
“Are you acquainted with him?” Iris asked, sitting up straight.
Hawkins shrugged. “You could say that. Though not directly.”
Barely able to contain her excitement, Iris jumped down from the stage. “All right. This is good. This is great! So? How do we find him?”
“Before I tell you my idea, I need to know this one very important piece of information.” Hawkins looked her dead in the eyes before his lips slid into a smile. “How comfortable are you in a brothel?”
41
THE GROUP PROMISED TO MEET again tomorrow, Friday, at midnight to discuss their next move. According to the information Cherice gained from spying on some club members gossiping about the tournament, Saturday night would be the show at Wilton’s and then, promptly after, the third trial would begin. According to Hawkins, only a handful of participants were needed for this operation—whatever that operation was.
Team Hawkins and Team Iris were on his side, he reasoned, so they would be the ones involved. Rin was skeptical but agreed. Henry was the only one who pushed back, wanting to know the full details of his scheme. Though Mary looked unsure, Lucille seemed somewhat annoyed she couldn’t come along.
“Best to keep the mystery,” Hawkins had told them while he made his “arrangements.”
The next afternoon, he took Iris, Jinn, and Max to the Granby apartment of a gorgeous woman who looked only a few years older. Her hair, a curly reddish brown, was tied up messily upon her head. She’d buttoned only the top two rows of her long, dark blue jacket to show the gold-and-blue floral-patterned dress she wore underneath, her black gloves the same color as the lace choker around her neck. And she wasn’t alone. Other well-dressed girls were sitting on couches with handfuls of dresses.
“Lily Giralt.” Hawkins’s prim friend offered her hand to Iris without looking at her; she was already directing the women to clear the teacups off the kitchen table to make room for the dresses—very large, fancy, uncomfortable-looking dresses.
“Excuse me, Miss Giralt?” Iris said timidly, and when she finally did catch Lily’s eye, the woman stared at Iris, amazed as if she were a wonder.
“Why, Lawrence, you didn’t tell me you had such a pretty friend.” Lily walked over to Hawkins, who sat next to Max on the couch as Jinn watched, leaning against the wall. “You seem to collect them so easily.”
“As evidenced.” Max gestured down his own body, making her laugh. “Hello, Lily.”
“Maximo.” Lily placed a dainty hand below her chin. “It should be a sin to remain so eternally handsome. But no matter how many times I compliment you, you never visit me.”
Hawkins laughed. “If he were to visit you alone and Cherice were to find out, she’d kill you both in your sleep.”
“Yeah, I like my head where it is,” mumbled Max, shuddering at the thought.
Lily brushed the hair from Hawkins’s cheek affectionately like a mother. “How old is that girl now, sixteen? She should be more mature by now. I’m sure the little thing’s still running about behaving like an unruly schoolboy. And Jacob?”
Hawkins nodded with a soft smile. “He’s well.”
“And you’re keeping him well, I presume?” Lily tilted her head with a mischievous smile as Hawkins let out an exasperated sigh, barely audible.
“Lily—”
“Yes, yes, I know. I haven’t forgotten Mr. Winterbottom, and clearly neither have you.” Before Hawkins could respond, she tapped Hawkins underneath the chin.
“I take it you all know each other?” asked Iris, listening to them with interest.
“Since childhood. We share a certain taste of the extra-legal.” Lily winked and turned to Jinn, who watched them all with a stony expression. “Goodness, handsome men abound. Though this one looks a little dangerous. The quiet ones always are.”
Jinn narrowed his eyes and said nothing.
“They’ll both do, won’t they?” Hawkins said, looking between Iris’s two teammates.
“Wait.” Max watched the women arrange the dresses and their accessories carefully on the table. “We’ll do for what?”
Lily swiveled on the heels of her long black boots. “You’ll be going to Chelsea this evening. When Hawkins described your mark to me, I thought this would be the perfect trap. I don’t work there myself, but I have friends in the establishment that’ll help us set things up quite nicely. Apparently, Benini can be quite the annoyance—and late in his payments.” She faced Iris and shrugged. “And who wants a customer like that?”
Hawkins thumbed through the dresses on the table. “With all the investigations going on in the city, I’m surprised your friends would agree to do this. They could end up in jail.”
“They won’t.” Lily chuckled. “Since most of the men investigating them are also frequent visitors themselves. There’s nothing to worry about.”
All Iris cared about were the words “Benini” and “trap.” “What are you planning?”
Lily looked her up and down with interest. “Beautiful, to be sure. You’d fit in as one of their Tuesday Girls if you wanted to work for them.”
“Tuesday Girls?” Iris wasn’t sure if she should ask, but Lily offered up an explanation nonetheless.
“Riccardo Benini, you see. He frequents quite a few high-class establishments around London, but he comes to the Chelsea place particularly because they’re aware of his… specific tastes. He’s a scatterbrained man, but when it comes to his desires, he’s quite meticulous.”
One of the girls behind her scoffed but otherwise kept her thoughts to herself.
“Tuesdays he delights in the exotic,” Lily said, wriggling her fingers. “Those from around the world who would keep his company. You’re an exquisite vision, Miss Iris; I’m sure he wouldn’t mind—”
“And?” Iris said a little too loudly, because the thought of keeping Benini’s company made her shudder, not to mention that the term “exotic” irked her to no end. “You’re saying he has a specific fetish for every day?”
Lily shifted uncomfortably. “You didn’t have to say it so brazenly. But yes. Wednesday is Ancient Rome Day, togas and all.”
“Friend of mine told me he asked her to call him Caesar,” said one of the girls, and the others cringed. So did Lily.
“Right.” Max shook his head. “I think I’ve heard enough.”
Jinn boosted off the wall. “So what do we have to do with this?”
Lily folded her arms with a cheeky smile. “Today is Friday. Friday is very…” She paused. “Let’s say late-eighteenth-century France. It’s very Marie Antoinette.”
“Maximo,” called Hawkins from the kitchen table as he held up a red dress. “I think this one matches your eyes, don’t you?”
The room fell silent but for the giggles of Lily’s female friends, who’d finished arranging the items painstakingly across the kitchen table. It took several moments for both Jinn and Max to realize the plan at the same time: the trap they were to set, and who would play the starring roles. Iris burst out laughing at the same time Jinn began stammering, his body flush with embarrassment. Max, on the other hand—
The Bones of Ruin Page 41