White Lady

by Nix Whittaker

  Everett frowned and hoped he hadn’t just spent all his time searching out the hospitals to only discover someone had accidentally knocked a basket of body parts off a cart on the way to the Scotland Yard. His store wasn’t directly between the hospital and the Yard but it also wasn’t far off course.

  The doctor went about covering up the body. He had clearly finished with this conversation as well as the autopsy.

  The woman reached out and touched his arm, making him stop. Her eyes softened. “You are Ancaster?” She glanced behind her but her husband had gone off into another room to clean up.

  He narrowed his eyes, surprised the woman recognised him. He had only been in Londinium a few months after a few years on the continent. He didn’t think his own parents even recognised him much after his long absence.

  “You make the clockwork limbs for people. Some of our patients have them. They are beautiful.” Her cheeks flushed red and her voice dropped.

  He hadn’t realised his reputation had spread so quickly. But then again this was a hospital and if he wanted to find the highest concentration of his clients in one place, it was likely here. He offered a warm smile at her compliment and said, “I make small clockwork automatons as well, Ma’am. I’ll bring one around. Maybe you can tell me more about how the hospital disposes of their waste.”

  He winced at the word waste. It was what the term the doctor had used but it seemed a little cold to him. Those limbs had belonged to people and had once filled an essential part of their lives. He had seen the mangled leftovers from an amputation and it had always worried him it was so easy to discard something that had once been part of a human being.

  The woman beamed. “I’m Margaret Carthart and I would love that. My husband always takes a break for lunch so I’ll be free around noon tomorrow. When you come in I can tell you more then.”

  Everett glanced up but Doctor Carthart hadn’t returned from cleaning up. He supposed Margaret’s age was right for the doctor but he had never heard of a husband and wife team working together in a hospital. He wondered if she was just his assistant or as qualified as her husband. For women to have the same recognition as men in professional careers was an uphill battle. Particularly in England which fought the hold of the Wyvern Empire.

  In the Empire, women who had academic skills were considered of worth though a rarity. It was the clash between what dragons saw as worth and the human society that wanted women to be at home looking after children so the next generation could survive. That survival still rode the human race hard despite the peace between dragons and humans.

  He’d make sure to bring her something sophisticated. She would probably recognise the value of it. He doubted she got much recognition here at the hospital. Or from her husband.

  ___

  The bell above the door rang as the door opened. Everett looked up and blinked through the magnifying glasses he had perched on his nose. He wiped his hand on a cloth and removed the glasses so he could take in whoever had entered his store.

  An old man with dark skin stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a linen shirt and suit but had a necklace of teeth and a furry-leathery thing that Everett couldn’t place. But he would guess it was something from an animal. The man carried a staff that had a round end the size of a fist and he tapped his way forward into the store.

  His steps rattled. There was something strapped around the man’s ankle but Everett wasn’t sure what it was. The dark man leaned forward on the smooth wooden head of the walking stick. The shaft cut with geometric designs.

  The man growled in a hoarse whisper as he spoke, sending the hairs on the back of Everett’s neck to attention. “Are you a man who makes limbs for people?” Since he’d filled the store with examples of mechanical limbs, Everett nodded his head though wondered why the man asked. Everett didn’t think he was here to avail himself of his talents. Despite the walking stick, it was more an affectation than for need.

  Everett ran a hand through his hair to make sure he didn’t have tufts sticking out the side because of the glasses he had been wearing or his tendency to run his hands through his locks. When he was sure he was moderately presentable, he approached the man. He waved to the display on the front desk that had a sample of his work. He had an intricate hand that he had spent some extra time to etch designs into the metal. There was also a foot that was only half made to demonstrate how the innards worked.

  “I make clockwork limbs to help people more able to get around.”

  The man narrowed his eyes showing the deep wrinkles by his eyes. “Then she will come here.”

  Everett frowned at the weird phrasing but on the chance the man was here for someone else he kept his thoughts to himself. He pointed to the hand and said, “The dragon technology allows a person to articulate the digits with a thought.” He moved one finger to show that it was flexible.

  The man cracked the end of his walking stick on the ground. The things woven near the man’s hand at the head of the stick clacked against each other. He pointed the end towards Everett and said, “A ghost will come here. I want you to chase them away or your ancestors will haunt you.”

  Everett went still. Surely the man wasn’t talking about Medea. Everett might have mistaken her for a ghost for a moment but albino was a hereditary condition. Victor had given him more insight and explained that two parents could carry the blueprints of an albino without being albino themselves. He wasn’t sure how blueprints were passed down but he had grown up in the country. He knew that selecting certain characteristics in an animal could guarantee it for the next. He knew that whatever caused Medea’s albinism had nothing to do with mysticism and more about who her parents were.

  He narrowed his eyes and studied the man. Why would the man want him to chase away Medea?

  “I don’t believe in ghosts.” Everett jumped back as the large round end of the stick swiped where his head was. It came to a stop right in front of his nose. He wondered if the man intended to hit him or not but the growling voice made his stomach flip. “Death. I see death in your eyes. The ghost has already infected you.”

  Everett didn’t think Medea had done anything except reluctantly accept his flirting. But even if she was someone nefarious, he would still give her a limb. No one deserved to be less than they could be.

  The old man stepped forward with the walking stick still raised, forcing Everett to take a step back. His legs came up against the cabinet where he stored miscellaneous gears. Everett slapped the stick aside and said, “Get out of here, old man. I’m not going to put up with your threats.” He squared his shoulders. Everett was taller than the other man and he hoped that was enough to intimidate the man as he didn’t have any weapon at hand. The stick looked menacing as it was and he didn’t doubt it could do some damage if wielded as a weapon.

  The man flipped the stick and cracked the narrow end against the floor. Everett eyed the stick warily as the man had moved faster than expected. Maybe the man hadn’t meant to hit him after all. But he intended to threaten Everett.

  Clicking his tongue in some intelligible word, the old man spun on his heels and left. Everett eyed him suspiciously and wondered if he would see the man again. He wondered if he would see Medea again.

  If this man was around threatening her as well, he doubted the half-completed foot would ever be used. It explained why she had dashed out of his store the other day and not because she was running away from his inept flirting.

  Chapter Seven

  Rayne kept her hand close to the baton on her waist. This neighbourhood made both her and Larkin nervous. She knew Larkin was nervous as his hand was on his gun instead of his baton. She preferred the small weapon to a gun as it was less final in its results. But she could understand Larkin’s concern. There had been two peelers killed here just last week. The residents here didn’t welcome any outside interference. Unfortunately, it was also the place they sold young girls to brothels. It had taken two days to track down which neighbourhood they had taken the
girl to. It now meant risking their lives to check the streets on the off chance of spotting the girl.

  Larkin asked, “Do you want a girl or a boy?”

  It took her a moment to realise he was talking about her own child rather than the child they were looking for. “Can we talk about anything else except my pregnancy?” She didn’t glance at Larkin as she spoke but kept her eyes alert on their surroundings.

  “It will soon be the talk of the Yard. I just thought you’d like to get it out there.”

  She knew he had an ulterior motive. “You know I’m pregnant. Victor has been announcing it from the top of Londinium Tower.”

  “He’s excited.”

  She was supposed to be as well. When they had first spoken about having a child she had thought when it happened, she would be excited but now she was worried about what all the men at work would think. Larkin had already expressed that he thought her bonkers not to embrace her marriage and all that entailed but that might have to do with the fact that he recently married and in that blissful stage that had always annoyed her with others. He had been sharing his views for months so she didn’t need to see his expression to know he was eyeing her with some confusion.

  Every time she thought she could just be normal and live in married bliss with Victor something would happen at work. The latest had been the rumour she had been sleeping with her godfather. Victor had done his best to show that he was a possessive dragon and wouldn’t let anyone else have her but it made her angry that the men at the Yard only believed the word of a man. She had worked with some of them for five years and they still thought her a wanton.

  She couldn’t even blame them as the ton was no different. The moment she had started her job at the Yard she had been considered tainted because of it. Her mechanical hand had only been one thing to ostracise her but the moment she worked with men she was a tramp. She couldn’t understand their reasoning. Just because she was around men didn’t mean she was jumping into random beds.

  Most of the men she worked with were uncouth brutes. They were the muscle from Bow Street or the watchmen and even the ones who had common sense and the wherewithal to solve complicated cases were more likely to look down at her as merely ‘that woman’ who had invaded their space. It was only recently that they had started to proposition her. A development she could have done without.

  She had thought with the announcement of her pregnancy the men would have backed off but the propositions had increased as they realised she wasn’t at risk of falling pregnant. Cads.

  She knew the moment she allowed herself to be excited about the baby there would be a new rumour that it was her godfather’s and not Victor’s at all. Or possibly some other weird speculation. She couldn’t go there. She couldn’t risk her heart. But she also feared if she heard something like that, she would lose her temper with her colleagues.

  Rayne snapped out her hand and caught a pickpocket who had sauntered up behind them. She raised an eyebrow at the small urchin who couldn’t be any older than ten or so but age was difficult to tell when malnourishment meant he could be small for his age. The boy winced as her mechanical hand tightened on his wrist.

  She tried to pull back but the fingers weren’t listening to her. She used her other hand to pry her fingers free. The urchin saw her distraction with her hand as his chance to escape and tried to dash for it, but Larkin despite his size was not slow. He caught the boy up by the back of his coat. There was tearing of cloth but it held and the boy’s feet dangled beneath him.

  Larkin asked, “What should we do with him? Gallows? Or should we just take one of his hands?” She knew he was joking. He had more of a soft spot for children than she did. But she also knew he was playing a role. It was better to scare the child into thinking he was in danger of mutilation. Hopefully they wouldn’t see him again.

  Rayne narrowed her eyes and brought her face closer to the boy. “He is a small fry. Wouldn’t be much point would there. Not like we would have others at the shop saying we were brave to bring in such a scrawny critter.”

  The boy wriggled and the material of his coat tore a little more as the boy flailed his arms and legs around. Larkin shifted his grip so he now held him up by one arm. “We could just lop off the hand here and take that back. No one would need to know he was such a small one.”

  Larkin whipped out a knife with his free hand and brought it close enough to the young thief’s eyes that all he could see was the wicked blade. The thief trembled and yelped, “I won’t do nuffin again. Trust me.”

  Rayne tilted her head sideways as she studied the boy. She wished she could take him in but the boy wasn’t ready to take any charity. Hopefully they could scare him from going after toffs at the very least. They were the kind to ask for the most vicious of justice. “Aw, let him go. I wouldn’t want to carry around a bloody limb anyway. It will stain my uniform. Your missus also would complain about getting blood out of your uniform and you know she has a real sharp tongue when she wants to.” Larkin’s wife was sweetness personified but it wasn’t unusual to use her to scare people into behaving.

  “Argh. Wouldn’t want that.” Larkin shrugged and sheathed his blade. Once he let go of the boy, he scrambled and ran for the safety of one alleyway. Rayne frowned when she saw the flash of yellow hair. Though there were those who had blonde hair in this neighbourhood most of them were dulled by grease and soot. It was the other person who caught her attention. The pale skin and fair hair were distinct.

  Rayne was just about to investigate when a child dashed out of the alley. The small girl slammed into her legs. Her pale yellow hair matched the description of the missing child. Her clinging grasp was more an indication of the child’s identity. This neighbourhood didn’t see police as the hero. Rayne’s eyes stayed on the alleyway though and she glimpsed the pale woman again. She checked on the child before ducking back into the shadows of the alleyway.

  Larkin reached out and steadied Rayne otherwise she would have hit the ground and since this place didn’t have someone to collect the waste left by horses, it was the last place she wanted to spend any time horizontal.

  Rayne put aside her concerns for the strange woman to reassure the child. At least they could now leave the dangerous part of the city. Her hand shook a little as she patted the girl’s shoulder. She didn’t want to contemplate the future this girl would have been facing if that albino woman hadn’t saved the girl. Even with their resources, the girl would have disappeared into the brothels and they wouldn’t have been able to save her.

  Patting the girl’s head her hand seized up and shuddered before it went back to its smooth function. Larkin asked, “What happened with your hand?” Rayne shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to discuss it.

  Larkin frowned at her so she reassured him and said, “I’ll get my brother to look at it.”

  ___

  Everett stepped back to admire his work. The arm gleamed with its polished brass covering that he had etched with curlicues. There was no reason not to be stylish when you were short a limb. The man clenched his hand and flexed his fingers. The gears whirred but otherwise worked as planned.

  Martin wiggled his shoulder, stretching out tight muscles though he didn’t have any muscles in that arm anymore. “I didn’t think I could do that again.” Everett knew some of his clients spoke of phantom pains but he hadn’t realised some could want a phantom stretch.

  With the consult almost finished Everett offered the coat to Martin which he had taken off for Everett to fit the arm. Martin thanked him and added, “When that doctor had me strapped down I didn’t think I’d get back to normal, you know. Thanks for this, doc.”

  Martin tugged at his lapel. Joy glowing on his face at the simple activity that was now possible because he had both arms back. He smoothed his hands over the coat. Everett could understand him savouring the abilities the arm now afforded him. It was that joy in the man’s face that drove Everett to continue in his career.

  Everett waved off the title
and said, “I’m not a doctor. But what is this about a doctor strapping you down?” He had worked with doctors before and he couldn’t think of a time where strapping someone down was essential. Maybe the doctor had been on his own. He had held some down to help with an operation but they could do damage to a patient if they were strapped down. Sometimes a patient had to be held down but that was when the patient hadn’t been sedated. Opium was in common use amongst doctors. It was safer than dealing with a flailing patient even if the side effects weren’t always pleasant.

  Martin picked up his bag from the floor and looped it over his head as he spoke, “Ah, I don’t think I told you how it happened when I came in last time. The doctor who did this to me was supposed to fix a broken bone. Just set it you know. I’ve had broken bones before. I know when it is a bad break and this wasn’t one of those. He drugged me and strapped me to the table to stop me from running before he hacked off the arm.” Martin illustrated his words with a chop of his new mechanical hand.

  Everett shuddered at the image the man created and he wondered if the hand that had been left on his doorstep hadn’t been the one from the hospital and instead was from a backroom clinic. He had heard of a few operating in shady areas of the city.

  The bell over the door heralded a visitor. A smile split his lips as Rayne entered with Larkin behind her. It was rare for her to drag her partner with her to anything that didn’t have to do with her work but his workplace was close to Scotland Yard. Everett patted Martin’s arm and said, “Come in next week. By then we should know if there are any issues or not.”

  Martin glanced between him and his sister before he left. Rayne asked, “Another happy customer?”

  “The only kind I like.” He let a genuine smile touch his lips. He had missed his sister while he had been overseas and when he had been at school. Though not the closest in age they had a close bond out of all his siblings. It was the loss of her hand. He had been sick and the whole family were rushing to a doctor when the carriage had crashed. She had lost her hand.