by A. W. Exley
He nodded. “It was a challenge, to see if we could make one of our own a student. We have ears at the school, naturally, but none as close as you. Consider my request a test of where your loyalties lie.”
“And if I refuse?” Her heart pounded so loud it drowned out the ornate grandfather clock in the corner.
He poured himself another brandy, drawing out his response until he replaced the decanter. “You’ll resume the walk that I interrupted four years ago.”
A vice closed around her chest, silencing the drum beat. Only one word managed to escape her throat.
“What?”
“You escaped, you weren’t pardoned.”
Her hand moved to her neck, scratching at an imaginary noose. I can’t go back to Newgate. I don’t want to die. But if I hand over Zeb, what will happen to him?
“I’m your daughter.”
He took a sip of brandy, savouring the flavour before swallowing. “And I’m overlord of the Whisperers. I have guild responsibilities, buyers who have paid for particular information.”
Like a mouse trapped in a maze, Allie tried another route. “I’m seventeen, I am unmarked.” She held up unblemished wrists.
Le Foy smiled and laughed. “As you pointed out, you are my daughter. Why do we need a tattoo, when my blood flows in your veins?”
She drowned in unfamiliar waters, fate and the ties of her past dragging her under the surface. “Are you commanding me as overlord, or father?”
“Which makes it easier for you to comply?” He tilted his head but the mask remained in place, his expression unreadable. “My daughter is friends with a boy with a very intriguing head on his shoulders. The Reapers have paid an exorbitant sum for the knowledge contained in that head about a certain weapon.”
I can’t do this. I can’t betray my friend. “He is only seventeen. You are breaking the covenant and will bring their world down on ours.”
“A truth the nobles will overlook since there is a seventeen year old girl they wish to remove. Perhaps there will be an exchange; they will turn a blind eye in return for guild assistance with their problem.” He watched her like a hawk, assessing her reaction to each word.
Victoria. “They would harm one of their own?” A strange kinship stirred in her gut for the noble girl she had never met. A pawn in the game of men, trapped just as she was in this instant.
Le Foy gave a huff of laughter. “For the crown and a chance at power? Of course they would.”
Allie could barely think straight, let alone form an answer. Her mind needed to focus on the immediate threat to Zeb. Whose life is worth more, mine or Zeb’s? She needed time. She needed to talk to Jared, of all people. “What am I expected to do with Zeb?”
The web closed tight, the spider had her positioned exactly where he wanted her. “The Reapers have an agent based in Scotland, Count Gregor Illyich. You’ll be able to find him in Edinburgh when he takes his entertainment at Deviant’s. Deliver the boy to him. Don’t let Gregor take the boy from you. I want confirmation that he holds father and son, unharmed.”
Allie pressed a hand to her brow; her brain took up too much space in her head, threatening to break free of her skull if she forced it to process anything else. “Very well. I’m not exactly keen to resume my walk to the gallows.”
“Keep your ears open. There are new alliances at play.”
Something in her father’s words rebounded in the back of her mind. Snippets collided in a kaleidoscope of phrases, but she could not see the pattern or discern why it nagged at her. She shook her head, trying to clear the way. The air grew over-warm. The liquor slowed her pulse and she feared she might soon faint.
Satisfied, he returned to his desk and opened the drawer and then extracted a glass vial. “When you have finished with the Reapers, send me a message.” The vial had a copper bung with a small chain. He swung it in front of her. She focused on the object within, a tiny mechanical dragonfly at rest. “In case you are running low on little messengers.”
She took the chain, dropped the vial into her reticule and closed the silken bag.
Le Foy strode to the bell pull and rung for his butler. “I’ll have my carriage return you to your accommodation.”
The butler re-entered the room on silent feet, a query in his eyes as to what his master required.
“No thank you.” Allie turned. “I need to walk. I need fresh air.” She inclined her head to her father, keen to escape even if only to inhale the coal smoke hanging in the streets.
“Afterwards, we will continue this conversation, Alessandra. We have much to discuss about your future.” He offered a small formal bow, before the butler gestured for her to precede him out the door and back across the marble entranceway.
She remembered little of the walk back to the Bainbridge townhouse. Those who encountered her along the way probably thought her quite mad. She talked to herself, trying to sort the information into some sense of order.
If only she could survive the choice in front of her.
Monday, 26th September.
ared’s pulse drummed at the thought of seeing Allie but he remained unsure if her hand would shove a dagger through his ribs. He made short time of the trip to the train station. The horse pawed at the ground as they waited, resentful of being hitched to the buggy, but obedient of the command to stand. He heard the commotion as the train pulled in; the steamer’s screams of agony bounced off the solid brick walls of the station as workers restrained its body. The nearby horses felt the pull of their flight instinct as the metal monstrosity fought against the chains leashing it to the rails.
The exclamation rose from the surrounding crowd who came to marvel at the modern wonder and instead met a frightening beast. It heaved steam in all directions after its long run from London, which scattered those of lesser heart. Some more delicate ladies swooned. It took some time before the engine was declared safe for passengers to disembark. Soon a crowd of people swirled under the archway and out into the streets of Edinburgh.
Jared caught his breath at the two girls who walked under the brick arch, separating train track from the road. He barely recognised Allie, wearing a deep green silk walking dress with a tiny hat on her head, cocked on an angle, and a small veil over her face. Eloise was more conservatively attired, in the palest orange taffeta, but the two young women looked like they stepped from the page of one of Madeline’s fashion magazines.
He jumped down from the seat of the buggy, his heart escaping up his throat.
Eloise slowed her pace, hanging back to allow Allie and Jared some privacy.
As Jared approached he held up a hand, just in case Allie concealed a blade. “I owe you an apology for my behaviour. I’m sorry. Can we call a truce?” he asked.
She halted in front of him; an inky dark gaze held him and drew him in. “No games. I’ll not be toyed with or used.”
They hadn’t spoken since their fight in the gymnasium. He never intended to treat her like a toy, and now he had to somehow make amends.
“No games.”
Her gaze scanned his face. He tried to hold his expression unreadable while inside his gut contained a riotous ocean. His hopes clung to her next few words, or would she leave him to drown?
“A truce,” she said
He let out a sigh; his soul grabbed the offered lifeline. “I also have a peace offering to show you when we get to the house, if you will allow me.”
She arched an eyebrow and starlight glinted in the depths of her night time eyes. “I do hope you’ve come to save me from Eloise.” She placed her hand in Jared’s for the short stroll to the buggy. Eloise drew alongside them. “She’s been dressing me like I’m a new doll.”
“I think she’s doing a fine job,” Jared concluded on appraising her outfit up close. Simple lines made her a gem among the overcomplicated noble girls.
“Thank you Jared,” Eloise took the credit, as he let go of Allie and turned to hand Eloise up into the buggy. She settled herself on the back seat.
He offered his hand to Allie, bowing over it with a smile before helping her up.
“Don’t encourage her,” Allie whispered while he was close. “Or I might be forced to use you for target practice with my throwing stars.”
“I don’t think the jacket leaves you any room to conceal them.” He gave a chuckle at the evil look she shot him as she took her seat next to Eloise. He leapt up into the buggy and took up the reins.
“Did you have a productive trip?” he enquired, changing the subject as a porter loaded their luggage into the back of the buggy. Once ready, he gave the mare the command to trot on.
“Allie was gone for hours, all on her own. I was ever so worried about her.” Eloise dropped her friend into hot water, earning her a filthy look from Allie and a curious one from Jared.
“I’ll not draw you into that world,” Allie said. “And we’re a step closer.”
Jared couldn’t concentrate on driving the buggy and interrogating Allie, and laid his questions aside until they were back at the house. His time occupied during the short trip answering Eloise’s questions. It was her first trip to Edinburgh and she burst with curiosity about the place where Zeb grew up and where the boys retreated during the holidays. She was determined to learn as much as she could about the city. Allie, on the other hand, was silent for the ride, lost in her own thoughts.
When they reached the house, a groom appeared and took the reins from Jared. He hopped down and held out a hand for the girls to descend.
Allie let Eloise go first, watching how the noble girl held her skirts out of the way as she stepped down.
“You hate this, don’t you?” Jared said, as Allie gathered up her silken skirts and required his assistance to exit the buggy.
She paused next to him as she shook out the folds of fabric after the short ride. “Yes, I feel like I’ve been turned into porcelain. And I want my weapons back, which Eloise seems to have hidden by the way, along with most of my wardrobe. And if I hear so much as one snigger from Duncan, I am going to hurt him very badly the first opportunity I get.”
Allie and Eloise picked up the corners of their skirts as they climbed the stairs to the front entrance. Matisse, the family’s Majordomo, held the door open for them.
“Lord McLaren is in the parlour, sir,” he informed Jared as he passed under the entrance after the girls.
“Thank you Matisse, and I think refreshments all around?” The butler inclined his head and walked farther into the interior of the house to issue instructions.
Lady Lithgow descended the stairs, roused by the sounds of activity. She paused on the bottom step and clapped her hands in delight.
“Why you two are just gorgeous,” she exclaimed. “How lovely to have such visions in my house, I shall enjoy having your company for the holiday.”
Eloise beamed, while Allie flushed at the description. She didn’t know if she could pull this off. She already planned to raid Eloise’s luggage to find what her friend had done with her more practical, and plain, clothing.
Duncan appeared from beyond the doorway on hearing the voices in the entranceway.
“Heck Allie, what has she done to you?” he said.
“Nothing half as painful as what I’m going to do to you if you laugh,” she shot back.
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Ok, but I reckon you can’t run very fast dressed up like that.”
“I doubt it will hinder her throwing arm though,” Jared said from by her side.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Eloise addressed Lady Lithgow, “but I’ve brought a few bolts of fabric with me and would like to hire some patterns to make a start on outfits while here. Could you show me where to find a pattern maker?”
“You have just made my year,” the older woman said, taking Eloise’s hands in her own. “I would love to help, I’ve been too long without occupation in this house and I think you are going to be a breath of fresh air for me. I know exactly who we can call on.”
The two headed into the reception room, heads bent together in discussion of patterns, styles, and cuts. Allie trailed behind; she had a feeling this wasn’t going to bode well for her and she might find a whole lot more fine dresses in her wardrobe.
What I wouldn’t give for short pants and a tunic, like I used to wear in Egypt. And the heat, so I don’t freeze while wearing them.
Though eager to hear what Allie learned in London, Jared and Duncan were polite enough to wait until Lady Lithgow disengaged herself from Eloise.
“Tomorrow, you and I shall head into town,” Lady Lithgow told an enraptured Eloise. “But now I shall leave you young people to catch up and let you formulate a plan as to how you will find my husband, and liberate Zeb from KRAC.” She left, and Matisse closed the door behind her as he took a laden tray to the side table.
“Out with it,” Jared demanded as soon as the door was shut.
“She was gone for hours.” Eloise leapt in before Allie could open her mouth in her own defence. “I was starting to think he had done away with her when she waltzed back in through the front door as though she had simply been gone for afternoon tea.”
“So what happened then?” Jared’s scowl returned.
“Tea and toast,” Allie replied. “How is Zeb and what did you learn at KRAC?”
She reached up and started pulling the large hatpins from her hair. She studied one and thought what a wonderful small weapon it would make, if only it were made of a stronger metal. She made a mental note to discuss hatpins with Zeb. Having removed the elegant little hat, she stabbed the pins back through it for safekeeping, hoping the small act of violence would keep the questions at bay, and she tossed the murdered item onto the sideboard.
“Zeb is worried, but fine. He’ll be here for dinner. And we learned nothing, KRAC know less than we do. Le Foy is the only lead we have.” Jared cast an eye over the slaughtered millinery before he fixed Allie with his gaze.
Once settled next to Eloise, she gave them the lead she picked up, hoping it would satisfy him. “The Reapers want to manufacture the weapon, much as we thought. They have offered the Whisperers a substantial amount to procure Zeb, so he and his father can make the device.”
Jared nodded. Allie’s words confirmed their suspicions.
“There is a Reaper agent in Edinburgh; we’ll find him at Deviant’s.”
Jared frowned. “Deviant’s? What’s that?”
“If I might?” Matisse spoke up, pausing in delivering drinks to the assembled friends. “Deviant is a person—Miss Devi Anne North-Turner. Or if you spell out her initials, Devi A. N. T. She runs a club, sometimes called Deviant but more commonly it’s known as the Dark Garden.” He finished distributing refreshments. “It is known as a guild gathering place.”
Jared swung back to Allie. “And, what? Are you supposed to contact this agent?”
“Yes, he is expecting me,” she replied, hoping Jared would stop with the awkward questions. Glancing up, he looked like he wasn’t going to be satisfied with a glib answer.
She squirmed, hoping to hide behind her cup of tea, but found the small piece of china an insufficient barrier to Jared’s scrutiny. She didn’t want to delve any deeper into the conversation of Sunday afternoon until she sorted out a few things for herself. She couldn’t sit still with all the secrets writhing under her skin. Putting the teacup back on the side table, she rose and stalked to the window, to stare out into the street. Dusk fell on the world outside and one by one, the luminous spheres on their iron spikes lit up, to emit their soft glow.
Jared watched Allie move to the window before turning to Eloise. “Care to fill in some of the blanks for us?”
She shook her head. “You got more out of her than I could, she keeps clamming up.”
Allie leaned on the window, listening to her friends chatter. They all had plans and dreams. Sweet Eloise, so intelligent, she only needed the courage to follow her talents and she would soar. Jared’s life all mapped from the day he was born, destined for a
great career. Loyal Duncan would be by his cousin’s side, whatever route Jared took.
Who am I? Guild scum, with no future, living on stolen days. They each have a dream. I have none. Is that what makes a life worth living? Having a dream to hold in front of you?
Decisions she didn’t want to make whirled in her brain, overwhelming her. She turned back to the window. The bone-numbing cold of the prison cell reached out for her. A suppressed sob ran through her body. She didn’t want to die, but knew she couldn’t trade herself for gentle Zeb. She wouldn’t be able to live with the decision if she did.
Jared rose and joined Allie, out of earshot of the others. “What’s going on?”
He leaned on the wall and faced her. “How are we supposed to trust each other, if you’re withholding information?” He put a hand under her chin, turned her head and forced her to meet his eyes.
“Trust me and I swear it won’t be misplaced. But you have to talk to me,” he said, his tone low as his thumb stroked her jaw line.
She tried to glance away but there was no escape from that penetrating gaze. She couldn’t deny his logic and knew she would be suspicious if she were in his place. Besides, she needed to tell him. Confiding had been her first instinct all along. She closed her eyes, stroked her face against his palm and then dropped her bombshell.
“This has been brewing for months and is why I was sent to St Matthew. To gain your trust. Le Foy expects me to deliver Zeb. It’s my payment, for my escape from Newgate.”
She heard Jared’s sudden intake of breath and his hand fell away. She opened her eyes, fearing she would see disgust in his face, but saw only concern.
“What happens if you refuse?” He picked up her hand, stroking her knuckles with his fingers as he waited for her to continue. The contact centred her.