Constantine Capers: The Pennington Perplexity

by Natalie Brianne

  Mira smiled. “Thank you very much.”

  “You’re bluffing. Surely, you’re bluffing.”

  “I may not look it, but I’ve been fully trained on the use of firearms, and I’m more than ready to demonstrate. In fact, all of you, step away.” Mira moved her aim between each of the members of Circe in turn.

  Joe and Sam let go of Byron’s arms and he brushed himself off. He moved over to where Mira was. Angelica stayed seated right where she was. The Shadow glowered.

  “I should have just killed you that night in your rooms. Death threats weren’t enough to keep you away.”

  “And good thing, too. Otherwise you would have gotten away with murder.”

  “Again, you mean? I’ve been at this a long-time, sweetheart.” The Shadow cocked her head and smiled, bringing her hands down to her hips.

  “What, did you murder my parents too?” Mira’s voice shook, and she cleared her throat to get her confidence back.

  “Oh, no. That wasn’t me.” The Shadow chuckled. “Do you want to know how they died?”

  “I…” Mira swallowed.

  “Let me tell you, princess. History always repeats itself. Pennington’s story is your father’s. He was killed because he found out about the smuggling hold that Circe secretly built into his precious airship. Of course, in his case, he was decent enough to forego the blackmail.” The Shadow took a step around the table.

  “Stay where you are!”

  “You wouldn’t shoot me before you find out what happened to your parents, would you?”

  Mira hesitated. The Shadow smiled. “Your father was rarely alone, but he needed to be taken out of the picture. So, when he and your mother took a walk by a particularly vacant bank of the Thames, they were both taken. And I’ll let you know; their deaths were far more painful than Pennington’s. To mimic the effects of an explosion on the human body without a real explosion, now that takes skill. After they were dead, it was a simple task to fake an explosion and move their bodies into position.”

  “Shut up! I’ve heard enough!” A few tears escaped.

  “You know it’s true, though. If your family would just mind their own business, it would be better for everyone.” The Shadow took another step forward.

  “No! Move back.”

  “You’re no murderer sweetie. If you were, you would have brought a different weapon. Flintlock pistols only have one shot.” Mira felt herself paling. Joe and Sam turned towards Byron, who took a defensive stance. Mira’s hands continued to shake. The pistol went off.

  The shot hit Joe in the knee, and he fell to the floor in agony. Byron flew into action, picking up the knife that Joe dropped, and wielding it against Sam. Mira turned her attention to the Shadow, who leapt over the table. The Shadow tackled her to the floor, hands melding around her throat.

  The Shadow’s nails dug into Mira’s skin. Mira tugged at her wrists, trying to get free. Her grasp was too tight. Mira felt herself getting faint. She remembered the gun and felt around with one hand until she found it. She hit the Shadow squarely in the face with the butt end of the pistol. There was a loud crack. The Shadow’s hands relaxed as she tried to recover. Mira scrambled out from under her, gasping for breath, dropping the gun.

  She saw Angelica moving quickly out the back. Mira looked over at Byron. He had a deep cut in his arm that was bleeding, and barely held out against Sam. They both wielded knives and were keeping each other at arm’s length, trying to get a swipe in where they could. Joe writhed on the ground due to his knee.

  She felt a blow to the back of the head and fell to her knees, the world becoming fuzzy, and noise filling her ears. She put a hand to the back of her head and felt something sticky. Blood. Anticipating another blow, she turned to protect herself. The Shadow wasn’t there. She turned and saw her retrieving her syringe. She turned back towards Mira with a smile on her face. Blood dripped down from her forehead. Her dress was ripped off at the knees. Mira stood and looked around for something to defend herself. The pistol had been tossed clear across the room. There was no weapon in sight. Byron was losing to Sam. Mira felt nauseous.

  “Not so heroic now, are you?” The Shadow cackled. Mira backed into the wall, trying to think through the fog of her brain.

  “No gun, no detective, no protection. Just you against me. I think that’s fair.” The Shadow came closer.

  “You have a weapon though.” Mira’s voice faltered. The Shadow looked at the syringe she clutched in her hand and then at Mira. She grinned.

  “Completely fair.”

  With that, the Shadow pounced, kicking Mira’s feet out from under her. Mira felt the wind rush out of her as she hit the floor. A weight came down on her back, and she quickly turned before the Shadow pinned her to the ground.

  “Now, just hold still.” She pulled at the tear in Mira’s jacket, ripping the sleeve off. The needle came dangerously close to brushing her skin. Mira’s hands wrapped around the assassin’s wrists, trying to push back and away.

  She heard a shuffling pain as Joe continued to try to get up and heard a table crack as Byron threw Sam into it. Her eyes shifted from the Shadow’s hands to her face. So full of anger. Twisting, writhing, seething. Determined to kill her. She shifted underneath her, pushing with all her might, feeling her muscles burn. One of the Shadow’s hands moved to her throat, pinning her. The needle came ever closer. She had to think of something fast. Running out of options and oxygen, she pushed back with all her force, and got her legs underneath the Shadow, kicking as hard as she could. The Shadow was knocked back, losing her grip. Quickly Mira sat up, grabbed the hand with the syringe, and slammed it into the wall.

  The Shadow let out a blood-curdling scream as the syringe shattered and glass penetrated the mercenary’s skin. She recoiled and let go. Mira clawed her way out from under her, gasping, and frantically looked around for the gun. She spied it by Byron’s foot. She pulled herself up to standing, staggering and nearly falling. Her whole body ached, and her head and neck bled. She used the wall for support and moved over to Byron. He was at a standstill with Sam, pushing back and forth again. Byron’s foot kicked the pistol closer to her as he dodged under Sam’s arm. She stumbled for the gun, bending down. Her weight was pulled out from under her as Joe grabbed her ankle and brought her crashing to the ground. She stretched for the gun, just out of reach as he pulled her back. Boot cracked against jaw as she kicked him squarely in the face and struggled away. She grabbed the gun just in time to see the Shadow recovering to come for her again. She stood, and futilely cocked the gun, aiming, knowing there wasn’t a bullet, but trying just the same. She pulled the trigger.

  A shot reverberated through the room, and the Shadow fell to the floor clutching her shoulder in pain. Mira looked at the gun and then back to where Byron and Sam fought. Sam lay unconscious on the ground. Byron stood near his coat in the entryway, holding his own pistol out. He breathed heavily. He saw her, a look of relief passing over his face, and stumbled over to her. Mira collapsed onto the floor, catching her breath. She started to shake, and then the tears came. Quiet, and soft, but still there. A pained moaning sound came from one of the remaining conscious members of Circe. Byron came and scooped her up in his arms. His eyes studied her tear-stained face.

  She felt certain she was bruised from head to toe, blood clotting in the hair on the back of her neck. Her lip was split, and there were fingermarks on her neck. Her head ached as she tried to read Byron’s face. She rested her head on his chest and heard his heartbeat. She finally relaxed.

  “I’m sorry about your parents. She had no right to be so cruel.”

  “No, it’s alright. I’m glad to finally know the truth.” A few more tears escaped. He held her closer to him. All she wanted to do was sleep. He kissed her forehead and brought her over to the couch, setting her down.

  “Thank you for coming,” his voice came, soft and loving. He gently brushed the tears away. She smiled and nodded, melting into the couch, breath returning to normal.

>   She jumped as the door was kicked in from the outside. Six policemen filed into the room, pistols at the ready. Seeing the scene, they pointed them all at the only person left standing: Byron. He put his hands in the air. Mira looked around at the carnage. Broken table. Curtains pulled from the windows. Books strewn on the floor. Blood from various bodies in blotches and patches. She closed her eyes. This did not look good. Then she heard a familiar voice.

  “Constantine! What in blazes is going on here!”

  “Chief Inspector Thatcher. You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

  Byron sat on the ground in front of the couch, finally able to relax.

  “Would you care to explain?”

  “This was formerly a meeting of the Order of Circe. You know? The one I’ve been telling you about for years?”

  “Yes. The one that by every account doesn’t exist.” Thatcher lowered his gun. Byron groaned and painfully stood, walking over to the Shadow. He crouched down and tore her necklace from her. Her growl turned to a pained whimper as she finally accepted defeat. He brought it back over to the inspector.

  “Exhibit A. This is their symbol. I would venture to guess that something similar is on all of them.” He looked around. “One of them is missing.”

  “The one called Angelica went out the back. I doubt she went far, and I have a description for you, Inspector. A picture, too, if the post hurries up.” Mira sat up and immediately regretted it as her head exploded in an aching pain.

  The chief inspector snapped, and several constables ran out the back. The inspector turned his attention to the Shadow. “That still doesn’t explain all of this, Constantine.”

  “That woman over there is your murderer. She’s a mercenary that goes by the name of the Shadow. Recently her alias has been Molly Bridges. She was hired by the Order to kill Clement Pennington in order to get the blueprints.” Byron furrowed his brow.

  “Where did the blueprints go?” He moved to the remains of the coffee table and kicked some debris out of the way to search.

  Mira’s stomach sunk. “Angelica. The sister. She must have taken them. She is the one that left by the back entrance during the fight.”

  “So that’s Molly Bridges, eh?”

  “Yes. These men are involved with the smuggling. And I or Mira can fill you in on everything else tomorrow. For now, I need to get her home.”

  “I’ll take care of things here, then. You heard him lads, arrest the lot of them.”

  The officers quickly apprehended each of them and led them out to the police wagon. The Shadow managed a glare at Mira and Byron before she was taken out of sight.

  Byron watched the police leave. Once they were gone, he moved to the couch and pulled Mira to standing, putting his coat around her. When she stumbled after a few steps, he scooped her up and placed his journal in her lap. She closed her eyes and relaxed into him again, holding the journal close to her. She felt his steady steps moving towards the door and then the chill of the cold night air against her skin. He walked to the street and managed to hail a carriage down. He set her gently in the seat and told the driver to take them to Palace Court.

  “I thought you were taking me home,” she said.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up a bit before bringing you home to your uncle. After all, someone was supposed to be on a train to safety earlier today.” He touched her nose and smiled.

  “I was on a train to safety earlier today.”

  “And then you got off of that train and ran right into certain danger.”

  “I didn’t just get off, Byron. I jumped.”

  “You what?!”

  “I jumped from a moving train. Aren’t you proud of me?” She found herself grinning and trying not to laugh.

  “And you were telling me not to do anything foolish.”

  “Like walk into a criminal meeting and pretend like you had lost your memory again?”

  “How did you know I was pretending? I could have just read up on it when the Shadow gave me my journal.”

  “You recognized me, Byron.”

  “I’ll have you know that I have excellent descriptive skills in my writing.”

  “I’ve read quite a bit of it, Byron. At most you would only know that I have green eyes.”

  “And what beautiful green eyes they are, too.”

  “I save your life and now all you do is compliment me?”

  He laughed, and she melted. Oh, how she loved that laugh.

  “You make it too easy.” He smiled.

  The carriage pulled up to Palace Court, and he lifted her out of it after paying the driver. They soon found themselves inside. Byron set her down on the couch in the front room before going into the kitchen. He returned with some warm water, bandages, and salve. Laying there, she saw bruises forming up and down his torso, a cut on his arm that had stopped bleeding, and a cut on his chest. He had a black eye and his hair was tousled. She was so grateful he was alive.

  He knelt next to the couch and wet down a cloth. He handed it to her.

  “Place this on the back of your neck. It should soothe the cut.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s the least I can do after you saved me.”

  “You probably could have handled it on your own.”

  “Au contraire, Mademoiselle. If you hadn’t come, I would have had to fight all four of them simultaneously. I hadn’t expected there to be four of them, and they would almost certainly have killed me. You took out two on your own and scared off another one, giving me a fighting chance.”

  He put salve on the scratch marks on her neck. She flinched at first and then relaxed as a soothing sensation replaced the sting.

  “I didn’t know the gun was loaded!”

  “But you had it, nonetheless. You planned, you prepared, and you acted. Now, I’ve been curious, so tell me; where did you get gentleman’s clothing on such short notice?”

  “They belong to my twin brother, Walker. We are about the same size. I’m just grateful that it worked.”

  “Oh, it most certainly worked. I couldn’t believe my eyes when you walked through that door.”

  “You certainly looked surprised.”

  “I was.” He pulled his hand away from her wounds and rinsed it in the water. She sat up.

  “Now it’s my turn.”

  “What?”

  “You have wounds, too.” She picked up a cloth and wet it in the warm water.

  “I can take care of those.”

  “I have a better angle.” She smiled and wiped the blood away from the cut on his arm and then moved onto the one on his chest.

  “You really are stubborn, Miss Blayse.”

  “I’ve been told I take after my…”

  “Mother. Yes. I remember.” He smiled and looked into her eyes. She felt a surge of happiness flow through her, and she hugged him, joyful tears threatening to fall.

  “That is the most wonderful phrase you’ve ever said.” He groaned a bit in pain, and she let go.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Just be gentle. Which phrase is wonderful?”

  “’I remember.’”

  “In that case, I hope that someday I can say it more often.”

  She nodded and continued to clean his wounds. She wetted down the cloth again and reapplied it.

  “Tomorrow you won’t remember any of this.” She paused and looked up at him.

  “I’ll have the wounds to remind me, but, yes. I won’t remember.”

  She looked down. He lifted her chin to look into her eyes again.

  “But that only means I get another day to fall in love with you.”

  “And what if you don’t?”

  “How could I not?” He smiled. She felt her pinkness return, and she looked away, smiling.

  “There’s my Mira. Red as a rose.”

  “That’s my middle name you know.”

  “Is it really?”

  “Samira Rose Blayse. Named after my mother.”

  “Ah
, but it suits you.”

  “Does it?”

  “Well you certainly have a habit of blushing like a rose whenever I’m around. And you are beautiful, and sweet, and when threatened you have proven to have thorns.” He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She smiled and laughed a little, then picked up a bandage to wrap his arm. He watched silently as she did so, carefully lining up each edge of the bandage, binding it down. Then she took a fresh bandage and wrapped it around his chest, covering up the cut.

  “There.” She tucked the end of the bandage underneath the rest of it. He smiled at her.

  “Thank you. Now there is only one thing left to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Take you home.”

  “Byron, my uncle…”

  “Will have to understand that you are safe and sound, and badly in need of a change of clothes.” He stood and offered her a hand. She took it and stood. He kept ahold of her hand and led her towards the door.

  “Um…Byron…you still don’t have a shirt.” She glanced away. He looked down then back up at her.

  “So, it seems. Give me a moment.” He soon emerged in a fresh shirt and suit, with his hair combed. She smiled a bit as he offered his arm to her. “Shall we?”

  She took his arm. “Yes, we shall.”

  They walked out into the cool night air, the streetlamps and stars flickering.

  “Today has certainly been eventful.” Byron smiled at her.

  “Yes, it has. This morning seems so long ago. Today you’ve forgotten me, we went to the Pit, we’ve solved two mysteries, I’ve jumped from a train…”

  “You must allow me to apologize again for my conduct this morning. It was unforgivable.”

  “Not quite.”

  “I hope I have made up for it.”

  “You’ve made up for it tenfold.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Positive.”

  “I can only hope I don’t do it again tomorrow.”

  “You know, that is part of the fun of it though, don’t you think?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For as much as it pains me to have you forget me, it is quite exciting to never know how you’ll greet me each morning.”