by Tom Becker
Marianne grinned as she saw Jonathan and Carnegie near. “Hello there. Lovely day for it, isn’t it?”
A low rumbling noise emanated from the wereman’s throat. “Stop playing around, Marianne.”
The bounty hunter gave him a cold, appraising stare.
“I’ll do exactly what I want. If you’d rather, I could leave and you could continue your disagreement with my brother. The way you two look right now, I’m not entirely sure who would win.”
She turned to Lucien, her icy composure the polar opposite to his furious seething.
“On second thoughts, little brother, get out of my sight. You disgust me. I know you now, and will be watching out for you. Our father’s time is short, and we will meet afterwards.”
“I look forward to it,” Lucien replied. “I wonder if you’ll beg for mercy like James did.”
Marianne flinched, and her brother laughed. He was hobbling out of the hall when a thick, hairy arm blocked his progress.
“I hate to interrupt this game of happy families,” said Carnegie gruffly, “but could someone explain to me why I’m going to let this man walk free? You might be squeamish about polishing him off, Marianne, but I’d positively relish it.”
The bounty hunter shook her head. “This is between myself and my brother – it is no business of yours, wereman. If you try to intervene, I’ll stop you.”
“But, Marianne,” Jonathan protested, “Lucien’s pure evil. If you let him go now, he’ll try and kill you!”
“I know exactly what he’ll do. That’s how I’ll be able to stop him.” Marianne gave Lucien one final glance. “Your day of reckoning will come. But it won’t be here, or in some dingy backstreet. It will be at the Blood Succession, as it was for all the Rippers that came before us. Then you’ll pay for James’s murder with your life.”
“We’ll see, sister,” Lucien replied. With one final venomous glance, he hobbled slowly out of the hall.
As Carnegie clambered up to the platform to untie William, Marianne attached the crossbow to her belt and fixed Jonathan with a brilliant smile.
“It seems you’ve lived to fight another day, little one.”
“Just about. Are you disappointed?” he challenged.
She chuckled with delight. “Maybe a little. Still, I did save your life.”
“Yeah. . .” Jonathan paused, unsure of what to say. “Um . . . thanks, I guess.”
“You’re welcome. And get those ribs strapped up as soon as you can.”
The bounty hunter turned to leave.
“Oh, Marianne? Could you do me a favour?”
“A favour? Perhaps.”
“I’ve just survived a fight with a Black Phoenix. Do you think you could stop calling me ‘little one’?”
She smiled enigmatically and, with a flick of her undertaker’s coat, was gone.
It was a battered and bruised party that stumbled back through the corridors of the Cain Club, their faces streaked with ash and blood. Jonathan walked bent over slightly, holding his ribs. Arthur walked alongside him, bleary-eyed, but unhurt save for a sizeable bump on his forehead. Behind them Carnegie leaned on Harry as he limped along, his right arm dangling by his side. It was William Joubert who led the way, his clothes torn and his body covered in cuts and bruises, but striding with dignity out through the main hall and into the early-morning sunshine.
After the horror they had witnessed indoors, it was a blessed relief to stumble out on to the steps and inhale the dubious delights of the Darkside air. The carriage was waiting for them where Carnegie had abandoned it. Arthur hauled himself up into the driver’s seat.
“Well, as fun as this has been, gentlemen, I have to go back to The Informer. I’ve got an article to write.” Arthur’s eyes twinkled. “I think it might just make the front page.”
“Need a hand?” Harry called out.
“You?!”
“Well, you’ve lost an editor, and I’m at a loose end for now. I was kind of enjoying the whole journalism thing.”
Arthur sighed. “Get in. Anyone else?”
“You can take me,” William replied. “I need to see my family.” He clasped Carnegie’s hand. “Thank you, Elias,” he said simply.
The wereman wiped his nose on his sleeve, and looked away. “Gave you my word, didn’t I?”
Harry helped William into the carriage, and followed him inside. He pulled down the window and smiled at Jonathan.
“We did all right in the end, didn’t we?”
“Not bad for a couple of kids.”
“You not coming with us?”
Jonathan glanced at Carnegie. “I think we’ll walk.”
Arthur gee’d up the horses and the carriage moved away down the street. And then it was just of the pair of them again, standing on the steps. The wereman noticed the downcast expression on Jonathan’s face.
“What’s up, boy?”
Jonathan looked down at his feet. “Look, I know we survived and everything . . . but Lucien’s gone and I didn’t find out anything more about my mum. I’ve never going to learn what happened, am I?”
Carnegie barked with amusement, then winced with the pain the laughter caused him.
“You’re something else, boy. We luck out of a certain death situation, and you’re complaining that you didn’t get enough answers. What were you going to do – ask the Black Phoenix a few searching questions?”
Jonathan chuckled humourlessly, and shrugged.
“Listen to me,” the wereman continued matter-of-factly. “Not only are we going to have to deal with Vendetta when he’s recovered, but now we’ve crossed a Ripper as well. To be honest, I think our chances of surviving to the end of the week are fairly slim. You’re not going to be short of contact with bad guys. I’m sure you’ll get the opportunity to ask them a question or two.”
“That’s true,” came the glum reply. “But if things are so dangerous, why do you sound so cheery?”
Carnegie shrugged. “Must be my sunny disposition. Come on.”
He turned and limped down the steps of the Cain Club. Jonathan trotted after him.
“Hey, wait! Where are we going? I need to bandage my ribs!”
“No time. We have an appointment with a certain lady with a special ring, remember?”
Jonathan scratched his head. Then it came to him suddenly, though it felt like an age ago.
“Felicity Haverwell? After all we’ve been through, you want to go chasing after her?”
Carnegie tugged the lapels on his suit jacket, and pushed the stovepipe hat back on his forehead.
“Matter of pride, boy. After all, I have got a business to think of. Can’t let word get round that I’m going soft.”
“I somehow doubt that’s going to happen,” Jonathan replied, and the pair of them headed out into the grimy Darkside morning.
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First published in the UK by Scholastic Ltd., 2007
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eISBN 978 1407 13223 5
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