Sev sighed, relieved. He had no idea who this odd creature was, but there was no way this was the infamous, deadly criminal, Jack Midnight. That fact made Sev breathe easier, knowing he’d only have to meet with this liaison and not the man himself. Sev removed his hat, at any rate, as he ascended the steps of the dais behind Rat.
“This is ’im,” Rat said by way of introduction.
“Thank you, Rat.” The young man waved the urchin away. “That will be all.” Rat bobbed his head and dashed dutifully away. The man in the throne smirked at Sev but said nothing. The silence stretched, and finally at ease, Sev looked around at all the expensive decoration of the room. He could still almost see the churchy bits, but the religious had been nearly obliterated by the decadent. “So.” The man spoke, drawing Sev’s attention. “The Seventh of London. I have to admit, it is an honor.”
“Excuse me?” Sev asked.
“You’re the legendary Seventh of London,” the fancy stranger answered. “The seventh sibling, with the courage to stand up to his slaver.”
“Well, sir,” Sev answered, shuffling his feet, “I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” The young man in the throne sat up. “Wine?” He raised his goblet. Sev considered it and shrugged. The stranger poured another goblet of the dark liquid and offered it to Sev, who accepted. Sev sniffed at the glass, wincing. The liquid smelled potent, like chocolate and leather. He sipped it and was surprised at the numerous flavors. Heat filled his limbs at his next gulp. “Well done, Mr. Seven,” the man laughed.
“Ye seem t’know a great deal about me. Might I have the pleasure of yer introduction, sir?” Sev took another delightful mouthful of the dark liquid.
“Jonathan Middlenight.” The man held out his hand. “Jack Midnight to my friends… and enemies.” Sev choked on the wine, the liquid crawling up the back of his throat into his nostrils. He coughed and wiped his nose with the hand not holding the goblet. “Are you all right, Mr. Seven?” Midnight asked, leaning forward.
“Ye’re not what I expected,” Sev answered honestly and cleared his throat.
“Yes, I get that a lot.” Midnight stood and paced to the edge of the dais.
“Why’d ye call me ‘the Seventh of London’?” Sev asked.
“That’s what the orphans call you.” Midnight turned, his opal eyes sparkling. “You’re something of a hero to the children of Blackside.”
“That’s mad.” Sev chuckled.
“Do you really think so? I’m not so sure.” Midnight shrugged and continued to study his guest.
“What d’ye want from me?”
“I understand you’re something of a shadow. The people who speak of you, and believe me, you’re almost as much of a mystery as I am, but the ones who do, tell me you can slip in and out of places completely unnoticed. Like a whisper.”
Sev considered the man’s words, proud but cautious. “And what if I am?”
“Then I would tell you of a task I need accomplished by someone of your unique qualifications.”
“I’m listenin’.” Sev leveled his gaze on the crime boss. Midnight smiled with a feline satisfaction and raised his drink in salute.
MIDNIGHT ushered Sev into a smaller, simpler parlor. The criminal moved to a sideboard stocked with various bottles of a variety of colored liquids. He chose another bottle of wine and refreshed their drinks. “I have a very special job for you, Mr. Seven.” Midnight motioned to a chair, and Sev sat. Midnight took the seat across from his guest and leaned back, crossing his legs. He sipped his wine but said nothing. Sev held his goblet but didn’t drink, only waited for Midnight to speak. “You are a puzzle to me, Seven. That’s unusual.”
“My apologies, Mr. Midnight.”
“No,” Jack answered, smirking and waving off the apology. “It’s delightful. A novelty.” He sipped his wine once more as Sev placed his untouched goblet on the table next to his chair.
“Ye didn’t call me here t’drink wine,” Sev observed.
“I did not,” Midnight agreed. “As I said, I have need of your special skills.”
“Go on.”
“Are you familiar with Sir Barrymore Fairgate?” Sev nodded. Fairgate had been knighted during the Crimean War. He was a self-professed wizard and one of his spells, along with Wrathsbury’s Patented Clockwork Gear Suits—the predecessors of the current Steam-Powered versions—had turned the tides. Fairgate had been the queen’s favorite at court ever since. The wizard had helped her through Albert’s death, and they’d recently announced their engagement. “I have reason to believe he’s adversely influencing our queen.”
“And?” Sev snorted.
Midnight jumped from his seat, suddenly furious. “And?” he roared. “Are you happy with the state of society? Do you think this bisection of our city is acceptable? Do you have any idea how much more difficult it is to ply my trade in Fairside with that damn Line to cross?”
“I don’t know,” Sev answered honestly. “But I’m sure ye find ways around the Line.”
“Of course,” Midnight answered, his feline smile returning. “Though it remains more trouble than it’s worth. Not to mention, magic is cheating. I’ve met Fairgate. He doesn’t deserve the queen’s favor.”
“Are ye jealous?” Sev asked before he could stop himself.
Midnight tossed his goblet into the fire, shattering the glass, the wine sizzling. “I’ve worked me arse off t’get where I am, Seven! It in’t jealously! It’s justice!” Sev noted the low-class accent surface with his host’s agitation. He must have been among the criminal element for a very long time. Midnight took a deep breath and composed himself, his more refined accent returning. Sev wondered which accent revealed the true Jack Midnight. “At any rate, the wizard is a poxy bastard.”
“I still don’t understand,” Sev admitted. “Who cares? If the queen is stupid enough to fall for it, why do you care?”
Midnight smirked. “Call me a hopeless romantic,” he answered. “I don’t think it’s right. He’s using her and, through her, us.”
“How do ye know?”
“Honestly? I don’t. I only have suspicions.” Midnight paced the parlor. “That’s where you come in, Mr. Seven.”
“Me?”
“I need you to bring me Fairgate’s journal.”
Sev laughed despite himself. “How the hell d’ye expect me t’do that?”
“I can get you into the palace. After that it’s up to you.”
“That’s bloody madness,” Sev stated. “Look at me.”
“I’m Jack Midnight, Prince of Blackside. I can get you into the palace unnoticed. Believe it.”
“This’s a lot t’handle.” Sev stood and stalked away from Midnight.
“I certainly won’t deny that, Mr. Seven,” Midnight agreed. “Of course, you’ll be well rewarded.”
“I have t’think about it.”
“I can appreciate that.” Midnight nodded. “Though we don’t have much time. The Christmas celebration will be your cover.”
“That makes sense,” Sev muttered. “They’ll have to hire more help.” Sev started to formulate plans, though he hadn’t yet agreed. “What’s so special about this journal?”
“Journal may be a bit of an understatement,” Midnight explained. “Do you know what a grimoire is, Mr. Seven?” Sev shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t think so. It’s a book where a wizard keeps his spells, let’s say.”
“Spells?” Sev asked incredulously. “Ye really believe all that mumbo jumbo, Mr. Midnight? Truly?”
“I’ve seen many things, Mr. Seven.” Midnight’s expression grew deadly serious. Sev felt goose flesh raise his skin at that look. “And I’m willing to take that chance.”
Wizards and magic now? Sev thought. Then he considered all the other things he’d recently witnessed. If Midnight knew about secret plots, maybe he had some other answers as well. “How do ye know Kettlebent?” Sev asked the question and studied Midnight’s face. The villain’s eyes grew wide, but he said nothin
g. “Ye know him. I know ye do. How?”
“I might ask you the same thing, Mr. Seven. More surprises. How do I know him?” Midnight repeated the question. “Kettlebent is employed by someone I trust implicitly.”
“Really? Did y’know he’s in league with Fervis and a noble that mistreats Beauchamps’s girls?”
Midnight chuckled and shook his head. “That’s not possible. He hates Fervis, and the noble who mistreats Beauchamps’s girls is Fairgate. I know for a fact he has no connection to that man.”
Sev’s brow furrowed. “I saw him take Fairgate into the house an’ take a group o’ kids out.” Sev watched as something passed over Midnight’s face.
“It couldn’t have been Fairgate.”
“Ye’re so sure?”
“I am,” Midnight stated, confidently. Sev considered those words. “I don’t need you to believe me. I only need you to accept my money and steal the journal.”
Sev wasn’t used to such honesty, but he couldn’t agree outright. “I need t’think about it.”
“I don’t need to tell you that time is not an unlimited commodity.”
“No, sir,” Sev answered, pulling his hat on. “Ye don’t.”
“I’ll send Rat around the day after tomorrow.” Midnight opened the door to the parlor. Rat was already waiting to escort Sev out. “I’ll expect your answer then. Good evening, Mr. Seven.” The criminal turned on his heel and closed the door with a sharp snap.
Back on the street, Sev removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. He felt like he’d been caught in the current of a great river and had no control over the bizarre twists and turns it carried him around. Children were being snatched all over Blackside by a secret cabal of prominent adults and the mysterious Mr. Kettlebent, while a wizard supposedly controlled the queen, and the country’s most notorious villain was the only one who wanted to stop him. This whole situation is bloody insane, Sev thought. And Fairgate. Another piece that didn’t seem to fit the puzzle, if a puzzle even existed. Sev’s thoughts raced until a sound drifted out of the alley on the opposite side of the street, drawing the young man’s attention. He squinted but couldn’t discern anything in the shadows. The sound coalesced into a deep chuckle, and the dome of a ragged bowler hat emerged into the low light of predawn.
“Well, well, well. What ’ave we ’ere?” A familiar voice oozed dangerously from a mouth filled with crooked metal teeth. “If it in’t me ol’ mate, Seven.”
“McGinty,” Sev growled. “I’d like t’say it’s good t’see ye, but I’m no liar.” McGinty limped into the street. Sev was proud of that limp, having given it to the man four years earlier. Sev had also heard McGinty lost an arm that night, and judging by the traveling cloak covering the right side of his body, it was true. “Nasty limp, McGinty.” Sev smirked.
“Still a l’il smart-mouth, eh?” McGinty returned the smirk, but it looked awful on his ruined, lopsided face. “I’ve ’ad some work done. We’ll see if yer mouth is as smart when I slice it off yer face.” McGinty shrugged his cloak off, revealing an unwieldy metal appendage where the foreman’s arm used to be. In place of a hand, he had a large, rough blade. Sev’s shock painted his face. “Nuffin’ t’say?” McGinty cocked his mechanical arm back and rushed Sev. The big man swung his metal appendage. Sev ducked, avoiding the blade, then kicked out, knocking McGinty back, unbalanced. McGinty’s arm whipped in a circle and the blade detached, swinging in a wide arc on a chain. Sev barely avoided the weapon, the blade kicking up sparks on the cobbles of the road. Sev somersaulted backward to buy himself some time to free one of his own weapons. Before he could, McGinty’s chain-blade looped around Sev’s upper arms, preventing him from reaching his cutlass.
“Bloody hell,” Sev spat and tried to angle his weight to gain an advantage.
“Yer in fer it now, l’il bugger,” McGinty growled and heaved on the chain, reeling the blade and its prisoner in. Sev yelled, twisting in the air so his shoulder slammed into the big man’s jaw. Unfortunately, instead of harming McGinty, it only served to make Sev slightly dizzy. He bounced off the dirty foreman and landed hard on the cobbled street. McGinty wrenched his chain-blade free, rolling Sev’s limp body as the weapon released him.
Sev’s vision was blurry, but he saw the blade snap back to its socket. McGinty laughed as he raised the filthy blade, preparing to strike. At the edge of Sev’s vision, a shadow peeled away from its fellows and darted into the street. Dark limbs flashed with glinting silver and McGinty’s laugh stopped abruptly. The shadow danced around McGinty, two knives lashing out. McGinty gurgled in pain but couldn’t scream. A moment later, his severed mechanical arm clattered to the street in front of Sev. McGinty stared at his attacker, just before a polished, pointy-toed boot slammed against the foreman’s already bad knee. The big man yelped as he fell, and Sev looked up into the smirking face of Jack Midnight. The pretty criminal tossed his black lock off to the side, it having fallen across his face during his graceful attack.
“All right, Mr. Seven?” Midnight asked, barely winded, offering his gloved hand.
Sev accepted, nodding. “He dead?”
“Not yet,” Midnight purred.
“Are ye gonna kill ’im?” Sev swallowed hard.
“Hmm, no. No, I don’t think I will.” Midnight hooked his foot beneath McGinty and flipped him onto his back. “I think I shall send our friend Fervis a little message.” The slim villain straddled the unconscious thug and popped the buttons off the man’s shirt, exposing a vast expanse of muscled chest. Jack turned, knife in hand, and smiled his feline smile. “You’d better call it a night, Mr. Seven. I assure you, this isn’t something you’re likely to want to witness.”
Sev took Midnight’s advice and hurried off into the streets of Blackside, pulling his hat down over his ears, determined not to look back.
5
SEV spent the next two days sequestered in his attic room, trying to decide what to do about Midnight. In the meantime, he went through some newspapers left in the bins downstairs, discarded by patrons who’d stopped for fish and chips on their way to the museum. He combed the columns for information on Fairgate, the queen, anything that could confirm Midnight’s stories. Sev was sure what the papers didn’t say told the real tale, but he couldn’t figure it out. One thing he was sure of now, based on the pictures in the paper, no matter what Midnight claimed. It had been Fairgate with Kettlebent at Beauchamps’s that day—same blond hair, same dark pointed beard. Sev also spent a large chunk of those two days pondering the pieces of the lightning gun to similar effect. Ultimately he knew just as little as he had when he left Midnight’s home.
Night fell dark and cold, midnight of his final day of decision drawing ever nearer. Sev knew he had to show for his meet with Rat, but his mind wasn’t easy. For all he knew, Jack Midnight had organized that little scuffle to save Sev and convince him to join the villain’s crusade.
Sev sighed and shrugged into his jacket. Nothing for it, he thought as he threw his leg over the windowsill. Hanging half in his warm room and half in the cold night air, Sev suddenly realized he didn’t know where to meet Rat. Meeting the urchin at twelve bells was assumed, but neither Rat nor Jack had told Sev where to be at midnight. He slipped into the night and down the wall. Rat had first shown his face at Monty’s cart, so Sev headed east to Cheapside, although he had a stop to make on his way.
BEAUCHAMPS’S Introduction House pulsed with activity at this hour. Men lingered outside smoking and talking while others ducked inside. Too many eyes for Sev to just walk in the front door, so he circled around the adjacent street and crept in the rear yard. Thankfully it was too cold for anyone to be in the garden, and based on what Sev had seen inside, he calculated which window belonged to Annie’s room. He knew there were bars, as much to protect the girls as they prevented escape, but the windows still opened. They’d be able to talk. Sev thought about those bars, about the group of children a few weeks ago, and doubt about the madam’s motivations surfaced once more.<
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The bars offered easy handholds, and luckily every window was heavily curtained to protect the privacy of Beauchamps’s clients. He peeked in Annie’s window but saw nothing. Sev pressed his ear as close to the glass as he could get it through the bars, trying to listen for voices, to determine whether she was entertaining. He didn’t hear anything, so he tapped the glass lightly. No answer. No sound. He tapped a little harder. Still he received no response. Damn, he thought. She must be in the parlor. He couldn’t expect his luck to hold out forever. Sev sighed and stepped down, ready to descend, when the curtains were thrown open, and Annie’s concerned face appeared in the gap. She cupped her hands around her eyes, and her face broke into a shining smile. She threw open the sash.
“Seven, damn it! What’re ye doin’?” she gasped, reaching through the bars to hug her friend.
“I just had t’see ye.” Sev held the bars with one hand and embraced Annie with the other. “I’ve got a big decision t’make tonight, and I wanted t’stop by.”
“What decision?” Annie asked. “Does it have anything t’do with the attack?”
“Attack?”
“On McGinty,” she explained. “Fervis is furious, and he’s lookin’ fer ye. Y’gotta get off the streets.”
“Damn it, Midnight!” Sev cursed.
“Midnight?” Annie gasped. “What does he—?” But the words died in her mouth. “Oh. Oh my dear Lord.”
“What, Annie? What is it?”
“It makes sense now,” she whispered. “The message.”
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