8
SEV knew he had to get the journal back to Midnight, but he was freezing. There’d been no time for him to think to grab a coat. He picked his way through Fairside to the museum and his home. The absence of Henry and the attic’s disuse roused ambivalent feelings in Sev. He looked around, trying to get a sense of place, of belonging, but couldn’t. This was just a dusty, freezing attic above an aristocratic artifice. Sev sighed, emitting a cloud of mist. He shook off his odd feelings and rummaged for his extra coat. It wasn’t as warm as the one Midnight had provided, but it was better than the nothing he’d left the palace with. He buttoned up the coat, grabbed a satchel, and shoved the journal and the pistol inside. He threw one leg over the edge of the window without looking back and dropped into the night.
Rat sat on the steps of the Black Chapel, smoking as Sev approached. “Well, well, well. What ’ave we ’ere?” Rat whistled. “Y’actually pulled it off.”
“Was there any doubt?” Sev asked.
“I owe Archie five quid.”
“You bet against me?” Sev rankled.
Rat shrugged. “Bet on ye, as well. Davey Jinx owes me ten pounds.” Rat smirked and motioned Sev past. He gave Rat a swat on the arm as they entered Midnight’s home.
Sev started when Midnight rushed up and embraced him before he had even shut the door. The villain giggled and twirled Sev in the air. “You did it!” It wasn’t a question, and that filled Sev with pride.
“I certainly did,” Sev stated with a smirk, pulling the journal from his bag. Jack snatched it from his hand. “It wasn’t as quietly executed as ye’d intended. But I think Mr. Kettlebent will bear most o’the blame.”
“Kettlebent?” Midnight hugged the journal. “So the duke had the same idea! I knew he did.” He barked a laugh. “He’s going to be furious! Well done, Mr. Seven. Well done.”
“What will ye do with that thing?” Sev asked as Midnight led him into the chapel.
“I’m not quite sure, but I’ve acquired the assistance of a gentleman who will help me decipher the contents.” Jack laid the book on the bar as he poured drinks. “Getting rid of Fairgate’s influence is vital.”
“And after that?” Sev asked, accepting the glass Midnight offered.
Midnight shrugged. “We’ll see,” he answered with a smirk and toasted Sev, who returned the gesture. The two men drank. “You look like hell, my young friend. Your room is still available. You should get some sleep.” Sev hadn’t realized how completely exhausted he felt until Jack mentioned it, and nodded. “I am rarely impressed with my fellow human beings,” Midnight said as he poured himself another drink. “But you, my friend, have met and exceeded all my expectations.”
Sev warmed, from the compliment or the alcohol, he couldn’t be sure. “I’m glad I didn’t disappoint.” Sev paused. “Same room as before?” Midnight nodded. “Good night, then, Mr. Midnight.”
“And to you, Mr. Seven.” Midnight raised his glass as Sev shuffled off to get some rest.
SEV saw the flames and felt the heat. He heard the gunshots and the screams of children, factory workers, and his own siblings. Midnight, Sutherland, and Kettlebent’s voices rose to join them, drowning them out.
The commotion woke Sev, and he sat up in bed, a thin sheen of cold sweat on his skin. He listened for a moment, the raised voices drifting up to him, before he leapt from the bed to investigate.
When he reached the bottom of the steps, he saw Sutherland trying desperately to diffuse an altercation between Midnight and Kettlebent. Each of the three men tried to speak louder than the others. Sev cleared his throat. Kettlebent looked toward the sound, and though his goggles hid his eyes, Sev knew the expression beneath was fury. “You bloody bastard!” Kettlebent roared in his odd voice. The angry man clanked over to Sev.
“Stay away from him!” Midnight ordered. “You were bested fairly. Deal with it!”
Kettlebent turned menacingly. “You vile, amoral pestilence!” he spat.
“Mr. Kettlebent!” Sutherland barked. “Control yourself.”
“This little son of a bitch almost ruined everything we worked for!” The bearded man pointed accusingly.
“But he didn’t,” Sutherland explained soothingly. “I managed to smooth things over with Fairgate.”
“It shouldn’t have been necessary!” Kettlebent rumbled.
“I shot that light out so ye could escape,” Sev mentioned with a smirk.
“I wouldn’t have been running if you hadn’t blamed me for everything!”
“Still,” Sev said and shrugged. “Ye wouldn’t have gotten away without me.”
“Look,” Midnight interrupted. “The main thing is that Fairgate no longer has this.” He held up the journal. “Does it really matter who acquired it?”
“Of course it does,” Kettlebent shouted. “We intend to use it to undo his evil machinations. Not weave wickedness of our own!”
Midnight chuckled. “Oh, that’s good, Mr. Kettlebent. You should write penny dreadfuls.”
“I’m sure there’s a solution to this predicament that will satisfy all involved,” Sutherland offered, leveling a steamy gaze at Midnight.
“I certainly like the sound of that, Your Grace.” Midnight stroked the spine of Fairgate’s journal. “Why don’t you and I discuss it further?” Sutherland nodded sharply. “Mr. Seven, we apologize for waking you,” Midnight stated. “Please. Return to bed.”
Sev stood for a moment. He wasn’t sure in whose hands the journal would be more dangerous. He was tired, and the decision certainly wasn’t his to make. Finally he said, “I think I will. Long day.” Sev smiled cheekily at Kettlebent. “G’night.” Sev retreated to the steps, but before he could ascend, Kettlebent’s hand caught his shoulder. “What is it, mate?”
“You’re clever. I’ll give you that. But they’re looking for you now they know it wasn’t me.” Kettlebent spoke softly so only Sev could hear. “Watch yourself.” Kettlebent released him, but Sev didn’t move right away. He was stunned by the man’s uncharacteristic offer of advice and information. Eventually Sev nodded slowly and continued up the stairs. He heard Midnight send Kettlebent away so he could discuss things with Sutherland. The bearded man clanked away grumbling.
Sev slipped into the comfortable bed, still a little shocked at Kettlebent’s change of heart. What was that man’s angle in all this? It seemed at times he worked for Sutherland, and at others it appeared the aristocrat considered the man his equal. Sev’s mind started to drift as sleep crept up, picturing a complicated network of lines connecting all the players, forming an inescapable web. He wondered who the spider pulling those strings might be as sleep finally arrived.
SEV awoke a few hours later to excited hooting and a playful peck. When he opened his eyes, his field of vision was filled with two bright golden orbs. Henry flapped his wings and Sev’s face split into a smile. “Henry!” Sev hugged the little owl. “It’s been too long, old friend.” Henry allowed Sev to restrain him for only so long before the owl struggled to be free, flapping to perch on the bedpost. Sev threw back the sheets and noticed Xiang in the doorway.
“Mr. Seven.” Xiang smiled, his familiar wrinkles emerging. “I knew you succeed. I keep Henry very good for you.”
“He seems a little plumper than I remember,” Sev observed, studying the old Chinaman, who responded with a slight blush.
“He stay with me. Always. In the kitchen too. Henry like bacon. Like it a lot,” Xiang explained.
“He likes sausage too,” Sev added with a chuckle. He slapped the old man on the shoulder, jovially.
“Oh, I know that. For sure, Mr. Seven.” The two men moved to exit the room, and Henry flapped over to sit on Xiang’s shoulder. “You hungry? Big breakfast downstairs. Very good.”
“I’m starvin’, Xiang,” Sev stated. His stomach agreed, enthusiastically. “Let’s go.”
Midnight was already sitting at the table spread with a veritable feast, so Sev figured it must be late morning since his host was
n’t an early riser. Midnight looked up from his paper to see his guest. “Seven! Good morning. I trust you slept well.”
“I did.” Sev sat, grabbed a plate, and filled it with food. “I trust yer negotiation with the Duke of Sutherland went well?” He ate voraciously.
“We were both quite—” Midnight paused, smiled, and continued. “—satisfied.” He took a sip of his coffee, regarding Sev over the cup. “You went above and beyond on this for me, Seven. You’re someone I can count on. An asset.”
“Thanks,” Sev replied. He’d finished the food on his plate and took a second helping. “Ye’re gettin’ at somethin’.”
“Kettlebent was right, you know? You are clever. Yes, I’m getting at something,” Midnight agreed. “I want you to work for me. Permanently.” Midnight awaited Sev’s response silently. Sev only sipped at his apple juice, his face expressionless. Midnight continued, “I’ve acquired rooms for you, purchased some new clothes. What do you say?”
“Work fer you?” Sev took another sip of juice. “Permanently? This was supposed t’be a single job. One an’ done.”
“But you’ve proven yourself much more useful than I’d expected. It would benefit you as well. I’ve already warned off Fervis, and I can ensure Fairgate and his men don’t get their hands on you either.” Sev couldn’t deny that Midnight’s words made sense. “Seven….” Midnight’s tone was serious, sympathetic. “You can’t live over the museum forever. I’m not exactly sure what happened in that factory, but you can’t keep punishing yourself for it. Let me help you.”
“What would I have t’do?”
“This and that,” Midnight answered, waving his hand. “You’ll be a consultant, someone I can bounce ideas off of. I’ll need you to deliver things from time to time. Maybe acquire things. Nothing as difficult as the journal.” Midnight giggled. Sev considered the villain’s offer. It would be useful to have someone so powerful on his side. On the other hand, Midnight was insane, unpredictable, and Sev was not a criminal; not really. “Of course, you need to think about this,” Midnight interrupted Sev’s thoughts. “I understand. Take a few days. Have a look at the flat. Think about it.”
Sev nodded. “Yer offer is generous. And ye’ve played straight with me so far. But this is a big decision. Permanently is a long time.” Sev saw a shadow pass over Midnight’s features. “Respectfully, Jack. I don’t doubt yer sincerity. I just have t’decide if this is the way I want my future t’play out.” That seemed to placate the villain. “Is that acceptable?”
“Seven.” Midnight spoke cajolingly. “You are someone I now consider a friend. I know this is a rather large decision, and I don’t expect you to make it lightly. You take as much time as you need.” Midnight slapped something metallic on the table and slid it over to Sev. “The key to your new flat. Have a look.”
“My new flat?” Sev asked as he picked up the key, a little slip of paper attached to it with twine. He forgot his breakfast. “I’ll take a look. No promises, though.”
“I expect nothing more.” Midnight toasted Sev with his coffee mug and took a drink. Sev pushed his own half-full plate away and poured a cup of the strong black beverage for himself. He winced at the taste as he considered the implications of Midnight’s offer.
AFTER breakfast, Sev returned to his room to find a freshly pressed and laundered pile of clothes on his bed. Henry was absent, but Sev figured the owl was in the kitchen begging scraps from Xiang. Sev sat on the bed, fished in his pocket for the key, and pulled it out to study it. What would it hurt? he thought. He could take a look without committing to anything.
He stood and threw the key on the mattress next to the clothes. The garments were all black. Of course they are, Sev chuckled in his head. That meant these weren’t his original clothes. He peeled the pajamas off and unfolded the new clothes. He found black slacks, a charcoal button-down shirt, and a black waistcoat with a blood-red tie. Not all black as he originally thought. Everything was tailored to Sev’s exact measurements, the latest fashion. Midnight obviously spared no expense.
In his new clothes, Sev stood in front of the full-length mirror, admiring himself. He wondered how conspicuous he would look walking through Blackside dressed like this, when he noticed a small box the garments had covered. He opened the shiny wooden box and found it lined with rich black velvet. Resting on the velvet were three exquisite pieces of shining silver jewelry, two cuff-links and a tie tack. Sev smirked. All the pieces were fashioned in the shape of the number seven. Not too obvious, he thought as he put the jewelry on anyway.
Sev dragged his hand through his still short hair. He picked up the key and read the slip of paper. 7G Kirkwall Lane. Midnight’s wit was apparently relentless. Sev heard a knock at his door. “Come in,” he called.
Midnight stepped into the room. “Seven,” he gasped. “You look smashing. I have impeccable taste.”
“Thank you?” Sev asked, unsure whether he should be grateful or complimentary.
“I’ve brought you some additional gear,” Midnight replied. “Although you already look good enough to eat.” Sev blushed, and Midnight chuckled and continued, “Here’s the pistol you brought from the palace. I’ve had a harness made so you can carry it beneath your coat.” Sev accepted the apparatus and allowed Midnight to show him how to wear it.
“This is interestin’,” Sev observed, drawing the weapon quickly from its sheath, replacing it and repeating the motion. “Convenient.”
“You may need this as well,” Midnight stated, offering Sev a knife, slightly shorter than a sword, and a belt. Sev drew the menacing silver blade and whistled. “It’s perfectly weighted and it will never run out of bullets,” Midnight added.
“This is too much, Jack. Ye really don’t need t’do all this.”
“Psh. I take care of my people. You’ll like these,” Midnight said confidently. He handed Sev a newsboy hat of black wool, just like his original. Sev plopped the hat on his head. It fit perfectly. The final item Midnight offered was an exact replica of Sev’s military coat, reproduced in pitch-black leather. Sev slipped into the supple, immaculate coat. “Outstanding,” Midnight commented.
“These’re fantastic, Jack,” Sev said, once again admiring himself in the mirror.
“They’re yours. Even if you don’t decide to accept my offer. They’re my gifts to you.” Midnight smiled, stepping back and folding his arms as he surveyed his handiwork.
“Ye’re an odd duck, Mr. Midnight,” Sev stated with a smirk.
“You’ve no idea, Mr. Seven,” Midnight replied. “I assume you’re on your way to have a look at your new flat?”
“I am.”
“Your original wardrobe, your sword, and your satchel are there, safe and sound. That arm thingy too. There’s also a few new items as well.”
“Thank ye. No promises, though,” Sev reminded the villain.
“None expected,” Midnight stated with a grin. A shout from below drew the man’s attention. “Duty calls.”
Sev nodded. “I’ll go and have a look at the flat.” Midnight inclined his head to Sev and dashed from the room. Sev spared a glance in the mirror, impressed with his new wardrobe. He would go check out that flat, but he needed to make a stop first.
9
SEV strode along the streets of Blackside with newly discovered confidence. People stared at him in his too-fine clothes, but he didn’t care. He could tell they thought he was Midnight’s man. He didn’t approve of all of Midnight’s methods, but he couldn’t deny the results. He saw a few of Fervis’s men, but none of them even acknowledged his passing. Sev had to admit this felt good.
The day after Christmas was cold, and Sev shoved his hands into the pockets of his new coat. His hand found something and pulled it out. It was a wad of bills. Was it payment for the journal or an extra incentive to accept Midnight’s offer? It didn’t matter. It didn’t change Sev’s plan.
Sev noticed a few Steamcoats prowling the streets of Blackside. He could only assume they were looking fo
r the man who stole Fairgate’s journal, looking for him. He pulled his collar up and his hat down, but it was pointless, because everywhere he found himself near a Steamcoat, someone stepped up to draw the armored soldier’s attention. It was an odd feeling for Sev, being more noticeable and less noticeable at the same time. His mind drifted to Waverly, and he wondered if his new dwelling would have room for his old friend. Would Waverly even want to move in with him? Sev had mastered his feelings because Waverly had made it clear on numerous occasions that those feelings weren’t mutual. Sev was so distracted by his impending decision, he barely noticed when he stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Madame Beauchamps’s.
Sev stopped. He could tell there was something dramatically wrong. The entire atmosphere had changed. Two burly thugs stood on either side of the entrance. No potential customers stood casually conversing on the street. “What’s the word, fellas?” Sev asked as he approached the guards.
“Bad business,” the larger guard answered. “Business” sounded like bidness. Sev ascended the stairs, and the guards allowed him passage.
Inside, the mood was slightly more optimistic. Sev could hear the familiar music, saw the girls easily strolling about, engaging the few guests in conversation. He searched the room, his gaze alighting on Mikey, who sported a terrific shiner. “Oy, Sev,” the larger man greeted him.
“Oy, Mikey. Looks like y’might’ve had o’bit.” Sev implied trouble.
“Aye. Y’could say that.”
“Anythin’ interestin’?”
“Oh aye,” Mikey answered. “Seems a Blacksy got into th’palace. Took somethin’. The Steamies are in an uproar. Know anything about that?” Mikey paused, and Sev wondered if he was waiting for a response. He only shrugged, remaining silent. Mikey continued, “Anyway, seems they’ve decided trollin’ the whorehouses and the public houses might turn up somethin’.”
“So why d’ye have a black eye?”
The 7th of London Page 10