The 7th of London

by Beau Schemery

  Hours later Fervis, McGinty, and a few Footmen burst into the room. McGinty brought a man for each child and a canvas sack that jangled with its metallic contents. “Who’s the oldest? The first?” McGinty asked in his thick cockney accent. Katie raised her hand, unable to speak. “Splendid.” The man motioned to his cronies, and they forced Katie forward. McGinty retrieved a tool from the canvas sack and thrust it into the stove.

  “Mr. McGinty, Mr. Fervis,” Katie pleaded. “Y’don’t need t’do this. We’re all very sorry, I assure ye.”

  “No.” Fervis shook his head. “You aren’t.” He pulled the iron tool from the coals. It glowed orange. “But you will be,” he finished, pressing the hot metal onto the flesh of Katie’s chest. Her screams swept over her siblings as smoke drifted from the wound. When Fervis removed the brand, they saw that she’d been marked with the number “1”. “Bring the next,” Fervis requested, smiling. Seven and all his siblings were branded in a similar manner.

  “THAT’S awful,” Kettlebent whispered.

  “It was,” Sev agreed. “The worst part was that everyone started referrin’ to us by our numbers rather than our names. Katie’s the only one I can remember. All my other sisters and brother are only numbers.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Kettlebent spat.

  “I’ve been Seven ever since. I can’t even remember what my parents called me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Sev waved the apology away. “I got away.”

  “You don’t sound happy about that.”

  “It didn’t seem like a victory.”

  “What happened?” Kettlebent asked. “If I can ask.”

  “Ye can,” Sev confirmed. “We were all branded, but Fervis had further indignities in store fer us.” Sev related the events that led up to the night of his escape. He told Kettlebent how Fervis had taken Katie for his fiancé, while he retained Two as a mistress. Sev tried to remember Two’s real name but couldn’t. He continued his story.

  SEV caused too much trouble, defended too many of the other children during his time with Fervis. The industrialist reached the end of his rope with his young charge. Fervis ordered McGinty to end Sev. Luckily none of the children were willing to allow Sev to wait in a cell beneath the factory for McGinty to come and kill him. Three and Four, with a few other children, slipped down to warn their brother.

  “I was afraid o’this,” Sev stated as he paced round his cell. “We’ve got t’fight back.”

  “How?” Three asked as she gripped the bars on the door.

  “Spread the word. We’re risin’ up tonight. I’ll take care o’McGinty.” Sev’s words came out as a growl, and the children nodded silently. “When’s McGinty comin’?”

  “Midnight,” Four answered.

  “That’s good. Have everyone ready on the main floor then,” Sev instructed.

  “What will ye do?” Four asked her younger brother.

  “I’ll figure somethin’ out.” He tipped his sisters a wink.

  WHEN McGinty approached Sev’s cell, it appeared empty. The thug panicked as he fumbled to find the key to the door. Sev perched calmly above the door, braced next to the ceiling just out of sight. He waited patiently as the lock clicked open and McGinty entered the small room. When the large man was far enough in, Sev dropped from the rafters onto McGinty’s shoulders. Before the man could react, Sev had pummeled McGinty’s temples with his fists. He rode the brute’s unconscious body to the ground, grabbed his key ring before he dashed from the cell, and locked his attacker within. Sev tossed the keys as he ran to meet his siblings and the other revolutionaries.

  A few children joined him as he ran. McGinty called for help before they’d even reached the main floor. Damn, Sev thought. He didn’t stay out too long.

  “We’ve got t’move,” Sev told his companions. No sooner had he spoken than two of Fervis’s Footmen appeared around a corner. The children with Sev resisted, but Sev fought. Hard. He broke the first thug’s nose and delivered a kick to the second man’s crotch. The first Footman managed to connect a punch by swinging wildly at Sev, who fell backward. One of the other children managed to grab a chair and knock Sev’s attacker out.

  Too late, Sev thought. He could hear McGinty and more men running up from below. He and his companions dashed for the main floor, where they found Sev’s siblings with nearly twenty children. They were clustered near the bay door, trying to get it open. Sev cursed himself for tossing McGinty’s keys. When McGinty and the rest of the Footmen arrived moments later, he cursed himself doubly. Damn.

  “Well, well, well, what ’ave we ’ere?” McGinty crooned dangerously. “A revolution? An uprisin’?”

  Sev stepped to the head of the crowd of children. “Let it go, McGinty,” Sev growled, clenching his fists in anticipation. “It’s me y’want. Not these kids.”

  “Gor. Sev the brave ’ero. The savior of the downtrodden, is it?” McGinty mocked as he moved to the fore of his men. He thumbed his bowler back and continued, “Ye’re all goin’ t’get the belt fer this, and no mistake.”

  “No.” Sev stepped up to the man over twice his size. The Footmen shifted anxiously. “You an’ me, McGinty. Tell ’em t’back off.”

  McGinty glanced over his shoulder and held his hand up, warning his men off. “Y’arrogant l’il prick,” McGinty spat. “I’m goin’ t’enjoy tearin’ you apart.” The big man barely finished speaking before he grabbed at Sev, who slipped dexterously out of the way. Sev spun, preparing for another assault. McGinty charged again, and Sev dropped, forming a ball to trip his opponent.

  The children and Footmen had gathered around to witness this spectacle. McGinty sprawled on the floor, and Sev leapt on his back, delivering a terrific punch to the larger man’s kidney. McGinty bellowed and spun, tossing Sev off. The boy landed on his feet, ready for another attack. McGinty obliged, diving at him. Sev dropped and punched up into the other man’s jaw, sending him reeling. “Little shit,” McGinty grumbled, spitting out blood. “Ye’ve earned every bit o’hurt I’m about t’give ye.” McGinty grabbed up a coal shovel. A bloodthirsty sneer plastered across the man’s face.

  “I’m goin’ t’wipe that smirk off yer ugly face,” Sev promised.

  “Ha,” McGinty barked and swung the shovel at Sev, who easily sidestepped the attack. McGinty collided with some factory equipment. “It’ll be a pleasure t’make ye hurt.” McGinty swiped the shovel at Sev a second time. Sev ducked and rolled. Surprisingly, McGinty’s hand snapped out and grabbed Sev by his shirt, hauling him back. McGinty pulled Sev in close. “Yer time’s runnin’ out, Seven,” McGinty growled.

  “Thanks fer the warnin’,” Sev stated. His head zipped forward, smacking into McGinty’s with a satisfying crunch. He released Sev and his shovel to cradle his injured head. Sev grabbed up the discarded weapon, holding it in a defensive stance. McGinty roared and charged Sev. He swung the shovel, batting McGinty, and slipped out of the man’s path. McGinty bellowed his frustration. Sev swung the shovel again, but McGinty caught it, lashed out and smacked Sev with his fist. Sev stumbled and fell to his back on the floor, his hands above his head. McGinty loomed over him, ready for the killing blow. Panic gripped Sev, and he kicked out, connecting with McGinty’s knee. He heard a sickening crunch, and the man collapsed. Sev brought the shovel forward with all the force he could muster. The edge of the metal lodged deep into McGinty’s shoulder.

  The children cheered while the Footman groaned. Despite the shovel lodged in his shoulder, McGinty pressed forward. Sev grabbed the wooden handle, pulled it free, and chopped down again, lodging the tool even deeper. McGinty screamed bloody murder and collapsed. Driven by an unknown force, Sev approached McGinty, drew the shovel from the man’s flesh, and struck down, chopping McGinty’s arm off. He deserved it for everything he’d done and allowed to be done to the children of Fervis’s factory. Sev stood, his breath heaving while he held the shovel dripping blood. “That’s what ye get, McGinty. We’re not yer slaves. We’re n
ot Fervis’s slaves.”

  “What the bloody hell is going on here?” Fervis bellowed from his balcony overlooking the factory. The children and the Footmen all turned to his voice. “McGinty!”

  “McGinty is otherwise occupied,” Sev called out. “It seems his arm is off.” A pair of the Footmen attended McGinty’s wound, tearing up strips of cloth to stem the blood flow.

  “Damn you, Seven,” Fervis growled as his men helped McGinty to his feet.

  “Damn you, Fervis,” Sev returned. “Ye’ve ruined the lives o’my entire family, and I’m finished puttin’ up with it. It’s over. We’re leavin’. Give us One. Give us Katie.”

  “You think you can make demands, little man?” Fervis grabbed Katie by the arm. “You want her? Catch!” The look on Katie’s face as she was tossed over the railing was one of utter surprise. She landed with an alarming crunch, and Sev’s siblings wailed and ran to her inert form. Fervis laughed. Sev’s blood boiled. He dropped the shovel and scooped up a large stone. Sev slipped his slingshot from his back pocket. He’d trained himself by shooting the rats beneath the factory, and Fervis was the biggest rat here. Sev drew back the cord as the bastard gloated. He closed one eye, lined up the shot, and let fly.

  The stone flew through the air, connecting with Fervis’s left eye, devastating the orb within. Fervis’s hand flew to the ruined socket. The children were cheering as Fervis pulled his clockwork turret pistol from the concealment of his waistcoat. “Rat bastard!” he barked as he leveled the weapon at Sev. He pulled the trigger. Then he pulled it again and again, expending his supply of bullets and missing Sev completely, though his last shot tore through a lantern that exploded, showering fire on everything near it.

  Fervis’s men instantly ran to save themselves while the gathered children remained on the floor. Fervis decided to follow their lead and dashed away into his mansion. “What can we do?” one of the children asked.

  “Run. Save yerselves,” Sev called out over the commotion. The various chemicals used in the creation of Fervis’s footwear as well as the various lubricants and oils for his machines were the perfect fuel to incite the fire into a raging blaze. Sev tried to get as many of the children out of the inferno as he could, instructing them how to escape through the basement. Waverly, his best mate in this awful place, was the first to jump into action. A few of the older boys tried to dowse the flames, only to be caught in the conflagration themselves. Sev managed to throw a tarp over the boy nearest to him, extinguishing the flames.

  The boards of the old warehouse made ideal tinder for the flames. They ate the wood hungrily. When Sev managed to help all the children he could, he dashed to his siblings, still gathered around the body of their older sister. “We need t’get out o’here!” he told them.

  “We can’t just leave her,” Three moaned, weeping.

  “There’s nothin’ we can do fer her now,” Sev cried. “We’ve got t’save ourselves.”

  “But Katie,” Sev’s brother wailed. “Sev, what’ll we do without her?”

  “We’ll figure it out once we’re safe.” Sev heard the ceiling creak ominously. “Damn it, Six, we have t’go now!” Still his siblings refused to move, so lost in their grief. Sev realized his only choice would be to grab the body of his oldest sister. Only then would his other siblings follow him out to safety. The flames were crawling across the floor toward him. If they waited any longer, they’d all end up just like Katie.

  Sev hopped over the fire at his feet just as the ceiling finally gave way under its own weight. Flaming rafters crashed to the floor of the factory, cutting Sev off from his siblings. The fire was too close to them, and their desperate cries for help pierced Sev’s heart. He tried to find a way around the rafters, dashing further into the flames, but his footfalls were too great for the weakened floor, and he plunged into the waste tunnels beneath the building. The slick pipes and the filthy, stinking water that sluiced through them carried Sev to safety. The disgusting water was blissfully cool in contrast to the flames that were consuming the last of his family.

  “MY GOD,” Kettlebent whispered. He seemed to want to say more, but didn’t know what. Instead he sipped his tea. Sev assumed it had grown cold while he told his story. “I’m sorry, Seven,” Kettlebent finally said, quietly, obviously ashamed that he didn’t have anything more profound to offer.

  “Thanks, mate.” Sev sipped his own tea. It was cold but Sev showed no indication. “The guilt still gets t’me sometimes.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. It was that bastard, Fervis’s doing.”

  Sev nodded. “But I couldn’t save them,” he replied. “I should have saved them, but I couldn’t.” Sev’s eyes shone with tears. He wanted Kettlebent to understand that he had done everything within his power to help his brother and sisters. He wanted Kettlebent to understand his guilt. Sev bit back his sobs, and Kettlebent appeared to feel awkward. “I should’ve died with them,” Sev choked. His tears spilled down his cheeks.

  Instinctively Kettlebent moved to Sev’s side, putting a steadying arm around his guest’s shoulders. Instead of pulling away, Sev leaned into the embrace, drawing comfort from the strong arms. Kettlebent whispered words of comfort. Sev drew a deep, calming sigh. He pushed out of Kettlebent’s grasp and looked up at his host with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m sorry.” He sat up, rubbing his eyes dry with the heel of his hand. “I’m usually not such a fool.”

  “Having feelings doesn’t make you a fool, Seven.”

  “No, but weepin’ like a baby’s a bit undignified.” Sev sniffed. Then he stood and walked to Kettlebent’s fire, staring into its burning heart. “I used t’not even be able t’look at fire.”

  “That’s not surprising.” Kettlebent stood and gathered the teacups. “Most people would have ended up in Bedlam if they’d experienced what you did.”

  “Does that make me better or worse?” Sev asked with a weak chuckle. “Ye know the worst part?” He turned back to Kettlebent, who shook his head. “I’m the last o’my line, and I don’t even remember our surname.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Kettlebent said, his voice barely audible.

  “There’s nothin’ t’say. I’d appreciate if ye kept this between us. I don’t make it a habit o’breakin’ down in front o’strangers.”

  “Why me?”

  “I wondered that as well.” Sev shrugged. “A week ago I thought ye were stealin’ kids t’do despicable things with.” Kettlebent’s eyes grew wide, his eyebrows lifting in shock. “Obviously, I was mistaken. And now….” Sev paused. “Now I don’t know. I think we might be a little more alike than either of us’re willin’ t’admit.”

  Kettlebent laughed. “Your cleverness continues to surprise me, Mr. Seven.”

  “Is that a compliment, Mr. Kettlebent?”

  “I think it is. And Seven? Most people call me Mr. Kettlebent, but my friends call me Silas.” His smile was infectious and engaging.

  Sev returned the smile. “All right, then, Silas. Have we had enough melodrama fer the evenin’? Should we call it a night?”

  “Perhaps we should. Good night, Sev.”

  “Good night, Silas.” Sev crawled onto his cot, totally exhausted. Silas Kettlebent extinguished the candles and lanterns around his little compartment before turning in as well.

  12

  SEV awoke the next morning to the sound of Kettlebent preparing a simple breakfast. Not Kettlebent, Silas, Sev reminded himself as he yawned. Embarrassment danced through his chest when he remembered his emotional fit from the previous evening.

  “Good morning, Seven,” Silas sang when he noticed Sev stirring.

  “Mornin’,” Sev answered. “That smells good.”

  “Oats with milk, honey, and a bit of nutmeg,” Silas informed him.

  “I’m starvin’.” Sev’s stomach growled in agreement.

  “Good. It’s ready.” Silas tipped the contents of the pot into two bowls. He grabbed spoons for each and handed one to Sev. Sev tucked in. “I have to go uptown t
his morning. I have an appointment with Sutherland.”

  “Can I join ye? I haven’t been in touch with Midnight fer a few days. I should probably let him know I’m still alive.”

  “I don’t see why not. Though you may want a disguise. In case the Steamies are still looking for you.”

  Sev nodded. “What would ye suggest?”

  “Lucy’s brought your clothes back. I may have a spare set of goggles, possibly a false mustache.”

  “A false mustache?” Sev repeated Silas’s words.

  “One never knows when the need for a false mustache will arise,” Silas announced in his best impression of the Duke of Sutherland. Both young men laughed.

  “Who am I t’argue with the master o’disguise?” Sev chuckled. Silas gave his guest a jovial punch in the arm before finishing his oats and rising to slip into his Over-Suit. Sev spooned the last bit of his breakfast into his mouth and jumped up to dress as well.

  “HOW do ye stand these things?” Sev asked, scratching at his new mustache. The pair had reemerged in Blackside and made their way to Beauchamps’s, where the duke’s brougham would pick them up to take them to Fairside.

  “I guess I’m just used to it,” Kettlebent answered. “That mustache is a bit old as well.”

  “It’s not the right color.”

  “What?”

  “It doesn’t match my hair,” Sev specified.

  “Pfft. No one’s that observant. Don’t worry yourself.”