“I don’t think they want t’get near that,” Annie sneered, pointing at the case in Muriel’s hands.
“If they won’t come near it—” Rat began.
“No. These things shouldn’t be,” Annie interrupted.
“She’s right, Rat,” Midnight added. “What if those things get out? We have to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Rat set his jaw but said nothing, rubbing at his eye with his fist. Midnight handed Annie a satchel with a mallet and spike to put holes in the barrels. The last of the barrels was placed outside the door, and Sev ventured out with Annie, helping her tip the barrel onto its side. She gave it a push, and it rolled down the step into the midst of the creatures.
“Good luck, Dove.”
“My luck’s run out already, luv.” She tried a smile, but it didn’t reach her milky-white eyes. She descended the stairs and the creatures paid her no attention. She pounded a hole in both ends of the barrel and started rolling it around the perimeter of the horde, essentially drawing a ring of lamp oil like a fence around the beasts. Sev and Midnight watched from the doorway. Annie emptied the first barrel about halfway around the horde. She walked back right up the middle, elbowing creatures as she went.
As she got closer, Sev wasn’t too surprised to see that more of her skin had gone the sickening green-black color. “I’m not sure how much time I have left,” she told them as they tipped the second vessel on its side for her. “It’s getting harder t’think.” Her voice was growing rougher, less human. She pushed the vessel off the steps, punching the holes when she reached the base and starting off in the opposite direction to close what would soon be a circle of fire.
“We might want to get the lids off these,” Midnight stated watching Annie’s progress. “Do you think you can help me lift this and throw it into the crowd, if we have to?”
“Probably,” Sev answered. “We won’t have to. Annie’ll manage it. Murry,” Sev called over his shoulder. “Bring the Tear out here so me and Jack can get these vessels down the stairs.”
Reluctantly Muriel crept out onto the threshold. The creatures in the front hissed and pressed backward. Confident the Tear would discourage the beasts, Sev helped Midnight move the vessels to the base of the steps. They’d finished moving the third vessel just as Annie returned. “Dump that one. I’ll get these out.” She didn’t wait for an answer, just tipped the ceramic pot over and pushed it into the center of the horde. Midnight regarded Annie for only a moment before he pressed his booted foot against the lip of the vessel with the loosened lid and pushed.
The pinkish liquid poured out in a sheet, soaking the stone and the feet standing on it. The sound of shattering ceramic reached their ears, and soon after, Annie returned. Her skin was completely blighted. “Inside,” she hissed, turned once again, and rolled the vessel into the horde. After another crash, Midnight dropped a match on the oil at the base of the steps. A trail of fire shot out from the center, hemming the creatures within. They were already engulfed in flames when a second source of fire burst from the center of the monsters. The creatures screamed and squealed as their awful flesh burned. The heat grew almost instantly unbearable, and although Sev wanted to bear witness, to make sure that every last creature was destroyed, the heat was just too much. He and Midnight escorted Muriel back inside and closed the doors against the inferno.
“Annie?” Rat asked, his face stricken. Sev just closed his eyes and shook his head. Rat bellowed something inarticulate and buried his face against Muriel’s shoulder. She held the weeping young man, offering what comfort she could. Tears streamed down her face as she cried silently.
Sev listened as the screeches and moans of the burning, dying creatures tapered off, then stopped altogether. The stench of the burning monsters seeped into the room, and Sev found it more wretched than anything he’d ever smelled previously. He fingered his scar through his vest, remembering the stench of burned, living flesh. This was worse, putrid. He noticed smoke creeping under the door, and he suddenly wondered if they’d made a terrible mistake, if they might suffocate in this black stone tomb. After an interminable silence, Sev finally spoke. “Reckon it’s been long enough yet?” Midnight pressed his ear to the door, then shrugged and pulled it open.
Fetid, oppressive air rushed into the chamber. Outside, small patches of flame still crackled under a blanket of smoke from the charred remains that littered the street. Sev took an apprehensive step onto the stairs and scanned the scene for any sign of movement among the remains.
“Clear?” Midnight asked.
“Seems so,” Sev answered. “Hold on.” He stopped Midnight from continuing out the door. “Ask Muriel t’open the lid on the Tear case.”
“Capital idea,” Midnight told Sev. “Murry, be a dear and open that lid.” Sev held his breath, listening for a screech like those he’d heard when Midnight opened the case originally. The tunnel remained silent.
“I think we got ’em all,” Sev stated. He crossed his arms, impressed with the success of their plan, and instantly felt ashamed because their amazing plan had resulted in Annie’s death. “I’m sorry, Rat.”
“Had t’be done, didn’t it?” Rat made every effort to sound cold and unaffected. “We really ought t’get that trinket back t’Kildeggan.”
Sev wanted to offer some kind of support to his young friend, but he knew all too well that people grieved in their own ways, and if Rat wanted his help, he’d ask. “Let’s get the hell out o’here,” Sev said to the rest of the group. Muriel snapped the lid of the case shut and followed Rat into the street. Bones like charcoal crunched under their feet no matter how carefully they stepped.
“Come along, kiddies,” Midnight said to David and the others as he, too, exited the armory. Sev wasn’t surprised when Julia vomited at the sight awaiting them.
They decided to press on until they were free of the tunnel ruins. The smoky haze had already started to thin out, and Sev wasn’t sure if it was dissipating or if he’d just gotten used to the stink, but it wasn’t bothering him any longer. Midnight strode along at the front of the group with Muriel and the children not far behind, carrying the last two lanterns. Rat slowed and fell in step alongside Sev. They walked in companionable silence for a few moments.
“Sev,” Rat said. “Can I ask ye somethin’?” Sev was going to say “of course,” but before he could utter a sound, a deafening screech sounded from the shadows. A stray creature that had escaped the flames, Sev guessed. He turned just in time to see the creature bounding from the side of the street and grabbing for Rat. Sev acted quickly, drawing his sword. Rat acted even quicker, pulling his pistol and aiming for the creature’s head. The creature paused, possibly realizing what Rat held in his hand.
“Please,” it hissed. “Please.”
Dear God, Sev thought. “Rat,” he said aloud, noticing the patchy black hair growing from its skull, the tattered remains of what had recently been Annie’s clothes. The Annie creature pointed to its forehead. Rat nodded and pulled the trigger, blasting the beast off its feet. It fell still, but Sev knew it was only temporary. Rat stood frozen, his gun still held at the ready, the barrel smoking. Midnight walked over and removed the weapon. Rat collapsed to his knees, cradling his face in his hands.
“David,” Midnight said softly. “Bring that lamp and burn her.”
“No,” Rat begged, looking up with tears streaming.
“We have to,” Sev told him gently. “Whatever it takes,” he said, repeating Annie’s own words. “We know fire’s the only way.” Rat nodded, sobbing silently again. David blew out the lamp, unscrewed the cap, and held it over Annie’s body.
“I’ll do it.” Rat stood, took the lamp, and splashed the oil over her. He scratched a match alight on his bootheel and dropped it onto the corpse. It burned, but not as quickly as the others.
“More oil, Rat. She’s too fresh. She won’t burn as quickly,” Midnight explained.
Rat threw his boss a sour look but did as he’d been instructed, emptying the last
of the oil onto her body. He tossed the empty lamp to the black stone street, where it shattered. Retreating into himself again, Rat stormed away from the grisly scene.
Everyone shuffled after him, silently, dealing with the grief of losing Annie. Poor Dove, Sev thought. She should have stayed at Beauchamps’s. Not an ideal life, granted, but at least it wouldn’t have ended down here, slowly turning into some blighted abomination. He was glad there only remained one lantern. The low light allowed him to shed his tears for Annie in relative privacy. Sev wondered if this was a hint of things to come, wondered how many more friends they’d have to watch die before everything was said and done.
19
SILAS stood for many moments watching the great iron door to the ruins. Sev and the rest were in there now, and God help them, Silas had a bad feeling about the whole thing. His stomach was sour with worry. He knew Sev and Midnight could handle themselves, Muriel too, for that matter, but the children…? Would they be able to protect all the children? Carrington and Kildeggan had long since retired to the workshops of the tower to continue planning their attack.
When Silas turned to join them, he noticed he wasn’t alone. Sev’s old friend leaned against a rock watching him. “Don’t worry,” the boy said as Silas approached. “If anybody can pull this off, it’s Seven.”
“Forgive me,” Silas said extending his hand. “I’ve forgotten your name, Mr.—?”
“Waverly, Will Waverly,” the boy answered, accepting Silas’s hand and giving it a firm shake.
“Silas Kettlebent.”
“Oh aye. Kettlebent.” Waverly released the young man’s hand and crossed his arms. “Is that bloke with the beard and hat your dad, then?”
“No,” Silas answered with a laugh. “That’s a disguise I wear topside. Makes it easier for adults to take me seriously.” Silas paused at the odd look on Waverly’s face. “I know. Absurd. They’ll take that caricature of a man more seriously than an actual adolescent.”
“Adults,” Waverly sniffed.
“Indeed. And thank you for the reassurance, but to be honest it’s not Seven I’m concerned about. It’s the other children.” Silas realized how that sounded and rushed to amend his statement. “Not that I don’t care what happens to Seven. I do, of course. A great deal. I’m just confident in his abilities.” Silas felt heat rise to his cheeks.
“No need to explain, mate. I knew what you meant.”
“Seven is an extraordinary person,” Silas stated, while trying to formulate a tactful way to ask Waverly if he and Sev were closer than friends. Sev had never mentioned it and didn’t seem the sort to lie about something like that, but how could Silas really be sure? “Certainly you know that to be true.”
“Oh aye. Sev and I have known each other a very long time.”
“Close friends?”
“The closest. We escaped Fervis’s together, and we watched each other’s backs until I got my job at the Bacchus and Tun. Sev’s not one to be under anyone’s thumb. He stayed on the street, but we still see each other when we can.” He pulled a battered pocket watch from his pants and flipped it open. “Speaking of the B & T, it’s past time for me to get back.”
“Ah, yes. Of course,” Silas answered still trying to decipher Waverly’s words in relation to Sev. “Well, can I walk you out or—?”
“Nonsense. I can find my way out. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of work to do to get ready for this uprising.” Waverly paused. “I need to let the owner of the B & T know I’m taking some time off, but I’ll be back first thing in the morning. I’m no tinkerer and not near as good a fighter as Sev, but I’m sure there’re plenty of things that need carrying. And I’m a fair enough cook.”
“I’m sure we can find something for you, Mr. Waverly.” Silas patted the boy nervously on the back.
“Please, Wave is fine, Silas.”
“Wave it is, then.” Silas smiled. He opened his mouth to just ask the question that was still needling him. Wave started to walk toward the exit of the underground city, and Silas dashed to catch up. “Wave, um, can I ask you something?”
Wave didn’t stop walking, but he did slow until Silas reached him and fell into step alongside. “Ask away.”
“Well, let me see…. Seven…,” Silas stammered.
“That wasn’t a question,” Waverly answered with a smile.
“No.” Silas ordered his thoughts. “You and Seven.”
“Still not a question.”
“Right. Well.”
“Let me save you a few more moments of awkward suffering. Sev and I are old, close friends, and that’s as far as it goes.”
“Ah,” Silas said with frank surprise. “Yes. Well, thank you for that, Wave.”
“Not a problem, Silas. I’ll see you in the morning. Take care of yourself.” Waverly raised a hand in farewell before climbing the final set of stairs to the topside tunnels. Silas stood, watching him leave. He was a little stunned but mostly ecstatic. He bounded off, his spirits lifted and excited for Sev’s return, his earlier misgivings forgotten.
WAVERLY emerged onto the street and took a deep breath, thankful for the filthy air of Blackside. He basked in the cold winter air, relieved to no longer have thousands of pounds of rock hovering above his head. He stretched happily. There was room to stretch down there, but it somehow never felt like it. Something about the architecture gave him the goose bumps, and he didn’t know how those children managed to sleep down there. Wave hoped Sev wouldn’t run across too much trouble in that bizarre underground city.
Leave it to Sev to get involved with a crazy plot to overthrow the queen’s betrothed that involved a giant clockwork man. Wave smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets. Good old Sev, Waverly thought. As he walked the streets of Blackside, his mind inevitably wandered to Sev’s emotional confession some years ago. It caused mixed feelings for Waverly. He felt flattered, but he also felt completely uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to lose Sev as a friend. He’d told him exactly what was going on in his head, and Sev had accepted it for what it was. Waverly wasn’t sure how this kind of thing worked with anyone else, but as always with Sev, he dealt with a situation and moved on.
Kettlebent had similar feelings for Sev that Sev had expressed having for Waverly. Waverly knew there were men like his friend out there, and he knew how the Fairsies and most of the Blacksiders felt on the subject, but Sev was his friend and one of the most admirable, most loyal, most trustworthy men Waverly had ever met. There’s no way he’d judge his old friend for his personal predilections. In fact, he realized it made him happy that his friend might be able to find someone with similar tastes as himself and maybe find a bit of happiness in this hard, old world. Lord knew, Waverly wished for someone to share that kind of bond with.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to find it fumbling and fondling with the gin-soaked harpies and downtrodden whores who frequented the Bacchus and Tun. The thought of the prostitutes drew his mind to Sev’s and his friend, Annie. Waverly was happy that the pretty young girl had finally managed to get out of that type of life. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed possible that maybe he and Annie could figure something out together. They’d always gotten along well. It seemed as though she had a little something going with that Rat fellow but, given time, who knew? When she returned with Sev, Waverly would have to reconnect with her.
A sound drew his wandering attention back to the present. Someone had bumped into a trash bin. Waverly lived on the streets long enough to know not to look immediately in that direction. Instead he humped his shoulders up, appearing to curl against the cold, and flicked his gaze to either side. He cursed to himself because he not only saw the bin bumper but at least two other figures moving too close to him.
Waverly wondered what Sev would do in this situation. Probably just turn on the bastards and challenge them. Sev always carried at least three weapons at any given time, and Waverly was all too aware the only weapon he carried was his pocketknife. He slipped it open inside
his coat. What would Sev’s backup plan be? Waverly scanned the alley. He’d seen Sev scramble up walls. Waverly noticed a rusted downspout and wondered if he could do the same. It seemed to him a much better option than fighting at least three or likely more well-armed men with a pocketknife.
His mind made up, he walked a little faster and then leaped onto the pipe, trying to find purchase with his feet and hands. Too soon, they were on him, dragging him back to the ground. He kicked and tried to get his hand on his knife, but one had pinned his arms while another tried to restrain him. Waverly thrashed and managed to free one arm, smacking one of his would-be captors. He freed his other arm and rolled, preparing to push himself up. He saw the third attacker’s foot hurtling toward his face and then nothing.
WHEN Waverly woke, he first noticed his face hurt. He tasted blood, and he couldn’t move his arms. He managed to open one eye and looked around the room lit by a single gas lamp. He’d heard that when people awoke in these situations, they didn’t know where they were at first, but that wasn’t true for Waverly. He knew exactly where he was. He hadn’t been in this room before, but it had been rebuilt to the exact specifications of the original. Fervis’s punishment room. The place he took people he wanted to silence. There were gutters in the floor and a drain to catch and usher the blood away.
Waverly and Sev accidently got a look in the original room one night, years ago, when they’d crept out of their beds in the night to snoop around the Auto-Cobblery. Their little excursions were a way for them to feel empowered, like they were getting one over on the adults, the bastards who constantly forced their will upon the younger and weaker. They’d been trying to find a place to duck into when they’d heard voices and the open door to the Bad Room, as they’d called it back then, because the really bad kids were brought in there. Sev and his siblings were the only ones who had seen the inside and been permitted to leave afterward, although horribly scarred. That’s probably why Sev had known instantly that the door wouldn’t have been open if they weren’t planning to bring someone in, and those voices were the Footmen dragging someone to an awful fate. They’d managed to avoid the room that day.
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