“You’re absolutely right,” I spoke to Miss Hatter, trying to resolve this sudden tension. “The company you keep is your own affair.” The lady glared at me for a moment, and then, as if by simply flipping a switch, she was all smiles and sunshine again.
“Oh, don’t worry yourself about it,” she grinned. “Truth be told, most of them aren’t nearly as scary as their shadows, but just enough to want around when things go sour, though.”
“Ah,” I replied. “Never hurts to keep good company, I suppose.”
Kitt nervously nodded in agreement, no doubt unsure if the volatile songstress would charmingly set her claws upon him again.
“Speaking of good company,” Miss Hatter said, “whatever became of that darling, little redhead that accompanied you when last we met?”
“Well,” I half-frowned, “she’s…uh…keeping busy. Actually, we were just on our way to her, um, father’s residence for a visit, so—”
“At this hour?” she questioned. “Awfully odd time to call upon a lady.” She paused and giggled. “Unless that lady is me, of course.”
“Uh, sure. Right,” I replied. “In that case then, we’d best be on our—”
“Oh, hold on!” Miss Hatter suddenly turned and shouted over my shoulder to something in the distance. “Boys! Over here!”
I looked back and saw a cluster of gentlemen approach from the opposite end of the street. In their arms was an assortment of well-worn musical instruments.
“Boys, you remember, Mister Dandy, yes?” the lady said. “Mister Dandy, the boys.”
“Hi,” I said. “Look, Miss Hatter. We hate to be rude—”
“Do we?” Kitt interjected.
“—hate to be rude, but we really must be moving on before the hour becomes any later.”
Miss Hatter grinned at me. “Don’t want to keep her waiting, eh?”
I sighed. “Something like that.”
“So where are you headed?”
“South end of the city,” Kitt said.
“And all that way on foot?” she frowned.
“Afraid so,” I lied, not eager to bring any attention to the Priest’s shuttle.
“That won’t do!” Miss Hatter fussed. “No, no! You’ll spend all night getting there! Here, I’ll fetch you a ride.”
“That’s kind,” Kitt said. “But at this time of night, I doubt you’ll—”
“See, there’s a man right there! Sir!”
She had singled out a poor soul who was skulking in the dark across the way. The man, who was lurking next to a longish, wagon-sort of vehicle, grimaced as Miss Hatter brought him over to us.
“Something, eh, I can do for you?” the wiry gentleman inquired, more than slightly irritated.
“These two are in dire need of a ride!” Miss Hatter explained, gesturing to Kitt and me.
“And?” the man unenthusiastically questioned.
“And, as I can plainly see, you happen to have a set of wheels at your disposal.”
“So?”
“So, mister, sir, you shall do your good deed for the night and happily offer these fellows transportation!”
“Oh,” the man said, understanding. “No, I won’t.”
“Are you a Christian, sir?”
“Yes, of course, but—“
“Then you believe in the importance of good deeds?”
“I suppose, but—“
“Then you acknowledge that by denying these poor, wayward souls, these unfortunate gentlemen, by denying them in their time of need, you are refusing to perform the simplest charitable act?”
The man snorted. “I’ve got work to get to.”
“Now?!? In the dead of night?!?”
“I dig graves.”
“Fitting,” I uttered to myself.
“All right, look,” Miss Hatter said, “how’s two pound sound?”
“Not enough like five,” the stranger said.
“Fine, five,” the lady replied. “Mister Dandy, pay the gentleman.”
I frowned and reluctantly dug into my coat, only to find nothing. I searched again, hoping that there remained some small remainder of the money bestowed upon me by the gaslight pirates. But it seemed that my funds, as well as my luck, had at last run out.
“Sorry,” I sheepishly admitted. “I’m penniless.”
Miss Hatter then looked to Kitt.
“So am I,” he said. I’ll never know if he was speaking truthfully.
Miss Hatter sighed and began rifling through her handbag. I gritted my teeth in annoyance and pulled a breath through them. Utterly ridiculous, I remember thinking as I watched the woman fight so very hard to secure a ride I truly didn’t need.
“Look, you’ve been very considerate,” I said to her, “but we don’t expect you to spend your own, hard-earned—”
“Oh, enough of this!” Miss Hatter complained, fiercely snapping her handbag shut. “Boys!”
Without a word, Miss Hatter’s company of accompanying musicians, all-purpose movers, and, as it turned out to be in that awkward moment, rock-fisted heavies leapt upon the unsuspecting man. They hoisted him from the ground, held him clutched by all limbs, and jabbed their instruments threateningly close to bludgeoning range. The man paled, eyeing the trombone at his throat, the violin over his knee, and the newfangled, portable, miniature harpsichord angled menacingly into his ribcage.
“Stop that!” I shouted at the ruckus. “Put him down!”
“There’s no need for this!” Kitt added.
“Boys,” Miss Hatter said, ignoring our protests, “would you kindly persuade this man to reconsider our request?”
“For the record, I wouldn’t consider this sort of approach persuasive!” the poor man yelped.
“Just wait,” the lady devilishly said. “It’s about to be.”
“No, it’s not!” I declared, marching between Miss Hatter and the others. I was beginning to worry that if this carried on for much longer, the lady’s pink pistol might make an ugly little appearance. “Let’s all just settle down here!”
Miss Hatter sighed, clucked her tongue, and signaled to her army to reunite their captive with the ground. I nodded in tired appreciation.
“Forgive that,” I spoke to the man, looking nearly as weary as he did. “We’ll be on our way now. Very sorry.”
The man looked me over and surprised me by loosening his face into a smile.
“You’re having a long night, aren’t you?” he asked.
“The longest.”
“I’ll tell you what,” the gravedigger said with a tone of amusement. “I’m beginning to feel a bit generous.”
Generous?!? After being assaulted?!? The musicians must’ve shifted all the blood in his head to whatever corner sparks sympathy. Either that, or I looked even more beaten that I thought.
“Is that so?” I cautiously replied.
“I’ll make you a deal,” the man said. “I’ll let you boys tag along if you can provide me with an answer.”
“Answer?” Kitt repeated. “To what?”
The man chortled to himself. “My riddle.”
“You’re…you’re serious?” I asked, blinking.
“Sure.”
“Very well!” Miss Hatter answered on our behalf. “Ask this riddle of yours!”
Wonderful.
“All right,” the gravedigger said, clearing his throat and thumbing his pockets. “What do the dead have but do not need that the living need but cannot have?”
Kitt and I both pondered this question, but it was I who ultimately wagered a guess.
“Peace?” I suggested.
The thin man absorbed the word, and I could see his eyes roll back and forth as he thought upon it.
“Yes,” he said at last. “Yes, I like that.”
“Is that correct?” I cautiously asked. “The right answer?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the gravedigger replied. “I never had an answer myself. But I quite like yours, boy. Might spread it around, if-in’ ya don’
t object.”
“Sure,” I said, a touch baffled. “Go right ahead.”
He moved to the back of his vehicle and motioned for us to follow.
“Strange one,” Kitt said to me.
“No more than you and I.”
“True.”
I started after the gravedigger and Kitt pulled me back.
“What are you doing?” he said aside. “We can’t take a ride from this man!”
“Would you rather tell everyone about the Priest’s shuttle?” I whispered.
Kitt made a childish pout. “Fine.”
When we approached the digger, he opened a set of double doors at the rear of the machine. Inside was a long, near-empty compartment with a few shovels and other tools littered about.
“Hope you don’t mind a little cemetery dirt,” the man said to us, patting the dusty floor of the cabin.
“Not at all,” I wearily stated. “It’s starting to feel like home.”
Kitt went inside. I stood for a moment and smirked.
“Something funny?” the digger asked.
“Yeah, a little,” I admitted. “See, in all of the old stories I’ve heard, the hero answers a riddle to avoid riding away with Death.”
“Maybe you’re not the hero.”
I laughed and nodded. “I’ve been considering that myself for awhile, actually. And each day seems a little further from—”
“Just get in the back,” the gravedigger grunted.
I shut myself up and climbed in. Footsteps hurried behind me and Jessie Mae Hatter quickly appeared between the open doors.
“One more thing,” she said, softly tugging at my sleeve.
She took from her handbag a small, metal trinket and placed it in my palm. “Have this.”
I looked down at the token in my hand.
“A music box?” I asked.
“Play it when you need a little luck. Or at least a little cheer.”
I examined it.
“It’s broken.”
“Oh!” she said, peering into my hand. “So it is. The little windup lever’s missing. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry abo—“
“Well, it’s a small piece, but I must have it around somewhere. If it turns up, I’ll remember to send it your way.”
“That’s not necess—“
“Have a good night, you two. Or what’s left of it. And don’t forget to give your lady friend my regards.”
“I’ll try to—“
“Farewell!” she sang, swinging the doors shut almost ceremoniously. Kitt and I were left alone in the dreary dimness of the dirty compartment. I frowned. He frowned.
And then we rode away.
“Pocket…”
“What, Alan?”
“You wouldn’t have that music box on you now, would you?”
“I don’t know. Probably. I haven’t emptied out this coat in ever.”
“Could you check?”
“Why? What good’s a broken music box?”
“But it’s not really broken, now is it?”
“Might as well be, without its windup piece.”
“And what do you suppose that’d look like? Eh? Little bent piece of metal?”
“Sure, but that doesn’t…no…”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t think?!?”
“Check your coat, mate.”
“All right, just give me…hold on…yeah, I’ve got it! It’s right here!”
“That bit of metal, stick it in.”
“I am, I am! I…it works! Listen, that…that’s the song she was whistling. It’s—”
“It’s Lady Jay.”
“What? You mean the song? You recognize—”
“Lady Jay. I’d know it anywhere. Little ballad called ‘Sweet Nonsensical Love.’ Pretty song.”
“Oh. Peculiar.”
“No, it isn’t. I’ve told you. Lady Jay’s a hit right now. Lots of fans out there.”
“I know. I’ve come across those songs quite a bit. What I mean is, it’s peculiar that Miss Hatter would give it to me. For luck. What’s so lucky about some love song?”
“Well, music’s a distraction, Pocket. And I’ve heard enough of this tale of yours to know that you probably needed a good distraction at that point. Nothing luckier than being able to forget for a short while.”
“That’s your theory? Pfff…”
“Oh, stop glowering at me, Pocket. Here, spin the lever once more, and I’ll sing you the lyrics.”
“Why bother? I’m far past the point for needing luck.”
“Go on, go on. It’ll put a nice tune to your story.”
“If you insist, Alan.”
I watched the black-brown soil bounce and slide across the cabin floor as we were driven along through the city. Kitt and I sat opposite from each other, saying nothing. I thought of the Doll and my stomach started to turn in nervous anticipation of the possible reunion. I thought of her eyes.
“They say fate is just a word for those who’re lucky.
They say curse is just a word for those who fail.
They say words are just an easy fill for silence.
They won’t keep you warm when you are cold and pale.”
“Pocket?” Kitt asked, squeezing his hands around a dirty shovel.
“Yeah?”
“I have a question.”
“I told you before. I don’t need your questions right now, so—”
“When we were on the Lucidia, you kissed the Doll.”
I groaned under my breath. “That right,” I said, giving into his queries with great, sarcastic exhaustion. “I did. Really glad you saw that.”
“But I think all of that talk’s a little mucky.
I’d rather live a more enchanting tale.”
“Forgive me, but why?” Kitt said.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Felt like it. It just sort of happened.”
“So, that means you, um, have some sort of feelings for her, right?”
“Maybe,” I gruffly responded, sharply pulling my defenses back up. “Why? Do you?”
“No!” Kitt blurted, quite sincerely. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with her! I just…I don’t really feel that way about any girl. About anyone, I guess.”
“Oh,” I blinked. “Fair enough.”
“The waking world’s too prone to dreary violence.
It makes this young one feel so old and frail.”
Kitt thought for a moment and added, “As a sister, Dolly, maybe.”
I rolled my eyes to the side, and the moment of civility washed away as my memory re-established itself.
“A sister you’d sell, right?” I muttered. Even without looking, I could feel Kitt wilt down across the way.
“So it didn’t bother you at all?” he then quietly asked. “Kissing the Doll? I mean, you know, with her, uh, special pieces?”
“I used to know a man with a tin filling in one of his teeth. His wife kissed him all the time.”
“All the time?”
“As far as I could tell when I watched.”
“Why’d you watch so much?”
I looked at Kitt and again momentarily forgot that he was a traitor and I was a pauper and we were sitting on lumps of dirt tracked up from the dead.
“She was a pretty wife,” I smirked.
“Give me sweet, sweet,
sweet, nonsensical love.
Oh, give me the one that makes the smallest sense.
Darling, please, please,
please, just sonnets and doves.
All other loves are just so dull and dense.”
“You were right, Alan. It’s a nice song.”
“Thank you, Pocket.”
Eventually, we came to a slow halt. Without explanation, the gravedigger opened the door and led us outside.
“I don’t get it,” Kitt said. “Why are we stopping here?”
We were standing at the side of an old city plot inhabited only by large slices o
f broken, seemingly burnt debris frosted with tiny shards of broken glass that sparked like a cruel mockery of diamonds. The debris filled the space, making the shapes of large anthills.
“It’s as far as I can take ya,” the gravedigger said. “Rest of the block’s sealed off by the King. Has been all week.”
“All right,” I said, rubbing my brow. “To tell you the truth, we’re looking for an abandoned building in the area. Nevermind the reason. But maybe you know it. Used to be a watch shop.”
“Of course,” the digger said. “Laid the old man to rest myself.”
“The watchmaker?”
“That’s right. Such a pity when he passed. I remember the body. Emptied of the spirit, but still seemed so sad. You know the type, son? A gent so lonesome you can just see the ache and yearning in his eyes, even when they’re closed?”
“Yes sir,” I said. “I think I do.”
“So you do know the place, right?” Kitt inquired. “You can take us there?”
The soft-spoken man shook his head. “Take you?” he frowned. “You’ve already arrived.”
“What?” I responded.
He apologetically waved his hand at the pile of rubble.
“You’re here.”
My eyes widened, and I realized that I was shaking. I lifted my foot to the refuse beside it and pushed it away with the side of my boot heel. Revealed beneath were the singed remains of the great paper clock face that had once stood tall over the former shop.
“What happened?” I murmured.
“It burned,” the digger said. “The Magnates were removing the deceased’s former belongings when it happened. A report was released. Said the fire sparked by pure chance, some combination of weather and friction or something. Said it couldn’t be contained in time to save the building. To save anything.”
I didn’t speak a word. Kitt walked to my side and removed his hat. I foolishly did the same in some warped act of memoriam.
“Were you boys acquaintances with the man who kept shop here?” the gravedigger asked.
“Friends of the family,” Kitt softly replied.
“I see. Well, my sympathies to you both. I’m afraid I must take my leave now, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“It’s all right,” Kitt said in a hush.
“I’ll let you be, then. Hope to cross paths with you boys again someday.” The gravedigger made a quiet laugh. “Well,” he added, “given my profession, hopefully not too soon.”
Turnkey (The Gaslight Volumes of Will Pocket Book 1) Page 60