Wells shut the door behind them.
When he finally turned and faced her, he shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t know if you’re the bravest girl I’ve ever met or the daftest. What are you thinking walking in here like this?”
He gestured to her outfit.
“You think the street rat look would’ve worked better?”
“No, but… I don’t think you should be coming here dressed in any way.”
“I’m certainly not coming here in my birthday suit.”
“I didn’t mean…” He flushed bright. “Just have a seat. Please,” he added as walked around the desk and sank heavily into the chair. He had a run of stitches in an angry cut on his hand that made her think of Chaff and his injured hand.
Worry made her legs feel weak. She sat slowly, afraid to get too comfortable, but not sure she could stand steady in that moment.
“I should be locking you up, not giving you sensitive information.”
She tensed, gripping the chair arms.
“Don’t worry. I’m not planning on it. However, I’d be a sight more comfortable if I knew your proper name at least. I think we’ve come that far in our odd relationship.”
“Maeko.”
He actually smiled then and she shifted in her seat. Something about a Literati officer smiling at her made her distinctly uneasy.
“Not Maeko Harris, I’m betting.”
She said nothing.
“Good enough. I’m afraid the news about your friend isn’t good. They took him…” He trailed off, staring at the top of the desk.
She shifted to the edge of her seat. “What? Where did they take him?”
“You know, he begged me not to tell you, and after you had the audacity to walk in here, I think I can understand why. Still, I don’t suppose it matters much. You can’t do anything for him.”
The air had escaped her lungs, finding no return route with the corset and leaving her with a faintly panicky shortness of breath. “You have to tell me.”
“They took him to the new prison facility outside of the city.”
“Is Garrett Harris there too?”
Recognition lit his eyes. “I thought Harris sounded familiar. Yes, he is, but you’ll never get them out of there.”
“I have to.”
He sat forward, leaning his elbows on the desk and gave her a slow sympathetic shake of his head. “I’m sorry. There’s no way you’ll get into that place. You’d never get past the outer wall, let alone find the right building before they arrested or shot you.”
She chewed at her lip and closed her eyes, struggling against a heavy weight that pressed down on her chest. It couldn’t end this way.
She opened her eyes and Wells sat back away from her, resistance already building in his eyes.
“I could do it if you help me,” Maeko said.
“No. I’ve already told you more than I should have.”
“I can get past the outer wall if I go at night. I just need you to tell me what building he’s in.”
“You don’t listen too well.” He reclined in the chair, the resistance in his bearing almost equal to the determination in hers. “I said no. Even if you got to the right building, the place is crawling with guards.”
“Please. I have to try.” She twisted her hands together in her lap to resist the desire to start chewing at a nail.
He was beginning to look distraught, perhaps unintentionally mirroring her distress. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t help you. I don’t know what building they’re keeping him in.”
She gave him that special pleading look that so often got her what she wanted. “You could find out. And you could find out when the shifts change. I just need a little more information.”
Wells shook his head and clenched his jaw. He stood up and walked to the door, grabbing the handle.
“I’m an officer of the Literati. I can’t help you with this.” He opened the door and gestured for her to leave.
Her throat tightened. I will not cry. As she stood up, one traitorous tear slipped free. She lowered her gaze, wiping it away with a fierce swipe of her hand.
Wells slammed the door shut again. “Bloody birds and their bloody tears!”
That sounded promising. She looked up hopefully, letting another tear go free.
“Meet me back here in two nights. If I can find anything out, I’ll tell you. But I’m not promising anything.” He opened the door again and swept a hand in front of himself to usher her out.
Maeko grinned. On the way past, she popped up on her toes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
“Don’t be doing that.” He followed her out, speaking a low voice. “If anyone saw that, do you know what they’d say?”
The blond officer in Whitechapel came to mind and she nodded. The perfect cover. “I suspect they may say those things anyway. Besides, you liked it.”
Wells escorted her down the hall muttering something about birds under his breath.
CHAPTER FIVE
The hour was getting late. Full dark entombed the city and Maeko was already at least a half hour late when she made it back to the rendezvous in Whitechapel. Crimson wasn’t there, which raised the question of whether she had come and gone already or simply hadn’t arrived yet. A couple shady-looking blokes stood on the corner. One wore a tattered waistcoat that was a few sizes too big. The other wore a shirt tucked in on one side and mismatched boots. Both had hair and beards in desperate need of a wash and trim, even by the standards of a street rat. It made sense to find a place to hole up out of sight nearby rather than linger in the open with such types around. The city felt more hostile than she liked. Passers-by looked long at her, their gazes heavy. The weight of being noticed made everything around her feel too close.
It had a good deal to do with the way she was dressed as much as any real change in the city, she suspected. Then again, with the rising tension between the Lits and the Pirates, the danger could also be very real.
Maeko changed directions to move away from the two shady blokes, but not before she felt their eyes on her.
“Hey, poppet, where you going?” One nudged the other, and they broke into a trot to cross the street.
She hadn’t thought to bring any kind of weapon, dressed as she was, and the few other people out on the street weren’t of a sort likely to offer assistance. Where were the Literati officers when you actually needed them?
She quickened her pace, torn between trying to outrun the men and not getting too far away from the rendezvous. Given that she still wasn’t that comfortable in heeled dress boots, she decided to continue as she was and hope they would lose interest.
What if Crimson had come and gone?
The thought made her stomach do flips.
The two men fell into step on either side of her. They smelled of liquor, vomit, and urine, a stench that didn’t do much for her confidence. The one on the left had a crooked nose and a flat cap pulled low on his brow, shadowing his eyes. He wore no coat and had a knife at his belt. The man on her right wore a threadbare, tattered frock coat that he’d probably pulled out of some toff’s ashbin.
“It ain’t polite to ignore a bloke that’s talkin’ to ye.”
“Nor is it proper to speak with strange men on the street,” she returned sharply. The chill air had gone suddenly colder, as if a frost were on the way.
“It ain’t real proper fer a young lass to be out on her own. Ye must be lookin’ fer somethin’ you oughtn’t be.”
“I can assure you that I’m not looking for you.” Crimson, now would be a fine time to show up. Please.
The bloke in the frock coat grabbed her arm and she spun, jerking away, only to run into the man with the flat cap who had stepped around behind her. He took hold of her shoulders, his grip not painful, but far from gentle.
“How can ye know if ye don’t give a bloke a try?”
The man in the coat stepped closer. Her heart felt like it was in her throat now. She reached back, fel
t the hilt of the knife on the other man’s belt. She brought her knee up into the groin of the man in front, then brought her heel down hard on the foot of the man behind her. The man in front staggered backward and curled over, his hands cupped over his groin, his face flushing brightly.
The grip on her arms loosened and she spun away, taking the knife with her and holding it up in threat.
The man in the flat cap looked from her to his companion and back again, his eyes wide and a bit crazy. “Ye bloody harlot!”
“Leave me alone,” she warned.
He sneered and lifted his leg to pull another, bigger knife from his boot.
Of course he would have another knife.
She shifted her stance, silently cursing the heavy folds of fabric that hung around her legs. The man in the coat had backed up into a wall and remained there, groaning. She’d landed a solid hit. The man in the flat cap shifted into a fighting stance that he looked all too comfortable with.
She heard the sound of hooves clattering on the cobbles moments before a coach drawing up behind him caught her eye, the two black horses wonderfully familiar.
In her second of distraction, the bloke darted in at her. She danced back and her heel caught the hem of the dress, almost taking her down. She grabbed out with her free hand and caught his arm, tipping him off balance as well. His blade cut a stinging shallow gash in her bicep.
She twisted, using the offset of his weight to regain her own balance, then let go. He stumbled past, catching his feet after a few staggering strides. She poised to fend him off when he turned, but this time he held up his hands and started to back away. Seconds later, Maeko saw why. Crimson walked up with a pistol in her hand and a finger on the trigger. Her emerald eyes flashed with hatred.
“You two boys best be on your way,” Crimson warned.
The man with the flat cap backed up several steps, then turned and ran, leaving his companion behind. Crimson glanced at the second man who still didn’t appear to be able to offer much threat and holstered her gun.
“Sorry I was late. Looks like you had things mostly under control though.”
Maeko lowered the knife and pulled at the bloody slash in her dress sleeve. “Bugger ruined my dress.”
Crimson laughed. “Come along. We’ll have Marta see to the dress and your mother see to the cut.”
On the ride back, Maeko pressed a handkerchief to the cut to stop the bleeding while she filled Crimson in on what she had gotten from Wells.
The woman shook her head and cursed under her breath. “This isn’t good news, but we’ll talk to Drake tomorrow and come up with a plan.”
“Why not tonight?”
Crimson laughed lightly, shaking her head so that her mane of wavy red hair swayed back and forth. “You are a fierce little thing. It’s late. If Drake isn’t still out, he’ll be asleep. Tomorrow will be here sooner than you realize.”
Maeko accepted the answer with grudging reluctance. She rode along in silence, her arm stinging from the cut. Her fingers felt cool and tingly in the wake of the fight. Her heartbeat slowed toward normal.
Once they got back, they woke Tomoe to tend the shallow cut. She did so with her lips pursed tightly in disapproval the whole time, though she kept her thoughts to herself. Then, despite her eagerness to make progress, Maeko crawled into the bed and petted Macak while he lectured her for leaving without him. Then she drifted off to the sound of his purring.
#
It seemed like only minutes had passed when someone shook her gently awake.
“Mae.”
Ash. “Are you in my room again?” She buried her face in the pillow.
“Looks that way.”
“Is the sun out?” Her voice came out muffled by the pillow.
“No.”
“Wake me when it is.”
He exhaled a small chuckle. “You know this is London, right?”
She pulled the covers over her head.
“You know its noon, right?”
Noon! Why was she so sodding tired? She pulled the covers off her head and rolled onto her side to look at him. “Is it really?”
He nodded.
“I need to talk to Drake.” She pulled her arm out of the covers.
Ash caught her wrist, his eyes going to the fresh bandage. “What’s that?”
“A little cut. It’s nothing.”
“What did you do last night when you went to town with Crimson?”
She pulled her arm away and rubbed her eyes. “Information gathering.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, making the sheets pull tight across her. “Why won’t you tell me what you’re up to?”
“Because you don’t like me taking risks.”
“I’m not that daft. I know you’re doing it, even if you don’t tell me about it. Maybe I could be of some help.”
She stared at the ornate ceiling and blew out a heavy breath. “I know. I have a feeling I could use your help on this next adventure anyway, but I have to talk to Drake first.”
Without waiting for the request this time, Ash got up and retrieved her clothes for her. Then he moved away and stood with his back to her. Sometime while she was gone, Tomoe, apparently weary of seeing her scars, had hung blankets over all the mirrors in the room, so Maeko climbed out of the covers this time.
“Where’s Macak?” She pulled her nightdress off.
“Your mum brought him out this morning. Crimson said some bloke wanted to look at the leg and took him off to do secret things only special people get to know about.”
“Ash.”
“Mae.” He matched her exasperated tone perfectly.
She balled up the nightdress and threw it at him. It hit him in the head and landed by his feet. He glanced down at it.
“Do that again and I’ll turn around and throw it back at you.”
She began to pull her shirt on with renewed haste. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
She hurried into the rest of her clothes. “Done. Do you know where Drake is?”
Ash turned. He gave her an appraising look. “Your hair is growing out fast. I like it longer.”
She walked to the vanity and pulled a brush out of the drawer. Her hair was getting longer, which meant it was probably a mess. Ash walked up behind her and reached around to pull the blanket off the mirror, leaning in close enough that she could feel the warmth of him. Doing her best to ignore him, she started to rake the brush through her hair. He caught her hand and took the brush away.
She met his eyes in the reflection. “Don’t.”
“Shut up, sit down, and let me brush your hair.” He pulled out the chair in front of the vanity. His look promised a war if she refused.
Reluctantly she sat, and he began to run the brush through her hair with far more care than she had. It felt lovely, but she had a purpose and she couldn’t let anything distract her from it.
“Drake?”
“He’s been in the second-floor study since he got back.”
“Back?”
“Yes. He left with five other blokes not long after you left yesterday. He got back a few hours ago and vanished into the study with two of them. He looked really brassed off. Crimson joined them just before I came in here.”
She glanced up sharply, meeting his pale eyes in the reflection again. “She didn’t stay with Macak?”
He grinned. “Relax. They don’t seem like the type of people who would torture cats.”
“Neither did Lucian.”
He stopped brushing and gave her a startled look. “What?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter now.” She took advantage of his pause and stood up. “I need to talk to Drake.”
“I wouldn’t go in there,” he warned.
“You’re not going to.” She turned and hurried out the door, not giving him time to argue.
She heard the brush clatter down on the vanity as he hurried after her, falling into pace beside her in the hallway. “What do you ne
ed to talk to him about?”
“I’ll tell you after I talk to him.”
Anger started to flush his cheeks.
“Promise,” Maeko said.
“Fine. I’ll be waiting.”
She nodded and made her way to the study. Ash stopped at the end of the hall and let her continue alone though she could feel his irritated gaze following her. Outside the door, she hesitated for a moment. Should she knock? Probably so if she meant to stay in Drake’s good graces. She knocked lightly.
Crimson opened the door. Maeko ducked in under her arm. She wasn’t going to give them a chance to send her away. At least she had knocked.
Drake stood by one tall window staring out and two other haggard looking men stood near the desk in the center of the room. No one was sitting. An air of tension and frustration filled the room. Crimson pursed her lips and gave a tiny shake of her head at Maeko, but shut the door behind her.
Drake glanced over his shoulder at her then faced out the window again. He pressed his thumb against the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. He looked tired. No, more than that, he looked disheartened.
“Maeko. Crimson already told me what you learned.” He opened his eyes and continued to stare out the window. The other two men regarded her with sympathetic looks, and she felt a sinking in her chest. “I’m familiar with the facility in question. I had Captain Eli pass over it in an airship just yesterday. I’m afraid any rescue attempt would be much too risky.”
That explained the sympathetic looks. Crimson placed a hand on her shoulder. She shook it off and moved around the side of the desk.
“Chaff and Garrett are both there. We have to help them. You promised.”
Drake turned on her suddenly, the motion so quick and full of anger that she took a hurried step back.
“I lost two of my best men last night getting my shipment back from the Literati. I will not needlessly risk more, not even for Garrett.”
“And certainly not for some street rat,” she hissed.
The Girl and the Clockwork Crossfire Page 4