Spiros ducked through the passage opening at the far end of the room, disappearing into the shadows beyond. Despite the unusual urge to look back over my shoulder, I followed without question. I felt I needed to prove something to this stranger. His opinion mattered and not just because he made me nervous. He seemed to know something about me that I didn’t. Like an inside joke and I was the butt of it.
I expected him to let me lead the way out, but he moved through the cut, stone tunnels with ease. His larger frame seemed to have no trouble hunching over to make it through the archways and pipe-riddled ceilings. We didn’t speak until we reached the junction of tunnels and sewers. He stopped, grasped the metal ladder, and turned to look at me.
“We’ll come out near Russell Square. You’ll continue to the Museum. Your friend Terry will be collecting reports from you and giving them to me and Justin. I cannot stress the importance of this enough. You must not get caught. If you do, you’ll never mention my name, or anything you’ve seen about me, my employer, or any of my compatriots.”
The shadows broke his face in a macabre mask. “I’ll know if you betray us, and in that moment you’ll wish you had died.”
I just raised an eyebrow, trying to look cool and collected despite the fact that I could taste fear in the back of my throat. Blood roared in my ears. I didn’t know what Justin had gotten us into, but more was at stake here than some box.
He climbed up the ladder, pushing the metal grate to the side. I crawled out after him, taking stock of our surroundings. We were in a dark corner of the square. With ease he slid the metal grate back into place, saluted me with his cane, and sauntered off into the night.
I crouched on the ground, sucking in great mouthfuls of fresh air. After everything that had happened, I still had the lingering feeling of dreaming. I twisted the flesh of my arm viciously between two fingers. Pain shot up to my shoulder. Well, it had been a good try. I slunk through the shadows, staying away from the bright pools of light cast by the gas lamps and windows of the wealthy townhomes. The last thing I needed was to be reported to the police. A few moments later, I leaned against a brick wall in the darkness and sighed.
The British Museum’s imposing façade rose out of the gloom ahead of me like a giant beast, waiting for prey. Gas lamps sputtered in front, adding two eyes to the effect. I’d always liked looking through the galleries before. Now it seemed sinister.
I could hear the dull, throbbing heartbeat of the generator that ran this part of the city’s machinery. Buried under the street, I knew the museum had one to itself – an expensive proposition, but one that would work to my advantage. Phillip Alexander Belamordrey ran the furnaces that heated the steam engine’s boiler. His brother, Grant, had stayed with us for a while when things had gotten bad for them a few years ago. Now Grant had moved onto more honorable pursuits, and Phillip remained at the museum earning his keep shoveling coal.
That was my way into the building. Always had been. After this, he probably wouldn’t speak to me again. We had a strict no-steal policy between us. He would let me into the museum to browse after hours, and I promised not to take anything. This time, I wouldn’t be able to keep my end of the bargain.
I brushed off my skirt and pulled my wool coat closer. There was nothing left to think about. I didn’t have a choice. I skirted the museum, heading toward another entrance to the world beneath the streets. The grate Spiros had so easily moved back into place was far too heavy for me. Besides, I didn’t want him to know everything about my movements. I couldn’t see anyone watching me, but I had no doubts that someone crept through the shadows behind me.
I slid down the fence line and headed for a small gap in the brickwork at its base, partially hidden behind a couple of bushes. The hole was far too small for an adult, but I still fit easily between the walls.
The passage was uncomfortable, tight, and the walls were black with soot and smoke. My coat had been dirty enough before I headed down here. Now it would be almost impossible to clean. The only bonus was the warmth. The tunnel I inched down was really a vent to relieve some of the heat and smoke of the fires Phillip stoked. The bricks and the air swirled, pressing against me, making my body tingle with warmth. In the summer it was unbearable. Right now, I just wanted to curl up where I was and sleep.
The tunnel stopped, opening into a large room lit by the bright orange glow of three furnaces. Phillip sat at a table beneath me, a roasted drumstick pinched delicately in his massive hands.
“Hello!” he said, springing to his feet and offering me a hand. I climbed out onto the top of a shelf and he lifted me down.
“It’s good to see you, Phillip.” A smile broke across my face. He had an infectious grin I couldn’t resist.
“It’s been awhile since you stopped by, you know.” He took a plate from a cupboard next to the shelf and slid it to the other side of the cramped table. A cup followed. He poured lukewarm tea from a chipped metal teapot. My mouth watered at the sight of the brown liquid. I loved tea, but we didn’t often get any really good tea in the caverns. Phillip’s was always the best.
“I see you haven’t lost the knack of showing up just in time for dinner.”
I smiled. “Well, everyone should have a talent.”
His laugh echoed around us and he sat again, pushing the plate of roasted chicken and potatoes toward me. I helped myself.
I bit into the moist poultry and sighed.
For a moment we both chewed in silence.
“What’s got you so unsettled?”
Ah yes, the one other thing that makes Phillip a little dangerous. Somehow, and he could never explain it, he always knew just how to read my face. Even when no one else could.
“I’m not unsettled. Just anxious.” I bit into my meal with more force than necessary.
He made a noncommittal noise.
“There are some strange things going on is all. But Justin’s given me a mission, and I’m not to come back until I finish.”
Phillip’s brows rose to his hairline. “As important as all that?”
I shook my head. The food in my mouth suddenly tasted like dirt. “No, it’s not like that. Just the same as always, prove I know how to steal. I guess I figured I’d get a little culture while I was about it.”
He studied me, and I tried to keep my eyes anywhere but on his face.
“Well, just as long as you promise me again. No stealing from the museum.”
I nodded. “No stealing from the museum. I promise.”
I sighed and choked down a mouthful of tea. Inside my boots, every toe I could manage was crossed.
Chapter Three
Dinner sat like a heavy lump of coal in my gut as Phillip led the way up the service staircase into the museum. It didn’t matter how often we did this, I was always amazed that such a large man could be so quiet. His feet barely made a sound on the wooden treads.
At the top landing, he stopped and unlocked the door. One finger tapped under my chin gently. “You know the drill. Don’t get caught. I like this job.”
I smiled and wiped my sweating palms on my dress. The trust in his eyes made me feel lower than coal scum. Someday I’d think of a way to make this up to him.
“Thanks, Phillip.”
He patted me on the back and I slipped through the doorway into the dim interior of the museum. Two pedestals rose on either side, both capped with large, Greek vases. I peeked around the corner, checking for the one guard who would be patrolling.
Walter Freedman wasn’t fast, but he could be annoying. He’d caught me once, and I hadn’t been able to get close to the museum for weeks. He’d made a huge fuss. Enough to make me believe he would be able to recognize me on the spot should I be within spitting distance of the building.
I’d learned since that he could barely make out shapes through the huge pancake-thick lenses of his glasses. A smile crept across my lips at the memory of Walter flirting with an armless Aphrodite. It had taken almost five minutes before he’d reached out a
nd touched the cold marble and continued on his way. It had been during visiting hours that time. He hadn’t gone into the Greek and Roman wing for several weeks after that.
Tonight, there was no telling where he would be. I crouched, my fingers resting lightly on the wooden pedestal bolted to the floor. I strained my ears. Whispers echoed around me, but nothing human.
Listening to those whispers was one of the reasons I came after hours. People frowned on someone who spoke to the exhibits. I could hear the whole conversation, but I’d learned early that others just saw a daft teenager wandering the museum.
As a touch-know any object would tell me its secrets if I asked. But here, these objects had a mind of their own. They’d been worshipped, revered, bled for, started wars, and ended them. Many of them, over the course of centuries, developed a will of their own. At first it had frightened me. Now it was like visiting old friends. Sometimes they even asked me questions. Those were the ones I wondered about. Perhaps they held more than memories.
But I didn’t ask. I had enough problems.
I stood and padded across the room, keeping one ear open for Walter and another for anything unusual. Irritation made me frown. What good was this going to do? The collections were huge, and even more lay below in storerooms. Marble statues watched me in the low gaslight, waiting until I turned my attention to them. Gold and jewels glittered like the night sky outside London’s fog from heavy glass cases. How was I supposed to find one box when all I knew was that it was smallish and metal?
Thiss way.
The voice was metallic and almost seemed to be…hissing? I turned the corner, moving toward a series of cases with jewelry. Inside, next to large, beaten gold earrings, rested a simple gold armband. The head was a serpent, decorated with enamel and two large eyes. One was missing, but the other was made of a sparkling emerald.
This thing you sseek iss not in a casse. You mussst sspeak to the curator. Only he can help you.
I nodded; knowing in a strange way, the thing inside the jewels could see and understand. The armband of a hundred priestesses, it had its own sense of self. I murmured a thank you, turned to walk away and stopped short.
“You wouldn’t happen to know what it is, would you?” I got around the stupidity of asking ancient jewelry for information with the comfort of knowing no one else was there.
“What what is? And who are you talking to?” The rough voice bounced off the polished marble floor and made me jump.
A man leaned heavily on a crutch and watched me from beneath huge eyebrows that looked like frosted caterpillars. His eyes twinkled at me with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. A shock of salt and pepper hair spiked wildly around his head, and he was dressed in worn but well made clothes.
“I, well, um, I was talking to myself, sir.” I backed up then realized what I was doing and stopped. Not like there was anywhere to run anyway.
He laughed and moved next to me to stare into the case. He looked back at me for a long moment. “Most people try to steal the artifacts, not talk to them. But to each their own, I suppose.”
He leaned back against a large, marble pillar. “Now, please explain what you’re doing here.”
Words seemed to have left me. I couldn’t think of a single lie. With a sigh, I crossed my arms. “I was asking the jewelry about a special item I wanted to see.”
Not quite the truth, but not a lie.
One brow arched to his hairline, looking like it had crawled there. “You were asking the jewelry?”
I shrugged. He wasn’t looking at me like he’d call the loony bin, and I could’ve sworn I saw his lips twitch. Surprise wasn’t quite the emotion I’d have placed with his face.
“I’ve seen many people listening to the artifacts before, but never actively seeking information.”
My jaw dropped. “You’ve seen others listening? I mean, you think I was listening?”
His lips pulled into another wide grin. “My girl, if you hadn’t been so intent on that case, you’d have heard me coming.” He patted his right thigh where the trouser was neatly folded to the knee. “I’m not exactly the stealthy type.”
Embarrassment made my face burn. I hadn’t been so careless in a long, long time.
“Well, I’m assuming you’ve charmed Phillip or snuck in to escape the new edict Scotland Yard’s been promoting, yes? Can’t say I blame you. Grown men don’t want to work in those new factories and coal mines. I don’t see why a child would.”
My mouth opened and closed, but I took what he offered and ran with it. I hadn’t heard of this new edict, but it explained the extra patrols around the city. They were sending orphans to work. Cheap, expendable and renewable labor. It made my stomach turn. “I most certainly don’t want to go there.”
He jerked his head towards the center of the museum and pushed off from the column. “Come on then. You can sit with me and tell me all about the sweet nothings the artifacts have been whispering in your ear.”
I didn’t have much of a choice. This felt like a test. Beneath his friendly exterior, I caught a thread of steel. His last words were not an offer of friendship. They were a command. He wanted to know why I was here, and I needed to come up with something good.
He moved with surprising speed, considering the brass crutch he used. We passed through the Egyptian gallery, where he stopped beside a huge statue of a seated pharaoh and opened a service door hidden in the shadows. He motioned me inside.
He led the way through the dark hallway without a second glance. A small lantern was attached to the brass crutch, and before he closed the door, he struck a match, opened the tiny glass cover, and lit the candle inside. Then he latched it and led the way. The light from the candle bobbed in time to the movement of his crutch, but it lit the way well enough. Of course, I think it had been more for my benefit than his. He could have navigated the museum blindfolded, I’m sure.
The corridor we followed twisted around the museum, eventually descending down a short staircase and ending in a worn, wooden door. He twisted an iron key in the lock and pushed the door open, motioning for me to lead the way.
I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stop now. Even if I tried to run, I probably wouldn’t be able to find my way out in the dark.
“Have a seat, please.”
He opened the lantern and doused the candle then moved to the short, potbelly stove that sat in the corner. A pot of water steamed on the back, and he pulled it off, pouring some into a fine china teapot. He added it to a tea tray already prepared with two cups and a tray of biscuits and brought it over to sit on the end table between us.
Despite my affection for the drink, I was too nervous. I didn’t want to sit and sip tea with him. Chances were good that he would send me to Scotland Yard quicker than I could blink. My stomach churned and I pressed one hand against my belly. I didn’t need all this suspense beforehand.
“Now, if you please, who are you and why you were sneaking around my museum at this ungodly hour of the night.”
“My name is Genevieve.” I accepted the bone china cup from him. Acid tickled the back of my throat.
He sat down in a large wingchair across from me. “I’m Colonel David Worthington, the curator.”
Chapter Four
The teacup in my hand vibrated. Things were not going well. When the armband had told me I needed to speak with the curator, I hadn’t planned on doing it right then. There was supposed to be time to think of a plan. The walls seemed to be closer than they’d been before, and my breath came in short, shallow pants. I made an effort to collect myself. Panicking would do no good, and any reaction could give him power over me. Judging by the glint in his dark eyes, he knew what I was thinking.
“Are you going to make me guess?” he asked. Amusement tinged the edge of the words.
An image popped into my head. Another teen sat here, holding this cup, telling Colonel Worthington about his sordid childhood. Colonel Worthington comforting the orphan, offering him a full belly and a new
job. If it worked once…
“Don’t even think it, my dear.”
I froze. “What?”
“I can see it on your face. Don’t lie to me. I didn’t spend forty years in Her Majesty’s service to be fooled by a scrawny girl like you.”
My hackles rose. Anger simmered and I had to bite my tongue to keep a smart reply from my lips.
“I came to look at the artifacts. I like the museum.”
“Not to steal them?”
I held his gaze. “No.”
It was easy to say it and mean it this time. It wasn’t a lie. Tonight had been an attempt to locate the box. I hadn’t intended on taking it until later.
We sat like that for a few minutes, until he sat back into the chair with a mumbled curse. One side of his lips rose. “Ah, Genevieve, you remind me of someone.”
I sipped at the tea, letting the taste wash over my tongue and the heat thaw my insides. “I get that a lot.”
He cocked his head. “Could you have picked my pocket?”
The laugh escaped before I could stop myself. “I’m a horrible thief, sir.”
He chuckled. “Yes, well, I suppose you don’t have to be that good, with your talents.”
My grip on the handle of the teacup tightened. “What do you mean?”
He snorted and grabbed a biscuit from the tray he’d brought over. “You aren’t the first, you know. Many gangs of thieves have a touch-know. It’s good business practice, or so I’m told.”
Unexpected tears burned in my eyes and a twinge of pain echoed through my chest. Justin always made it sound as if I were unique, something special. He’d told me no one had anything like me. Another lie. The curator’s quick dismissal made me believe him indifferent, but I thought I caught a flash of curiosity floating across his craggy features.
“I suppose we’re good for that.” I couldn’t help the shiver in my words. He either didn’t notice or pretended not to. Either way, I was grateful. He held out the plate and offered me a biscuit.
Into the Ether Page 2