Liliana stared at the ceiling streaked with rays of early morning light streaming in through the nearby window. She’d stayed inside as Hamlet had requested, and now another night was lost.
She turned on her side and pulled the blanket up over her face, then groaned as a knock sounded at the door. She wasn’t expecting visitors. Had Catherine perhaps returned to see if she would offer help? She hoped not. With everything else going on, she’d completely forgotten about Catherine’s predicament. Of course, now that Hamlet was no longer associating with the LN, there would be nothing she could do for Catherine. She’d have to find gainful employment somewhere else.
She stumbled out of bed and quickly donned a coat over her white shift before hurrying to the door. She climbed onto her stool and peered through the peephole, exhaling in relief to see Ephraim waiting outside.
She quickly hopped to the ground, moved her stool, and turned all the locks before opening the door.
Before she could say anything, Ephraim strode inside. “The Captain of the Watch is dead,” he announced, turning toward her. “There were no signs of foul play or self-harm. He is simply dead, and now we may never solve the case behind his confession.”
Liliana glanced outside, noting the cobblestones damp with melting snow, then slowly closed the door. Sighing, she leaned against it. “Dead?” she questioned, waiting for her thoughts to catch up to her.
“Quite,” Ephraim replied.
She sighed and turned a few of the locks on the door before tightening the sash of her long coat. Sufficiently covered, she walked past Ephraim toward the sofa and sat. She then waited patiently for him to join her, which he did with a huff of exasperation, removing his fedora as he sat.
“I questioned Hamlet about the blue liquid,” she explained, “but all I managed to learn was that it was created by the London Network. He advised I not look into it further.”
Ephraim narrowed his pale eyes at her. “And you intend to follow this advice?”
“No,” she replied after a moment’s hesitation, “but my thoughts are currently preoccupied with what will happen in two day’s time.” She frowned. “Actually, it was two more days yesterday, which could mean that Hamlet’s plan may come to fruition as early as midnight tonight, or as late as midnight tomorrow, depending on how you look at it.”
Ephraim shook his head, biting his lip in a rare show of frustration. “We must learn of his plan by midnight then. We simply cannot trust that all will be well. Too many have died already.”
She waited for him to go on, but he remained silent, still chewing on his lip. Something about the Captain’s death had riled him, and he was not easily riled. He’d seen far worse than a single death in the past month, so what could it be?
She waited patiently for several more seconds, then cleared her throat. “Was there something in particular about the Captain’s death that has upset you?”
He seemed to startle, then turned to glare at her. “I’m not upset.”
She raised an eyebrow, then glanced down at his hands, gripping his knees painfully tight. “Clearly not.”
He sighed, then released his knees. “Christoph, the Captain, was someone I once considered a friend. He was the reason I’ve remained a detective for as long as I have, after various . . . infractions.”
She furrowed her brow. “But he framed you for murder.”
Ephraim nodded as his gaze went distant. “Yes, precisely why I’d like to get to the bottom of this. Framing me, I can understand. We all fear death to varying degrees, but most of us don’t see it coming. He knew his death was imminent, and he did what he had to do to prevent it. But the confession . . . ” he trailed off, then shook his head. “The confession I do not understand. He would not go to such great lengths to save his own life, only to give it up, and knowing he had nothing else to lose, he would not have allowed anyone to threaten him into confessing.”
Liliana was beginning to see his point. She’d thought the confession odd from the start, but had speculated that perhaps the Captain had been struck by conscience. With the new information, she did not think that the case. A man who would frame not only his colleague, but his long-time friend for murder did not have a conscience.
Seeming to see something encouraging in her expression, he continued, “Hamlet and this blue liquid both have something to do with his confession. While we do not know what Hamlet plans, I believe it’s safe to assume it’s something big. There will likely be risks, and if he dies along with Christoph, I fear we’ll never have answers.”
Liliana inhaled sharply. She truly hadn’t considered the idea of Hamlet coming to harm. He seemed so . . . invincible. Yet, if his plan went awry and he ended up dead, what would become of Arhyen?
She stood abruptly. “I agree. We simply must find out what Hamlet is planning. Someone else has to know. A man tried to kill me yesterday based on my associations with him.”
“A man tried to kill you!” he barked. “Why didn’t you start with that? Here I’ve been blathering on about my suspicions-”
“I apologize,” she interrupted. “Honestly, I had forgotten about it until now. It wasn’t much of a scene. Hamlet dispatched him quickly.”
Ephraim leaned forward in his seat, raising a hand to his brow as he shook his head. “Please,” he began patiently, “when we have our meetings, please lead with such information.”
Liliana rolled her eyes, then trotted across the apartment to fetch her dress. “Where will we go first?” she questioned over her shoulder, gathering the fabric in her arms. “I’m sure there’s someone we could question. At the very least perhaps they’ll try to kill us and Hamlet will appear again.”
Seeming to regain his composure, Ephraim stood and tsked at her. “You can’t depend on Hamlet’s appearance every time someone tries to kill you.”
She smirked. “I don’t depend on it, but it is rather convenient when I’m trying to find him . . . ” she trailed off as her thoughts suddenly jumped to another subject.
“You know it’s frightening when you smile like that,” Ephraim commented.
She chuckled. “My apologies, but I just realized who we can question first, or really, who we can hire to give us answers.”
Ephraim scoffed. “My dear, I don’t know if you realize this, but Arhyen has left you with very little coin.”
She batted her eyelashes at him as she made her way toward the bathroom, her dress slung across her arm. “Who said we’d be spending my coin?”
He sighed and slumped back down onto the sofa. “At least tell me who we’ll be hiring?”
“Arhyen’s mother,” she replied. She was about to seal herself within the bathroom, but hesitated. Ephraim would not want sympathy, but . . . “I’m sorry about your friend. Even after all that he put you through, I’m sure the loss is painful.”
He glared at her for a moment, then his expression softened as he gave her a slight nod. He appreciated the sympathy, even though he would not acknowledge it further.
“Get your coin ready,” she sighed, hoping to lighten the mood. “I’m sure Catherine does not come cheap.”
She could hear Ephraim cursing as she shut the door behind her, but she hardly listened. She had a new direction, and she was prepared to run with it, especially now that she’d considered the dangers of what might happen after midnight.
One way or another, she needed to ensure Arhyen’s safety, even if Hamlet’s plans went up in flames in the process.
Chapter 5
“Tell me again why you have this woman’s address?” Ephraim hissed as they crept toward the rundown building.
It was around noon, so the city was alive with the chatter of bustling ladies and steam horns, flavored with the scent of cooking food and baking bread. Liliana’s mouth watered at the thought of a pastry from the nearby shop, but they had other matters to attend to.
Though the address Catherine had given her was two blocks west of Market Street, she and Ephraim were currently safe from the view of
any onlookers. Only those looking for trouble traveled the backstreets, and most of those types tended to keep their eyes to themselves.
“She wanted me to put her in touch with Hamlet,” Liliana muttered, scanning the building’s roof for hidden threats.
“What is with that automaton?” Ephraim grumbled. “Suddenly he’s the most popular man in London.”
Assuming Ephraim’s question was rhetoric, Liliana hurried forward, closing the distance to the heavy metal door of the building. It appeared to be a warehouse, with few windows, and dingy, gray-brick walls three times taller than any shop.
Ephraim followed closely behind her, then took the lead as they reached the door. He lifted his hand to knock, then seeming to think better of it, he tried the handle. The door opened inward with a long, metallic creak.
He poked his head into the shadowy interior, then withdrew it to look at Liliana. “Are you sure this is the correct address?”
She nodded. This was the address on the paper handed to her by Catherine. Always wary of a trap, Liliana held a finger to her lips to silence Ephraim, then leaned her head toward the open door.
He glared at her indignantly, but obeyed.
She strained to focus only on noises coming from within the building, but it was difficult with Market Street so near. Her hearing was much better than a human’s, but because of that she often found herself distracted by ambient noise.
She stuck her head a little further into the dark building. She could hear the occasional scuffle of feet, and murmuring voices, all coming from one of the upper floors.
She withdrew her head. “There are people upstairs,” she explained, looking up at Ephraim. “I can’t say for sure how many, but I’d guess only four or five. They seem to be relaxed, not waiting in ambush.”
“Likely vagrants,” Ephraim observed. He stuck his head into the building again, then withdrew it with a sour expression, “judging by the smell.”
Liliana nodded, having noticed the stale scent as well. It seemed Catherine truly was in dire straits if she would stoop to staying in such a place.
“Let’s go,” she muttered, suddenly feeling guilty for turning Catherine away at all.
Catherine had never done her any favors, nor had she helped Arhyen for that matter, but she was his mother. She was his creator, just as Fairfax Breckinridge had been Liliana’s. She might have mixed feelings toward her late father, but she would always be grateful to him for granting her existence. If she found him in a rundown building amongst other vagrants, she would undoubtedly try to help him . . . although she’d never get that chance since he was dead.
Ephraim followed behind her silently as she inspected the lower floor of the building. Once they’d walked inside the voices upstairs had gone quiet, perhaps worried that an officer of the Watch had come to vacate them. With the nights growing icy cold, such an eviction could possibly mean death.
Not feeling overly worried that any of the building’s inhabitants would attack her, she hurried across the open expanse, marred only by a few crates and some scraps of paper and dust, then up a set of steel stairs. She and Ephraim reached the second story to find the scent of smoke heavy in the air, as if lanterns and candles had been blown out upon their appearance. She could see a few forms huddled together on the far side of the room, though she wasn’t sure if Ephraim could see them in the limited light.
“Catherine?” she called out, not wanting to worry the building’s inhabitants more than necessary. She wasn’t there to chase them out.
The figures huddled at the other side of the room muttered softly to each other, then went silent.
Liliana could barely make out the piles of debris around them, but it seemed like they’d amassed quite a few blankets, and had used crates to form partial walls, topped with now-dark lanterns.
“I’m just looking for Catherine,” she called again. “If you can point me toward her, I will leave you in peace.”
Ephraim stood perfectly still at her side, allowing her to do the talking.
“They took her!” a small voice called out.
There was a hiss of admonishment and a light rasp of impact, like someone swatting someone else.
“Took her where?” she questioned.
She could see a bit of struggle taking place amongst the huddling figures. Ephraim stepped forward, his hand on his pistol, but Liliana reached out and touched his arm to calm him. She presumed that due to the darkness, he feared they might be attacked.
The struggle across the room ended, and a small figure wrapped in a heavy blanket trotted toward them. As it neared, Liliana realized it was a young girl, likely ten or eleven. Her dirty face was framed by a halo of tangled blonde hair, though it was difficult to tell the exact color in the limited light.
“They took her,” the girl said again, looking down shyly.
Liliana took a step toward her and knelt down to her level. She’d never really spent any time around children, and was unsure of how to address the young girl, so she’d have to just speak to her like she would any other adult.
“Who took her?” she questioned softly.
The girl glanced over her shoulder to the waiting huddled forms, likely her parents, too cowardly to step forward and protect their daughter from the threat of strangers.
She turned back toward Liliana, then glanced past her toward Ephraim, a wary look in her eyes.
“It’s alright,” Liliana comforted. “We won’t tell anyone you’re here.”
Turning back to her, the girl nodded. “My mom and brother weren’t here when they came, so I hid. I saw them take the old lady. She said her name was Catherine.”
“Who were they?” Liliana asked softly.
The little girl shrugged, bunching up the blanket around her shoulders. “They wore uniforms and all looked the same.”
Liliana glanced back at Ephraim.
“She could be referring to anyone,” he muttered, “officers of the Watch or the Queen’s Guard, or mill workers or bakers. They all dress the same as their peers.”
“They had fancy hats,” the girl chimed in.
Ephraim gazed down at her. “Can you describe these fancy hats?”
The girl stepped back, clearly afraid.
“It’s okay-” Liliana began, but was cut off as one of the huddled figures hissed, “Nora!”
The little girl looked worried for a second, then hurried back into the darkness where her parents waited. “Leave us be!” the same voice hissed.
“I see they finally gathered their courage,” Ephraim commented caustically.
“Should we question them further?” Liliana whispered. That the men’s hats were fancy surely narrowed the search, but the girl could probably tell them more.
Ephraim shook his head. “Leave them be. I believe the girl is either talking about the Watch or the Queen’s Guard, and given the Guard would have no reason to infiltrate this building to arrest someone like Catherine, it was most likely the Watch.”
With one final glance at the huddled figures, Liliana turned back toward the stairs and began to descend. “So where do we go from here?” she questioned softly as Ephraim moved to descend at her side.
“Do we truly need to find this woman?” he asked. “It seems to me she would have been convenient, but now she has become less so. Perhaps our time would be better spent turning our efforts elsewhere.”
Liliana bit her lip in thought, nearly stumbling on the final step before reaching the bottom floor. He might be right. They were running out of time, and she didn’t even know if Catherine would be able to help them learn anything new. If she had now been arrested by the Watch, questioning her without witnesses might prove difficult, and might very well be a waste of time.
“Perhaps,” she agreed with a sigh. “Though it would ease my mind to know she was arrested for something minor, and does not face execution.”
“I’ll look into it if we survive,” he replied, holding open the building’s front door. “Honestly though,�
�� he continued, stepping out into the dreary light, “I’m not sure why you’d be concerned with her at all.”
“She’s Arhyen’s mother,” she replied instantly, scanning the narrow street for signs of danger. Her encounter with Wilfred was fresh on her mind now that she was out in the open, disobeying Hamlet’s recommendation.
“And?” Ephraim questioned.
Liliana shook her head and started walking as Ephraim let the door swing shut behind them. “What about your parents? “ she questioned. “Would you care if they were arrested?”
“My parents were both killed in a coal carriage accident,” he stated bluntly, scanning the passersby as they reached Market Street.
That didn’t exactly answer her question, but given his parent’s grim fates, she decided not to press the issue further. “So,” she began, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. “If we’re not going to find Catherine today, where shall we go next?”
Watching any who passed them by like a hawk, Ephraim did not glance down at her as he replied, “We seek out the contacts we interviewed before Arhyen and I were arrested. If one of them knew to attack you to get to Hamlet, others will too.”
Liliana frowned as they left the alley and started walking down the busy street. “But won’t they just attack both of us?”
“Most likely,” he replied, “but we just have to corner one long enough to question them.”
Her frown deepened. “It seems wrong to now go after the people who gave us information in confidence.”
He snorted. “You said it yourself, they’ll likely attack us first. You don’t owe them anything.”
“Still,” she muttered, “I wish there was another way.”
He sighed, finally glancing at her. “Empathy for all will get you killed, my dear. You’re better off saving it for the few who offer you the courtesy in return.”
She went silent after that, walking along with a new prominent thought on her mind. She felt . . . empathy? That surely wasn’t something her father had given her. She couldn’t help but wonder, did Hamlet somehow feel it too?
Under Clock and Key (The Thief's Apprentice Book 3) Page 5