Her brow furrowed in confusion as she shook her head. “He said he did not expect me to be there, so he fled.”
“But he had already killed your father,” Ephraim added. “Why not kill you as well?”
“Because she’s somehow part of his plan,” Arhyen decided.
He’d already thought Hamlet unhealthily concerned with Liliana, and now there was just too much proof to deny it any longer. His mind flashed again to the masked figure watching them in the woods.
“He left her alive,” Arhyen explained, “then followed me on my journey to retrieve the journal. He followed me all the way to the compound, yet, he did not steal the journal until we were back in the city. If he was only concerned with that, he could have taken it right away. Instead, he waited until Liliana was in London.” He turned toward her. “This is all the more reason for you to leave the city. He wanted you to be here.”
She met his gaze defiantly. “It’s all the more reason for me to confront Hamlet once more and finally learn just why my father had to die. Why so many others have died. And,” she pointed to the vial still in Ephraim’s grasp, “I will learn just what that is, and why it killed Christoph. I will not let the same fate befall you.” She aimed her unyielding gaze at Arhyen.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. Had this been the LN’s plan all along? Make him well long enough to be of use, then let their concoction kill him, tying up all loose ends?
He turned to Ephraim. “That vial, along with two others, is my main source of leverage. I claimed I would distribute them to trustworthy contacts, who would then demonstrate the serum to the public, should I be killed. As I need to get Liliana out of the city, I must leave that task to you.”
Ephraim crossed his arms. At first Arhyen thought he might deny his request, then he smirked. “I’ll do as you ask, but first I’d like to watch your attempt at convincing her to leave. I suspect it will be quite entertaining.”
“Yes, quite entertaining,” Liliana echoed stubbornly.
Arhyen slumped onto the sofa with a groan. “You don’t seem to understand. I’ve risked them finding you in coming here. The actual London Network did not know of this apartment, or much about any of us, but now surely I was followed. I came here now, because I could not risk them finding this place later, with you still around.” He turned his gaze up to her. “You must leave today. There is no other choice.”
Tears began to stream down her face. She peered down at him, utterly betrayed.
“I’ll give you two a moment,” Ephraim muttered, then made his way toward the door. With a few soft clicks, he let himself outside.
Once they were alone, Liliana’s tears flowed more heavily.
He sighed. “Liliana, I-”
“How dare you,” she hissed, interrupting him. “I have been waiting here for weeks, not knowing if you were alive or dead. When I tried to rescue you, Hamlet claimed I would only put you in danger. I have been utterly helpless. I swore to myself when I first came to London that I would never feel as helpless as I did when I was with my father, yet here I was.”
“Liliana, I was only trying to-” he began, trying to calm her, but she persisted.
“No,” she snapped. “I don’t want to hear about what you were trying to do. You should have swept me off my feet with a kiss. Then you should have asked me how I’ve been. Then we should have formulated a plan together, utilizing both our strengths, and supplementing for each other’s weaknesses. That’s how a partnership works.”
He was utterly dumbfounded. She truly wanted him to sweep her off her feet with a kiss? He would have gladly obliged had he known he was allowed, and had he not been solely focused on the idea of keeping her alive.
She was glaring at him, red faced, panting after her outburst.
He did the only thing he could think to do. He stood, wrapped his arms around her, then swept her off her feet with a kiss.
Liliana’s heart threatened to escape her throat. Though she’d wanted Arhyen to kiss her, she hadn’t expected him to right then and there. The stubble on his chin tickled her face, reminding her that he’d spent the past weeks in captivity. She suddenly felt a bit guilty for her outburst. At least she’d been free.
She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist as he slowly pulled his mouth away from hers. She didn’t actually regret expressing her anger one bit since it had gotten her what she wanted, but really, he didn’t deserve it. She had no idea what he’d been through.
A knock preceded Ephraim’s re-entry. Startled, Liliana pulled away and hopped back several paces, blushing furiously.
Ephraim watched her with a raised brow as he shut the door behind him. “If you two are quite through, I believe London will soon be in utter chaos, and we should probably do something.”
“What?” she and Arhyen blurted in unison.
“I walked down the street to the intersection and witnessed a few people running past,” he explained. “More buildings have caught fire with people inside them, and there are rumors that London Bridge has suffered explosion damage.”
Liliana chewed her lip in thought. Would these be isolated incidents like the others, or was London really about to go up in flames?
“I was supposed to have more time than this,” Arhyen groaned. “I was supposed to help the LN locate Hamlet before it was too late.”
“I’d wager he’s still working his way up to his finale,” Ephraim suggested. “There may still be time.”
“To turn him in?” Liliana interrupted, not thinking before she spoke.
Would she argue such a plan? Hamlet had admitted to killing her father after all, but he’d also saved her life on multiple occasions, and now he’d saved Arhyen’s life twice, no, wait, three times, she internally corrected, thinking back to the tale of Arhyen and Ephraim nearly dying in a smelter. He may have lied to her, but could she betray him now after all he’d done?
Clearly reading her hesitation, Arhyen approached and gently took her hands in his. “He has killed countless people,” he said softly, “and now he is killing indiscriminately, just to prove a point. Regardless of how we feel about the London Network, Hamlet must be stopped, and in stopping him, there is the chance that we may finally be safe.”
She chewed her lip hard enough to nearly draw blood. She knew he was right, but it just didn’t feel right. The sick feeling in her gut told her this was not a decision she should be making.
“Let us find him,” she breathed. “Perhaps he can be convinced to stop what he’s doing.”
Arhyen nodded, then pulled away. “Perhaps,” he sighed, then reached into the same pocket from which he’d withdrawn the blue-filled vial, only this time, he produced a black-filled one. He handed it to her. “If we cannot reason with him, we only need to convince him to drink this. It will cause his nervous system to shut down long enough for him to be destroyed.”
Barely breathing, she stared down at the vial in her hand. “I thought you said we were turning him in.”
“Yes,” he replied. “Dead or alive. When it comes to Hamlet, we all know the only real option.”
She wrapped her fingers around the small vial, then buried her hands in the folds of her skirt to hide their trembling. She knew why Arhyen had handed her the vial. If anyone could convince Hamlet to drink, it was her. The only question was, could she do it? Could she avenge her father’s death by killing Hamlet?
She supposed the more appropriate question was, did she want to?
Chapter 8
The vial of poison felt heavy in Liliana’s coat pocket. She watched as Arhyen moved around the apartment, preparing himself for the trials to come. Ephraim remained with them, not wanting to risk returning to Watch Headquarters, only to lose track of her and Arhyen in the chaos. They’d placed one vial of the blue liquid into a small safe hidden under a tile in the bathroom, and Ephraim and Liliana each took one of the remaining two. Should the LN later come after any of them, they knew what to do, but that was a worry for a later time.
Liliana straightened her black coat over her trousers and shirt for the hundredth time. Though it was straight to begin with, she just couldn’t help her nerves. Her garb would make her stand out amongst other women, but with buildings burning and people dying, no one would notice her clothing.
Completely lost in her thoughts, she startled as Arhyen approached and placed his hands on her shoulders.
She blinked up at him.
“Are you sure you want to be a part of this?” he asked softly, worry creasing his brow. “It’s not too late to get you out of the city, and you know that would be my preference.”
She took a shaky breath. Did she want to be a part of this? She wanted to help Arhyen and Ephraim, and to keep them both safe. She didn’t want any other innocent people dying. But did she want to side with the London Network? Did she want to murder Hamlet? Did she owe it to her father to avenge him?
“I’m not leaving the city,” she answered finally. She’d have to find the other answers soon enough, but for now, that was what she knew for sure. She would not be leaving the city, not unless Arhyen came with her, and he seemed dead set on seeing his mission through to the end.
His shoulders slumped in defeat, but he nodded, accepting her answer. “If I can’t make you run away to safety, I need you to at least make me a promise.”
She hesitated, wondering what he might ask, then nodded for him to go on.
He took a deep breath, peering straight into her eyes. “Promise me that should I no longer be around, you won’t let Hamlet drag you down with him. That is my only dying wish.”
“Dying wish!” she gasped, tugging against his grip on her shoulders, but he refused to let go. Ceasing her half-hearted struggles, she muttered, “You’re not going to die.”
“My dear,” he began patiently, removing one hand from her shoulder to lift her chin with his finger. “Things aren’t looking good for any of us, but especially not for me. If what you’ve told me about the Captain of the Watch is true, I may not have much time left. This so called cure to my ailments may only be temporary. So please, just promise me.”
“I promise,” she grumbled, “but you’re not going to die. I won’t allow it.”
He smiled. “Thank you, now we should get moving before there’s no city left to save.”
He withdrew his hands and stepped back. They simultaneously turned to Ephraim who’d been standing near the sofa quietly observing them.
He patted his waistcoat pocket where he’d hidden his vial of blue liquid. His pistol was strapped at his side, only visible in brief glances whenever his long charcoal coat shifted out of the way. His customary fedora shaded his pale eyes, which sparkled with excitement.
“We’ll head to Market Street first,” Arhyen announced. “I don’t know what’s going on out there, but if Hamlet is causing all of this, someone must have seen him.”
Liliana nodded, not sure if she agreed. Hamlet was adept at not being seen. Yet, it was still as good a plan as any, and she suspected if Hamlet saw her, he might reveal himself and save them the search. He wanted to keep her alive, at least for now. She wasn’t sure why, especially since he’d just admitted to killing her father.
Arhyen placed his hand on her shoulder to regain her attention. “Are you ready?”
She looked up at him and nodded, still thinking about the possibility of Hamlet revealing himself. He’d likely only do so if she were alone. If she could manage that, then perhaps she could convince him to halt his revolution. She found she really didn’t want to kill him.
Of course, he might be too busy wreaking havoc to notice her, then she’d be all alone in the chaotic city, filled with people doing their best to not get burned alive.
Ephraim moved past her to open the door.
Hand in hand, she and Arhyen followed him. One way or another, everything would soon be over. She would have liked to think there was a chance she and Arhyen could survive to live a normal life together, but there was little hope of that. Either Arhyen would die like the Captain of the Watch had, or she would eventually go mad like Hamlet. The third option, was they would both soon be killed in the chaos. Perhaps that was a preferable fate to the alternatives.
Just like in her adventure novels, when the outlook was grim, the very least one could do was go out in a blaze of glory. Of course, the heroes usually still lived, and the villains died. If she wasn’t willing to kill the villain, would she die like one herself?
The scent of smoke burned Arhyen’s lungs as soon as they exited the apartment. Screams and cries could be heard in the distance. He reluctantly released Liliana’s hand, wishing with all his heart he’d tried harder to convince her to leave. Truth was, he wanted her by his side. He could hardly bear the thought of putting her on a train, knowing he might never see her again.
It was too late now either way. He doubted the trains were still running, and the closest city gates were likely already clogged with people trying to escape Hamlet’s terrorism.
Ephraim led the way down the narrow street toward the first intersection, his long coat flapping in the icy wind.
Arhyen tried to keep his eyes on their surroundings, but it was difficult to keep his gaze off Liliana. She stalked along silently, like a tiny predator, dressed all in black with her hair tucked up beneath her cap. If anything happened to her . . .
He shook his head, then watched as Ephraim peered both ways down the intersection. Suddenly he stepped back, and a woman with several children ran by, heading in the opposite direction of Market Street. Once they’d passed, Ephraim peered down the street again, then signaled that all was clear.
With Liliana at his side, Arhyen jogged to catch up to Ephraim. They continued on that way until they reached Market Street, the source of the horrible screams. Not only screams, though. Maniacal laughter could be heard in short bursts, along with angry shouting. The chill wind had picked up, carrying the screams and shouts at varying volumes through the air. Flakes of ice stung Arhyen’s skin, distracting him. He wrapped his coat more tightly around himself with one arm, and placed a hand on his cap with the other.
“What in the blazes is going on?” Ephraim muttered, peeking out toward the main street as he shielded his face from the flurries of ice.
They were on the edge of the district, a block before the storefronts began, but it was close enough to see what was happening. Too close, Arhyen thought as a blood splattered man stumbled into their alleyway.
He reached out his arm and pushed Liliana out of the man’s path. The man staggered on, muttering to himself as if he’d gone mad. A moment later, a laughing woman ran past them, continuing down the main street.
A sick knot was growing in Arhyen’s stomach. These people weren’t just victims of fire and violence. They’d been affected by something else.
He turned his gaze toward Liliana, meeting her wide eyes. “Do you think . . . ” he trailed off.
She nodded, then whispered, “My father’s synthetic emotions. We knew this was a possibility. Hamlet must have used them to drive everyone mad.” She pushed wayward strands of her red hair back from her face as another man, sobbing and wiping tears from his eyes, stumbled past their hiding spot.
“Is it permanent?” Ephraim hissed, glancing back at them, before quickly returning his gaze to the street.
“I don’t think so,” she explained to his back. “I questioned Hamlet once about the emotions my father administered to me. He seemed to believe they had long since worn off. My brain developed my current emotions using the instinctual data given to me.”
Arhyen frowned. He thought it was a lot more than that. After all, you could not create love and hate, and he was quite sure Liliana was capable of both emotions. Although, now was not the time to argue.
“Well there’s nothing we can do for these people now,” he said instead. “Let’s try to find someone coherent enough to tell us if they’ve seen Hamlet, and if so, which way he went.”
Ephraim turned his gaze away from the street,
then nodded. “Let us retreat to the side streets. I don’t relish the idea of running into anyone infected with rage. Let’s find one of the crying ones instead.”
Liliana was glad to leave the main street behind. She seemed to be in a state of shock. Had her father’s creation truly caused so much chaos? She knew Hamlet had the formulae for anger, sadness, happiness, and something that felt like love, but wasn’t. She supposed she’d call it affection. Had Hamlet manufactured enough of each formulae to infect everyone running around the streets? If so, how had he administered them? It didn’t seem to be airborne, since she felt no lingering effects. Perhaps he put it in their food and drink? That would make more sense with the numerous cafes and restaurants on Market Street.
She chewed on her lip as they crept back down the alley, away from the main thoroughfare. With nods of agreement, they took their first left. She expected that at any moment, someone infected with rage would jump out and try to murder them, which made her realize another odd thing. These emotions seemed much more potent than what her father had created. Those infected with happiness should have felt pleasant emotions, but from what they’d seen, they cackled maniacally, on the verge of hysteria. Perhaps interacting with that sort might prove just as bad, if not worse, than a rage infected person.
The first woman they came upon in the alleyway was screaming hysterically, oblivious to their presence. Liliana couldn’t even determine which emotion had afflicted her. Could it be more than one? Deeming the woman a lost cause, they moved past her.
The next person they found was an older woman in an expensive, frilly dress, sitting right in a puddle of muck leftover from the snow, crying her eyes out.
Ephraim looked down at her dispassionately. “Pardon us, ma’am, could we ask you a few questions?”
Rubbing her red-rimmed eyes, she peered up at them for a few seconds, then broke down into another fit of crying.
“It’s no use speaking to any of them,” Ephraim muttered. “We’re wasting time.”
Under Clock and Key (The Thief's Apprentice Book 3) Page 8