“The masked men!” the woman wailed. “T-they made me so, hiccup, sad!”
“Masked men?” Ephraim inquired curiously. “As in, more than one?”
The woman continued to sob, but did not reply.
He turned to Liliana. “Do you have any knowledge of possible accomplices in this scheme?”
Wide-eyed, she shrugged. She knew Hamlet employed many spies, and it would stand to reason that they could be part of his plan, but she’d never met any of them. This at least ruled out her theory of infected food. This woman appeared to have been accosted directly. The Advector Serum that could be used to administer the emotions was a vapor. Perhaps Hamlet and his associates were spraying it directly into people’s faces.
She turned to meet Arhyen’s gaze, which she felt had lingered on her for several seconds. Instead of explaining her thoughts, she shrugged, having no real answers for him.
He turned back to the sobbing woman. “Do you know where these masked men are now?”
On she sobbed without reply.
Just then, the sound of a blast assaulted Liliana’s ears. The ground beneath her feet quaked. She stumbled, grabbing on to Arhyen’s arm for balance.
The woman wailed louder.
Ephraim, Liliana, and Arhyen all looked at each other, nodded, then took off full speed toward the general direction of the explosion.
Liliana paced herself as usual to ensure the men would not fall behind, but Arhyen had no trouble keeping up. Soon they both had to slow for Ephraim to reach them. Together they all jogged out onto Market Street, now mostly cleared of its inhabitants, barring a few sobbing or otherwise delusional people stumbling about.
Most of the storefronts seemed unharmed, except for a few instances of broken glass, just as likely to have been caused by those infected by the emotions as the terrorists.
“Keep running,” Arhyen instructed as she began to slow, observing the remaining people in the streets.
She glanced at him, then peered past his outstretched finger. “Is that-” she began.
“Watch Headquarters,” Ephraim’s voice trembled. He slowed his jog to a walk. He scanned the street around them, but there was nothing to see except the infected people.
The ruined building smoldered across the street. Some of the walls still partially remained, but the rest was rubble, both inside and out. Huge chunks of brick littered the street. A few flames licked at the splintered furniture and broken boards, adding to the vast amount of smoke in the air.
Ephraim kicked a charred piece of brick at his feet.
“You could have been in there!” Liliana gasped, her eyes riveted to him. “What was Hamlet thinking?” As soon as she said it, she realized what a silly statement it was. Hamlet was only thinking of his plan, he would not care if Ephraim was killed.
“Christoph was connected to one of the LN’s splinter groups,” Ephraim stated blandly. “Perhaps the LN had operatives on the inside watching him. The Queen’s Guard’s involvement with the LN only increases that likelihood. It makes sense that Hamlet would target Watch Headquarters. Now we only need to deduce where he will strike next.”
Liliana watched Ephraim’s expression, waiting for signs of emotion to dawn. The annihilated building might have contained several of his colleagues. Several of his friends.
Still gazing at the ruined building, his expression crumbled.
Noticing, Arhyen stepped toward him. “We should check for survivors,” he said softly.
Liliana nodded in agreement, though she knew there could be no survivors with such a large explosion. It had utterly obliterated the building, taking most of the surrounding two buildings with it. She didn’t want to march forward and see what had become of the bodies. With such an impact they would hardly be recognizable.
Ephraim shook his head sharply, seeming to regain his composure. “There is no time. We must intervene before more are killed.”
Out of nowhere, a man came barreling toward them, aiming a metal pipe at the back of Ephraim’s head. Ephraim began to turn, but would be too late. Jumping into motion, she lunged to intercept the man, but Arhyen somehow beat her to it, launching a miraculous kick at the man’s side, sending him off course. The man stumbled, dropping his pipe, giving Ephraim the time to turn and knock him in the head with the butt of his pistol. The man fell to the ground, motionless.
Barely able to comprehend what had just happened, Liliana stared at Arhyen, gazing down at the unconscious man in disbelief.
Slowly, he raised his horrified eyes to her. “I’m like them now, aren’t I? Like Hazel and the other men she experimented on.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. He had moved too quickly for a human. She knew it had been Hazel’s aim to make him like her, but she’d only had Arhyen for a short time. Had she managed to alter him to such a great extent, or had the London Network added to the damage in their time with him?With a sad smile, she nodded. “Yes, I dare say you are.”
Ephraim grunted angrily, kicking the man’s dropped pipe to send it clattering a few paces down the street. He turned rage-filled eyes back to the smoldering ruins of Watch Headquarters. “Bloody automatons,” he grumbled, then stalked toward the building’s remains.
Arhyen moved to Liliana’s side. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. She had a million things she wanted to say, a million fears to express, but she remained silent, for in that moment she felt Arhyen was just as frightened as she, if not more so.
Looking amongst the debris, Arhyen clenched his hands in frustration. It was near impossible to closely examine the remains of Watch Headquarters. The rubble was still smoldering, and the building’s frame slumped perilously, still partially standing . . . for now. They’d searched the streets around the ruined building for signs of evidence, but the search was fruitless. The bodies had been rendered unidentifiable, and whatever had caused the explosion was destroyed entirely in the blast.
He gazed out at the street. There was hardly a soul left in the area, save a few crying people, and more than a few corpses. He tried hard to avoid gazing closely at them. He didn’t want to recognize anyone among the dead.
“We should move on,” Ephraim muttered. “We need to figure out where he’ll strike next if we hope to stand a chance of stopping him.”
Liliana had stopped walking to peer down at one of the bodies killed in the explosion.
He approached and put his hand on her shoulder, cringing as she startled at his touch.
She blinked up at him, then turned her gaze to Ephraim. “Or maybe we just need to figure out where he’ll strike last.”
Arhyen looked down at her in confusion. “What do you mean?” he pressed.
She gazed up at the sky, slowly growing dim. “It will be night soon, and Hamlet has already caused so much destruction. He told me everything would be over in three days. If today counts as the third day, then it will end at midnight. We have to figure out where it will end.”
Arhyen sucked his teeth, digesting what she was saying. They were running out of time. He was running out of time. If he didn’t come through on his part of the bargain, the LN would come after him, and anyone associated with him, leverage be damned.
“We risk him striking somewhere else before this . . . finale,” Ephraim observed as he approached.
“We’re not likely to guess his next strike regardless,” Liliana countered. “Our best chance lies in preventing his final move.”
“And you think you know this final move?” Ephraim pressed, stroking his chin in thought.
She nodded. “Buckingham Palace. It has to be. He’s already attacked the Market District, and if the rumors are true, London Bridge. Nothing could be a larger finale than the palace.”
Arhyen felt like a fool for not thinking of it sooner. He gazed out at the surrounding destruction, likely just a small taste of what was to come. “You’re right. If he’s striking against the London Network, and the London Network belongs to the Queen, she will be the finale.”
&
nbsp; “Then we should get moving,” Ephraim replied, glancing around the mostly still street. “I don’t think we’ll be catching any carriages today.” He turned his gaze back to the rubble at his feet, his expression unreadable.
Arhyen thought about offering comfort, but he knew for a fact it would not be appreciated. Liliana gazed at Ephraim longingly, seeming to have come to the same conclusion.
Ephraim turned back, glaring at both of them. “Let’s go. I’m ready to send that automaton back to hell where he belongs.”
They nodded.
Arhyen stole another glance at Liliana as they departed. Her worried expression matched his. It was all well and good to decide it was time to end Hamlet’s reign of terror. It was quite another thing to actually do it, and survive.
Chapter 9
“I wish we could have visited Buckingham Palace under better circumstances,” Liliana admitted, hoping to break the heavy silence.
They’d entered the industrial district, cautiously scanning the eerily empty streets. The surrounding mills and warehouses were utterly still. Liliana didn’t like the silence. She could hear screams and chaos in other areas of the city, but not here. Here, there was only the delicate sound of water dripping from rooftops, and the occasional scrabble and subsequent flutter of a pigeon looking for food.
“Why is it so quiet?” she asked when nobody responded to her first statement
“The hardworking folk are likely hiding in their homes,” Ephraim explained, keeping his gaze forward as he walked. “And the looters have no business in this part of town. Now that the chaos has died down on Market Street, they will begin to swarm, hoping to take advantage of tragedy.”
“That’s awful,” she muttered, thinking back to the ruined buildings and dead bodies. How anyone could hope to benefit from such terror was beyond her.
“What’s awful is that they’re put into the position to loot in the first place,” Arhyen argued. “It’s not their fault they were born into lives where their next meal was never guaranteed. They survive any way they can.”
“Spoken like a true thief,” Ephraim replied caustically. “Blame the system, and not the criminal. Everyone chooses their own path. There is no excuse.”
“Spoken like someone who’s never gone hungry,” Arhyen replied with a growl.
“Please,” Liliana interrupted, growing nervous that an argument was about to ensue. “Now is not the time for this.”
Ephraim glared at her, so she held her tongue.
With a second glance, his expression softened. “I apologize, I seem to be a bit . . . emotional at the moment.”
Arhyen moved to Ephraim’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Ephraim sighed, then met his gaze, nodded, and the argument seemed to be over.
Liliana smirked. She would never understand men.
They had only walked a few more steps when Arhyen whispered, “Don’t look now, but someone is watching us.”
Liliana tensed, barely breathing. She resisted the urge to look around. She sidled up to Arhyen as his pace slowed.
“It might be the London Network,” he continued in a whisper. “I would not be surprised if they sent someone to make sure I came through on my part of the bargain. Just keep walking.”
They resumed a steady pace.
Liliana tried to act casual, but she feared the newly acquired stiffness in her gait would give her away. She risked a glance toward a side alley and gasped.
“I don’t think it’s the LN,” she whispered. “I just saw someone in a mask.”
“Hamlet?” Arhyen questioned softly, not missing a step.
She shook her head. “Too short to be him, though the mask was the same.”
“One of his accomplices then,” Ephraim quietly observed.
“What do you think they want?” she questioned. She was growing increasingly nervous, wondering if she could catch this masked person before they could escape . . . but what if there was more than one?
Arhyen glanced over at her. “Likely sent to watch you,” he replied, his voice barely audible.
Making the decision for her, he suddenly darted backward, then ran toward the alley where she’d seen the masked form.
Liliana was about to follow him, when she saw another figure, also wearing a mask, peeking out from the intersection ahead. Judging from just a brief glimpse, she concluded this one was not Hamlet either, and was likely female.
“There’s another,” Ephraim grumbled, peering to his left as Liliana caught a brief glimpse of a third form. His hand gravitated toward his pistol.
Liliana was about to reach out and stop him from firing on the masked form, then a crashing noise sounded from the alleyway where Arhyen had disappeared. Quickly making up her mind, Liliana left Ephraim to his own devices in favor of helping Arhyen.
She raced back down the street, then veered into the alleyway, blindly rushing ahead. She skidded to a halt, her heart dropping to her feet as she found Arhyen, lying on his back on a pile of broken crates. Time slowed as she hesitantly stepped toward his still form, then he groaned, and time started back up again. She knelt by his side, peering down at his face.
His eyes opened to blink up at her. “That might not have been Hamlet,” he groaned, lifting his hand to his forehead, “but it was definitely another automaton.”
She glanced both ways down the alley, but the masked culprit had disappeared. In her perusal she spotted Arhyen’s hat a few paces away, and stood to retrieve it, but froze as pistol fire sounded from the main street.
“Ephraim,” she gasped. She tossed Arhyen’s hat to him, then raced back out onto the street.
She sped back in the direction she’d come, worried Ephraim had shot someone, or worse, he’d been shot, but she was not expecting what she found. A masked form lay in the street in a growing pool of blood from a chest wound. Ephraim stood a few paces away, peering speculatively at a man wearing the same uniform as the ones they’d found dead on Tailor Street. A member of the Queen’s Guard, if she wasn’t mistaken.
Arhyen stumbled up behind her. “Wakefield?” he questioned.
The uniformed man turned his cool gaze toward Arhyen and Liliana. He seemed to be frowning, though it was difficult to tell if it was just the weighty effect of his full gray moustache.
Before he could reply, three more uniformed men trotted toward them from the nearest intersection. Upon arrival, one complained, “The rest have escaped.”
Ephraim took a few steps back, reaching Arhyen and Liliana. “Would someone care to explain what the hell is going on here?”
Wakefield gazed at him for several seconds, then turned to Arhyen. “I sincerely hope you are not working with these masked fiends,” he accused, venom clear in his tone.
Liliana observed each of the uniformed men, doing her best to memorize their features. Were these the men who had held Arhyen captive? He’d known the gray-haired one by name.
“They were following us,” Arhyen explained. “I fully intend to come through on my half of the bargain.”
“That better be true,” the gray-haired man, Wakefield, growled. He turned back to his men. “Comb the streets again, make sure no one else lingers.” He glanced down at the corpse near his boots as his men set their feet into motion. He snatched the sleeve of one before he could trot away. “Hide the body for later observation. I want to know what Hamlet has done to these men.”
The man nodded, and stooped to the corpse. Gripping its upper arms, he began dragging the body away.
“So he does have others working for him,” Arhyen concluded thoughtfully.
Wakefield flicked his gaze first to Ephraim, then to Liliana, before finally settling back on Arhyen. “As do you, but enough of this. We’re clearly running out of time. I’m finding it unlikely that you’ll be able to stop what’s happening before Codename Hamlet is through, so I can only hope I survive long enough to hunt you and your associates down once you fail.”
He turned and marched away after his men, joining the
one attempting to pull the corpse. He lifted the corpse’s feet, and together they carried it out of sight.
“Hunt us down?” Liliana questioned. “What about your leverage?”
“Hamlet has already exposed your father’s synthetic emotions,” Arhyen explained. “If he finishes what he’s started, my leverage will not matter. Our only choice will be to flee London.”
“Or to utterly eliminate the LN,” Ephraim observed, “which it seems Hamlet might actually accomplish.”
Liliana’s eyes widened at the thought. Could that really be possible? If the LN was gone, perhaps she, Arhyen, and Ephraim would be safe. Of course, it would be at the cost of countless other lives. She shook her head lightly, unable to stomach the sacrifice.
Arhyen’s worried gaze lingered on her. Fearing he’d read her thoughts on her face, she met his gaze with apprehension.
He abruptly reached out and pulled her into a hug, then kissed the top of her head. “Wakefield knows your face now,” he muttered. “I should never have brought you along. I can only hope he perishes long before we do.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and returned his embrace. “Unfortunately, I cannot bring myself to wish for another’s death,” she croaked.
He held her tighter. “I never thought I could either. Then I met you, and realized without a doubt, that I will always put your life first.”
Tears stung at her eyes as she pulled away. Arhyen was right. It might be selfish, perhaps it was even evil, but she’d always put his life first too.
As they left the industrial district behind, Arhyen realized his legs were not as tired as they should have been, judging by Ephraim’s weary state. Ephraim kept up, however, without complaint.
Really, they all should have been jogging. It would soon be dark, and they were running out of time. They needed some form of transportation if they hoped to make it to Buckingham Palace before Hamlet finished his plan. They might already be too late.
He could have told Wakefield their thoughts on Hamlet’s finale so he could send his people ahead to the palace, yet, if he had, Wakefield may well have killed them on the spot, deeming them no longer useful. Perhaps it was selfish to risk the fate of the city to protect his own life, but he’d done it all the same. Here was hoping he wouldn’t regret it.
Under Clock and Key (The Thief's Apprentice Book 3) Page 9