The boat bumped against the end of the lake.
“So what do we do now?” she asked.
Ephraim sighed. “We wait for the sun to rise, and see if there’s anything left of London, or our lives, to save.”
Chapter 11
The next morning found them in Ephraim’s home. Liliana had never been there, and had never thought she would. As much as he delved into other people’s business, Ephraim was an exceedingly private person. The second story apartment was more cozy than she’d expected, with overstuffed furniture in much better shape than Arhyen’s threadbare sofa. His kitchen was small and tidy, and his cupboards nearly bare, hinting that he was rarely home. The decor in the small home was sparse, save several sets of shelves overflowing with books and a large desk draped with a map of the city. Through one door near the front was the bathroom, and through another next to the kitchen was the bedroom where Ephraim had retired. Arhyen and Liliana had snuggled up for the rest of the night on the sofa, though neither had slept much.
As morning dawned, Liliana sat on the sofa next to Arhyen, peering through the curtained window as she sipped her tea. It was beginning to grow light outside, but the streets were eerily quiet.
She jumped as a loud crash sounded somewhere outside. Though most of the looters had retired, a few were still out taking advantage of the missing Watch and Queen’s Guard. She shook her head, wondering how many innocent men and women had perished like Ephraim’s colleagues at Watch Headquarters.
She peered down into her half empty cup of tea, then jumped again when she turned to find Arhyen watching her intently.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
She shrugged, unsure of how to answer his question. Physically, she felt fine, but she also felt like bees were buzzing in her head. Her thoughts were anxious and scattered. She hated sitting still waiting for something to happen.
“Do you think Hamlet will try to get back to the palace roof?” she questioned instead of answering.
He shrugged, then rubbed his tired eyes. “If he hasn’t already.” He glanced at Ephraim’s bedroom door, as if expecting him to soon emerge.
“Do you think the LN will try to capture him when he does?” she pressed.
He sighed and slumped back against the sofa cushions. “They’ve been trying to capture him for weeks. I don’t see why they’d have any more luck now than before.”
“Do you think we should leave London?” she blurted.
She’d been thinking about it ever since she woke up in the boat. If she’d never come to London, Arhyen wouldn’t be involved in any of this, but it was too late to take it back. Her only hope now was that they could escape the chaos together.
Clearly exhausted, he raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you?”
She looked down at her lap. Her heart was racing and she wasn’t sure why. “I don’t like the idea of giving up, but I can’t help but feel I’m making things worse. I’ve had multiple opportunities to stop Hamlet, and I’ve failed every time.”
“You stopped him from using his device,” he answered, placing a hand gently on her shoulder, “even if you did it by falling off a roof.”
She smiled softly at him. “I didn’t do it on purpose, you know.”
Still leaning back against the sofa cushions, he removed his hand from her shoulder and held out his arm. She set her teacup on an end table, then snuggled against him, laying her head on his warm chest.
“You know I nearly died myself when I saw you fall,” he muttered against her hair, curling his arm around her.
“Well apparently I actually did die,” she chuckled. Suddenly serious, she craned her neck to look up at him. “What would you have done if I had?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” he answered. “If you would have asked me that yesterday, I would have said that I’d avenge you, but after nearly experiencing your demise, I’m not sure. All I could feel was great loss in that moment. I couldn’t consider what was happening in the city, or what Hamlet was doing. Suddenly none of it mattered.”
She snuggled back against his chest, taking comfort. “We both should stop nearly dying. I don’t think our hearts can handle it any longer.”
He wrapped his arm a little tighter around her to place his hand on top of hers, sending a little thrill through her body. It was like the adrenaline she felt right before falling off Buckingham Palace, but without the fear. She was never really afraid when she was with him.
Her head shifted as he sighed. “I’m beginning to think the only way for us to accomplish that is to leave London altogether. Not this minute I mean, but after all of this is over. If we both survive, perhaps we can travel the world. Coming so close to death has made me realize that there’s a lot I still want to see.”
She raised her head to look at him again. “Truly?” she asked, her heart suddenly filled with hope. “I’ve always wanted to visit Egypt.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “To explore hidden tombs like in your adventure novels?”
She laughed and rested her head back upon his chest. “If you must know, yes.” Suddenly feeling somber, she added, “but first, we need to make sure you won’t suffer the same fate as Christoph.”
“Christoph?” he questioned.
“The Captain of the Watch,” she reminded him.
“Ah,” was his only reply.
The bedroom door creaked and Ephraim emerged, interrupting their conversation. He’d dressed in fresh clothes and combed his blond hair. “Now who’s ready to see what remains of the city?” he asked, renewed excitement twinkling in his eyes.
Liliana sat up, worry twisting her gut. She glanced at Arhyen, ready to argue with him should he insist she stay behind.
Instead, he turned to her and asked, “Are you ready?”
Her eyes wide, she nodded. “You’re not going to try to make me stay here?”
He chuckled and shook his head, then peered at her through strands of his shaggy brown hair. “I’ve learned my lesson. The only place I want you, is right by my side.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Ephraim muttered, heading toward the door to retrieve his coat.
Liliana grinned at his back, then turned her smile to Arhyen as he stood and offered her his hand. She took it, suddenly feeling ready to face whatever awaited them outside.
Arhyen’s boots crunched through the snow coating the street. His sturdy black coat flapped against the back of his knees, keeping time with the crunches. Liliana matched his pace, with Ephraim sandwiching her in the middle. The black clad trio appeared quite the sight, their clothes and affirmative gait befitting their mood.
Arhyen eyed other courageous souls who had emerged onto the streets, seemingly as fed up with hiding as he was. No one tried to speak to them. The few other citizens brave enough to leave their homes were preoccupied with staring at broken glass storefronts, scorched remains of ruined buildings, and corpses scattered amongst the rubble. Arhyen suspected most were killed by fires or angry mobs, but some must have been killed by the synthetic emotions. The emotions themselves might not kill, but people infected with rage could be dangerous to others, and those infected with despair were dangerous to themselves. The snow had covered many, leaving only white fluffy lumps to mark their temporary graves.
“What if there’s no one there?” Liliana muttered, referring to their agreed upon destination, the facility where Arhyen had been held when recovering from his injuries. Although Hamlet had hinted that it had been attacked, some of the London Network might still remain.
He was nervous about confronting the LN, but needed to be sure they knew he and his associates were the reason Hamlet’s attack on the palace did not go as planned, even if they’d thwarted him on accident. Of course, Hamlet might have gone back to finish the job, unbeknownst to them, and the London Network would kill him on sight, but it was a risk he had to take.
He didn’t see any other choice.
Liliana cleared her throat, still waiting for an answer.
“If no one is there, then we’ll return to the palace,” he explained.
“If there’s anything left of it,” Ephraim added.
He sighed and walked around a body only partially covered in snow. He kept his eyes averted, looking anywhere but down. He’d seen dead bodies before, but not like this. This was . . . he had no words for it. All he knew was that he wanted Hamlet to pay for what he’d done. He could only hope that Liliana had come to the same conclusion.
Soon they reached their destination. At least, what was left of it. Where once stood a nondescript brick building, now was only rubble, covered in snow. He stepped forward to examine the remains. While he’d been mostly confined to a single room, he knew that room was underground. The small glimpses he’d caught outside the room hinted at an expansive underground compound. Of course, Hamlet had known that too. He might have destroyed everything and everyone within.
It was still worth a shot.
Ephraim and Liliana followed him silently, occasionally kicking bricks out of the way or moving melted beams in search of a way down. He watched as Liliana effortlessly lifted a heavy charred piece of metal, revealing concrete stairs.
She was about to walk down when Ephraim grabbed her arm. “The heat from the fire and explosions has likely weakened the concrete,” he explained. “Those stairs may crumble beneath our feet.”
She stepped away from the stairs, then warily glanced at the rubble near her boots. What remained of the floor they now stood on also served as the roof the basement, but Arhyen thought the sudden worry unnecessary. The fact that none of it had crumbled along with the rest of the building meant it was heavily reinforced. There could still be plenty of evidence below them. Evidence the London Network would return to collect if any of their operatives still lived.
“I’ll go down first,” Arhyen decided. “It’s worth the risk.”
Casting a wary eye on the stairs, Ephraim took a step back. “I’ll keep watch up here.”
Arhyen met Liliana’s waiting gaze.
“I’m coming with you,” she stated.
“I wouldn’t dream of stopping you,” he smiled gently, then led the way down the stairs. Each step felt solid beneath his feet, giving no signs of crumbling. Feeling more sure of himself, he picked up speed as he descended into the dark abyss, with Liliana following closely behind.
He could barely see two fingers in front of his nose by the time he reached the bottom, and wished he had thought to bring a lantern. With only the small amount of light streaming in from the stairs to see by, it would be impossible to find anything of use.
He felt Liliana’s presence by his side as she reached the landing. “I’m afraid we’ll have to rely on your superior night vision,” he whispered. “Can you see anything?”
“A bit,” she whispered. “It’s a total mess down here. Everything must have been thrown around from the impact of the explosion.”
She took a few steps forward, then suddenly turned and hurried back to his side. “There also seems to be a man down here,” she added, her voice shrill with surprise.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” a voice sounded from the darkness. “I was just searching for some medicine.”
“What’s going on down there!” Ephraim called from the top of the stairs.
Arhyen moved in front of Liliana, though he could not see exactly where the man was in the darkness. “What kind of medicine?” he asked, ignoring Ephraim’s question.
“It’s bright blue,” the man explained, his voice accompanied by the sound of shifting objects. Suddenly he revealed a small lantern, illuminating his face. “I fear my supply has been damaged,” he continued, “and this seemed a fitting place to look for more.”
Footsteps on the stairs behind them signaled Ephraim’s approach. Arhyen shifted, making room.
Ephraim reached the bottom and gave Arhyen a quizzical look before turning his attention to the man with the lantern. “C-Christoph?” he stammered. “But you’re . . . ”
“Dead?” the man replied absentmindedly, still paying them little attention as he shuffled through the debris.
“Wait, Christoph?” Arhyen questioned, recognizing the name. “You mean the Captain of the Watch who framed us for murder?”
Christoph finally turned his full attention to them. “Ephraim?” he questioned in surprise. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Ephraim gawked at Christoph. “I could ask you the same question, given you’re supposed to be dead. I saw your body. What is this, necromancy?”
Christoph sighed and sat his lantern on the concrete floor. “I see I’m going to have to explain myself,” he began. “You all may as well come in.” He shifted his gaze to Arhyen. “I assume you are Mr. Croft?”
He nodded, utterly confused to be speaking with a dead man.
Ephraim took a single step into the room, crossing his arms as he glared at Christoph. “Explain,” he demanded. “Are you one of the London Network’s experimentations?”
“I suppose you could say that,” he replied. “The corpse you saw was actually an automaton, made in my image. The London Network sent it to replace me when I went to them for help. You see, I have a terminal illness. But they were not the first I turned to for aid. I first went to-”
“My sister, Hazel,” Arhyen finished for him. “And in exchange, you covered up her nefarious activities, and framed us for murder. We know all that.”
Christoph raised both bushy eyebrows in surprise. “My, how astute of you. I suppose I’ll just skip to the parts you do not know. It eventually became clear to me that Hazel had no intention of offering me a cure. I had framed a friend for murder.” His apologetic gaze settled solely on Ephraim. “And I was no closer to saving my own life. I knew that Hazel Croft at one point had worked with the London Network, so I went to them for help.”
“But how did you find them?” Liliana interrupted.
Christoph turned his gaze to her as if just noticing her presence. “My lady, I was the Captain of the Watch, a valuable ally. As soon as I started looking, they found me.” He turned his gaze back to Ephraim. “They offered me a way out. I would allow an automaton to take my place running the Watch, and they would give me a cure. They came through, but now all of my medicine has been destroyed.”
“The blue liquid all over your home,” Liliana gasped. “We thought it was something that had been forced upon you, and in the struggle, spilled everywhere.”
Christoph shook his head. “I do not know what happened to it, but it was something I took willingly, something I need to continue taking in order to survive.”
Arhyen watched as Ephraim stroked his chin in thought. “Was this automaton living in your home, the one that looked like you?”
Christoff nodded. “He was. It was part of my agreement with the London Network. I was to go into hiding while the automaton took over my life. I had been prepared to leave with a large amount of my medicine the very next day, but when I returned home it was all destroyed, and the automaton was gone. Then my confession was all over the papers.”
“I see,” Ephraim replied. He turned to Arhyen and Liliana. “I believe Hamlet is to blame for all this. As a favor to you,” his gaze landed on Liliana, “he went to Christoph’s home to extort a confession. What he found was an automaton and a large amount of medicine. He must have somehow convinced the automaton to confess Christoph’s crimes, then he destroyed the rest of the medicine, leaving the mess we found.”
“Who on earth is Hamlet?” Christoph interrupted.
Ephraim glared at him. “He’s the one terrorizing all of London, or didn’t your LN friends bother to tell you that?”
“They tell me very little,” he sighed. “I’m of no value now that I’m supposed to be dead.”
Liliana cocked her head. “What I don’t understand is why the automaton died in his jail cell if the London Network wanted him alive.”
Arhyen pursed his lips in thought, then replied, “I don’t think they were the ones who kill
ed him. There is a secret passage leading out of the jail. That’s how Hazel got to me. Anyone could have snuck in. The fact that there were no signs of foul play leads me to believe it was Hamlet, disposing of the evidence once Christoph’s confession had been made.”
“Well that’s one mystery solved,” Ephraim muttered. He turned his glare back to Christoph. “Do you know where the leaders of the LN can be found now?”
Christoph sighed, slumping against a nearby wall. “I imagine they’re regrouping at Buckingham Palace, if any are still left alive. If you find them, can you tell them I need more medicine before I can disappear forever?”
“Wait,” Liliana interrupted before Ephriam could reply with what was likely a scathing remark. “So you need a constant supply of this medicine to stay well?”
Christoph nodded. “My illness is incurable. It eats away at my body. This medicine is quite miraculous. If you took a straight dose, you could even heal a fresh injury in minutes. The medicine heals the damage caused by my illness, but it does not cure the affliction.”
Arhyen watched as Liliana’s face lit up. She turned toward him. “If that truly is the case, then you should be fine. If your infection is gone, and your incisions healed, then you should not need any more of the medicine to sustain you. Your afflictions were not caused by a permanent disease.”
He widened his eyes in sudden realization. He’d been so preoccupied unraveling the mystery of Christoph, he hadn’t even been thinking about his own encounter with the vibrant blue liquid. Grinning, he pulled her into a hug, which she happily returned.
“Well they’re sweet,” he heard Christoph comment to Ephraim.
Ephraim grumbled something under his breath, then marched back toward the stairs. Halfway there, he turned to meet Arhyen’s gaze. “Unless you believe we’ll actually find useful evidence in this mess, I’d advise we depart.” He glared at Christoph again. “I would wish you luck, but I would not mean it.”
Under Clock and Key (The Thief's Apprentice Book 3) Page 13