Once they were beyond the white gates and the guard’s view, Arhyen’s hand landed on her arm, stopping her. Ephraim stopped beside them, then both men turned toward Catherine.
“We require a moment alone,” Arhyen stated, gazing cooly at his mother.
Catherine’s face reddened, then her breath fogged the air as she huffed, “We’re supposed to be organizing a mob, not chatting in the street.”
Arhyen simply stared at her until she backed down and skulked away, muttering under her breath. He was really quite good at that icy stare. Once Catherine was out of earshot, he turned back toward Liliana.
“The Queen knows what you are,” he hissed, “just as she knows what I am.”
The nervous feeling that had been twisting in her gut tightened its grip. “I noticed her looking at me strangely, but how could you tell?”
“The guards,” Ephraim explained, keeping his voice low. “Those who followed us in, and those already waiting inside. They all watched you and Arhyen, but barely spared a glance for me. When we were meeting with the Queen, they were all concentrated near the two of you, as if ready to leap into action should you try anything. They know you’re an automaton, and they know Arhyen is now nearly one himself.”
Arhyen nodded, sweeping his shaggy hair out of his eyes with his palm. “She will not keep her deal, there’s no way. Not after everything that Hamlet has done. She might let me slide by since I started out human, but you,” his gaze lingered on her sadly, “you started life as an automaton, just like Hamlet. Wakefield told me that most automatons are remanufactured after a few years to keep them from malfunctioning. I believe the type of malfunction he was referring to is . . . Hamlet.”
Her pulse raced. It was one thing to fear malfunctioning and going mad, quite another to have those fears voiced by another. “Do you truly think I’ll become just like Hamlet?” she croaked.
His jaw fell. “N-no!” he stammered. “Not at all. I’m simply implying that the Queen might think that, and I do not believe she’ll risk another automaton following in Hamlet’s footsteps. She may pardon our crimes publicly, but that won’t stop her from making us disappear afterward.”
Ephraim glanced back at Catherine waiting across the street by a lone streetlamp, then nodded. “Agreed. So what do we do now? If we don’t incite a rebellion soon, I’ve no doubt Victoria’s guards will track us down.”
Arhyen frowned, glanced worriedly at Liliana, then back to Ephraim. He seemed to be mulling something over. Suddenly, his expression hardened. “I think we should expose the London Network once and for all, even if it means we must leave the city for good.”
“Arhyen,” Liliana began, but he shook his head.
“Perhaps that’s what we should have done from the start,” he continued. “Say our peace and be done with it. If they still want the city after all has been exposed, they can have it.”
Could they really do that? Could they somehow expose the London Network, and live long enough to escape London altogether? Part of her wanted to try, but there was still one problem. “Hamlet is still out there, and he will not give up his plans. If we expose the LN and leave the city, there may be no one left to stop him.”
Rather than outwardly sharing in her fears, Ephraim calmly stroked his chin in thought. “The Queen didn’t seem terribly worried about him,” he commented finally. “She spoke as if he was still a threat, but if he was, she would already know her plan was futile.”
Arhyen tilted his head. “You know, you’re right. She mentioned nothing of him in regards to her plan, and her guards were all in uniform. If she still felt the need to hide from Hamlet, she would not have made her hiding place as obvious as it was. Perhaps they managed to capture him.”
Liliana shook her head in disbelief. He was impossible to capture. They’d been trying for weeks.
“I doubt they’d keep him alive,” Ephraim added, “which would mean that threat has been eliminated entirely.”
She felt sick. She knew Hamlet deserved punishment for his crimes, but she simply could not picture him dying. “S-so he’s gone?” she questioned, wanting absolute confirmation. “She spoke of him like he was still alive,” she added, unable to cope with the thought.
The last she’d seen of Hamlet was when they fell off the roof of Buckingham Palace, but according to Arhyen, he’d disappeared. If the guards had captured him, it was sometime after she had been rescued by Arhyen.
“I don’t believe we can make any assumptions based solely on the Queen speaking as if he were alive,” Ephraim began. “Either he’s dead, or the Queen’s plan is actually just a ruse to lure him into a trap. That would make just as much sense. The blatant display of guards in White Heights could have been the first trap, but seeing it for what it was, Hamlet stayed away. He might be an evil killing machine, but he is no fool.”
Arhyen sighed, “So either we’re the Queen’s backup plan for luring out Hamlet, or he’s dead, and we’re simply her scapegoat so she won’t be blamed for the chaos. Once again, we are left entirely in the dark.”
Still cursing under her breath, Catherine crunched up in the snow behind them, effectively ending their conversation. “Can we get on with this now?” she questioned sourly.
Arhyen met Liliana’s gaze, then nodded. “Let’s go.”
Numb and confused, Liliana felt almost paralyzed, buried deep in thought. She felt Arhyen grip her arm gently, guiding her along as they continued away from White Heights. If this was all a trap for Hamlet, then executing the Queen’s plan would not serve them. What good would it do to hold up their end of the bargain if Queen Victoria knew she was an automaton? Automatons were supposed to have owners. They were supposed to blindly obey. She was a product of the exact sciences the London Network wanted to keep hidden. She would never be allowed to live her life freely again.
She glanced worriedly at Arhyen as they walked, but he seemed buried deep in thoughts of his own. He was as much a product of science now as she. Leave the city to its fate, he had suggested, and that is where her thoughts now lingered.
She found herself more than ready to do just that.
Arhyen watched his mother’s back as they trudged through the snow toward Market Street. More and more, London’s citizens were slowly emerging from hiding as the chaos was seemingly over. Some searched through the snowy rubble of ruined buildings, perhaps hoping to find their loved ones still alive. Mothers wept for their lost children, and lost children wandered the streets like tiny zombies in search of their parents. These people had lost their homes and their livelihoods, right as cruel winter hit. Perhaps those who died in the initial chaos were lucky. Their deaths were quick. Many more would starve or freeze if they weren’t offered aid.
Eyes still on his mother’s back, he suddenly hated her more than he ever had. Would she have even cared if he’d been among the dead? Would she have searched the rubble along with the other mothers?
He doubted it, which is why he felt little guilt over what he was about to do.
As soon as they passed by those congregated in the streets, he looked to Ephraim, making sure he had his friend’s attention.
Ephraim searched his face for a moment, then nodded. There was no way for him to know Arhyen’s exact plan, but he would back him up without hesitation.
As they left behind the last cluster of people and were clear of witnesses, or any who might intervene, he grabbed his mother’s arm and half pushed, half carried her toward a nearby shop.
She let out a surprised yip, then began a fruitless struggle. Being just as small as Liliana, with no automaton strength to back up her protests left her dangling in Arhyen’s grip as he carried her past the shop’s broken front windows, and in through the wooden door hanging on a single hinge. Once inside, he hurried Catherine across the shop’s wooden floor, hoping to find a room deeper within the establishment before she came to her senses and started screaming. She continued to struggle against him, bruising his shins with the back of her boots.
&n
bsp; “Unhand me!” she grunted, kicking her feet back toward his shins again.
He ignored her cries and the screaming pain in his shins, moving her along so fast he nearly tripped a time or two. There had to be a storeroom area here somewhere, hopefully with its door intact. He sighed in relief when he actually found one, filled with toppled crates already combed over by looters. He shoved her inside, then joined her, followed by Liliana and Ephraim.
“What do you think you’re doing!” Catherine shrieked, glaring daggers at him.
Arhyen retreated to the door and closed it behind them. “Mother,” he began patiently. “I’m sorry for the rough treatment, but truly, this is for your own good.”
“You’re going to get us all killed,” she spat. “All you have to do is carry out your orders and you’ll be safe. Lead some silly rebellion, then we can all get on with our lives.”
Ignoring his mother, he turned to Ephraim and Liliana. “I must ask, if my plan works, will you both be prepared to leave the city?”
After a moment’s thought, Liliana nodded. “As long as I leave with you.”
Ephraim chuckled and shook his head. “I have no intention of leaving, but don’t let that spoil your plan. I do love a good caper.”
Though he didn’t like Ephraim’s answer, he nodded. He knew if it came down to life or death, Ephraim would leave with them. The man was stubborn, but rarely foolish.
He turned back to his mother. Her gray hair had come loose from her bun, and her shawl had fallen from her shoulders. She looked small and pathetic.
He crossed his arms, unwilling to feel sympathy for her. “It’s better for you if you don’t know our plan,” he explained, “so we’ll be leaving you here. Please trust that I’m doing this for your own good.”
“Like you care anything about my own good!” she hissed, wiping at her bright red, and tear-rimmed eyes.
His face drooped. Sympathy after all. She might be cruel and selfish, but after all she’d done, she was still his mother, and he was about to say goodbye to her for the final time.
She continued to huff, looking a bit ridiculous, and he smiled. “You’ll do well to remain here until everything calms down. You won’t see me again after this. I’m going to live my life free of the burdens you’ve placed upon me in the past. I hope that in the end, you can find your happiness.” He glanced at Liliana and broadened his smile. “And I hope you can be glad that I found mine.”
Catherine blinked at him. Her jaw slowly opened and closed, but no words came out.
“I’m going to barricade the door once we leave,” he continued, turning back to her. “I’m sure you’ll manage to escape eventually.”
Ire flashed through her eyes, then she made a lunge for the door, only to be intercepted by Liliana. She tried to dart around her, but Arhyen moved to bar her way.
Wordlessly, Ephraim opened the door and left the room, stepping into the hall with Liliana close behind. Stepping backward, Arhyen followed them, keeping a close eye on his mother.
“You’ll never truly leave this city,” she growled. “You’re no better than me.”
His smile didn’t falter. He’d long since given up on proving anything to her, but just this once, he’d be absolutely sure to prove her wrong.
“Goodbye, mother,” he muttered.
She glared at him as he shut the door in her face.
Given there was no lock, he leaned hard against the door to secure her as she started screaming and pounding to get out. “Grab that desk,” he instructed Ephraim, pointing to the heavy, roll top desk topped with a destroyed cash drawer.
Ephraim obeyed, pushing the desk across the wood floor. Arhyen stepped back as they slid the desk against the door.
Catching on, Liliana effortlessly lifted a heavy, overstuffed chair and carted it across the room, shoring it up against the desk to strengthen the barricade. It would take Catherine at least a few hours to find her way out, and if they were lucky, a few hours was all they would need.
He looked to Ephraim and Liliana, awaiting his further instruction.
Focusing his gaze on Liliana, he asked, “Do you still have our leverage?”
Looking unsure, she patted her coat pocket, then nodded. “You were there when I lost the poison, but the blue vial is still intact.”
Arhyen grinned. “Excellent, now it’s time to lead that angry mob to the Queen.”
His eyes nearly twinkling with excitement, Ephraim nodded his agreement.
Liliana furrowed her brow. “But I thought we weren’t going along with the Queen’s plan.”
“We’re not,” he explained. “But we’ll need an audience before we reveal everything the London Network has been hiding.”
Chapter 13
Arhyen ran as fast as his legs would carry him across the slippery cobblestone street. The snow had begun to melt, leaving him to navigate the treacherous slop that remained. They’d decided to split up in hopes of gathering a large group of people quickly. Ephraim took Market Street since they were already there, and he couldn’t travel as quickly as Arhyen and Liliana. Liliana took Tailor Street, and Arhyen took the bordering residential area. Once they’d gathered their groups, they would march past the old abandoned mansions of the once wealthy district, then on toward the palace.
It would be risky doing their demonstration there, but he wanted the Queen to believe everything was going as planned until the last minute. He could only hope his mother wouldn’t escape prematurely to ruin this one last chance to set things right.
He reached his destination, the largest, lower class residential area in the city. If he was going to find anyone to march on to the palace with him, he would find them here.
He slowed his run as he scanned the street. The small homes seemed undamaged, as if the chaos had not touched down here. He supposed it made sense. Hamlet had targeted the areas where people would be out and about during the day. The same areas that housed government buildings.
Though a few people had emerged from their homes to peer about warily, they didn’t exactly seem like the types to join an angry mob. He didn’t want to enlist those who had small children to look after, nor anyone too old to keep up. Mobs could be just as dangerous to their members as their opposition, and he would regret anyone getting trampled.
He paused for a moment to listen, wishing he had Liliana’s exceptional hearing. This neighborhood wasn’t going to work out. He needed a more active area of the city.
“Psst,” someone hissed from behind him.
He whirled around, then saw a masked face peering out from behind a nearby bush. At first he thought it was Hamlet, then he realized the figure was too small, and had long, blonde hair peeking out from beneath his or her black cap.
He took a curious step forward, then hesitated. He was not sure if Hamlet currently considered him an enemy or ally, so he could not predict how one of his henchmen would react.
Still crouched, the figure waved him over from behind the bush, revealing a female form in men’s black clothing.
With a wary glance over his shoulder, he gave in and trotted toward the masked woman.
She glanced around, then stood as he reached her. “I saw you yesterday,” she explained, her voice soft and breathy.
He thought back, wondering what she was talking about. His mind flashed on yesterday when Hamlet offered to drink poison for Liliana. He’d had henchmen with him. She must have been one of them.
“And?” he pressed, anxious to get on with his quest. He glanced around again, but no one seemed to be watching them.
He heard a nervous inhale of breath behind her mask. “Do you know where Hamlet is?” she whispered. “None of us have been able to find him.”
Curious, especially after the Queen’s lack of concern over his whereabouts. “Who is us?” he asked.
She took a step closer to him. “Those who no longer wish to be oppressed,” she replied cryptically. “None have seen Hamlet since he went to the palace last night. We fear the worst.�
��
His body tensed with the urge to step back, but he resisted. He sighed, his mind briefly racing for an explanation, but he had no time for this. “I haven’t seen him either, and I’d like to know just as much as you what he’s planning now. Unfortunately, I have other business to attend to.” He turned to leave.
“Please don’t go!” she gasped, reaching out for him. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. I have no one to guide me, nowhere to go.”
Guide her? He paused, then looked her up and down. Was she perhaps an automaton stolen away from her owner? It would make sense. Who else would join Hamlet willingly?
“Can you remove the mask?” he asked.
The girl simply stared at him through the realistic eyeholes of her porcelain facade.
“Listen,” he began patiently. “If you’re looking for something to do, I need to gather a large group of people in a short amount of time. Can you help me?”
She seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. “There are many of us. We split up to search for Hamlet, but have plans to reconvene.”
He clenched and unclenched his fists anxiously. This might actually work. “You’ll all have to remove the masks,” he explained. “You’ll need to appear like normal citizens, and reveal your true identity to no one. ”
She hesitated for a moment, then slowly lifted her gloved hands to remove her mask. Her face was lovely and young, with the perfect smooth skin common amongst female automatons. Yet, that was where the similarities ended. Her gaze was not the blank, emotionless gaze of an artificial construct. She was scared.
“What did Hamlet do to you?” he asked, his mind jumping to the synthetic emotions. “Did he have you inhale any sort of vapor.”
She shook her head, then looked down at her feet. “I was supposed to be destroyed. Remade into a new automaton for my owner. I had become . . . defective. Hamlet rescued me.”
Under Clock and Key (The Thief's Apprentice Book 3) Page 15