“That arm of his… I’ve never seen anything like it. It was almost like that cat’s leg, only clumsier and not finished off so nice.”
“That cat’s name is Macak,” she muttered.
Macak made a soft chirrup sound in recognition of his name then went back to purring.
“So it seems.” Chaff set the rag aside and moved away, keeping a hand on her shoulder to hold her upright. “Mae.”
He said her name right, that meant this was important. She forced her eyes open against the weight of laudanum dragging them down. He had knelt in front of her, his eyes bright with worry.
“Do you know who he was, that bludger in the ally with the metal arm?”
The question had to come. She’d expected it before this. She tried to draw in a deep steadying breath, but her lungs were heavy and her back hurt. She settled for a small inhale. It didn’t clear her head as much as she would have liked. “He is… was… one of the men who killed Commissioner Henderson.”
Chaff lowered his gaze. The muscles in his jaw worked, clenching and unclenching. The news upset him, as it should. This mess was big on a scale that went well above the business of the streets. She felt bad about involving him in it. This wasn’t his trouble. To be fair, she hadn’t realized it was hers either until the big brute said as much. Whoever took out the commissioner wanted her gone too for some reason. It might be nothing more than her association with Em, but she had also been living with Lucian when the commissioner visited, so there was no way to know for sure without talking to whoever was behind it all. Trouble was, whoever they were, they didn’t seem much interested in talking.
“I don’t suppose it was a coincidence that he came after you?”
Fear kindled inside her, twisting her gut into so many knots. Would Chaff want her to leave if she told him the truth? A lot of boys counted on him for a safe haven off the streets. Her presence threatened that.
She had to force the words out through sudden constriction in her throat. “No. He said someone paid him to get rid of me. I don’t know who or why exactly.”
He was silent a long time, staring at Macak. Fear swelled in her, pushing out against the insistent calm brought on by the laudanum. It would be too dangerous to let her stay. The only sensible thing to do would be to send her away, but she didn’t want to be on her own again, not yet. Much as she hated to admit it, she needed him.
“You should get some rest,” he murmured.
“No. I need to check the papers.”
Chaff shook his head, a wry smile drawing up the corners of his mouth a fraction. “You need to heal. I’ll go scout out the news.”
He slid a hand around into her hair then and she closed her eyes, relaxing into the touch and savoring the relief that he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to send her away quite yet. The touch of his lips, slightly parted and soft against hers, caught her by surprise. The kiss was gentle, mindful of her injuries. Her pulse began to race, waging a new war against the sedating effect of the drug. The conflict made her dizzy and breathless.
He was her friend, her mentor, at times even her rival, not… not this, and yet she dreaded the moment he would pull away. She needed his help, but that wasn’t all she wanted anymore. The touch of his lips stirred other wants.
Their lips moved apart a fraction. He was breathing faster now. His hand slid forward to caress her cheek. For several seconds, he stayed there as if torn, his breath tickling her lips. He kissed her again, lightly and without lingering this time, then shifted back and stood, turning away from her. The room spun. She swallowed and resisted the impulse to call him back.
“Get some rest. I’ll bring some eats back with me.” He sounded tense, a spring wound to the point of breaking.
“There’s some tin in my coin purse,” she whispered.
He nodded and picked up the purse from the pile in the corner, moving some of the coin into his pocket before slipping silent from the room. She stared at the door for a several minutes wishing there were some way to know what he was thinking before she gave up and eased herself down on her side. The way her pulse still raced, she didn’t think she would sleep much, but the laudanum worked its magic and she drifted off, Macak a tiny heater curled against her chest.
When she woke again, the door was cracked and Macak was gone. She got the feeling she’d been asleep a long time, though the light in this part of the building rarely changed. There were hushed voices outside the door, two people having a quiet conversation she couldn’t quite make out. With great care, she sat up, feeling a smidgen more mobile than before. Chaff walked in, no doubt alerted by the creaking of the cot. Macak trotted in with him and he closed the door. He set some things on the cabinet then placed his hands on the corners and leaned into them, not looking at her.
She touched a finger to her lips, remembering the kiss. He was quite good at it, at least in her limited experience. Did he regret doing it? Did she?
“How many girls have you kissed?” She bit the inside of her lip as soon as the words were out. What kind of question was that? How did that matter at all next to everything else that was going on?
He froze for a telling second, then answered, “Just you.”
Her chest tightened. “Don’t lie.”
“Just you… recently.” He dug the remaining coins out of his pocket and dropped them on the cabinet top. “Do you really want to talk about this?”
He appeared tenser now than when he’d left. Had something happened while she was sleeping to upset him? If so, she would do him the courtesy of giving him time to bring it up when he was ready, especially since her wits hadn’t fully recovered from the lingering effects of the laudanum, as proven by that ridiculous question.
“I was only curious.”
“Why, because I’m good at it?” He gave her a quick sideways glance and almost smiled before turning to back stare at the coins on the cabinet again.
“Yes.” She felt her cheeks flush with the admission.
“You know I’ve spent my whole life on the streets.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s come up a few times.”
She couldn’t stop herself from stumbling further down that path. “Kissing?”
“That is what we were taking about.” He sounded almost angry now.
Was that jealousy twisting in her gut or hunger pangs? Something in the things he’d set down smelled delicious and it was making her mouth water. She would assume it was only hunger. Still…
“Maybe I shouldn’t sleep in here.”
He spun to face her, pushing away from the cabinet hard enough that the top rocked back and bumped the wall, scattering coins and other items. “Maybe you shouldn’t be here at all.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Maeko stared. Her throat tightened. She could think of nothing to say. Had she done something to make Chaff angry? Was he finally realizing the risk? Was she about to be booted to the street?
“I’m confused about something. You said Lucian was dead.” He pointed in the vague direction of the main exit from the building. “The papers say it was Mr. Folesworth’s twin brother who died in that airship explosion. You need to tell me what’s really going on. This isn’t a game. Everyone here may be in danger.”
She should have explained all of that by now, but pain and laudanum had muddled her thoughts. His advances hadn’t helped with that either so, in a sense, he also shared some blame for the inadequate communication. She considered pointing that out, but the fire in his eyes was sufficient discouragement. “Mr. Folesworth’s twin brother did die in the explosion, just not the brother everyone thinks. Thaddeus is trying to take Lucian’s place as the head of Clockwork Enterprises.”
This was the first time she could ever remember seeing him turn that pale when he wasn’t sick or grievously injured.
He shifted his stance and started to speak then fell silent, his arm dropping back to his side. His brow furrowed and his narrowed eyes darted about with the flurry of raci
ng thoughts. Several seconds passed before he looked at her, or more like through her, and asked, “You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
He began to pace, muscles in his jaw jumping with the grinding of his teeth. Macak darted out of his path and hopped up to settle behind her on the cot.
“This is a sorry and sad mess, Pigeon.”
She responded with a tiny nod, struggling with the tears that stung her eyes. Bollocks, she’d had enough of tears, but… he believed her. He didn’t like it any more than she did, but he was taking her at her word.
Chaff stopped by the wall and stared at nothing for several uncomfortable minutes. He nodded after a bit. “I should have the boys move to a different lurk here in town.” Finally, he faced her again. “You and I can head out to the place in Whitechapel.”
His words didn’t reconcile with what she was expecting him to say. Had she heard him right? “You and I?”
He gave her a pained look. “Did you think I would just kick you to the streets?”
She stared at him. Perhaps she really hadn’t woken up yet. This was some dream she was having about how she wanted things to work out. “I… Yes, I did. That’s what you should do.”
He grimaced. “Maybe so, but that’s not what I intend to do.”
She might have kissed him then, had she the ability to stand up before second thoughts crept in. Pain kept her from such spontaneity, which was probably best. He didn’t need any encouragement.
“I’ll have Diggs start moving the boys out. We’ll have everyone out of here by tomorrow night. You can take one more day to rest and recover, then we’ll head out too.” He turned toward the door, ready to get moving on his plan.
“Chaff.”
He faced her again, looking smug and expectant.
“Maybe I shouldn’t sleep in here tonight.”
He chuckled wryly. “Here I thought maybe you were about to apologize for bringing this chaos down on our merry den of thieves.” His playful wink lightened the hard truth within his words, but his expression was sober when he continued. “Pigeon, the boys don’t care where you sleep. You need a quiet place to rest and this room is the best place in the building for that. Besides, I can’t take care of you as well if you’re not here.”
Or do any number of other things you might be of a mind to try? She let it go. It took too much effort to argue.
He nodded as if the subject were resolved and strode from the room, a man with a mission.
While he was gone, she made short work of the meal he’d brought her. With food in her stomach, she felt strong enough to wander around the building for a short time to stretch her legs and chat with some of the other thieves and pickpockets residing there. Most of them she knew, though the boy she’d chased down the other day scowled and moved off when she came near. They all still found Macak fascinating and the cat basked in the attention.
None of them mentioned the sleeping arrangements, though a few knowing glances passed between some of the older boys. Perhaps they really didn’t care what she and Chaff did behind closed doors, not that they had done anything. The boys also didn’t appear to care that she had brought this upheaval upon them. Moving around to stay out of Literati hands was part of their life. It didn’t matter so much what the catalyst was. They were used to it.
Diggs and Chaff went around the building, hurrying some boys along in their departure preparations and doling out orders on who would leave when so there wasn’t a conspicuous mass exodus from the building. It was good that Chaff had Diggs to back him up. She had always tried to be helpful in that regard, but, while those who knew her respected her skills, most of them still weren’t keen to take direction from a girl. They would listen to Diggs.
When the ache in her back and neck became too intense again, she trudged back to the room. Chaff was there ahead of her sorting through the cabinet and tossing things into a satchel to take with them. The clothes Em had given her lay folded on top of Macak’s carrier.
He closed the cabinet and set the satchel aside when she entered. “How are you feeling?”
She recalled a comment Thaddeus had made and smiled bitterly. “Like I was run over by a hansom.”
“That good.” He smiled sympathetically as he stood and walked over to her. “Let me take a look at your back.”
She hesitated a moment, then turned her back to him and unbuttoned the top several buttons of the shirt, shifting it all up to keep her front covered while giving him enough slack to pull the collar down and see her back. Chaff shifted the collar around and whistled softly.
“He did you down real good, Pigeon.” His fingers pressed lightly on one spot and she sucked in a sharp breath. “Sorry. Do you think anything’s broken?”
“Hurt’s like the blazes, but I don’t think so. How does it look?”
“Like the skin of a rotten pear, just like your neck where he squeezed it.”
She turned her head a little to smirk over her shoulder at him, delighted that her neck let her get away with that much motion and that talking hurt a little less now than it had. “Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.” She faced forward again, feeling the beginnings of a spasm in her neck.
“How does it feel here?”
His soft voice triggered an alarm, but she didn’t have a chance to react before his lips touched her neck. A shiver went through her, setting off a blaze of pain in her back and neck that killed any pleasure she might have gotten from it. She cried out and twisted away. His face, when she turned on him, was almost comical with guilt and surprise, though she wasn’t feeling especially amused. She gave him a frosty look and began to button up the shirt.
“I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose.” He was trying hard not to smile, which didn’t please her. “I honestly didn’t expect that much of a reaction.”
“I’m sleeping somewhere else,” she grumbled.
“May.”
She glared daggers at him and he winced as if stung.
“Mae,” he corrected. “I promise I won’t try anything else.” He held up his hands in a show of surrender. “Let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make sure there’s a separate room for you in the place at Whitechapel if that’s what you want.”
Did he mean that, or was he just trying to appease her for now? Most likely the latter, though she gave a small nod, accepting the terms at face value for simplicity sake. They could have a row about it if necessary when they got there and she’d healed a little more.
“You should take some laudanum or you won’t get any sleep tonight.”
“I slept most of the day away,” she protested. She was sick of being in pain and sick of being coddled.
“And more rest will help you heal.”
“You’re not my Mum,” she snapped.
“You think she’d say any differently?”
She didn’t answer. Her estranged mother was still providing illegal medical care to the Pirates, even after Lucian paid off her debt as part of his show of gratitude for Maeko’s role in saving his life. Her mother would, without a doubt, agree with Chaff on this. In fact, she would probably ask him to hold her down so she could ladle the foul liquid down Maeko’s throat.
“I thought so.” Chaff shook his head at her. “Stubborn bird.”
He dug the bottle out while she continued to scowl at him. Right or not, he would at least know that she wasn’t happy about it. He mixed some into a cup. She grabbed it from him and swallowed it, then threw the cup back at him. He caught it and grinned, putting the cup and the laudanum in the satchel.
When the drug began to take effect, he sat next to her on the cot and put a cold rag against her neck again to ease the pain and swelling. She tried to stay aware and apart, but it was wasted effort. In time, she sank into him and drifted to sleep.
*
Despite her best intentions, she woke the next morning pressed against him with Macak curled at her feet, only this time Chaff had gotten rid of his shirt at some point. She didn
’t recall when, but she did recall the incidents that led to many of the scars on his chest and abdomen. Most were from knife fights and an unfortunate number of those had been the result of his coming to her defense. He always had tried to take care of her. Perhaps it shouldn’t surprise her that he insisted on doing so now.
When she ran away at the age of seven, she thought the harsh realities of life in the brothel had forced her to grow up fast, but ten-year-old Chaff had amazed her. He understood the streets and the laws that governed there and, most importantly, how to use them to his advantage, better than any of the adults she’d run into. Yet, with all his street smarts, he could be so frustratingly immature at times. It had taken her a while to discover that was more a boy thing than a Chaff thing.
A faint smile turned her lips and her gaze wandered down to a puckered scar a few inches below his ribcage. That had been the end result of someone offering to buy her for a night when she was eleven. Even as a gangly fourteen year old, he could come out on top of most single battles. The other bloke had fled the scene in worse condition, but the wound had infected later and almost killed Chaff. The recollection of those tense days, terrified that he would die because of her, made her throat clench. Her hand slid down, drawn by memories, her fingers tracing the edge of the scar.
His breathing changed suddenly and his hand came up, catching her wrist in an iron grip. “I know you’re in no shape for the reaction that kind of touching is going to get you right now.”
Bound up desire in his voice brought a hot burn to her cheeks.
“I… I was just remembering when that happened.”
After a few seconds, his grip on her wrist loosened. He slid his hand up to take hold of hers, guiding it to a long thin scar over his heart. “Remember this one?”
She couldn’t stop a smile. “Yes. That was when you were teaching me how to defend myself with a blade.”
The Girl and the Clockwork Conspiracy: Clockwork Enterprises Book Two Page 11