Necropolis

by Wendy Saunders

  Necropolis

  The Guardians Series 2 Book 3

  Wendy Saunders

  Copyright © 2020 by Wendy Saunders

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Also by Wendy Saunders

  The Guardians Series 1

  Book 1 Mercy

  Book 2 The Ferryman

  Book 3 Crossroads

  Book 4 Witchfinder

  Book 5 Infernum

  Book 6 A Little Town Called Mercy

  The Guardians Series 2

  Book 1 Scarlett

  Book 2 The Veritas

  Book 3 Necropolis

  The Carter Trilogy

  Book 1 Tangled Web

  Book 2 Twisted lies

  Book 3 Blood Ties

  Standalone Novels

  The Clockwork House

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  1

  London 1862.

  ‘Olivia,’ Scarlett frowned, ‘I don’t think that’s going to do any good.’

  Olivia pulled her muddy hand from the earth and sat back where she was kneeling, allowing the frozen dirt to filter between her numb fingers.

  ‘It’s not here,’ she blew out a shaky breath as she shuddered against the cold.

  Scarlett glanced down at the hole in the snow-covered ground from which they’d pulled themselves and pursed her lips thoughtfully.

  ‘Faraday must have it,’ she concluded. ‘I saw him reach for it just as we shifted. It must have somehow thrown us back in time as he grabbed for it.’

  ‘But why here?’ Olivia climbed back to her feet tiredly, rubbing her dirty hands on her jeans. ‘Why now?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Scarlett shook her head as she looked around warily, ‘we need to get out of sight though. We can’t risk anyone seeing us dressed like this and besides,’ she glanced up as slow, fat flakes of snow began to drift lazily toward the ground, ‘we’re going to freeze to death if we don’t get somewhere safe soon.’

  ‘But where the hell are we going to go?’ Olivia chewed her lip worriedly. ‘Last time I was thrown back through time luckily I had Theo with me, and he was familiar with the location.’

  ‘Well it looks like your luck is holding,’ Scarlett replied.

  Olivia glanced at her questioningly.

  ‘I lived here,’ Scarlett told her in a hushed tone. She peered through the ornamental bushes of the small public garden to the lamplit street beyond. ‘We need to figure out exactly where we are,’ she murmured. ‘If this really is November 1862, I have a property in London. If we’re still in Piccadilly it shouldn’t be far from here.’

  ‘If we’re still in Piccadilly? Do recognize anything?’

  ‘Give me a minute,’ she muttered as she glanced around, ‘it’s been nearly a century and a half since I was last here.’

  Olivia shivered violently as the snow began to fall faster.

  ‘It’s freezing,’ her teeth chattered.

  Scarlett nodded. ‘We need to get inside quick; neither of us are dressed for these temperatures.’

  Scarlett pulled back sharply and pushed Olivia behind the bush, crouching down beside her as an elegantly dressed gentleman in a tall hat and a huge dark coat ambled past, his face ducked down against the snow flurry.

  ‘There aren’t too many people left on the streets, thanks to the hour and the snow, but there are still a few and that could cause problems for us if we’re seen dressed like this.’ She turned to Olivia her lips pursed thoughtfully. ‘Can you cast a glamor?’

  Olivia nodded.

  She closed her eyes and tried to cast her mind back to the fashions of the mid-19th century but she was too cold, too exhausted. She couldn’t concentrate, her mind kept flitting back and forth, so instead she focused on the newspaper clipping they’d found in the Vegas hotel room, the one of herself and Scarlett standing beside the locomotive of the new subterranean train system.

  The picture had been grainy, in black and white, given that it had been from a century old newspaper, but she held the picture firmly in her mind as she began to mutter quietly under her breath. She felt her magic twitch and wake, sending a prickling sensation dancing along her frozen skin. The colors and details wouldn’t match exactly but with the low visibility caused by the snowstorm it would be enough to get them through the streets and safely inside without drawing too much attention.

  Scarlett watched the air around them ripple and shimmer. Although she felt no different, when she looked down, she noted with satisfaction that she now looked as if she was wearing a heavy winter gown and short cloak.

  ‘Not entirely accurate, but good enough,’ she nodded to Olivia who looked similarly attired. No one would know that they were in fact wearing jeans, hoodies and jackets beneath the glamor spell.

  We need to hurry,’ Olivia breathed heavily. ‘I don’t know what happened exactly when we were thrown through time, but I feel drained, right down to my bones. I can’t be sure how long the spell will last.’

  ‘We’d better get moving then,’ she offered Olivia the crook of her arm. ‘Hold on to me and I’ll try and get us there as quickly as possible.’

  Slipping her arm through Scarlett’s they huddled together, heads down against the icy wind as they headed out of the public park and onto the main road.

  The track marks from the passing of the carriages earlier were quickly disappearing under a pristine, soft looking, blanket of white. There was something so peaceful, so silent about the almost empty streets.

  Olivia glanced up at the gas lit streetlamps as the heavy flakes of snow spun and danced wildly round them like fairies. The air around them seemed muted, as if she’d suddenly gone deaf, and as she glanced at the tall elegant buildings, with their arched windows and frosted panes of glass, she felt like she was trapped inside a snow globe.

  She stumbled slightly and felt Scarlett’s grip on her arm tighten to steady her. Her legs didn’t feel as if they belonged to her, and she flat out couldn’t feel her toes through the thin leather of her boots. She’d have given a great deal at that point for her fleece lined snow boots, which she knew were at the bottom of her closet back in Mercy.

  Just thinking about her home caused her stomach to tense in a painful spasm followed by a sudden and intense wave of homesickness. She swallowed ruthlessly against the small flutters of panic clawing their way up her throat and forced herself to focus. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest, and she knew if she allowed herself to think about her children or Theo, she’d lose it.

  ‘Damn it,’ Scarlett muttered.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The Peelers,’ she pulled Olivia closer. ‘Just keep your head down and keep walking. We don’t want them stopping us and asking any questions.’

  Olivia did as she was told, but even as she attempted to quicken her pace on numb legs, she couldn’t resist a pe
ek. The snow was still a manic swirl, blocking out almost everything in sight but through the curtain of white Olivia managed to catch a glimpse of two men talking in hushed tones on the corner of the street. They both wore long, heavy, dark coats which could’ve been blue, but it was hard to tell. They also wore very tall hats as they held up small shuttered lamps.

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘Police constables,’ she replied, ‘just keep moving, we’re almost there.’

  ‘Thank God,’ Olivia breathed, ‘I can’t feel my face.’

  They turned sharply down a narrow alleyway which shielded them from the worst of the flurry. The snow crunched under their feet as they clambered over a small snowdrift that was beginning to form in the entrance of the alley. They continued on stiff legs, with frozen noses and fingers.

  ‘Do you think we’re going to get frostbite?’ Olivia whispered quietly as she glanced up at the buildings on either side, overhanging the alleyway and protecting them further. ‘I mean, it happens doesn’t it? I’ve seen the pictures of those early Arctic explorers with black noses and fingers missing.’

  ‘We’re not in the Arctic,’ Scarlett pointed out and even in the muted stillness of the snowy alley Olivia could hear the amusement in her voice, ‘and no, we’re not losing any vital appendages. We’re here anyway.’

  ‘Really?’

  They rounded a corner and exited the alley. To their left were a set of black iron railings and steep steps leading down to a door just below ground level.

  ‘Careful you don’t slip,’ Scarlett warned.

  Olivia gripped clumsily at the railing as she inched her way down the steps. When she reached the bottom she glanced up, blinking as the snowflakes clung to her eyelashes. They were standing at the rear entrance to a tall, narrow, elegant, four storied building.

  ‘Is this your house?’

  ‘Yes,’ Scarlett nodded, ‘we’re using the servants entrance just in case anyone sees us.’

  ‘Won’t the servants notice?’

  Scarlett shook her head.

  ‘The house is empty; it’s locked up for the winter. The other me, the one from this time period is fortunately in France. I spent the winter of 1862 in Paris with the Marquis de Beauvoir and his wife. Of course, he wasn’t really a Marquis, his father had barely escaped the revolution with his life the century before. In fact, at that point France didn’t even have a royal family anymore and the country was still recovering from the Napoleonic wars, but Beauvoir was still trying to re-live his family’s glory days. It didn’t prove to be too popular with the local Parisians and by January we decided it was prudent to return to their home in Switzerland. I stayed with them until the summer of that year, before moving on, so there’s no danger of running into the past version of myself.’

  Olivia blinked at Scarlett.

  The way Scarlett casually dismissed centuries of history, there were times when Olivia almost forgot how old Scarlett was. Then there were moments like these when it was brought into startling clarity.

  How strange her life had become? Olivia mused silently.

  ‘You’re going to have to Alohomora that lock for us,’ Scarlett nodded at the door handle. ‘I’d rather not break the glass and I don’t have a key.’

  Too cold to even bother speaking Olivia pressed her fingers to the lock. She felt a little surge almost like a small static shock and heard the lock click.

  ‘You’re a handy person to have around Olivia,’ Scarlett opened the door with a quiet creak and pushed Olivia into the cold dark room beyond.

  ‘Didn’t peg you for a Potter fan,’ Olivia whispered as she turned to Scarlett, her voice croaky from the cold.

  ‘Loved the books, loved the movies,’ she replied conversationally as she shut the door against the errant flakes of snow drifting in, in their wake, and bolting the door, securing it from the inside.

  ‘Where are we?’ Olivia squinted into the darkness of the cold room.

  ‘The scullery,’ Scarlett reached out and took Olivia’s hand.

  She found herself being confidently led through the dark house. Although she could barely make out her surroundings Scarlett seemed to know where they were going, and to be honest, she was simply too exhausted and too cold to complain.

  ‘Mind the stairs,’ Scarlett whispered.

  Holding on to Scarlett’s hand in the darkness, Olivia reached out with her other hand and felt the cool, smooth wood of the bannisters as they began to climb. Relying solely on Scarlett’s instincts and knowledge of the house to guide her, Olivia followed along blindly. She could have summoned her dragonflies as she always did when she needed light, but she didn’t have the energy. She felt completely and utterly drained. She supposed she should feel alarmed by the fact she didn’t have the strength to summon even one of her most basic skills but frankly, she was too tired to even worry.

  After a steep climb the floor once again flattened out beneath her feet. The sound of protesting hinges echoed through the stillness as Scarlett pushed open a door and led Olivia into the room beyond.

  ‘Where are we?’ Olivia asked quietly as they came to a stop.

  ‘Bedroom,’ Scarlett answered from beside her. ‘Do you think you can light the fire?’

  ‘I’ll try,’ Olivia reached out, her cold numb fingers brushing against the cool marble of the mantlepiece.

  ‘I’ll be right back.’

  Before Olivia could ask where she was going, her footsteps faded as she left the room. Kneeling in front of the fireplace, she pressed her fingers against the grate and reached deep down inside herself for her magic. Giving it a nudge, it unfurled slightly then coiled back in on itself like a sleepy child.

  Giving it a more forceful shove, it sparked, almost in annoyance before flooding her body. The grate burst into flames flickering wildly with silver, black, blue, purple and green flames before finally settling into the rich warmth of her Earth fire.

  What the hell was going on? It wasn’t like her to have so little control over her fire.

  She pushed up slowly, easing her aching body into a standing position as heat and light gradually flooded the room. She barely paid any attention to the rest of the room, her gaze was firmly fixed on the huge inviting bed, with a heavy wooden canopied frame and damask curtains, looking like something straight out of Dicken’s Christmas Carol.

  She headed over to the bed, stopping beside it and looking up as Scarlett hurried though the door and shut it behind her, enclosing the two of them in the room. In her arms she carried a heap of what looked like blankets and quilts.

  ‘Take your boots and your jacket off and get under the covers,’ Scarlett instructed as she dumped the blankets at the foot of the bed and turned down the sheets and heavily embroidered quilt.

  Not needing to be told twice Olivia kicked off her boots and dropped her jacket unceremoniously on the floor before climbing up onto the high bed and pulling the covers up to her chin as she began to shiver violently.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll warm up soon enough,’ Scarlett quickly unfolded a thick satin eiderdown and laid it on top of the bedclothes along with a second blanket, tucking Olivia in carefully.

  Kicking off her own shoes and shedding her jacket she climbed into the bed beside Olivia and snuggled close, wrapping her arms around her and using her own body heat to warm her.

  ‘You’re lucky I don’t feel the cold like humans,’ Scarlett muttered as she smoothed Olivia’s hair from her face.

  Olivia murmured something, but it was almost unintelligible as she slid effortlessly into an exhausted sleep.

  2

  Olivia rolled onto her back and stretched, her body stiff as she opened her eyes and blinked against the bright light flooding in from the window. The bone deep exhaustion she’d felt previously was gone and her body was flooded with a restless energy. Her stomach felt strangely hollow, tightening painfully as it let out a rather loud growl of distress. She was ravenous she realized, feeling as if she hadn’t eaten in a week.


  She gazed up at the heavy wooden frame of the bed with its twisted wooden posts and heavy, forest green damask. Her stomach swooped and she slowly closed her eyes as she let out a deep sigh of resignation. Part of her had hoped that the night before had been some kind of unpleasant dream, or weird hallucination.

  Once again, she felt the tiny flutters of panic in her chest and she ruthlessly squashed them. She couldn’t afford to have a freak out. So, she was stuck in Victorian London, with no compass and no way back. Even worse, if she didn’t have the compass Hades had entrusted her with, it could mean only one thing.

  Faraday had it.

  There could be no other explanation. Moments before they’d found themselves digging their way out of the frozen earth of a neatly manicured public garden there had been a struggle, and Jonathan Faraday, the leader of the Veritas had reached out and grabbed it.

  The question was, why did it throw her and Scarlett back to this particular place and time? And how? The compass only worked when she controlled it with conscious thought and she sure as hell hadn’t been thinking about 19th century London at the time.

  Pushing back the layers of bedding, still warm from her body heat, she sat up and glanced down.

  What the...?

  Her dirty jeans, t-shirt and hoodie were gone, replaced with a rather conservative white nightgown with a high collar and long sleeves edged in heavy lace.

  There was a polite tap at the door and suddenly it swung open with a token creak of protest. A small, dark haired head, covered with a white cotton cap, poked around it and a pair of brown eyes settled on Olivia. Satisfied Olivia was indeed awake, the door swung open fully and a young woman stepped into the room, her long dark dress falling to her ankles. Ankles, which were demurely covered with thick, dark woolen stockings and neat leather shoes with low heels. Her starched white apron was pristinely pressed and tied in a bow at the back of her waist. The bib covered the front of her chest, with plain ruffles fanning out either side to frame the puffy shoulders of her sleeves which tapered down to her narrow wrists.