Necropolis

by Wendy Saunders

  ‘What the hell is that?’ he croaked. ‘Are you trying to poison me? Because, trust me, you needn’t be that subtle, just shoot me in the head,’ he winced miserably. ‘I’d welcome the bullet.’

  The man watched him, his moustache twitching as his eyes lit slightly in amusement.

  ‘I’ll bet,’ he rumbled, ‘however, that’s not going to kill you. It’s an old folk remedy I picked up on my travels in the old country. It tastes like a horse’s ass, but if you can keep it down, you’ll start to feel human in no time at all.’

  ‘You know what a horse’s ass tastes like?’ Elias croaked.

  A deep amused rumble came from the man’s throat as he indicated for Elias to keep drinking.

  Elias grimaced and raised the cup to his lips obediently, his eyes watering as he swallowed past the intense nausea.

  ‘Time to pay the piper my friend,’ the man commented matter of factly. ‘You dance with the devil, sooner or later you pay the price.’

  ‘You have no idea how true that is’ Elias muttered under his breath. He handed the cup back and swallowed again, as a sudden and unpleasant moisture flooded his mouth.

  ‘I’m Luthor,’ the man held out his hand.

  ‘Elias,’ he tried to reply but ended up mouthing the word instead, afraid if he made any noise at that moment, he might follow it up by vomiting.

  ‘If you don’t mind my saying so Elias,’ Luthor remarked, ‘you look like hell.’

  Elias stared at him sourly, unable to respond as his stomach roiled and lurched dangerously.

  ‘You may not want any advice and it’s not exactly my place,’ Luthor stroked his moustache, pinching the curved end thoughtfully, ‘but I’m gonna say it anyway.’

  Elias continued to watch him silently.

  ‘You might want to be careful… keeping company with Pearl and all,’ he warned. ‘She’s a hell of a woman I’ll give you that. Attractive, passionate and lord knows… addictive, as many have discovered to their ruin, but she’s a free spirit. Wild, strong, untamable. She won’t be owned, not by man, circumstance, nor vice. She knows her limits; she may drink the devil’s liquor and she may breathe the poppy but she don’t let it rule her. Can you say the same?’

  Elias thought back to the hazy memories of the night before. Losing himself to the opium was like smothering his mind in a thick, warm, comforting blanket. All the pain and frustration fell away, until all he experienced was the scent of her skin, the feel of her body, the way everything had just melted into color and sensation. For those few precious hours, he hadn’t had to think, just get swept along with the tide. He’d needed that sweet oblivion, craved it even. It hadn’t meant anything to either of them; it was a release, an escape, nothing more and he wasn’t about to explain that to anyone, least of all a complete stranger.

  ‘I hardly think that’s any of your business,’ Elias managed to grate from between clenched teeth.

  ‘It ain’t,’ Luthor shrugged easily, ‘just a bit of friendly advice.’

  ‘Pearl and I have absolutely no interest in each other,’ Elias replied, ‘so if this is about jealousy...’

  ‘Whoa!’ Luthor held up his hands and let out a huge rolling belly laugh. ‘Not me, I ain’t man enough to take on Pearl, and besides… I think my wife might have somethin’ to say about that.’

  ‘Your wife?’ Elias replied as his gaze dropped to Luthor’s hand and for the first time he noticed the solid wedding band.

  ‘Like I said,’ Luthor continued, ‘just a bit of friendly advice, well meant. I don’t know what you’re running from, but I know being a slave to the poppy ain’t gonna help none.’

  Elias scowled at him and Luthor held up his hands.

  ‘I ain’t gonna ask you about ‘em neither,’ he rumbled. ‘Man’s demons are his own business, but you got a responsibility to those women with you, Olivia and Lady Rebecca, and the young one with pretty eyes. ‘Er especially. People find out what she is, she ain’t gonna be safe. What’s gonna ‘appen to ‘er if you’ve been at the pipe?’

  Elias’s scowl deepened and he looked away. Damned if Luthor wasn’t right, not that he’d admit it out loud. As much as Olivia and Scarlett could, and did take care of themselves, the young woman was an innocent. Sooner or later, Olivia and Scarlett would find a way back to their own time, of that he had no doubt, but the girl, she belonged in this time. She would be all alone, left to fend for herself.

  She’d saved them, there was no getting away from it and in doing so had exposed herself to the Veritas. And for what, he thought to himself sourly? He wasn’t worth saving. He’d proved that late last night.

  He couldn’t stop the swell of guilt mixed with nausea as he swallowed hard. The girl had gambled her life to save his and he couldn’t even say he was worthy. He owed a debt and he was going to have to pay it, whether he liked it or not.

  Luthor watched in silence, almost as if he was aware of Elias’s turmoil and when Elias finally looked up, his own expression held no censure nor judgement, just a strange kind of understanding.

  ‘I’m supposed to visit Cheapside this morning,’ Elias croaked.

  ‘Hadley and Mason, is it?’ Luthor replied and to which Elias nodded silently. ‘Well then,’ Luthor took in Elias’s disheveled appearance, ‘you’ll be wantin’ to clean up some.’

  Not waiting for an answer Luthor stood slowly, unfolding his huge frame from the tiny chair and giving Elias his first glimpse of his true height and intimidating frame. He crossed the small tent and picked up the jug of water, using it to fill the wash basin beside it. From a nearby trunk he produced a small rounded cake of soap the color of dark beeswax and smelling strongly of bay rum.

  Pushing himself gingerly to his feet Elias slowly crossed the room, pulling off his shirt as he went. He stopped in front of the basin and dipped his trembling hands into the cool water, scooping it up into his palms as he leaned forward and splashed his face.

  If Luthor noticed the long, deep, ugly scar on his back, he had the good grace not to mention it. Instead he bustled around the tent quietly as Elias began to wash.

  He’d just finished washing under his arms and was patting himself dry with a linen cloth when Luthor appeared at his side with a shaving kit which consisted of a small brush with badger bristles, a small round pot containing a bar of Vinolia’s premier shaving soap, a shaped china shaving mug and a folded razor.

  Elias picked up the mug, filled it with water and, dipping his brush in, used the soap to build up a thick lather which he began to apply liberally, while Luthor picked up the razor blade. He unfolded it from inside the handle and when it was fully extended, he used a leather strop to slowly and methodically sharpen each side of the blade.

  ‘Ere,’ he handed the sharpened blade to Elias.

  Elias reached for it, but his hands were still shaking and felt like lumps of clay as he tried to wrap his fingers around the handle. Unfortunately for Luthor, Elias slipped, and the blade grazed his palm, slicing his flesh open cleanly as the wound bloomed with blood.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Elias apologized, mortified to have caused the man injury.

  ‘Ah is nothing,’ Luthor shrugged, seemingly unconcerned.

  ‘It’s not nothing,’ Elias frowned, ‘I’ve wounded you.’

  Luthor held up his palm and Elias frowned in confusion. There was still a very evident smudge of wet blood, but no cut. Luthor simply leaned forward and plucked the razor from Elias’s hand. Lifting the blade slowly to make sure he had Elias’s attention he drew the sharp blade across his forearm, slicing open his skin.

  Elias gasped, watching in fascination as the skin, before his very eyes, began to knit itself back together, sealing closed, until there wasn’t even a hint of an injury or scar.

  ‘Round ‘ere I’m known as Thor the Immortal,’ he told Elias quietly, his blue eyes serious. ‘We look after our own.’

  Elias got the feeling he somehow meant him, even if the man was mistaken. He wasn’t one of them and he never would be.
They may share some magical similarities, but some people deserved to be saved and some people didn’t. He was pretty sure he fell into the latter category.

  ‘Ere,’ Luthor dragged a plain wooden stool across the floor and dipped the razor into the wash basin to clean the blood from the blade. Placing the linen towel over one shoulder he turned back to Elias, eyeing his shaking hands. ‘Best take a seat. If I let you near your face, you’ll end up peeling your skin off.’

  Deciding not to bother arguing Elias sank down gratefully onto the stool with a sigh. He was exhausted, bone deep and weary right to his very soul. He sat as obediently as a child while Luthor shaved his face quickly and efficiently, wiping the blade on the cloth draped over his shoulder as he finished.

  ‘There,’ he nodded in satisfaction, ‘you still look like hell, but at least you’re clean.’

  ‘Thank you Luthor,’ Elias stood and retrieved his shirt, pulling it back over his head and buttoning his waistcoat over the top. Lastly, he pulled on his jacket as Luthor handed him his homburg, which he placed over his, now, neatly combed hair.

  Turning away from the giant man, Elias risked a glance in the shaving mirror. Luthor was right, he still looked like a corpse but at least he was a presentable one. Mr Hadley and Mr Mason at least would not be offended by his very presence.

  Giving Luthor one last nod of appreciation he headed for the door. He may not have deserved the sacrifice Eve made for him, he may never be able to repay it, but there was one thing he could do for her. He’d find her a safe place to stay; it was the least he could do.

  Eve sat in the deep copper bathtub, her knees drawn tightly up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them firmly to cover her nakedness, surrounded by these strange women. The one with the red hair, everyone called Lady Rebecca but was sometimes known as Scarlett and who, she was certain, had wings.

  Then there was the one called Olivia, who seemed to be the youngest but who everyone seemed to defer to, not that she could blame them. There was something about the dark-haired woman. She exuded power and energy, but she also caught glimpses of sadness in her eyes, often at times superseded by a heavy burden.

  Then there was the strange, quiet little blond woman everyone called Ada. It was obvious she was blind but curiously, she did not move as if she were. Her eyes were blank and lifeless, but she moved with the grace of a dancer, always knowing where she was and where others were in relation to her, and Eve was at a complete loss as to explain how that was possible.

  She sat and watched them silently. It was what Eve did, she observed. Being mistaken for a deaf mute came with certain advantages, one of those being that often people would mistake mute for dumb. Thinking she was somehow slow or simple, and deaf to boot, they took no pains to hide their conversations from her. This had afforded her many an opportunity to watch and learn secrets.

  For example, she’d known Olivia and Scarlett were planning to break into the palace and steal from the Queen. She still wasn’t sure how they’d actually done it. She’d followed them from the Drunken Duck, too curious not to. She’d watched them meet up with the pretty man she’d seen them with, a few nights previously. It was obvious he was a man drowning in vices, liquor or drugs. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d seen it, especially not boarding and working at the Duck. She’d almost dismissed him out of hand, just like many of the Duck’s other punters, that was until he’d looked up at her with those dark eyes filled with pain.

  Pain she knew, pain she understood. He’d stared straight into her eyes, like no one else had and for the first time ever she’d had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  She hadn’t intended to follow them, but she’d seen him and suddenly her feet had been moving before she’d realized it.

  It hadn’t been difficult hiding from them. She was used to people ignoring her, she knew how to be invisible. It was how she’d survived for so long, making herself as small and dirty as possible. It was why she’d often been mistaken for a child, even though she’d lived longer than twenty-five years.

  ‘My god,’ Olivia muttered behind her as she gave Eve’s hair another gentle tug, ‘if I ever get these tangles combed out it will be a miracle. It’s a crime to let hair as beautiful as this get so dirty and matted. It’s practically dreadlocks.’

  Eve wasn’t sure what she meant by that; she had no idea what dreadlocks were, but they didn’t sound pleasant. She sat obediently in the warm water of the tub while Olivia kneeled behind it, gently soaping her dirty hair and combing it.

  She never bothered with it. She’d learned early on men liked her hair and her eyes. It brought her too much unwanted attention, so she’d learned to keep her eyes cast to the floor and her hair gathered up and hidden beneath a ragged headscarf, which she felt oddly naked without. Although, she thought to herself ruefully, she was literally naked, and in front of strangers no less. But then again, they hadn’t given her much of a choice. They had averted their gazes as much as they could to preserve her modesty, which was thoughtful of them. Most people wouldn’t care how dirty she was.

  They’d cared, they’d painstakingly scrubbed the embedded dirt from beneath her fingernails and behind her ears. Scrubbed her till her skin was pink and wrinkled, smelling of rosewater or some such fancy.

  Eve glanced across to Scarlett who, along with Ada, was rifling through a trunk and pulling out stout thick winter stockings, a clean chemise and corset, petticoats and a rather striking blue dress. She hoped they weren’t expecting her to wear that, it was far too fine for the likes of her.

  Suddenly Ada turned and headed for the entrance to the tent. Eve could hear low hushed voices, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she drew her knees in closer to her chest, feeling very exposed.

  After a moment the murmuring ceased and Ada headed back into the room, her expression troubled.

  ‘Eden is here,’ she told Olivia and Scarlett. ‘She wants to see you.’

  ‘Eden?’ Olivia looked up in surprise.

  Ada nodded, ‘you’d better go. If she came back to the cirqué to see you, it must be important.’

  Olivia released Eve’s hair and stood, placing the ivory toothcomb down on a nearby table and drying her hands.

  ‘Then I guess we should see what she wants,’ she glanced down at Eve.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Ada assured her, ‘she’ll be safe.’

  Olivia didn’t even bother to wonder how the blind woman knew exactly what she was thinking when she couldn’t read her expression, she simply turned her attention to Scarlett who nodded in agreement.

  ‘Stay here with Ada,’ Olivia moved into Eve’s eye line, ‘we won’t be long.’

  Eve nodded, watching as Olivia and Scarlett shared a worried look and hurried from the room.

  ‘There now,’ Ada moved closer to the bathtub holding up a bath sheet, ‘don’t fret love. I know this must all seem a bit strange to you.’

  Assuming as Ada was technically blind it was safe for her to stand and climb out of the tub, Eve did so, stepping into the sheet Ada held up, before wrapping herself firmly in it.

  ‘Let’s get you into some warm clothes and get your hair dried before you catch cold,’ she told Eve as she moved confidently across the room.

  Ada picked up the chemise and handed it to Eve who was looking around the room for her old clothes. She didn’t feel comfortable wearing anything that wasn’t hers. Besides the dress looked too fancy and far too tight. She wasn’t comfortable with letting people look at her figure. It drew unwanted attention, which is why she wore a misshapen dress in drab ugly colors, that was far too big for her.

  ‘Sorry love,’ Ada apologized, not sounding apologetic at all, ‘but your clothes ‘ave probably been burned by now. No offence, but they were pretty bad. It’s time you ‘ad somethin’ new and lord knows you need something warmer than that sack you was wearin’.’

  Eve couldn’t even argue with her; she couldn’t speak and if she signed, not only could Ada not see it, she probably woul
dn’t understand either.

  Letting out a quiet, resigned breath, Eve rubbed her skin down quickly with the sheet to dry herself and tugged the chemise over her head.

  ‘Ere, put these on, they’ll keep you warm,’ she handed Eve a thick pair of woolen stockings. ‘I’ve got some boots ‘ere for you, I think they’ll fit. If not, Nix might ‘ave a pair you can borrow until we can buy you some new ones of your own.’

  Sitting down on a nearby stool she pulled the stocking over her long legs, marveling at the warmth as she ran her hands over them slowly. They were so soft and thick. Her old ones were coarse and threadbare, well-worn, and stretched to the point they kept falling down.

  The boots, to her good fortune, did indeed fit, lacing up to her ankles, with small stylish heels she wasn’t sure she could walk in.

  Before she knew it, Ada was tightly lacing her into a corset and petticoats, before buttoning her into the deep blue dress with darker blue ribboning. Eve turned and caught her reflection in the mirror and stopped dead. The reflection staring back at her looked nothing like the dirty waif of a servant. Although her hair was still wet and hanging down in damp ropes to her waist, she could’ve almost passed for a lady.

  She stroked her hand over the fine material. It felt as pretty as it looked and for one crazy moment, she wanted to keep it, but she knew she couldn’t. As soon as Olivia and Scarlett moved on with their beautiful young man, she’d once again be on her own. She couldn’t return to the Duck, not now. She’d have to move on again, maybe this time leave London altogether. Perhaps Liverpool or Manchester, a big nameless city where a dirty, skinny servant could disappear, a faceless one of many. Something she couldn’t do if she was dressed like this. No, as soon as she was able to, she’d find herself some suitable clothes and be on her way.

  Suddenly the tent flap flew open and a young woman with sparkly green eyes, freckles and strawberry blonde hair, in a pretty mauve gown, swept in, followed by an exotic looking woman with loose black hair and olive skin.