“Is Midnight entertainin’?” Sev asked, sniffing at the air.
“Mr. Sev,” Xiang said it as though Sev should know better. “I have prepared a meal for you, Mr. Rat, and Mr. Jack.”
“I wasn’t expectin’ t’get fed,” Rat interjected.
“Nor did I,” Sev agreed. “But I’ll take any excuse fer a chance to eat yer cookin’, Xiang.”
“You will be very happy, then, Mr. Sev.” Xiang moved toward Midnight’s personal rooms, waving them onward. “Come. Come. Mr. Jack has been waiting for you.” Xiang led them to Midnight’s private rooms. Sev followed, torn between being excited about Xiang’s cooking and suspicious about being invited to dinner. Midnight never did anything without a motive, and Sev wondered what his purpose was here. Was he trying to lure Sev into a false sense of camaraderie? Was Midnight attempting to poison him? Probably not, but the situation still did not sit well.
When they entered Midnight’s private dining area, Jack sat at the head of a table laden with dishes of food. His nose was buried in the Blackside Bulletin. He didn’t look up as the trio entered. “Mr. Sev and Mr. Rat are here, sir,” Xiang announced. Midnight’s only acknowledgment was a quiet grunt from behind the paper. Xiang motioned for them to sit, and they obeyed silently. Xiang waited for a moment until Midnight waved him away.
Midnight, Sev, and Rat sat in silence. With a raised eyebrow, Sev regarded his host. Midnight seemed intent to ignore the boys and the food. When Sev glanced at Rat, the urchin’s eyes were wide as he gazed around at the dishes in front of him. Sev cleared his throat. Midnight rattled his newspaper in response. Rat puffed on his pipe and folded his arms, clearly annoyed. Sev shifted in his seat, even more puzzled than before. Before he could curse the villain, Jack folded up his paper and placed it on the table next to his plate.
“Hello, fellows,” he said with a wide grin. “So good to see you. I was just catching up on the events of the day in our fair, newly freed, little hamlet.” Midnight flicked open his napkin, then placed it across his lap before serving himself from the dishes in front of him. “What are you waiting for, chaps? Tuck in.” He didn’t wait for his guests, just picked up his chopsticks and gathered noodles.
Rat looked at Sev, who gave a shrug, and they dished out Xiang’s expertly prepared cuisine. Sev picked up a pair of chopsticks, having finally taught himself to use them and actually growing quite fond of the strange utensils. Rat ignored the pair near his plate, preferring the familiarity of a proper fork. The young man shoveled copious amounts of eastern fare into his mouth.
Midnight regarded his youngest guest with an expression of bemusement. He swallowed and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “Looks like our old friend Ratty still retains his famous appetite,” he said, pointed with his chopsticks, and chuckled.
Sev nodded, swallowing a mouthful of noodles. “Who can blame ’im? Xiang’s morsels have that effect on folks.”
“A fair point.” Midnight snared food from his plate. He popped the treats into his mouth.
Rat offered them a stuffed-cheek grin but said nothing, preferring to eat uninterrupted by speech. Sev and Midnight shared a chuckle. “So Sev….” Midnight dropped his chopsticks, having finished his meal. “Shall we discuss what I’ve summoned you here to discuss?”
Sev nodded. He wasn’t finished eating, but he laid his chopsticks down regardless. He reached up to wipe his mouth on his sleeve, thought better of it, and picked up his napkin instead. “Aye, Jack. I knew we weren’t here for a simple dinner.”
“Always the sharp one, Seven.” Jack tipped him a wink. “The last time I saw you, we were on the steps of Stafford House.”
“Aye, so we were.”
“I wonder what brought you to the Duke of Sutherland’s not-so-humble abode.”
“Do ye?” Sev regarded Midnight suspiciously once more. “I find it hard t’believe that the infamous Jack Midnight, man with his finger in a hundred pies, has no idea why I was meetin’ with the duke.”
Midnight raised his hands in mock surrender. “You know me too well, Sev.” Midnight smiled his feline smile, like the cat in that fanciful book everyone was talking about. “You read me correctly, my friend.” The way Midnight said “friend” didn’t inspire feelings of friendship. “I have a fairly accurate idea of why William asked to see you.”
Rat’s gaze darted from Midnight to Sev, interested and fearful.
“I’m not surprised,” Sev answered. “Why don’t ye tell me what we discussed?”
“Very well,” Midnight almost growled. Sev noticed a fine sheen of sweat erupt on Rat’s forehead, and Sev was reasonably sure it wasn’t from Xiang’s spices. “Our William needs you for something… covert. Not unlike what I needed you for when we began our little partnership.”
Sev nodded.
“That I know for certain,” Midnight continued. “But exactly what you spoke of, I know not.” He paused, obviously waiting for Sev to fill in the missing bits. Sev did not. “Hm. Tight-lipped, eh? Shall I guess, then?”
“If ye want.” Sev shrugged, unwilling to reveal what Wrathsbury had told him in confidence.
Midnight scowled. “I assume it has something to do with the new branch of government that William has created.”
Sev remained stoic.
“I’ll take your lack of reaction as an affirmative.” Midnight reclined in his chair and studied Sev with an eye circled in dark, smoky makeup, his left eye obscured by his sleek, black curtain of hair. “I know Benty is a member of this novel, secret endeavor. I can only conjecture that you were asked to join as well?”
Sev shrugged noncommittally.
“Ah, so you were. And what was your answer?” Midnight steepled his hands before his lips.
“I ain’t a joiner, Jack. Ye know that.”
“Mm. Yes.” Midnight closed his eyes. “William asked you to join his little group, you refused but agreed to help your boy, Benty,” Midnight guessed correctly. “What does that mean for our little arrangement, Mr. Seven?”
Sev was a little disturbed by Midnight’s sudden use of the formal address. He knew if he showed Midnight any weakness, the villain would exploit it. “Well, Mr. Midnight,” Sev said, throwing the formality back in Midnight’s face, “I shouldn’t think it’d have any bearing at all on our arrangement.” Sev knew it would have bearing, but he hoped he could defuse the situation. “Except,” he added, “for the fact that I will need to take a leave of absence.”
Midnight growled, low, menacingly in his throat. “How long?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Sev answered honestly. He looked over at Rat, who had ceased eating but sat openmouthed with a forkful of food paused just before him. “Are ye aware o’the nature o’the task Wrathsbury has asked us t’accomplish?”
“It’s something to do with the colonies, unless I’m very much mistaken.”
“Ye’re not wrong,” Sev answered.
“I know.” Midnight grumbled. “Tell me.”
Sev spared a look at Rat. His face was plastered with worry, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly. Sev ignored the warning and plowed ahead. “There’s a very delicate and disturbin’ situation occurrin’ in Victorica.” Sev went on to explain the division of the North and the South, as well as the contentious issue of slavery.
Midnight curled his lip in disgust. “Slavery.” Jack sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What’s the solution?”
“It ain’t that easy, sire.” Rat finally joined the conversation.
“Rat’s right, Jack. There’s no simple answer. We have t’go over there and try t’stop the bastards, the slavers,” Sev explained.
“It’s all a little too familiar,” Midnight stated. He sat seemingly lost in thought.
“What’re ye thinkin’? Sev asked.
“I’ve been trying to get a foothold in the colonies for some time, but the bastards in charge over there are making it extremely difficult. And slavery? I cannot stomach that shite. Man ought to be able to decide his own
future no matter the shade of his skin.”
Sev nodded. “I would never compromise our agreement. But….” Sev paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I can’t stand by and let this injustice go on. I have t’do me part. Can ye understand that?”
“I can, Sev.” Midnight frowned. “There are some men in the colonies who represent my interests, and I’d appreciate it if you spoke with them. They may even be able to help you with the task that William has set forth.”
“I’ve no problem with that.”
“You may need weapons,” Midnight added. “Revolutions are rarely reconciled without violence. I can provide those weapons. Fervis’s old factory has been cranking them out steadily.”
“I’ll speak t’whoever ye want me to,” Sev said. “And I’ll accept any help ye’re willin’ t’give. This isn’t goin’ t’be a walk in the park.”
Midnight pursed his lips. “Sev. Seven.” His tone took on a gravity Sev was unfamiliar with. “I know this is going to be more dangerous than anything any of us have faced so far.”
Sev swallowed hard, wondering how Midnight could think this would be worse than the animated corpses they’d found in the tunnels attached to Undertown, how this could be worse than Fervis’s attack, how it could be worse than battling a mad wizard. “Er” was all Sev managed in response.
Midnight explained, “The first time they won their independence it was chaos, bloody chaos. And when Her Majesty decided to retake that vast, uncivilized continent, they fought back tooth and nail, despite the fact they were outgunned, outsmarted, and outnumbered. The Steamcoats nearly decimated the population before the colonists finally raised a white flag. This has the potential to get even uglier.”
“Blimey,” Rat whispered in awe.
“If you really want an advantage?” Midnight leveled his gaze on Sev.
“Anythin’ ye can provide would be appreciated.” Cold sweat broke from his skin.
“Anything?” Midnight asked. “Are you quite certain?”
Sev nodded.
“Then take this.” Midnight retrieved a familiar book from within his coat and slid it across the table.
“Is that—?” Sev’s eyes grew impossibly wide.
“Jaysus jumpin’!” Rat finally dropped his forkful of food.
“Fairgate’s Grimoire,” Midnight confirmed, “filled with spells and magic that might assist you in your mission. If you’re willing to use it.”
Sev gazed apprehensively at the tome as if it would rise up of its own accord and bite him. He couldn’t figure out why Midnight would think it could help. “How did you get this?” he asked.
Midnight’s face split in a canary-eating smile. “I have my ways.” He tapped the book with his fore and middle finger. “Consider it a secret weapon, something to hold in reserve unless you find it absolutely necessary to use.”
“I don’t know,” Rat interjected. “Fightin’ evil with greater evil. It seems wrong.”
“I agree with Rat,” Sev said. “I don’t know about this.”
“I appreciate your doubts, and they are well founded,” Midnight responded. “But desperate times call for desperate measures. This may be our only recourse.” Midnight opened the book in front of Sev. “At any rate, you take it. If you need it, you use it. If you don’t, thank whatever deity you want.”
Sev laid his hand on the leather cover of the journal. He considered Midnight’s words and had to admit they made sense. He couldn’t deny it. But why him? He was no sorcerer. He pulled the book toward him anyway. “Aye.” Sev nodded, feeling a strange affinity for the tome. “I suppose it can’t hurt t’have an ace up our sleeve.”
“That’s my boy,” Midnight said with a grin. “You might not want to tell Benty about this.”
Sev glanced over at Rat, who looked extremely worried. Sev gave Rat a nod, returning his gaze to Midnight. Lie to Silas? Sev didn’t like that.
“There’s a good chance Wrathsbury is unaware this book is no longer in his possession,” Midnight added with a satisfied-yet-guilty expression.
Sev shot the villain an apprehensive glance. Midnight stole Fairgate’s journal from Wrathsbury. Sev shook his head and flipped through the pages. He’d perused the journal briefly in the Duke of Sutherland’s study just after he’d discovered Undertown. They’d looked like nothing more than scribbles before, but now the strange characters written on the pages made Sev’s head feel strange and swimmy. They seemed to move and congeal into something almost coherent. Sev pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Have you ever had anyone tell you what this says?” he asked.
Midnight shook his head. “I’ve called in every favor I could think of, sent letters to every historian, arcanist, alchemist, and sorcerer I’ve ever had dealings with, and no one can make heads or tails of it. I’m quite certain William has done as well.”
“It’s… strange.” Sev cocked his head as he studied the book. His eyes crossed as he stared at the writing before him. Something in his brain flipped as his eyes adjusted to the dizziness. Words spilled from Sev’s mouth, strange words. He somehow knew the words meant “Bring the fire,” though he didn’t know why, and everyone was shocked when the candles on the table shot clouds of flame into the air above them.
“Bloody hell!” Rat shouted and tipped back, tumbling from his chair. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Sev whispered.
“You said something,” Midnight stated. “It sounded like, ‘Vellecum feer.’”
“Velek cum Fiir,” Sev repeated, and the candles spouted flame once more. Rat ducked back under the table. “Why didn’t it work for you?” Sev asked.
“I don’t know.” Midnight stared at the area just above the candles, his face a portrait of awe. “Do it again.”
Sev repeated the incantation. Fire burst forth in front of Midnight’s eyes. “My God,” Midnight said with admiration. “Seven, you can do magic, Proper Magic.”
“I don’t like it,” Sev said, looking at the grimoire like it was the plague. He purposefully slammed the book shut, unwilling to view the contents any longer.
“Like it or not, ye can do it,” Rat growled as he righted his chair and sat. “That’s got t’be somethin’ we can use.”
“Most definitely, Ratty,” Midnight agreed.
“I really don’t think so.” Sev shook his head. “I don’t trust it.”
“I understand that, Sev.” Midnight smoothed his shirt as he sat back. “But don’t dismiss it. You said you wanted any advantage.”
“Aye. That I did,” Sev admitted.
Midnight slid a slip of parchment across the table to Sev. “This is a list of my contacts in Victorica.”
Sev accepted the note, slid the grimoire away within his coat, and resumed his meal. Midnight leaned back in his chair but remained uncharacteristically silent. Rat glanced between his two dinner companions before he finally seemed to decide nothing else strange would happen and tucked back into his own meal. Sev could feel Midnight’s calculating gaze but refused to meet the villain’s eyes.
7
SEV DIDN’T recognize this place. It resembled the ruins beneath London, those cavernous tunnels with their awful sculptures and disturbing carvings, except for one glaring difference: all the stone here was white, almost ivory in color. Also it looked new, shiny, and clean. “What happened here?” Sev asked aloud. None of this made any sense. He dashed about looking for any signs of the children and citizens of Undertown. He tried desperately to find something he recognized, some landmark that would allow him to get his bearings. It occurred to him that this wasn’t Undertown, that there wouldn’t be any of Undertown’s citizens here because it wasn’t actually Undertown, but he continued his futile investigation.
That’s when Sev saw the bone-colored tower rising from the middle of the city. He stopped dead in his tracks, certain the tower hadn’t been there a moment ago. Somehow he knew that whatever answers he sought would be at the top of that structure. He ran for it as fast a
s his legs would carry him.
When he finally rested his hand on the strangely warm, white stone, he was panting and sweating. It had been much farther away than he’d thought, and at one point he could have sworn that it continued to creep away from him even as he ran toward it. He was here now, and he boarded the not-quite-familiar lift. He didn’t pull a lever or activate the machine, but the car ascended the center of the tower regardless. The lift made almost no noise as it finally came to rest at the top of the tower.
The room that Sev stepped into was lavishly furnished in varying shades of white and gold. It was also impossibly large. There was no way this space could be contained within the tower walls. Considering the concept made his head ache. This wasn’t Hephaestus’s office. There was no sign of inventions or Silas. Sev realized he’d been spinning about and forced himself to stop moving. The answers he sought were nowhere to be seen.
Footsteps from behind startled him. Only seconds ago he’d been alone in this impossible tower with only one means of entry, but now someone approached him from behind. He spun, his blood turning to ice in his veins. Sir Barrymore Fairgate, the mad wizard, strode toward him with a smile plastered to his face. He wore a finely tailored suit that perfectly matched their surroundings.
Sev’s instinct was to leap at the man, to kick at him, punch him, do anything to protect himself, but his body would not move. No matter how hard he tried, his limbs remained immobile. “Ye’re dead!” At least his mouth still worked.
“Am I?” Fairgate asked. His blond hair looked extra golden, his pointy beard even sharper, and that smug expression fairly oozed confidence.
“We killed you!”
“Did you?” Still that smile, that slow steady walk as he came closer to Sev.
“Ye can’t be here.”
“Can’t I?”
“No, goddammit! And quit questionin’ everythin’ I say, ye mad bastard.”
Fairgate finally stopped and stood right in front of Sev. “Poor, simple Seven, the last of his line, the big disappointment, you’re still so full of anger and guilt. It’s rather sad, really.” Fairgate slowly removed his spotlessly white gloves.
The 7th of Victorica Page 6