The 7th of Victorica

by Beau Schemery

  “Rat is engaged on other business,” Silas growled.

  “There’s more to this one than meets the eye,” the Killer told his companion.

  Bruiser smirked, then licked his lips. “Oh, indeed. And what is it we can do for you fellows?”

  Sev and Silas regarded each other apprehensively, trying to decide how best to explain the situation. “Well.” Sev rubbed the back of his neck. “Um.” He opened his mouth to answer, but Bruiser interrupted him.

  “Why are you constantly scowling, Beardy?” He ruffled Kettlebent’s false facial hair with his fingers.

  “Honestly?” Silas asked. “You don’t look like any kind of bruiser I’ve ever met, and he certainly doesn’t look like a killer. I’m a little concerned that Midnight might be having us on.”

  Bruiser and the Killer looked at one another and burst into laughter. “What does a killer look like, Mr. Kettlebent?” the Killer asked.

  “Well, um.”

  From seemingly nowhere a knife appeared in the Killer’s hand. It glinted in the gaslight. “Does a killer look like you?” He pointed the knife at Seven. “You?” He pointed it at Silas. “Midnight?” He looped it through the air before stowing it out of sight once more. “If you need us to prove ourselves to you, we can visit the local pub and Francis can beat the living daylights out of someone, and I can easily shuffle off someone’s mortal coil, if that would ease your mind.”

  Sev didn’t know if the strange hungry expression in the Killer’s eyes unnerved Silas as much as it unnerved him, but judging by Silas’s silence, it did. “There’s no need for that, I should think,” Silas responded.

  “We’re here t’stop slavery,” Sev stated. “Can ye help us?”

  Surprisingly, Bruiser, the Killer, and Silas stood mouths agape, staring at Sev. They all traded glances before anyone spoke. “Ah. That’s ambitious,” Bruiser stated, making ambitious sound conspicuously like it meant stupid and deliberately not answering Sev’s question.

  “Ye know the South is in control o’everythin’ in the colonies. We’re goin’ t’put a stop to it. Can ye help us or not?”

  Bruiser raised his blond eyebrows in shock. He stole a slow look at his partner and then looked back at Sev. A smile broke out across his lips. “Well, well, well. This should prove to be delightfully entertaining.” Bruiser clapped his crimson-gloved hands.

  “You’ve absolutely no chance of success. You realize this, don’t you?” the Killer asked.

  “No.” Sev scowled.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun, Brooksy,” Bruiser said. “We’re in. What do you need?”

  “We’re going t’need supplies an’ information.” Sev crossed his arms.

  “We can do that.” Bruiser nodded smugly. “We also have Southern contacts. We might even be able to get you a meeting with some of them.”

  “Can we trust you?” Silas asked.

  Bruiser and the Killer laughed heartily. “Mr. Kettlebent,” the Killer said. “Double-crossing you would be like double-crossing Jack Midnight. We might be crazy, but we are most certainly not stupid.”

  “Fair enough.” Silas nodded.

  “We can secure supplies for you, but how will we deliver them? I assume you don’t want caravans driving up to your front door.” Bruiser poured four drinks and handed three to his guests and companion.

  “I have that covered,” Sev said, accepting his drink.

  “You do?” Silas asked. He swirled the liquid in the glass Bruiser handed him.

  Sev nodded but didn’t elaborate.

  “To a supremely entertaining partnership, hopeless though it may be.” The Killer raised his glass and clinked it against everyone’s.

  “It might not be completely hopeless,” Bruiser stated.

  “How so?” the Killer asked with a smug grin.

  “Well.” Bruiser waved them in. He continued in a whisper. “If you can cut off their funding, you would gain a huge advantage.”

  “How would we do that?” Silas asked.

  “There’s a train that runs along the east coast. It carries the money and payroll from the Southerners’ northern holdings. If you could interrupt that cashflow, you could cripple their economy.”

  “Pff.” The Killer drained his drink and poured himself another. “That’s ridiculous. The train they transport the money on is the Hercules engine.”

  “The Hercules engine?” Sev asked.

  “It’s an armored engine with weaponized cars,” Bruiser explained. “Heavily armored with gun turrets that protect the line in three-hundred and sixty degrees.”

  “But if you could hit it….” The Killer let his thought trail off.

  “We could, can,” Sev corrected himself. “Ye said three-sixty?”

  Bruiser nodded.

  “So they’d be vulnerable to an attack from above.” Sev sipped his drink.

  Bruiser looked at the Killer, whose eyes were wide. “Good Lord, Seven. How would you attack it from above?”

  Sev shot a glance at Silas, thinking about the airship they’d built to retrieve Tesla. “What d’ye think, Mr. Kettlebent? Can we figure out some way t’attack the train from above?”

  “Oh,” Silas said, sporting a smirk. “I think we just might be able to figure something out.”

  “We’ll need supplies,” Sev said, addressing Bruiser and the Killer. “I’ll make sure you have a way to deliver them and completely avoid detection.”

  “You have yourself a deal, Mr. Seven,” Bruiser answered, offering his hand. Sev shook it. “Can you tell us how we’ll pull off the unobserved delivery?”

  “Not just yet,” Sev answered. “But ye’ll find out soon enough.”

  Bruiser regarded Sev through lowered lids. “All right, friend. We’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now.”

  “Good.” Sev nodded. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and fill you in.” Sev didn’t want to reveal the ability to create an underground tunnel system using blood magic. “We’ll mull over the train plan as well.”

  Sev, Silas, Brooks, and Linsey traded farewells before Sev and Silas picked their way back out through the underground tunnels.

  ONCE OUT on the streets, Silas groaned. “Good Lord, those men were monsters and not at all what I had pictured.”

  Sev just shook his head, unable to devise a proper response.

  “What was all that talk about ‘filling them in’? How are you proposing to give them access to our warehouse without anyone finding out?”

  “Subterranean,” Sev answered.

  Silas remained silent. Sev assumed he was waiting for some explanation. He offered none. He wanted to. But once again it didn’t seem like the right time. They walked the rest of the way home in silence. He didn’t like keeping the magic from Silas, but he knew Silas wouldn’t understand Sev being in possession of Fairgate’s Grimoire, though it was becoming increasingly clear that he’d have to come clean sooner or later.

  He’d decided it would be sooner, but when they slipped through the front door of the warehouse and saw a veritable crowd awaiting them, Sev knew it was time for him to reveal his secrets.

  “What the hell?” Silas asked, striding into the children gathered in the warehouse.

  “Y’told us t’start recruitin’ folks,” Rat growled, stomping up to meet Silas and puffing on his pipe, producing a trail of acrid smoke.

  “But we never said to bring them here,” Silas argued.

  “Calm down, Silas. I can make room for them.” Sev stepped between his friends.

  “How?” Silas pulled his goggles down to meet Sev’s gaze.

  “Are ye sure ye want t’know?”

  “Definitely.”

  Sev reached into his coat and pulled out Fairgate’s Grimoire.

  “What’s that?” Silas studied the cover. “No.” He gasped. “That’s not—it’s, is that Fairgate’s Grimoire?” Silas retreated from the book.

  “It is,” Sev answered. “I’ve been studying it to give us an edge on our enemies.”

 
“No, Sev.” Silas shook his head.

  “Afraid so, Benty,” Rat said.

  Silas gaped at the pair of them. “He knew? And you didn’t tell me?”

  “Silas, I’m sorry. I knew ye wouldn’t approve. But we need all the help we can get.” Sev reached out but stopped himself.

  “I thought Wrathsbury had it secured. How did you—?” Silas stopped abruptly. “Midnight.” His tone was accusatory.

  “Aye.” Sev nodded, unable to meet Silas’s gaze. “He was just tryin’ t’give us the advantage.”

  “Sev, you need to destroy that thing. There is absolutely nothing good that can come from it.” Silas reached for the book, but Sev yanked it out of reach.

  “I don’t think that’s exactly true,” Sev answered. “Why don’t you come to the basement with me?” Sev descended the ladder, hoping Silas would follow. He did, and Sev presented the new chambers for his inspection.

  Silas dropped down, reached out, and touched the walls. “This reminds me of Undertown.”

  “I think this spell is how they made it.” Sev dropped into the new room with Silas. “Fairgate couldn’t figure it out, but I think I have.” He pulled out a knife and sliced his thumb. Sev recited the spell and scrawled on the wall with his blood. Rock groaned and opened into another chamber.

  “Christ,” Silas croaked. “I don’t want to admit it, but this seems dead handy.”

  “We can make room for all our new recruits,” Sev offered. “Just like Undertown.”

  Silas’s gaze traveled to the ceiling. Sev could tell he contemplated the pros and cons of their situation. “That may be, but how, Sev? How could you keep this from me?”

  Sev shook his head. “I’m sorry, Si. I wanted t’tell ye. But I couldn’t find the right time. I was so scared at how ye’d react.”

  Silas sighed. “This hurts, Sev. I cannot lie. I can’t believe you kept this from me. But now is not the time to fight. Now is the time to act. How does it work?”

  “This spell is only successful with blood given freely,” Sev explained, slightly relieved, though he knew the discussion was far from over. “We can test the new recruits. If they want to stay, they’ll be willing to give us a bit of blood to establish a space for themselves in our Undertown.”

  “Sev, I’m trying desperately to devise an argument against this other than ‘magic is evil, let’s not use it’ but I can’t.” Silas took Sev’s hands and stared him straight in the eye, his expression stern. “We need to work this out. I kept Wrathsbury’s agenda from you, and I shouldn’t have. But now, you’ve kept Fairgate’s Grimoire from me, and I can’t help but feel partially responsible. We must not keep things from one another, and you must swear to me, swear to everything you hold dear, that you will not use this power for ill. Please, for the love of heaven, don’t let this book twist you like it twisted Fairgate.”

  Sev wasn’t sure the book had anything to do with Fairgate’s amoral behavior. He’d bet that the batty, old wizard was never right in the head, but he nodded and agreed to Silas’s promise nonetheless. He’d already used it a few times, and he was fine.

  “Except for the fact that my ghost lives in your head now,” an unwelcome voice whispered in his mind.

  “Pipe down,” Sev growled, almost inaudibly.

  “What?” Silas asked. “Did you say something?”

  “Hmm? Nay. Just sayin’ we should start gettin’ those kids down here.” That’s exactly what they did. Though they’d been surprised by the number of children who were awaiting them when they returned, now that they were a little calmer and knew what to expect, what had seemed like a crowd before only amounted to six children.

  Sev opened a long corridor off his original chamber and explained to each child what would happen next, offering them another chance to back out. None of them took advantage of the opportunity. Four of the children were boys, three dark-skinned like Teddy and one white boy with shockingly blond hair. Both of the girls were dark-skinned, though one looked like she might be from the Far East like Xiang. They clung to each other and requested to share a room. Sev saw no reason they shouldn’t.

  Walt and his sisters set out to forage furnishings for their new recruits’ accommodations. They came back with not much more than blankets and bedrolls, a few lanterns and pillows, but the children seemed more than happy. They all shared a meal that evening in a large dining room that Sev created in their new Undertown, which they’d already begun formally referring to as New Undertown. Sev even figured out how to call up the stone to create benches and tables.

  They shared lighthearted conversation, and Sev and his friends learned the children had recently escaped a squalid orphanage, where they were rented out to factories and private citizens for all manner of work. The story was all too familiar to Sev, Silas, and Rat. The conversation took a serious turn as Sev and Silas related what they’d learned from Midnight’s men.

  Clara, the darker-skinned of the new girls, shivered. “I heard o’them fellas. They ain’t nuffin’ but trouble.” Sev tried to reassure her that they wouldn’t be trouble for them. He hoped he wasn’t lying to her.

  17

  SEV REVISITED Bruiser and the Killer the next day, with his friends busy recruiting allies, gathering supplies and materials, and looking after their injured companion. Silas begged Sev to keep the particulars of the blood magic a secret from Midnight’s Victorican contacts. Sev might have convinced Silas that he wouldn’t be swayed by the allure of the power of Fairgate’s journal, but Silas was obviously not confident the same could be said for their criminal allies. Sev couldn’t disagree.

  Silas arranged for Linsey and Brooks to be called away soon after Sev arrived at their offices. He played his part convincingly, projecting the proper amount of surprise when his hosts were forced to leave. Sev had collected nearly a gallon of blood from his assorted allies back at the warehouse, and he used every last bit to construct a tunnel system that connected their basement with the lower levels of Linsey and Brooks’s premises. He’d intersected in more than a few places with the New York sewer system, making notes of where they would need to install doors to conceal their egress.

  Sev wasn’t terribly surprised to find Linsey and Brooks awaiting him in the warehouse, though it was obvious they had no idea what they’d walked into. He led them into the basement and through the tunnels back to their home.

  “How the bloody hell were you able to pull this off?” Bruiser Brooks asked.

  “I’m not allowed t’tell ye,” Sev answered too honestly.

  Bruiser’s eyebrows crawled quickly up his forehead in shock. “I’d like to say your honesty is refreshing,” he said. “But frankly, it’s a bit troubling.”

  “My apologies, fellas. But ye’re just goin’ t’have t’trust me on this.”

  Bruiser and the Killer traded dark looks but ultimately didn’t press the issue. They instead turned their attentions to monetary endeavors, speaking to Sev about supplies and fees.

  THE NEXT few days rolled along like one of the raised locomotives that cut through the city. Recruits and supplies arrived at the warehouse steadily, above ground and below. Rat modified the carriage with a trapdoor in the floor, to deliver children to New Undertown, much like the one the revolution had originally used in London. He also outfitted the hansom with a motor similar to those on the gearcycles so they wouldn’t always need the horses. Sev’s time was nearly dominated by creating living spaces for all the children who had decided to join their movement. Rat and Teddy split their time between working on inventions to maintain their cover and training Tab and the new recruits.

  The revolution, like its predecessor in Blackside, began to take on a life of its own with leaders emerging to accept various tasks. Supplies and new allies were acquired swiftly. New Undertown grew exponentially in a few weeks, and Philson recovered from his injury.

  Sev and Rat had started to construct a flying machine to overtake the Hercules. They also adapted the blueprints for Prometheus, the clockwork man
run by a synchronized team of three pilots, to be controlled by one man. Sev used Fairgate’s magic to open up a vast working laboratory beneath the warehouse for projects they didn’t want discovered. Silas kept to himself and disappeared for days at a time. Whenever Sev had a spare moment, he retreated to New Undertown to practice spells. He’d found one that would paralyze his enemies and another that would summon one of the lesser elder gods, but Sev wanted nothing to do with that. He very nearly tore the page from the grimoire but ultimately decided against it.

  Walt took on the role Murry served back in London, preparing large communal meals for the inhabitants of New Undertown, while Michelle and Tanya looked after the warehouse and Sev’s interests above ground. They were tidying up some of Sev’s cover inventions when someone called on Stephens.

  Sev read another line in Fairgate’s journal, preparing to practice a spell that would shield the caster. He’d made this room especially to study the grimoire and practice the spells it contained. A bell interrupted his practice, having been installed to alert him if he was needed up in the warehouse. He jogged out onto the street and up a flight of stairs, before pushing aside a set of false shelves stacked with canned goods that covered the secret entrance to New Undertown. He grabbed a rag from his back pocket and wiped at his hands, hoping it appeared to an outsider that he’d been at work on some clockwork or another.

  Two men stood in the doorway, one short and fat and impeccably groomed and the other taller, thinner, and slightly rumpled. To Sev they looked like hired men, footmen or butlers of some sort. “I thought I heard the door,” he said as he approached them. “What do we have here, Miss Michelle?”

  “There are some men here t’see ya, Mr. Stephens. They—” Before she could explain any further, the fat one shouldered past her with his hand out, a card grasped in his fingers.

  “Good day, Mr. Stephens. My name is Sharpe, and this is my colleague Mr. Danforth. We represent an interested party.” Sharpe’s Southern accent was thick, and he spoke slowly.