Clocks and Daggers (The Thief's Apprentice Book 2)

by Sara C. Roethle

  He took a deep breath. He really wasn’t sure where to start with that investigation. Due to Hamlet’s special delivery, they had copious information to go off of, but it was almost too much information. They had an entire list of victims and suspects, yet no clear place to start.

  “Perhaps there will be rumors to find in those regards as well,” he stated finally.

  Liliana nodded. “Unfortunately, we might not glean much while men are attempting to claim the price on your head.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was being humorous, or just blandly stating a fact. With her, it was impossible to tell for sure. Not dissuaded, he grinned. “I will simply have to travel in disguise, as will you. Let us not forget, there are likely just as many eyes on the lookout for you.”

  He expected her customary frown, but instead, she smiled mischievously. “Disguises you say? This is beginning to sound like one of my father’s mystery novels.”

  Ah yes, he’d forgotten that Liliana took great delight in emulating the heroes and heroines in the books on her father’s shelves. “And how did things turn out for these disguised characters?”

  “They died,” she replied simply.

  His jaw fell open at her deadpan expression, then she began to giggle. He shook his head in disbelief. “Some day, I’ll be able to tell when you’re joking,” he muttered.

  She grinned at him, her eyes shining with laughter. “I hope not. Your reactions are quite entertaining.”

  He rolled his eyes playfully, placed his half empty teacup on the table, and stood. “I’ll rummage through my belongings and see if I can find you something to wear. I was going to give you a pretty costume, but now I’m thinking we should just dress you up like a street urchin.”

  She laughed. “Do your worst. I’d much rather be an urchin than a frilly lady. The smell of their perfume is awful.”

  He snorted, wondering just where her sense of humor came from, and why it showed itself at the strangest of times. From what she’d told him of her father, he wasn’t a particularly mirthful man. Perhaps she was just spending too much time around Ephraim, not that Arhyen was complaining.

  He walked across the room to a clothing trunk wedged in between the wall and the foot of the bed. While he usually stuck to a few choice garments of uniform black, as it was unwise for a thief to be visible, his trunk had clothing from past endeavors. He’d worn disguises on numerous occasions near the start of his career, before he learned to be more choosy about which jobs he accepted. He’d eventually come to the conclusion that a good thief shouldn’t place himself in circumstances where recognition was an issue.

  While he riffled through the trunk, Liliana went to the kitchen area and began preparing sandwiches for breakfast . . . or he supposed it was actually lunch, though they would have had sandwiches even if it was breakfast. Lack of coin had affected their pantry just as much as it had everything else. If they didn’t find a way to start earning income again soon, they’d be out on the streets. Though Ephraim had become more of a friend than a business associate, Arhyen doubted he would take them in.

  Finding nothing suitable in the top of the trunk, he dug deeper, discarding various coats and trousers onto the bed. He would unfortunately be hard pressed to find something to properly disguise Liliana. Though red hair wasn’t entirely uncommon, it did make her stand out, as did her large blue eyes and porcelain skin. He thought briefly of Hamlet’s mask, then quickly dismissed the idea.

  Reaching the bottom of the trunk, he decided they’d simply have to make do. Fortunately with the weather growing increasingly chill, full coverage coats would not stand out, especially if Liliana was disguised to be a young boy.

  He looked over his shoulder to see her placing two plates onto the low table in front of the sofa, each containing a ham sandwich.

  “Are you against dressing as a boy?” he questioned, his gaze on the clothing he’d gathered from the trunk. They would be a bit large on her, but would have to do for now.

  He turned toward her in time to see her grin.

  He smirked. “You’re enjoying this idea far too much.”

  She grinned wider. “I’ve always wanted to wear a disguise.”

  He smiled, gathered the chosen clothing in his arms, then approached the sofa. He handed her a pair of old tan cotton trousers, a shirt that used to be white, but had turned beige with age, and a set of suspenders. He hadn’t worn any of the clothing items in years, as they would probably be a bit small for him now. They would still be too large on Liliana, but if she was going to portray a young vagrant, they were perfect, since a young vagrant was exactly what Arhyen had been.

  She took the clothing, a curious expression on her face.

  “You’ll wear a coat too,” he explained, “and the boots you normally wear with your trousers will do. You’ll need to pin up your hair, and we’ll find a hat to hopefully cover most of it.”

  She nodded excitedly and stood, then hurried to the bathroom to change. He never thought he’d see a young lady so excited to dress in ratty old clothes. Chuckling to himself, he sat on the sofa and retrieved his sandwich from the table. He’d remain dressed in his customary black clothing, but would wear a charcoal coat to disguise it, one with a high collar that could be pulled up to hide most of his face.

  He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed, deep in thought. He furrowed his brow, wishing he had a fake beard on hand. Most men in London wore varying styles of facial hair, from well-groomed beards to side-whiskers. While he currently boasted a few day’s of stubble, it most definitely did not qualify as a beard, and those looking for him could use that as a distinguishing factor. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about it in that moment. He planned on keeping distance between himself and Liliana. Anyone searching for them would likely be keeping their eyes out for a pair. If she appeared but a young street youth on her own, no one would look far enough into her disguise to recognize the truth. It was fortunate that she possessed excellent hearing and eyesight. He could trust her to catch any signals he might give her from a distance.

  The bathroom door opened, revealing Liliana in her costume. As suspected, the trousers were too large, but the suspenders held them in place at the top, and she’d cuffed them several times at the ankle. She’d stuffed the shirt tails into the trousers, but the fabric still hung loosely off her small frame. Her hair was pinned into a series of small buns at the back of her head to almost give the appearance of short locks. Perfect. With a coat and cap, no one would look at her twice. Of course, she’d need to stop grinning from ear to ear. Most of the disadvantaged children in the city tended to be a bit more morose.

  He was about to suggest she sit down and eat her sandwich, when a knock sounded on the door. He stood to answer it, but paused to shoo her toward the bathroom. He wanted to avoid anyone else seeing her in costume, lest they recognize her on the streets. As she turned away, he hurried toward the door, hopping over the tripwire on his way.

  Feeling oddly nervous, he glanced through the peephole, but there was no one there. He waited a few seconds, then looked again, wondering if whoever had knocked had simply stepped out of sight for a moment. Still, there was no one there.

  Wondering if he’d simply imagined the knock, he quickly turned the series of locks on the door then opened it, stepping back defensively in case someone was waiting to attack him. The attack never came, but he did notice a large, rectangular envelope on the ground. Stepping outside warily, he glanced around, knelt to retrieve the envelope, then hurried back inside, locking the door behind him.

  At the sound of the door shutting, Liliana peeked her head out of the bathroom. He held up the envelope, letting her know the knock simply signaled a delivery. Though the envelope was unremarkable, Arhyen was sure he knew who it was from.

  He returned to his seat on the sofa, just as Liliana joined him. She watched silently as he opened the envelope, pulled out a photograph, then promptly turned it over.

  “Was that-” Liliana cut herself off,
her eyes wide with horror.

  Arhyen cringed and lifted one edge of the photograph, shielding it from her sight. It seemed another grave robbery had occurred, and the victim’s body had been maimed just like the last. Liliana hadn’t seen the other photos, and Arhyen instantly regretted that she’d caught sight of this one. He should have been more cautious.

  Surprising him, she schooled her expression to wipe away any hint of terror, then held out her hand for the photograph.

  “Liliana,” he began, hesitating. “There’s no need for you to look at it,” he finished.

  She tilted her nose upward haughtily. “If I’m to aid in solving these grave-robbings, I need to see the evidence.”

  He gave her a moment to change her mind, then offered her the photograph. Together, they observed it. The victim was male this time, though everything else about the photo was similar. His body was covered in incisions, as if he’d been robbed of his organs.

  “It’s difficult to tell just what was taken judging by the incisions,” she commented. “The largest one is near where the liver would be located, but they also could have taken the gall bladder and stomach there. Perhaps even the heart.”

  Arhyen felt like he might vomit. He raised an eyebrow at her, belying his discomfort, though he knew his nausea likely showed on his face. “Isn’t the heart . . . higher up?”

  Liliana nodded. “Yes, but one would need to break the ribs to access it directly. Reaching beneath the ribs is a possibility.” She glanced at the photo again. “If we had a photo of the back of the body, we’d have a better idea of whether or not the kidneys were taken.”

  He lowered the photo and stared at her. “This is a whole new disturbing side of you I never expected,” he said jokingly, attempting to lighten the mood.

  She frowned. “My father possessed extensive knowledge of anatomy. I studied his research, hoping to understand how I was created.”

  He glanced at the photo again. “Just judging by the scant evidence, what would you guess the grave-robbers are doing with what they take from the bodies?”

  “It could be any number of things,” she replied thoughtfully. “They could be simply studying the organs to develop new research, they could be extracting components for alchemy, or they could even be creating automatons.”

  “Could that work?” he asked, “The automatons I mean,” he clarified. “I admittedly don’t know much about it, but I was under the impression that the organs of the dead could not be reused, especially after embalming.”

  She shrugged. “In theory, some of the lesser organs could likely be altered into functioning. Most organs for automatons are grown artificially to work correctly with our hearts. I don’t see why the same process could not be implemented using old organs as base material.”

  He took a moment to think. In all honesty, the entire conversation was making his stomach turn, but he refused to admit it out loud. “Could the organs of the dead be placed inside a living human?” he questioned, wanting to cover every possible option.

  She frowned. “Perhaps organs taken from someone freshly dead, but I imagine there would exist a great deal of complications in implanting long dead, and likely embalmed organs into a living human. It would most likely kill them.”

  Arhyen nodded. “But what if the organs had been altered, like those one might use to create an automaton?”

  She pursed her lips in thought for several seconds, then answered, “I believe you have just exceeded my knowledge on the subject. It might work, but I cannot truly say.”

  He placed the photo face down on the table, then reached into the envelope, pulling out a few loose pieces of paper. “We’ll keep it as an option then. So, we either have someone, likely a surgeon or physician, simply using the organs for research and experimentation, an alchemist extracting . . . whatever they might need, or someone altering the organs for use either in automatons, or humans.”

  “Or a psychopath stealing organs for the fun of it,” Liliana added.

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “Another mystery novel?”

  She nodded with a wry smile, then turned her gaze down to the papers in Arhyen’s grasp. His gaze joined hers. He only had to scan the first few lines of neatly typed information before realizing that this latest victim had never been buried. He’d been murdered, presumably by whoever had sliced him open.

  Arhyen sighed. “Hamlet had mentioned we would be investigating not only grave-robberies, but murders.”

  Still scanning the sheet of paper, Liliana replied, “It’s interesting, the contact Ephraim and I met with the other day claimed his son had disappeared, and he was quite sure the LN was responsible. He also claimed he caught a few glimpses of surgical equipment within the building he was set to guard.”

  “So find this building, and perhaps we’ll solve the case,” Arhyen observed.

  Liliana nodded. “Ephraim knows how to find this contact. We’ll have to go through him, but he claimed he would be busy all day.”

  Arhyen retrieved his pocket watch from his waistcoat. “It’s nearly one, so he should be available in a few hours. In the meantime, we can stroll around town and search for rumors.”

  She grinned, looking down at her costume. “Perhaps I’ll be able to use my disguise to garner information from the homeless. Ephraim always says they know more about the goings on in the city than anyone else.”

  “Anyone directly observing your face will likely see through the disguise,” he replied, “but you may at least be able to stand close enough to overhear certain conversations.”

  She sighed, deflated. Truthfully, if they smudged enough dirt on her face, she might even be able to pass as a street youth close up, but he’d rather avoid her consorting with possible criminals. She’d made it clear it wasn’t Arhyen’s job to protect her, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try . . . at least a little.

  Chapter 8

  Liliana watched as Arhyen entered the cafe, profoundly worried that he’d be recognized and perhaps apprehended by any seeking to collect the price on his head. She took comfort, however, that she could see him through the cafe window, and he could see her, loitering across the street in front of a bakery. The smell of the goods inside made her mouth water, but she unfortunately could not enter to purchase a pastry. Though she had the coin, the shopkeeper would likely throw her out before she could even speak, and her cover might be blown.

  She reached back behind her head, assuring herself that her hair remained hidden. The tan flat cap on her head was large enough to cover her upper ears, and cast her face in shadow. Even so, Arhyen had rubbed a few smudges of brown shoe polish on her jaw and nose. She at first had thought perhaps the smudges were too much, but relaxed after observing the grimy faces of the children in the streets, either panhandling for coin, or sneaking around attempting to steal it.

  She hadn’t yet brought herself to emulate the other children begging for coin from the passersby. Her attention had instead been grabbed by a few grimy men who seemed to disappear down a nearby alley. She edged slowly in that direction. Arhyen would kill her if she actually followed the men out of his sight, but she could at least get close enough to take a peek without anyone noticing.

  Nearing the alleyway, she glanced again through the cafe window to see Arhyen sitting at a table alone, listening to the conversations of those surrounding him. It was unfortunate there was a price on his head. He’d gain much more information from speaking with the cafe’s patrons, but she was at least glad he was being cautious.

  One more step and she was next to the alleyway. She casually turned and peeked over her shoulder to find only waste bins and other debris. Where had the men gone? She turned her gaze back to the busy street ahead of her, pondering.

  “If you’re thinking about venturing down the alleyway,” a voice said from behind her, “I would urge you to reconsider.”

  She jumped, then forced herself to be still. The voice had come from the alleyway, though she’d seen no one there. Worse still, she
recognized the speaker with his cultured, yet oddly disjointed, tone.

  “And why is that?” she questioned, a slight quaver in her voice giving away her sudden fear. Why was he here, and how had he so easily seen through her disguise.

  “The men you saw are dealing in illicit substances,” Hamlet’s voice replied.

  Unable to resist any longer, she peeked over her shoulder. Hamlet was only inches away, his back pressed against the interior wall of the alley. He wore his usual black, contrasting sharply with his porcelain mask, shielded partially by a low, black top hat.

  “Turn around,” he demanded, “lest we draw attention.”

  She was thinking that perhaps she wanted to draw attention, but quickly obeyed. Though Hamlet was an automaton like her, there was something unnerving about him. Perhaps the way he tended to kill men in the blink of an eye.

  Seconds after she turned around, she noted Arhyen observing her from within the cafe. Against her better judgement, she nodded to him that everything was okay. Once he turned away, she muttered, “What do you want?”

  “Simply to speak with you,” Hamlet replied. “I trust you received the latest information and photograph?”

  She waited for a trio of well-dressed ladies to walk past, then replied, “Yes.” She hesitated, wondering if she should tell him about her and Arhyen’s suspicions. She figured it couldn’t hurt, since he was the one who wanted the case looked into in the first place. “We have a few ideas we’ll be looking into this evening.”

  “With the detective?” Hamlet inquired.

  She resisted turning to look at him again, wondering if she should tell the truth. She would not want to inadvertently draw any more attention to Ephraim than usual . . . though Hamlet seemed to see all regardless. “Yes,” she breathed, sincerely hoping it was not a mistake.

  “I’m looking into the woman claiming to be your mother,” he said suddenly, surprising her. “I will let you know if I find anything.”