by Paul Crilley
Miss LaFleur ran her hands over the glassy surface. A dim white light pulsed from within, spreading sluggishly out from the center until it formed a ring close to the edge of the glass. Another light pulsed, this one red. It grew in strength until it was a solid circle sitting within the first ring.
It took Emily a few seconds to realize what she was looking at. An eye. The red circle was the pupil. But before she could say anything, Miss LaFleur ran her hands over the crystal once again, and the light faded, only to be replaced a second later by a moving image.
Emily frowned. She saw a pair of feet walking along a cobbled pavement. Then the image shifted again and she saw shops off to the side. A hansom cab trundled by on the right. An elegantly dressed lady was seated by the window. The image turned to fix on the lady for a moment.
“There you go. It works,” said Corrigan. “Hurry up. I need to see the inside of the Society.”
“Not as clear as I’d like,” muttered Miss LaFleur. “But what can you do? It will suffice.”
Emily suddenly realized what was going on. “His eye. You bewitched the colonel’s glass eye so you can see what he sees.”
“Took you long enough,” said Corrigan.
“But that’s not right. How many eyes—?”
Miss LaFleur smiled grimly. “How many glass eyes do I have spying for me? Thousands, I think. I’ve never counted.”
“Do they know that they are spying for you?”
“Of course not! According to my patients, I am simply one of the best makers of glass eyes in the city. People come to me when an accident or disease takes an eye from them. I supply them with a product of exceptional quality, and in return, I occasionally use those eyes to spy for Queen Kelindria.”
“But—”
“What’s the problem?” asked Corrigan. “It doesn’t hurt anyone. Just don’t do anything embarrassing in front of someone with a glass eye.” He smiled wickedly. “Besides, you should be thankful. Miss LaFleur’s collection is going to help you find your way around the Royal Society.”
“I thought you said we were going to look inside the Invisible Order.”
“We are. But the offices of the Order are within the offices of the Royal Society.”
Emily looked blank. The Queen had said something similar when she was telling her about Christopher Wren, but Emily didn’t have any idea what the Royal Society was. Corrigan clicked his tongue in irritation. “It’s very simple, girl. The Royal Society was created in sixteen sixty as a cover to hide the goings-on of the Invisible Order. The Order had been going for centuries before that, but they needed someplace to gather. So Christopher Wren and a few of his mates created the Royal Society as a cover. Course, since then, the Society’s become a proper institution for scientists and mathematicians and the like. But the reason it was created was to hide the activities of the Invisible Order. And it’s filled with iron. The cursed stuff is everywhere. That’s why none of us have ever been able to get inside. All clear now?” He turned to Miss LaFleur. “Is this going to take long?”
“Hold on.”
The young girl crossed the room and stopped before a bookshelf crammed full of ledgers.
“It should be number twenty-four,” said Miss LaFleur. “No—twenty-five.”
The girl took out a ledger and brought it to the table. Miss LaFleur blew the dust away. The spine creaked with disuse when she opened it. She ran her long finger down the pages, muttering to herself. At last, she looked up. “Here we go. We have three in Somerset House. The caretaker is on duty now.”
“Wait,” said Emily. “Do you mean there are three people with glass eyes working there? Isn’t that a bit of a coincidence?”
Corrigan looked uncomfortable. “It was deemed necessary to always have a way of seeing what was going on with the Invisible Order.”
It took a while for Emily to understand. “You mean you caused them to lose one of their eyes?”
“Not really. They had … accidents. Remember the Dark Man? He … arranged things.”
“But that’s horrid!”
“It was necessary,” said Miss LaFleur. She checked something on the ledger, then spoke softly. The image on the crystal faded, then slowly coalesced into a red-carpeted corridor lined with wood paneling. A hand was industriously polishing the wood.
“Right.” Miss LaFleur unfolded a large sheet of paper that she took from the ledger. “This is what we know so far of the layout of the Royal Society. It goes underground as well, but we haven’t managed to get anyone down there.” She frowned at the crystal. “Our spy is … here.” She tapped the paper. Emily leaned forward and saw that it was a map drawn in ink. But the map was incomplete. Vast sections were simply blank spaces. “Perhaps you can help us fill in some of these gaps. But for the meantime, we watch.”
Emily spent the next hour watching through the eyes of the caretaker as he went about his duties at the Royal Society. It was boring and tedious, and she soon developed a headache, but she had to admit, she did have a clearer picture of where she would have to go to steal the stone. Corrigan even pointed out the door she had to go through to get to the Invisible Order’s offices. The caretaker didn’t go into the office, but Emily had its position locked in her head.
She began to think her task might not be so hard after all.
But then she remembered. She still needed help to get into the Royal Society.
And the only person she knew who could offer her that help was Jack.
That meant she would have to tell him what was going on. She wouldn’t lie to him. Not if he was going to help her do something potentially dangerous.
“Come on,” she said to Corrigan. “I want you to meet someone.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
In which Emily asks Jack for help and they take a brief boat trip on the Thames.
FIVE THIRTY IN THE AFTERNOON
ON THE FIRST DAY OF EMILY’S ADVENTURES.
I still don’t see why I have to give your boyfriend the second sight,” complained Corrigan as they hurried through the early-evening streets, the drizzle soaking them to their skin. “Just spin him a story.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” snapped Emily. “And that might be how you do things, Corrigan, but not me. I won’t lie to him. We need Jack if we want to get into Somerset House, so we tell him the truth. And if there’s even the remotest chance of him believing me, he needs to be able to see the fey. It’s as simple as that.”
“But I could get into trouble,” whined the piskie. “The Queen doesn’t like us showing ourselves to your lot.”
“No, not unless it suits your own needs,” said Emily, walking on.
There was only one place Jack would spend a miserable afternoon like today: Mr. Miller’s coffeehouse. Jack liked to sip the bitter drink and pretend he was all grown up, even though he had once told Emily he didn’t like the taste. He said he did it because he had to act older than his gang, even though they all were the same age. He said if he didn’t act like a grown-up, they wouldn’t follow his instructions, and they’d all be in Newgate prison by now.
Emily found Jack seated by the front window of the coffeehouse, surrounded by his gang of thieves. He took a sip from a small cup, and Emily saw the tiny flicker of distaste dance across his features. Emily hurried across the street, pausing while a horse pulling a rickety-looking carriage clattered past. She stopped just beyond the window. Jack, seated closest to the glass, saw her immediately. His eyes widened and he started to say something, but Emily put her finger to her lips, beckoning him outside.
He said something to his gang and rose from the chair. Then he stretched and yawned, winking at Emily as he did so.
Emily shook her head in exasperation. Why couldn’t he do anything without showing off?
Emily moved away from the window and took shelter beneath the awning of a shop. Jack soon joined her, briskly rubbing his hands together.
“Emily!” he said. “I’ve been worried sick. Is everything all right?”
/> “No,” said Emily. “It’s not.” She hesitated, unsure how to proceed. “Jack,” she said. “I’m going to show you something, but you have to promise not to do anything … abrupt. Don’t pull out that knife I saw this morning. Don’t shout or run away or anything like that. It’s important.”
Jack stared at her doubtfully, then nodded. “All right,” he said.
Emily took a deep breath. “Corrigan?”
Jack frowned. “Who’s Corrigan?” he asked.
“I am,” said Corrigan from his position by Emily’s knee.
Jack looked down.
“Boo,” said the piskie.
Jack gasped and stumbled backward into the rain, his eyes fixed on Corrigan. He lifted a shaking finger.
“Snow,” he said distantly. “What is that?”
“A piskie,” said Emily.
“Is it real?”
“What do you think?” snapped Corrigan. He looked up at Emily. “You sure he can help? Seems a bit stupid if you ask me.”
“Behave,” said Emily, nudging Corrigan with her knee.
Jack glanced up at the rain, then stepped beneath the shelter of the awning once again. He crouched down and prodded Corrigan. The piskie tried to bat his finger away.
“Hey! Get off. What—?”
“Ugly little beggar, isn’t he?” said Jack.
“I beg your pardon!” exclaimed Corrigan. “I happen to be a very good-looking piskie. Not like you lot with your—”
But Jack wasn’t listening. He stood up, leaving Corrigan to splutter into silence, and faced Emily. “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me everything.”
So Emily did. Starting with the battle she stumbled across that morning and ending with their recent trip to the Sisters. As he listened, Jack leaned up against the wall of the shop, staring into the rain. When Emily finished, he straightened up and cast a dark look at Corrigan.
“And now these Unseelie have got Will?”
Emily nodded. “That’s why I need your help. If we can get this seeing stone from inside the Invisible Order, Corrigan says the Queen could use it to find him.” Emily watched Jack as he gazed thoughtfully at the ground. “Will you help?” she asked hesitantly.
Jack’s head snapped up. “Course I will, Snow. I was just thinking the best way to go about it. You know you can count on me.” He flashed a grin at her. “Spring-Heeled Jack will save the day.”
“Oh, well, that settles it,” said Corrigan sarcastically. “All our problems are over.”
When Emily had watched through the enchanted eye, the rooms of the Royal Society hadn’t seemed overly large. She’d thought it might be a single-story building. Or something that looked like her old school, with a slate roof that glistened wetly in the rain and tiny windows that let in the smallest amount of light.
She certainly hadn’t expected this. The building was enormous. It stood three stories high and was shaped like a massive U. Emily stared at it between gaps in the never-ending traffic of clattering carriages and trotting horses.
It would take days to search all the rooms inside. There would be hundreds of them.
Jack must have sensed her thoughts. “It’s not all the Royal Society,” he said. “The building is called Somerset House. The Society keeps offices here, but so do other groups.” He pointed off to the right. “I think the rooms you are looking for are over there.”
“How will we get in?” asked Emily. “There are so many people about.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Jack. “The other side of Somerset House borders the Thames. There are arches and doors built into that side of the building so people can get in by boat if they want. All we have to do is get to one of those doors and I’ll get us inside. No one will see us under there.”
“How do you know so much about it?” asked Corrigan. Emily thought he sounded impressed, though he was doing his best to hide it.
“I was hired as a scout a while back to check out the Adelphi Theatre.” He pointed along the street. “It’s that big building down the way. The Thames was the same route I suggested to them.”
“Stealing’s wrong, you know,” said Emily primly.
Jack let out a crow of laughter. Passersby glanced at him and frowned. A well-dressed lady veered around them so as not to come too close.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. ‘Stealing’s wrong, you know.’ What do you think we’re about to do? Have a picnic in Hyde Park?”
“This is different. We’re only taking what doesn’t belong to them.”
Jack shook his head ruefully. “Don’t think the bobbies will agree with you there.”
“When are you going to do it?” asked Corrigan.
“Later on tonight.” Jack looked at Emily. “Meet you at the Adelphi at ten? Will you be all right till then?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” asked Emily, offended. “I only asked for help, Jack. That doesn’t mean I can’t do anything by myself.”
Jack held his hands up. “Fine. Where will you be? In case I need to find you,” he added, seeing Emily’s brows come together angrily.
Emily thought about it. “Maybe I’ll go home,” she said. “I can get a few hours’ sleep.”
“But will it be safe?” asked Jack. “What about the Unseelie?”
“They won’t be back,” said Corrigan. “They already took a great risk when they kidnapped William. They won’t expose themselves again.”
“Anyway,” said Emily. “I’ll just hide under what’s left of the bed.”
Jack thought about it and nodded. “Probably a good idea, actually. No telling how long we’ll be awake tonight. Till ten, then.”
Jack turned and disappeared into the crowd. Emily glanced at Corrigan. “And you?”
Corrigan shivered. “Well, obviously I can’t come in with you. I can feel the iron from here.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “Do you know Seven Dials?”
“Course I do.”
“Good. Head up Great St. Andrew’s Street till you come to a side alley. It’s called Oberon’s Court. Follow the alley until you reach a fey tavern called the Unicorn’s Head. I’ll be there waiting.”
“There’s no alley called Oberon’s Court in Great St. Andrew’s Street,” said Emily.
“Trust me,” said Corrigan. “It’s there.”
The rain had stopped by the time Emily arrived at the Adelphi Theatre later that night. She could even see one or two stars glittering through the departing clouds.
She stood across the street and watched the toffs dressed in their fancy suits and furs filing inside to watch the play. She’d love to see a show like that. The closest she’d ever come was visiting the penny music halls, but the noise and drunken laughter and all the smoke had been too much for her, and she’d had to leave. Anyway, she hadn’t understood half the songs they were singing. Everyone else seemed to find them hilarious, but Emily had just thought them silly.
Now, a proper play. One performed by actors, with proper music—that she would love to see.
Emily huddled down in her thick coat and tried to keep herself warm. She’d gone home—just as she said she would. But she wished she hadn’t. She’d huddled beneath the bed and managed to grab a couple of hours’ sleep, but her dreams were filled with images of William being held against his will by a creature that was a combination of Ravenhill and the Dark Man. It had Ravenhill’s face but had black eyes and skeletal wings, and it reached out with clawed hands to enfold William in its grasp.
Emily had woken up with tears in her eyes and had quickly left her old home. She didn’t want to return there ever again.
She had paused to buy some food with the shilling Merrian gave her that morning, and it had gone a long way to restoring her flagging energy. Despite her fitful sleep, Emily felt refreshed, ready to face whatever lay ahead of them.
There was still no sign of Jack, though. What if he had changed his mind? What if he thought it too dangerous?
“Miss me?”
Emily
jumped. Jack had appeared at her side, an impudent grin on his face. He grabbed hold of her hand and set off down the street. “Come on. Everything’s all set.”
He led her past the theater doors and down a narrow alley that led around the back of the building to a long metal railing. On the other side of the railing flowed the thick and murky waters of the Thames. On the opposite shore, barges and wherries were tied up for the night, and farther along the bank she could see the small towboats that were used to offload the contents of the merchant ships. Even from here she could hear the dirty water slapping sluggishly against the slime-coated hulls.
Jack moved along the railing to a set of stairs. At the bottom of the steps was a small rowboat. The smell of sewage filled Emily’s nostrils. She gagged and straightened up. “Do we have to go that way?” she asked.
“We do if you don’t want to be seen. Come on. Just cover your mouth.”
Emily reluctantly followed Jack down the slippery stairs, one hand pressing her sleeve across her mouth and nose. Jack stepped into the boat, and the little vessel pitched alarmingly in the water. There was already a large puddle of black liquid sloshing about inside.
“Is it safe?” she asked.
Jack looked up from where he was sliding the oars into the water. “Of course it’s safe. We’re not going to be in here long. Come on.”
Emily took one last look around, then carefully stepped onboard, trying to avoid getting her shoes wet. Not that it would make that much difference. They were already damp from the rain this afternoon. But at least they didn’t stink.
Jack untied the frayed rope that had been holding the small boat in place and dipped the oars into the water. He pulled, and the boat slowly started to crawl along the river. Emily tried to remember how far down the street Somerset House was. She thought about asking Jack, but he was concentrating on rowing, so she decided against it. She didn’t think it was too far.
A dead dog floated past them, carried away with the current. Emily heard someone shouting “Thief!” in the distance, then the piercing whistle of the crushers as they gave chase. The sound of drunken laughter spilled over from a barge in the distance. A door slammed open and she could just make out a square of warm light, then the silhouette of someone leaning over the barge railings. There was the sound of something wet hitting the water.