The blade was pulled tighter to Samuel’s throat. “Another fucking archivist. They’re breeding you like sewer rats. Have they kept you fucking beneath the heat fans until you spawn out another freak? Is she your little whore?”
“Leave her out of this.” Samuel’s voice was little more than a raspy breath.
“Trying to protect your whore? Well, isn’t that sweet?” The man began to pull Samuel with him as they moved backward down the alley. “I’ll have to remember that for the next time we meet.”
Samuel twisted in his assailant’s grasp. “Don’t you dare touch her.”
A thin trickle of blood rolled down his neck where the knife dug into the flesh. “Ah, ah, ah, Sammy-boy. You just settle down and this will all be over soon.”
“You take the shot, Dennison.” Samuel’s face was growing pale, even as he clawed at the hand around his chest. “Dammit, take the shot.”
“I’ll hit him.” It was said more for Piper’s benefit than for any actual worry on Dennison’s behalf. “Stupid fool.”
Another two stumbled steps backward and Piper knew if one of them didn’t act quickly, Samuel’s life would be over. She was only going to have one shot at this. Ignoring Dennison, she tightened her grip on her knife and prayed she wouldn’t miss. When Samuel finally met her gaze, he gave her a tiny nod.
“Now, Sam!”
He slammed backward, bashing the crown of his head into the chin of his attacker. It created enough separation between them that he was able to fall to the ground, giving Piper the chance to throw her knife. The attacker ducked away, bolting for a doorway previously hidden from view. Dennison fired his pistol three times, missing the mark as the man disappeared into the doorway.
“Look after Hawkins.” Dennison gave chase, leaving Piper to pick up the pieces.
“Sam?” The cobblestone was cold beneath her knees as she dropped to his side. “Oh God, you’re bleeding.”
A length of fabric from her petticoat gave way easily, giving her enough material to bunch up and use as a bandage. “It’s not too deep. Hold this tightly to the wound.”
Samuel’s eyes were squeezed shut. While the cut couldn’t have been pleasant, it wasn’t as deep as Piper had feared. That beast was toying with ya, girl. He could have slashed his neck before you took a breath.
“Sam, you’re going to be fine.”
Scrambling back until he was pressed against the wall, Samuel’s ragged breathing was the only sound for several moments.
“I thought he was dead.” He wouldn’t open his eyes. “Jack… John. He’s one of us.”
“That’s not possible. I’ve never seen him before, and we would have remembered anyone who looked like that. With the exception of yourself nobody has left the Archives in a century, so who could he have possibly been? Not an archivist; certainly not an apprentice.”
When he finally looked at her, she could see the shadow clouding his eyes. “No, there was one who left. Years before I did. For a long time I believed he wasn’t real, I convinced myself he’d died. And they all acted as though I’d made him up, an imaginary friend of sorts. Even Ryerson after a time told me he’d been nothing more than a figment of my imagination.”
“But… who the hell is he?”
Closing his eyes, Samuel pressed his head against the stones, his breathing growing more labored with each breath. “Before your time. I wasn’t housed with the other apprentices then; I only saw them at mealtimes. Me and John were best friends. My only friend. No one else was around… and then one day he was gone.”
She remembered what Samuel had been like when she’d first arrived—quiet and mistrustful. It had taken him finding her crying and lost in the maze of rooms one day before he even spoke to her. “A child escaping? That doesn’t seem possible. Maybe the Guild Masters know—”
“We need to get out of here.” Samuel pushed her away and scrambled to his feet.
“But Dennison—”
“Knows what we are going to be doing. We’ll meet him again when it’s safe.”
A cry from down the alley prompted Piper into action. Slipping her arm around Samuel’s waist, she carefully got him to his feet. They needed to get off the streets to safety before someone found them.
“We need to get to the iron walk, get out of Whitechapel. We can’t do anything tonight until I have a chance to clean you up.”
“Wait.” Samuel swayed into her. “We need to find Timmons.”
“Who?”
“From the Tower. The man with the clockwerk hand. I trust him.”
“Fine. Do you know his place of residence?”
“Yes.”
All right then. “Let’s go.”
It took the lurching movement of the iron walkway to snap Samuel from his numbness. Reality came back to him in pieces, one layer at a time. The faraway echo of voices and the clack and hiss of the moving track popped in his ears, rushing back in with a force that startled him. The numbness of his hands gave way so he could feel the bite of the cold metal rail against his palm. The stink of sweat and blood filled his nostrils and turned his stomach.
John.
John was alive.
He’d been watching and waiting and alive.
“Sam?”
“I’m fine.”
What a lie. He was as far from fine as could possibly be.
Master Ryerson shoved him into the room, causing Samuel to stumble. His paltry collection of belongings fell from his grasp to scatter across the floor. He didn’t dare pick them up, not with the mood Ryerson was in.
“Your new room, boy. Better than you deserve.”
The bed in the corner was bigger than his previous, as was the small chest of drawers. “Sir?”
“You think I didn’t know about your little trips through the Archives?” Ryerson came even further in, forcing Samuel to step back. “I wasn’t blind. I could see the dust and grease on your clothing and skin. What were you doing, eh? Speak!”
“I-I was l-l-lookin’ for John, sir.”
Master Ryerson lifted his hand to strike and Samuel closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact. It didn’t come. Daring to open his eyes once more, he was surprised to see the Guild Master simply staring at him.
“You fool,” the old man said. “John is dead.”
“No.” That was a lie. Samuel might not know as much as the Guild Masters, but he knew it was wrong to lie. “John’s just lost. I can find him.”
“Dead. Dead and gone.” Turning his back to Samuel, Ryerson opened the door. “Tomorrow you’ll begin your training as an acolyte. You’ll become one of them.”
Samuel couldn’t move for a long time after the door closed. John wasn’t dead. He didn’t care what Master Ryerson said. Tomorrow after whatever they were going to make him do, he’d crawl through the ventilation shaft behind the boilers. It was warm there, and John hated the cold.
It would be okay. Samuel would find him.
Samuel had spent the better part of two years searching for John every chance he had. For years after, Samuel scanned every group he came across in the Archives, looking for him. How could John have known what Samuel did after he disappeared? Where had they taken him?
Pushing that piece of the disturbing puzzle to the side, Samuel looked up in time to realize they’d nearly reached their destination.
“This stop. Timmons lives close.”
“Pretty posh neighborhood for a police officer.”
“It’s not exactly his money. He doesn’t live here alone.”
Samuel had been shocked himself the first time he realized where Timmons heralded from. The man’s residence on Regent Street was shared by his brother, a man who could not be more of an opposite from his sibling.
“Timmons will help us, but I need to warn you about David.”
Piper cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“His younger brother. He’s a clockwerker.”
She didn’t stiffen or pull away the way some would at the revelation. Living a
life that others deemed unnatural made a person more forgiving of others on the fringes of society. His own first meeting with David had been as odd as one would have anticipated. Timmons had watched Samuel throughout the entire event, gauged his reactions as David prattled on, examining the remaining bits and pieces of the automaton that had gone mad, killing three people.
He’d left that crime scene with a deeper understanding of the constable.
“I assume it is safe to venture into his home? If Timmons has family staying with him I would hate to draw the untoward attention of our… friend and put them at risk.”
Samuel swallowed, the painful slide across his throat a stark reminder of what their friend was capable of. “If it was anyone but Timmons, I wouldn’t even consider it.”
The crowd between the iron walkway’s exit and the corner of Regent Street was heavier than Samuel would have anticipated for this time of night. Night merchants dotted the street, their pale skin and thin hair speaking of radiation sensitivities. The poor souls who could only venture out after sunset, whom even the heaviest of leather wear and thickest of goggles couldn’t protect. The victims of the final brutal radiation attack from the French during the last war.
Piper’s steps slowed as she openly stared at an old woman squatting beside a rickety cart. The woman’s eyes appeared silver in the light cast from the streetlamp. She boldly returned Piper’s gaze, her lips curling into a snarl.
“Zombie.”
“Wench,” Piper spat back.
“Keep moving.” They couldn’t afford to draw any more attention than they had already. “His home is the one on the corner.”
Unlike many of the other homes this time of night, Timmons’ wasn’t darkened for sleep; light bled out from the windows on the top floor. Samuel knew from prior visits that David’s workroom was up there, and if he was up, it meant Timmons would be as well.
He let Piper knock on the door, suddenly needing her support as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Lord, it shouldn’t be that difficult to manage the stairs. It was only a shallow wound, and he’d handled more severe blood loss in his time. Blinking, he tried to force away the darkness growing around the edges of his vision.
“Sam?”
The door was jerked open by a short Asian woman, dressed in a leather corset and long blue skirts. Her midnight black hair was pulled back into a high bun, giving her heart-shaped face and thin nose a severe look. In that instant, she looked every inch the female warrior Samuel knew her to be.
“It’s late.” Her gaze landed quickly on Samuel’s throat. “Ah. You best come in, sergeant. I will tell the constable of your arrival.”
“Thank you, Aiko.”
Piper guided him into the foyer, shooting him a question look.
“She’s from Japan, and part of a very long story.”
“I look forward to hearing it.” Samuel stumbled, losing his grip on Piper. “Sam?”
“There’s something wrong.”
“The wound isn’t that deep. It shouldn’t be—”
Samuel heard no more as darkness claimed him.
Chapter Fifteen
When he regained consciousness, Samuel found himself stretched out on a settee, three concerned faces hovering above him. Timmons straightened after a moment, speaking to someone behind them. David reached in and pulled Samuel’s eyelid back even further.
“Well now, I wonder what caused that?”
“Leave him be.” Timmons pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s had his throat slashed. I’m surprised he stayed upright as long as he did.”
David Timmons—brilliant and more than a little mad. He was currently staring at Samuel with those big, soulful eyes that always seemed to be looking at something others couldn’t see. His hair stood out at all angles, as if he never stopped running his hands through it in excitement or despair.
David bumped Piper aside, flicked down the magnifying lenses that were resting on his forehead, and leaned in close to examine Samuel’s throat.
“Serrated blade, very sharp.” He hummed as he ran a thumb across the cut. Pain lanced through Samuel’s neck and he flinched.
“David, enough.”
“There’s something there, Rory. I can’t quite…”
The other man’s breath tickled Samuel’s skin. The wet swipe of a tongue made him gasp, the mix of comfort and pain bizarre to his body. If it were any other person, he would have suspected a sexual motivation for the action.
But not from David.
The skinny man straightened up, even as Timmons hauled his younger brother aside. “What the hell are you doing?”
“There was a faint discoloration to the skin. I’m sorry to say you’ve been poisoned, Sergeant Hawkins. Though given the shallowness of the cut, I doubt you’ve received the full dose of the drug. Enough to incapacitate you, but not enough to kill.”
“What was it?” Samuel struggled to sit up. He waved off Piper’s help, though she ignored him with a roll of her eyes.
“Can’t be certain without proper analysis. Tasted a bit like the strychnos poison. I saw something similar when I visited the Limba people of Sierra Leone. Not an easy thing to come by, at any rate.”
“Who did this, sergeant?” Timmons was dressed, his pistol secured in its holster at his side. “Do you need me to call in the men?”
“No. Keep everyone out of this for now. I didn’t want to even involve you.”
“We had nowhere else to go.” Piper’s hold on his shoulder tightened. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Aiko snorted and gently shoved David toward the door. “Move.”
“But they are about to give details on a crime. You know how I love to listen to that.”
“Exactly. Move.”
“But—”
“You are needed to create an antidote for the poison. Remember? The imminent death of your friend?”
“Oh, yes, well, fine. I’ll be back shortly. Rory, don’t be rude to the guests.”
The door clicked, though did little to muffle David’s prattling as Aiko led him away.
“I apologize for my brother, Miss Smith.”
“Whatever for? He can lick the fabric of the settee if it will help cure Sam. If anything, I should be thanking both of you for taking us in.”
Timmons stared at her for several heartbeats before granting her one of his rare smiles. “Thank you.” As quickly as it came, Timmons’ expression hardened once more. “Now, the last time I saw you everything was fine. What the hell happened?”
Samuel let Piper fill him in on the relevant details, only adding a few comments he knew the constable would appreciate. Speaking sapped him of his strength, making his head spin. He closed his eyes and let Pip’s voice wash over and soothe him. When they were younger, her voice seemed to soothe his soul, eased the tension and fears that grew inside him. Helped him feel normal, connected when he felt apart.
“Sam?”
Opening his eyes, he smiled up at her. “I’ve missed hearing you talk.”
The blush that covered Piper’s cheeks gave her the glow of life—stark contrast to the ring of white staring back at him. He could reach up, twine his fingers in her hair, and pull her down for a kiss. Taste the life she had to offer, take it without fear this time, knowing that despite everything, the years and their separate lives, she was still his Pip.
“I see our killer has gone public.” Timmons held up a paper. “He didn’t like you keeping things so close to the vest.”
“He’s forcing our hand.” Samuel swallowed, the pain in his throat blinding. “Jack knows me.”
“What?” Timmons crossed his arms and glared down at him. “Why the hell didn’t you say something sooner? I assumed he sent you the note because you were the lead investigator. You should have had a protection detail assigned to you.”
“I didn’t know before tonight.” A wave of exhaustion washed over him, sapping what little strength he had left.
“He thinks this Jack is the same as
a boy from his childhood by the name of John. It would explain why Mary thought he was a zombie. Annie, too.”
“Do you know him, Miss Smith? This John?”
Samuel opened his mouth to answer, but twin looks of displeasure quieted him.
“No, in all my years at the Archives, I haven’t met anyone who fits this description. Certainly not someone who knew Sam. But I have the memories of the last victim in my head. We’re hoping she’ll be able to help us find him in time.”
Timmons was staring at Piper, his gaze narrowed. “You have her memories? How is that possible?”
Piper stood and walked to stand in front of Timmons. For the first time of their friendship, Samuel was shocked to see the bear of a man unnerved.
“I didn’t finalize the process after extracting her thoughts. Right now she still exists in here.” She tapped her finger to her temple. “Does that bother you, constable?”
“Yes. It does.” He got to his feet, towering over Piper. “But if it will help us catch a killer, then I’ll adjust.”
The sudden clomping of footsteps preceded the door to the sitting room being thrown open. David stood holding a small china cup, a manic grin on his face. He still wore the magnifying goggles, but now he’d also donned a leather apron.
“Here we go. One rather hastily concocted antidote for the good sergeant. Drink it while it’s hot.”
“Cheers.” The bitter liquid stung as he swallowed. It tingled as it moved down his throat, until the heat curled in his belly. “How long before it starts to work?”
“Not long. You only received a light dose of the poison, so this should deal with the bulk of the symptoms until your body can expel the rest.”
Samuel forced himself to sit, not wanting to give in to the poison or waste any more time.
Timmons cocked an eyebrow. “I suppose you’ll need to stay here for the rest of the evening.”
“Oh, Aiko assumed that as well.” David flicked the goggles up to their original resting place on his forehead. “She is preparing the rooms right now.”
“Prepare your rooms?” Piper shook her head. “I thought she was family. A cousin, or some such thing.”
Gilded Hearts (The Shadow Guild Series) Page 18