“Careful with that one, boy, she’s got the luck of a devil. Devils ain’t known for their kindness.”
The same man lay in the shadows of the next cell, the one who had warned her about Hatchet-face. She ignored him, gazing into Ash’s green eyes and willing herself not to weaken before the hope she saw there.
“Why not wait for Em to come back and get you? It’s not like you’re an orphan.”
He gripped the bars, meeting her gaze between them with boldness she admired. For someone she doubted had ever been caught on the wrong side of the law before, he was adjusting well.
“I have to find my little brother before that woman does.”
Blood and ashes! So many things he might have said she was prepared to counter or even scoff at. That wasn’t one of them. She knew all too well the pain of a broken family. Maybe there was a way that helping his family could help hers.
“I’ll get you out,” she said. “But you have to do something for me.”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you want? Quid?” He said the last with a sneer.
Maeko bristled, but what else could she say? “Yes.”
“However much you need, my family can manage it. Just get me out.”
Too easy. She should negotiate a set price, but they didn’t have that kind of time. “I’ll get the key.”
The chuckle from the next cell grated on her when she stepped to the door and stood silent, listening before pushing it open. She’d seen Wells pull the key from a drawer this time so she dug into that drawer and took the key back into the cellblock.
Ash’s eyes lit. He exhaled in relief.
She stalked to the cell. “What? Did you think I was lying?”
“You never told me your name.”
“So.”
“Dad says you can’t trust a person who won’t tell you their name.”
“He’s a clever bloke.” Clever and deceitful. She turned the key in her fingers and watched Ash. His eyes didn’t track the movement of that simple item that would set him free. Instead, they held hers, waiting, expecting that she would follow through. She put the key in the lock and turned it. “You better not slow me down.”
She pulled the door open and he stepped out, his presence reassuring after her escape with Hatchet-face, though the latter had been far less likely to get her caught. He hovered next to her and watched her unlock the door to her cell. Then she turned to the third cell and the dark figure reclined on the camp bed.
“You want out too?”
“No thanks, Miss. Too many blokes out there as wants me dead. I’m right fine where I am.”
Chuckling sounded from the few other occupied cells. She waited, puzzled when no one else made a play for their freedom. They were a complacent bunch. Turning away, she led Ash through into the next room and set the key back in the drawer.
“Why’d you do that?”
She gave him a crooked smile. “Confuse them.”
He grinned back and she snapped her gaze away.
Trust no one. Care for no one. Shrugging off sudden discomfort, she crept to the other door and listened. Nothing yet.
A soft meow drew her attention. Macak’s crate sat on the shelves against the wall. She hurried over and slid up the front. The cat climbed out and pressed his head into her hand.
“What’re you doing?” Ash hissed.
She skimmed the shelves and picked up an empty satchel, slinging it over one shoulder. Holding it open with one hand, she picked up the cat and tucked him inside. She could hear his purr from within.
“You’re cracked,” Ash remarked with conviction.
“What’s the time?”
He pulled his watch out immediately this time. “1:43.”
She nodded to herself. If she were right, Wells would put in one last check on the prisoners before the shift change. He was the sort who wouldn’t want to leave surprises for his replacement.
Ash started to speak and she held a finger to her lips, putting her ear to the edge of the door. He shut his mouth and waited.
Yes! This time she heard footsteps approaching. Then she heard voices and her stomach turned. There was someone with him.
“Quick! Chivvy under the desk. I’ll hide in the corner. You have to be silent. Not hide-and-seek silent, but street rat silent. Can you do that?”
He gave her a haughty smirk. “It’ll be the bloody cat that gives us away.”
She returned a warning scowl. He might think he was something special, but street rats knew their own kind and he wasn’t one. “Worry about yourself.”
He went to climb under the desk, bumping his shin in the process and cursing under his breath. She winced, hoping he could slip the rest of the way under without too much noise, though she appreciated his fluency in street profanity.
She could make out what Wells was saying now.
“Detective Emeraude brought them both in. She didn’t say much about either, just told me to hold them and the cat until I got further orders. They must have something to do with the investigation.”
Keys jingled outside the door. Ash got himself tucked away seconds before the lock clicked. She shivered, recalling how the previous escape had ended for the officers on duty. This time would be different.
“It’s a real shame what happened to Mr. Folesworth’s family,” Wells was saying when he walked in. “I guess we’re supposed to keep it quiet until we find him.”
The Literati officer walked straight to the other door, not once turning his eyes away from his destination or bothering to switch on a light. Someone followed behind in a fine gray suit, a coachman hat shadowing his features so she could only make out a vague profile in the darkness. He struck a lucifer as he passed and she shrank back, pressing into the shadowed corner. Mr. Jacard lit his cigarette and dropped the match as he had done outside the Airship Tower. The flame guttered out on the cold linoleum and a chill raced through her.
She held her breath and crouched motionless. She almost felt bad knowing Wells would get in trouble for this, but it wasn’t her fault he didn’t pay better attention. This room was something to pass through on his way to the prisoners, though she suspected Mr. Jacard would be more interested if he knew Macak was in there. When Wells reached for the handle to open the cellblock door, she slunk to the door they had just come through, one hand holding the satchel steady. Seeing her make her move, Ash started maneuvering his way out from under the desk.
How amusing it would be if he became stuck there, but then she’d never get any tin from him. She didn’t linger to watch though. When Wells opened the door into the cells, she opened the opposite door and ran, hoping Ash could keep up. He might be nice to look at, but good looks meant nothing when it came to escaping the Lits.
A crash behind her gave her a much-needed boost of adrenaline. She sprinted down the hall and heard first one set of feet pounding in pursuit and then a second joined the chase. Two male voices snarled out curses, Ash far more creative and diverse in his selection of expletives than Wells. It turned out that he also ran a lot faster than the officer did. By the time she reached the door to the front office, he raced along right on her heels.
“Move,” he yelled in time for her to shift to one side. He slammed through the double doors alongside her.
Something struck the door above her head and careened off into the room. A glance at the offending object as it clattered to the floor revealed that Wells had launched his club at them. He wasn’t eager to take a shot with his pistol, something she had counted on given his compassionate disposition, and one of the primary reasons she wanted to make her escape before the shift change. Someone like Tagmet might be more willing to fire on them, and she didn’t fancy chumming up with a bullet.
They barreled into the front doors together. The doors were locked, the impact jarring through her bones and rattling her teeth, but the combined force of their full speed charge proved enough to break the lock and send them toppling down the outside stairs with the accompaniment of a pan
icked yowl as Macak fell from the satchel.
She twisted around in time to see the cat bolting back toward the building. Disappointment twisted in her chest. She didn’t wait to see how Ash made out in the fall. Ignoring the pain of several fresh bruises, she sprang to her feet and started running, taking a route opposite the direction Hatchet-face had led her down, in case the killer still lurked in the area. Feet pounded after her again, but only one set this time. She glanced over her shoulder to see Ash gaining on her, a red mark on his cheek that would turn into a dandy of a bruise. Wells burst through the doorway and Macak, bursting out of the shadows, bolted between his feet, sending him sprawling on the steps.
Brilliantly done. Maeko stopped long enough to catch the cat when he came sprinting at her, giving him a quick kiss on the head before she tucked him back in the satchel.
She started running again. A shot rang out and something struck the building next to her. She squeaked in surprise and ducked down a side street, spotting the other officer from earlier running up alongside JAHF, his gun drawn. Another shot rang out, striking the corner of the building as they vanished around it.
“They’re trying to bloody kill us!” Ash shouted behind her.
She didn’t waste energy responding. Potential death was a great motivator. Keeping up the pace, she sprinted down less traveled backstreets, putting as much distance between them and JAHF as she could. Then Ash’s footsteps started to fall behind, his pace slowing. He wasn’t used to fleeing for his freedom…or his life. She’d gotten rather capable at route finding and running long stretches when Chaff first schooled her in the art of picking pockets. That was also when she’d learned the wisdom of selecting marks that didn’t look like they could run very fast or far.
She should keep running and leave him behind. Being shot at once was a sure sign that this bollocks was over her head. Twice was too much. And yet…
I’ll stick with him long enough to get my part of the bargain. Then he’s on his own.
Maeko stopped and turned, watching with a mix of annoyance and grudging amusement when he staggered to a stop and bent over, supporting himself with his hands on his knees while he panted. His dark hair hung forward, obscuring his features.
“Boy…can you…run,” he said between gasps.
“Because I often have to.” She opened the satchel to check on Macak. He made a startling leap up to her shoulders where he wrapped himself around her neck and started purring, the metal of his false leg cold against her skin.
“Who’s a brilliant kitty?” she said, stroking the fuzzy head before turning a less affectionate gaze on Ash. “Where do you live anyway?”
He straightened and scuffed across the street to lean back against a brick wall, letting his head rest back against it and closing his eyes. His hair fell back, revealing the flush of exertion in his strong features. For a short time, he stood there catching his breath. She shifted from foot to foot, listening for pursuit and debating between the wiser course of ditching him and the misguided urge to stay. The few other weary nighttime wanderers paid them little attention, hurrying along huddled down in coats and hats. A figure lay under a ragged blanket in a nearby doorway, so still they might have been dead. Not much threat there.
“I don’t know if it’ll be safe. That harpy is like to go searching there.”
Maeko sucked back a groan. He was right. “At least you’re not a complete dolt.”
He opened his eyes, glowering at her under thick lashes. “Are you this rude to everyone or am I just lucky?”
“Stop whinging. Lucky, you’re not.” She turned away, putting fists on her hips and chewing on her lower lip. Macak stood on her shoulders and stared down the narrow street with her. After a few minutes, she started walking. Ash trotted up to walk alongside her.
“Do you know who that Mr. Jacard is?” she asked.
Ash turned to gawk at her and she felt her face flushing. “Have you been living under a rock?”
“Surviving on the streets doesn’t leave a person much time to keep up on the news,” she said.
“Joel Jacard, the business partner of the wealthiest businessman in London, Lucien Folesworth, founder of Clockwork Enterprises.”
A wave of nausea swept over her and Macak became heavier on her shoulders. A moneyed cat indeed. This was so far over her head she might as well be a speck in the mud at the bottom of the Thames. She hid the overwhelming feeling of intimidation behind dry humor. “Well, Mr. Jacard just got a lesson in disappointment.”
Ash gave a small breathless chuckle, though his faint smile didn’t last long. “That cat acts like he’s been with you for years.”
“He’s smart. He knows he can trust me.”
“To sell him for parts maybe.”
Maeko gave him a scathing looking, ignoring a twinge of guilt that she had briefly considered that course of action when she first found Macak. She scratched the cat’s head in apology for those earlier thoughts.
“I need to get to Hammersmith and find my little brother before the detective figures out where he is.”
The hopeful edge to his tone caused a sinking in her gut. Tell him you’re taking the tin and leave before you get hurt. When she opened her mouth, that wasn’t what came out. “Why wasn’t he with you?”
“My mum and dad are musicians. I guess you know that,” he added with a charming, self-conscious grin. “They’re gone a lot. Sometimes I stay home and keep an eye on the house and Sam. When I go with them, Sam stays with a mate of Dad’s.”
She glanced at him. “He can’t stay by himself?”
“Not anymore. Dad works for an airship manufacturer when the group isn’t off playing and stuff. We both used to help him at the shop. Then, several months ago, there was an accident. Some heavy equipment fell and Sam lost a leg. After that...” He trailed off when she stopped walking and turned to her. “What’s wrong?”
She remembered how Garrett had looked at Macak’s fake leg with such feverish interest. She’d assumed the monetary value of the device caught his attention, but this new information changed things. Macak’s leg represented the potential for a functional leg for his son. The recent visit to the pub with Em also suggested that Heldie, not Garrett, might have set the Literati on her, though that was still little more than speculation.
She chewed at a ragged fingernail. What happened to silence? Why did she have to ask so many questions?
Silly as it was, she wanted the big man who had treated her so well to be innocent of betraying her and, for whatever reason, she was intrigued by his handsome, if somewhat judgmental, son.
What about the dead bodies? Who would kill a woman and child in cold blood and why? Did Garrett have anything to do with that? Ash said no, but he might lie to protect his father. The new information about Sam, however, inclined her to believe him. Why would Garrett kill them if he only wanted information on the clockwork leg to help his younger son?
It made more sense that someone—Hatchet-face perhaps—had killed the woman and child. But how? Even if he’d gotten there before she had, those people had been dead for at least a day. Garrett and his companions hadn’t arrived long before she did. They could have stumbled upon the bodies while searching for the cat’s owner just as she had. Then again, they could have been there before tonight. They had gotten inside from the landing pad, so either that door had also been unlocked or they had broken in.
Macak head-butted her cheek then hopped down and wound himself around her legs.
Her gut twisted. Could she have helped Em track down the wrong people?
“You look like you don’t feel well.” Ash was watching her with those captivating eyes, his brow furrowing.
He looked anxious and he had good reason to be. His family, guilty or not, was mixed up in a murder and missing person investigation that could destroy their lives. Looking at it from that perspective, he was holding up extraordinarily well.
“Do you even know how to get to Hammersmith from here?”
&nbs
p; He glanced around at the dark buildings that lined the narrow street. She could see in his eyes that none of it was familiar long before he shook his head.
“No.” He met her eyes. “Please, help me get my brother.”
She didn’t need this kind of trouble. “You already owe me.”
“I’ll make it worth your time. I promise.”
Could he hold up his side of the deal? She’d be wise to give up on him, go to one of the lurks in Whitechapel and lay low for a bit. Then again, a few boys out that way had tried to show her ‘what a girl is good for’ once, an encounter that had ended with her well-aimed blade and the timely arrival of another youth who didn’t approve of their efforts. She wasn’t eager to find out if they were still hanging around the area.
If only Chaff were there to talk her out of doing something foolish. But he wasn’t there and the way Ash looked at her now, not like a low street rat, but like someone who held the key to his salvation… It was strange and intoxicating being looked at that way by someone strong, educated, and handsome.
“Maeko.” He looked confused, so she elaborated. “My name’s Maeko. I’ll help you get your brother. After that, you’re on your own.”
His dashing smile only reinforced the feeling of dread building within her.
Chapter Seven
Morning fog burned away before a bright sun. It shone down on the homes around the residential district of Hammersmith, bringing in an uncommonly lovely new day and making it harder to hide from patrols. Fortunately, those were lighter the farther they got from the heart of London. Unfortunately, their sprint for freedom had taken them in the opposite direction, making for a long, exhausting walk.
Every house sported a tiny front garden patio in various states of upkeep, each with some sort of fence around it. Some of the brick and wrought iron fences were tall, intended to keep people out, like reverse prisons, while others were too low to serve for more than decoration. The street’s rough and rutted surface held pools of water from the recent rain. Enough dirt had transferred onto the pedestrian pavements that they blended with the street itself, making the low curb more of a tripping hazard than a defining separation.
The Girl and the Clockwork Cat (Entangled Teen) Page 8