Marking Time (The Immortal Descendants)

by April White

  I wiped dust off one of the box labels, but it only gave me the name of the shipper. Archer stood next to me. “That’s a cloth manufacturer.” I pried open the lid and found stacks of folded linen. I took two large pieces out of the box.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Gathering supplies.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. For later.”

  Archer looked at me like I was a little mental and to be honest, I wasn’t sure exactly what I was doing. But I wanted supplies that I could stash for 1888. Who knew if they’d even last, but it was worth a shot.

  The next box held what looked like linen bandages and I took a couple of rolls of that out, too. There was also rope and some wire, both of which I added to my growing pile.

  Archer was watching me with fascination as I scavenged through the forgotten boxes and crates in the small storeroom. Finally, deep in a corner, I hit something good.

  A shallow wooden crate lay on its side, behind other boxes. I hauled it up and pried the lid off. Inside were rows of small, brown glass bottles with white hand-written labels. A couple had broken and released a sweet-smelling vapor.

  Archer suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled me back from the box. “That’s chloroform!” he hissed.

  Cool. I’ve always associated the knock-out drug with horses or a cloth to the face by the Victorian murderer. Which is why it sounded perfect for my purposes.

  “Does it have any effect on you?” The curiosity in my voice made Archer look sharply at me.

  “I presume so, why?”

  “Let’s test it.”

  His eyes narrowed. There must have been some excitement in my tone because he looked very skeptical.

  I rolled my eyes. “To see if it’ll work on The Ripper.”

  “The Ripper?”

  “Indeed.”

  Archer considered me a long moment, then let go of my arm and took a hesitant step toward the chloroform box.

  “Don’t inhale too much. You’re too heavy for me to carry anywhere.”

  That seemed to give him confidence enough to bend closer to the broken bottles. He took a shallow breath, waited a moment, and then took another. It was taking too long and I’d just made up my mind that it wouldn’t work when he suddenly staggered backwards away from the box. I grabbed his arms. “Are you okay?”

  His eyes were unfocused and he swayed on his feet. His voice came out broken. “It works.”

  “What do you feel?”

  “Dizzy. Unsteady. Like I’ve just fed from a drunk.”

  “Seriously?”

  He nodded. “I learned not to take them fresh from the pub.”

  “Okay, someday we’re going to have that conversation about your eating habits. How are you feeling now?”

  “A little better.”

  “Do you think a full dose would knock you unconscious?”

  His lips curled up in a wry smile. “Why? Are you considering taking advantage of me?”

  “Would I have to knock you out?”

  “Touché.” He was properly smiling now and I was proud of myself for a quick comeback. I was suddenly aware that I was still holding his arms, which put his face very close to mine. His eye-focus was back with a vengeance, because my eyes were locked in his gaze.

  Just as I let go, Archer’s hands came up to my face. His touch was cool and soft and it made my breath catch in my throat. “Would I?” His voice came out as a whisper that packed more power than a punch.

  Despite seventeen years of self-preservation instinct, I shook my head ‘no.’ And then he kissed me. Again.

  And my knees went weak. Again.

  I was going to have to grow a whole new set of muscles to support my traitorous legs if this kept up. It was a thought that didn’t bum me out too much.

  Suddenly, we heard shouts from several tunnels away. Archer went to the doorway of our little storage room to listen, while I quickly wrapped several small bottles of chloroform among the folds of linen in my little bag. He was back almost immediately. “Something’s happening on the street. They’re all leaving.”

  “Should we go too?”

  “Now might be our only chance.” I slung the small supply pack over my shoulder as Archer grabbed my hand. We slipped down tunnels quickly, aware of growing sounds of some kind of danger coming from above us. Men shouting, and then a klaxon. “Fire.” Archer pulled me along faster and we navigated stacks of boxes and sacks of cargo. In the last tunnel before the Tully St. entrance he slowed his pace abruptly. His hand went up in a warning and I barely had time to stifle a very unladylike word.

  The sounds of alarm on the street were nearly deafening in the quiet of the catacomb. And then my body went rigid with the desire to run. I saw the glint of a shine on metal and suddenly my eyes could pick up the outline of the guy holding it.

  “What did you do to me?” It was the Monger who fell through the portal with us. Fight or flight kicked in hard.

  “Put the gun away, Monger.” Archer’s voice was low, tight and controlled. He sounded very dangerous.

  “I’m not a Monger!”

  “Yes, you are!” I gasped before I could stop myself.

  Archer’s voice was low and controlled. “If not a Monger, then what are you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You’re a Sucker so you have to die.” There was an edge of desperation to the young guy’s voice that made him sound a little nuts. Not good in someone holding a gun.

  “So this is about me? You’ll let the girl go?” Archer’s voice sounded like velvet-covered steel.

  The Monger’s voice shook a little. People with guns shouldn’t shake. It’s not good for the people they’re pointing at. “No, I have to take her with me.”

  Archer gave my hand a warning squeeze. “Why?” The casualness of the Vampire’s tone was impressive.

  “I don’t know. They just want her.”

  “So what do they have on you?”

  “What makes you think they do?”

  I could hear the smile in Archer’s voice. I would be very nervous if I were the guy with the gun. “I know lots of things. I know you have no idea how to use that gun, for example. And I know you’re scared. But I’m not the scary one. The people you’re doing this for, they’re the scary ones. They’re doing things you can’t even imagine. And they’re going to let you take the fall.”

  As he’d been talking, Archer had let go of my hand and was easing himself in front of me. And while I appreciated the gentlemanly gesture, he was blocking my view. So I moved almost directly in line with the Monger. I gasped. Everything clicked into place. The ‘sight,’ his youth, and his face. “You’re Tom Landers.”

  There was a sliver of light coming from above and his resemblance to his cousins, the twins, was remarkable. He was like a more angular version of Adam, but with dark hair instead of surfer-blond. I also recognized him as Slick’s young companion outside Whitechapel Station.

  The expression on his face was instantly terrified. “How--? You can’t know that!”

  Archer kept very wary eyes locked on Tom. But Tom seemed unaware of anyone but me at the moment.

  “He’s a half-sight. And the other half is Monger.” I said this for Archer’s benefit, but the reaction from Tom was instantaneous. He lunged for me and I stumbled backwards into a stack of boxes.

  Archer moved fast. He put himself between Tom and me with velocity I’d never seen before. And he was like a brick wall for Tom to smack right into. Then, with barely a second glance at me, Tom bolted up Nancy’s steps and out of the caverns to Tooley Street.

  “What the hell was that all about?” I rubbed my shoulder gingerly and checked for tears in the leather coat. It seemed whole to the touch, thankfully. Archer had halfway followed Tom up the stairs, but returned to me when he lost sight of him. “How do you know him?”

  “I don’t. He’s Adam and Ava’s cousin who disappeared a couple of months ago. I just took a guess.”

  “Apparently it was a
n accurate guess. Why do you think he’s half-Monger?”

  “Well, he’s their cousin, so he’s at least half-Seer. And the physical reaction I’ve been having to him is like I need to get as far away from him as I can. All Mongers inspire it.”

  “Do you have any proof of it?”

  “No… wait, yes. Maybe. Why?”

  “Because if it can be proven, that young man is basically as good as dead.”

  Fire

  Of course. The Family moratorium on mixing bloodlines. No wonder the kid freaked out. I would too if I thought someone might kill me because of my DNA. For that matter, I was on the same list, but only my mother, Mr. Shaw and I knew it.

  I had a little compassion for Tom Landers. Maybe it’s why he was running with the Mongers now. Maybe they knew about his family history and were holding it over his head like a guillotine. It would explain a lot of things that had made no sense to Adam and Ava.

  A woman’s scream echoed down the stairs and the sound of men calling out and running echoed above us. “We should go after him.” We sprinted for the stairs.

  On Tooley Street the scene was chaos. People were running like herd animals chased by something with sharp teeth, and in a second it became clear what that predator was. Fire.

  The night sky was glowing with orange and yellow flickering light and when we turned the corner, we could see a massive warehouse burning like a bonfire down the quay. The street was crowded with people, either running away, running to help, or standing around gawking. I’m not sure why we ran toward the fire to find the See-Monger; maybe because I felt some kind of connection to this kid.

  There was a massive crashing sound ahead of us and we both darted to the shelter of a building. A piece of wall shattered on the street in front of the burning warehouse and men with water buckets scattered, shouting warnings to their comrades. I scanned the street for any sign of Tom, but it was hard to make out individual features in the smoky light from the flames.

  Another series of klaxons rang out and a team of draft horses clattered past, pulling a heavy carriage behind them. They halted, and helmeted men poured off the carriage, dragging a heavy hose under their arms.

  “What’s inside?!” One of the firemen shouted to the crowd.

  “It’s the cotton mill!”

  The fireman nodded grimly and called to his men. “Wash down the walls on either side. It’s going to spread!”

  “Unbelievable!” I didn’t realize it was Archer who spoke until he continued. “The technology is fantastic for its time, isn’t it?” I stared at him in amazement. I was fascinated by how primitive firefighting was in 1861, and he was practically glowing with pride at the efficiency of it.

  A movement in the corner of my vision made me turn. There was the See-Monger, wearing a denim jacket and combat boots, of all things, darting out from between two of the buildings the firemen were about to spray.

  “Tom!” He turned like a deer caught in the headlights, and I watched in shock as a fragment of wall broke off the building above him. “Move!” I could feel my throat burning with the force of my voice. Tom leapt forward, just as the fragment shattered to the ground behind him.

  “You there! Get out of the way!” The fireman at the end of the hose shouted at Tom as he strode forward, dragging the hose behind him. Tom bolted past the firemen, toward the buildings where Archer and I stood.

  The fireman yelled to the man on the carriage. “On!” The hose was aiming at the spot above the wall where Tom had just been standing, and before I could open my mouth to scream “NO!” the stream of water dislodged a huge section of the wall. It came crashing down to the street, sending huge chunks of burning wood and stone debris flying.

  The rubble sent up a cloud of dust the mingled with the smoke and made visibility impossible. I knew that the fireman had been buried underneath the fallen wall.

  “Oh God!” My words came out as a choked sob and Archer grabbed me as my knees sagged. Suddenly, Tom was in front of us, his face blackened with smudges of soot, and his eyes wide open in horror and fear.

  “Get me out of here!” His voice came out as a croak and his eyes stared right through me.

  Archer grabbed my hand and gestured to the See-Monger. “Come on. Back to the catacombs.”

  The fire sounded like a war zone behind us as we raced down Tooley Street toward the bridge. The klaxon rang again and more booted feet ran down the street to help with the rescue operation. We should have stayed to help, even though I knew in my gut the fireman was dead before he hit the ground.

  Nancy’s Steps were deserted as we scrambled down them. Archer led the way down the long tunnel, past bags and boxes of goods stacked against the walls. He led us unerringly down the pitch black route back to the tiny storeroom where we’d come through.

  I pulled the Maglite out of my pocket and flicked it on for those two of us without Vampire vision. The catacombs were silent except for the pounding of our feet as we ran. I could hear Tom’s breath coming hard and fast, probably the aftermath of panic. He could have been killed by that wall, and I didn’t envy him the flashbacks.

  “It’s in there.” I waved my flashlight toward the small storage room off to the right. Archer was already inside, but Tom halted outside the door.

  “You’re with the Vampire.” It was a statement, not a question, and Tom’s voice was filled with disgust.

  “So, you’re with Mongers.”

  “Vampires are worse.” The certainty in his voice was absolute.

  “Not in my world.”

  Archer stepped into view. “Why do they want Saira?”

  His directness startled Tom and he took a step back. “If you run again I’m leaving you here.” I loaded my voice up with as much edge as I could find. The See-Monger responded, kind of like he had when I’d yelled at him up on the street; like he needed a mom or something.

  “They say she’s on their list.”

  “What list?”

  Tom looked frightened. “I’ve never seen it. I don’t know.”

  Archer looked annoyed. “What will they do with her if they get her?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  Now I was mad. “You were willing to take on a Vampire just to get me, and you have no idea why? Are you out of your mind?” I was ranting and I didn’t care. It felt good to let go of all the stress and fear, and frankly, Tom Landers deserved it. “What if those Monger jerks wanted to kidnap me?” From the shock on Tom’s face he clearly hadn’t thought about it. So I pressed harder. “Or maybe kidnapping would be okay, since that’s what everyone in your family thinks happened to you. Adam thinks it’s his fault you’re gone, and your dad keeps threatening Miss Simpson and the whole school with shutdown until you’re found.”

  Tom finally found a little courage in his voice. “My dad’s a jerk.”

  “Clearly. And so are you.”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t know why they want you.”

  “And you also didn’t think about what it feels like to be hunted, did you?” Again, the shocked look in his eyes. “Well, let me tell you, it sucks! People you don’t know following you everywhere, chasing you down dark tunnels, threatening to kill your friends. It’s not fun, Tom.”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was small, and to his credit, he cleared his throat and said it again in a stronger tone. “I’m sorry.”

  I looked at Tom Landers, a guy my age, a little taller than me, who had spent the last few months running with a bad crowd, making bad choices, and with those two words he actually took some responsibility for that. I was impressed. I fought the urge to smile with satisfaction, so I made my expression hard. “Don’t do it again.”

  “I won’t.”

  This time I couldn’t help it. I did smile. And he smiled back. Tom Landers was a decent guy, and I decided I could like him. Archer spoke from the darkened doorway. “They may be waiting for us when we go back.”

  “Crap. You’re right. We can’t go back here.”

&n
bsp; Tom was looking back and forth between Archer and me like he was watching a tennis match in Japanese. But Archer was a step ahead of me. “Can you make another portal?”

  Of course. Think like my mythical friend, Doran. “Let’s go up to the base of the bridge.”

  Archer nodded. “Places to hide, and yet we’re not trapped if the Mongers are still there.”

  “Wait. My stash-bag.” I ran for the little room with forgotten boxes and grabbed the bag I’d filled with random supplies. When I got back to the portal room, Archer was working at something on the wall while Tom watched him warily. “What are you doing?”

  “Finding you a hiding place.” Archer gave a great heave and a flat stone pulled out of the wall. Behind it was a smallish void.

  “Nice.” I pushed the small bag into the void, mindful of the chloroform bottles wrapped in linen inside, and Archer replaced the stone. I pulled out the last of the chalk rock and marked a corner of the stone. Probably wouldn’t last, but worth a shot.

  “Try it. Make sure you can pull the stone out by yourself.”

  “You’re not coming with me?”

  I started working the stone, and found that with a little leverage I could wiggle it out.

  Archer shook his head. “I don’t think I can. I’d be in the same place as myself, remember? And I don’t think I want to explain this to me.” He meant his Vampire-ness, and I grimaced. I didn’t want to explain it to him either.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay guys, we have to go.” Tom and Archer both nodded and we took off running. On Tooley Street the mayhem seemed to have died down a little. People were still standing around watching the Cotton Wharf Fire, but the klaxons had stopped and the frantic running and gone with it.

  I tucked my Maglite up into the sleeve of my coat to hide it from casual view, and all three of us slowed to a walk at the top of Nancy’s Steps.

  Archer took a protective position by my right side, and Tom took a place slightly behind me on the left. It could have been a total accident, but it gave me the feeling of being flanked by bodyguards and I didn’t hate it.