by April White
I squeezed Archer’s hand. “Thank you for that.”
“I didn’t remember it until just now.”
“Kinda makes me hate her a little less.”
“I’ve always understood her loneliness.”
My voice didn’t work properly and I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
He gave me a tiny smile. “Where to, milady?”
“I have to go back, Archer. From the London Bridge, I can’t wait anymore.”
I could just see the look of concern in his eyes by the light of the moon. He nodded and wrapped his arm around me protectively. “Then we’ll go.”
London Calling
Archer had hidden his car in the woods behind Elian Manor, and we made it there without incident. I scanned the folder of drawings on my lap, but now I recognized them for what they were - scenes from Bethlem Hospital. They matched the façade I’d seen in old photographs from the files I’d gone through with Bishop Cleary.
The drawings were what I came back for; especially the one with the man I now thought might be Will Shaw in the Bedlam window. I sighed. “I thought I’d be able to get more things together to take with me.”
Archer indicated the back seat. “I finished the tailoring on my clothes and packed them back there for you. You can take the whole bag, or change before you go.”
I grinned at him. “You’re awesome! Thank you.” He smiled happily and I realized he probably hadn’t gotten many compliments in his life.
After a minute his face darkened. “The Mongers know about the bridge. They probably have someone watching for you.”
It was everything I could do not cry in frustration. “Why are they after me? What did I do?”
His voice was quiet as he navigated. “I don’t know, Saira. You haven’t told me yet.”
“I haven’t… Oh right. You don’t remember because it hasn’t happened. Like everything else I’ve somehow caused.” My voice was bitter, mostly directed at myself. Archer’s eyes stayed glued to the road. I didn’t blame him though, it was my fault he’d become a Vampire and here I was, whining about everything that didn’t make sense about this world I’d dropped into. I looked away, at the city lights that became brighter as we got closer to London. Suddenly, Archer pulled the Aston Martin over to the side of the road and parked. Before I could speak, he took my face in his hands.
“I love you, Saira. I love you so much my heart actually aches with it. I’ve spent several lifetimes waiting to see you again, watching over your family, imagining what it would be like to be with you every night, to run with you, laugh with you, hold you in my arms. I wouldn’t know you now if I hadn’t become…this. And to me, it’s worth it.”
Archer leaned in and kissed me, very slowly and very softly on the lips. It took my breath away. To be honest, I wasn’t sure exactly when I’d stopped breathing.
I still hadn’t said anything by the time he started the car and pulled out onto the road again. I felt like all the guilt I had about the human Archer who despised me and the Vampire who loved me were tangled up inside my head and I couldn’t unknot even one thread of it. So I sat there, totally silent, feeling like a prize idiot for everything I didn’t know how to say. And then, just when I’d worked up the courage to breathe again, we were in London. Not actually at the bridge, but suddenly the neighborhood looked familiar.
“Stop, Archer! I need to check something.”
He pulled over to the side of the street and I jumped out of the car. “I’ll be right back.” I ran across the road, dodging traffic, before he could say anything. The reason the neighborhood looked so familiar is that I’d walked its streets in two times. The Whitechapel Underground Station was halfway down the block, but I was headed to the little café where I hoped Alexandra Rowan worked.
Adam and his mother had both envisioned me at the London Bridge, and whether or not I believed in fate, I knew I had to go there. If I was going to step into Slick’s playground at the bridge, I wanted to go armed with any information I could get.
The bell above the door rang when I entered, and except for a family sitting at one of the tables, the place seemed deserted. A red-haired waitress in her fifties came out of the back carrying four plates in her arms. “Just take a seat anywhere, love.” My shoulders sagged. It was evening and the dancer had been working the morning shift then.
I was about to walk back out the door when she came down the hall from the bathroom. She was wearing a turquoise leotard and black sweats, and against her mahogany-colored skin it was the most striking thing I’d ever seen. She had a big bag slung over one shoulder and was tucking a stray piece of dark hair into the bun at the back of her neck. Everything about her screamed ‘ballet dancer.’
“Alex?” My question was tentative, but she looked up at me in shock.
“Yeah?” Her expression said, ‘do I know you?’ and ‘you look familiar’ all in one.
“You’re Alexandra Rowen?”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously just as Archer flung open the door. She took one look at him and backed up a step, her eyes widening in fear. It was exactly the way an animal might react to a predator.
“What do you want?” Her voice had a challenging tone but it came out in a whisper.
“You okay, love?” The red-head called from across the café.
“I’m a friend of Adam and Ava Arman. I’m a Clocker.” I held my hands out as if I was showing I was unarmed. Alex’s glance flicked to me, but she barely took her eyes off of Archer. She was terrified of him.
I turned to face him. “Can you wait in the car? I’ll be right out.” Archer’s eyes moved between Alex and me, and finally he nodded and left. The coil in Alex’s spine seemed to let go and though she was still tense, she didn’t look quite so ready to bolt.
“Do you have a minute to talk?”
She checked the clock on the wall. It was almost six. “I have a class.” She seemed really nervous, but she indicated a booth and I sank into the bench across from her.
“I’m Saira.” I held out my hand to shake.
“I remember you. A couple of weeks ago. You’re American.”
I nodded. “Seth Walters tracked me down there. He was after me that morning when I came in here.”
She stared at me, the fear back in her eyes. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping you might have some idea. I saw you notice him through the window.”
“He’s a predator. Like your Sucker friend.”
“Archer’s a Seer.”
“I sense ‘predator’ in him. Seth Walters is different, but maybe even more dangerous.” She hesitated a long moment, but I could see she was trying to find words. “And Seth threatened me. He found me at a dance recital. Adam wasn’t there. He said if Adam and I… he said we’d be hunted.” Her voice finished in a terrified whisper. I looked at the graceful girl across from me and wondered how anyone could let themselves be scared that badly. But then I remembered Mr. Shaw said she shifted into a Gazelle and it made sense. She was prey, with absolutely no defenses except her ability to run.
And then it all clicked into place. “Slick’s the mixed-blood goon squad.” She looked mystified so I translated. “Seth is hunting anyone who threatens the Family ‘purity.’”
Nothing like one of those ah-ha moments to open up a whole other bag of questions. “But why does he keep Tom with him?”
Alex, to her credit, kept up. “Adam’s cousin. I saw him too.”
My eyes locked on Alex’s. “Do you still care about Adam?”
She didn’t look away. “I can’t put him in danger. It’s why I left St. Brigid’s.”
“Adam thinks you left because of him. Because he wasn’t worth the fight.”
Alex looked stricken. “No.” There was anguish in her voice.
Alex and Adam deserved a chance to be together. A chance to see if they fit each other. A chance their ‘Families’ were too scared to let them have.
Impulsively, I reached out to touch Alex’s hand. �
��Adam still loves you. He’s hurt and he’s mad, but he never stopped.”
She closed her eyes. “I miss him.”
“I’ll tell him.” We stood up to go. “If his vision was right, I’m going to see him tonight.”
Alex gave me a tentative smile. “Thanks.”
I shook Alex’s hand. She looked past me, out the window and across the street to where Archer waited, leaning against his Aston Martin. “Be safe.”
I followed her gaze to my Vampire. “With him, I am.”
We left the café together, but Alex jogged down the back alley toward her class, and I crossed the road to meet Archer.
“Everything okay?” He sounded so solid and sure of himself. And safe. He nodded at the Whitechapel Station entrance. “Do you want to go back through there?”
I considered that. Despite the Armans’ vision I could skip the Bridge and travel through the Whitechapel spiral to get there faster. But I thought I could find Ringo better from the bridge, and I might need his wits to help me with my half-formed plan to find my mom. I shook my head. “The bridge is better.”
He started the car and pulled away from the curb. I took a deep breath. It was time to actually spell out something I hadn’t said to anyone. Not out loud, and barely even to myself. “Did I tell you apparently I’m a mixed-blood?”
Archer glanced over at me quickly, and then looked back at the road. I suddenly wondered if he had the same prejudice everyone else seemed to have ingrained in them. Everyone except maybe Adam and one or two other, liberal-minded Family Descendants. But Archer’s voice was even and completely reasonable. “Explains why they’re after you.”
“Does it? How do they even know about me? I don’t even know about me.”
“Your friend, Bishop Cleary, told me they have the genealogy.”
“But you said you kept my name out of it.”
Archer’s voice went quiet. “But you were all over my notebooks, Saira.”
I stared at him. “Your Ripper investigation?”
He shook his head. “My private journals. I destroyed them later. But they were locked in my safe…”
I finished the sentence for him with a feeling of dread. “In your desk drawer.”
Archer nodded miserably. He stared straight ahead as he drove toward the London Bridge. My own brain was curiously blank. I didn’t even know who my father was so who else, beside my mother, could possibly have that information. Which meant everything was just pure conjecture at this point, and the only thing anyone had to go on was literally splitting hairs.
Archer tucked the sports car into a little alley just around the corner from the London Bridge and I reached behind my seat for his leather messenger bag. “I should probably change here before I go.”
He nodded and helped me out of the car. He pulled a blanket from the back, held it open and turned around to face away from me. In a couple of minutes I had changed all but my boots.
Archer’s trousers fit beautifully. The lined wool fabric hung really well from my hips and with the black cashmere turtleneck, I felt like I was dressed for Park Avenue. I threw my jeans back into the duffle bag and slung it over my shoulder as Archer folded the blanket and threw it back in the trunk.
“Thank you for these. They’re gorgeous.” I smoothed my hands down the wool slacks.
Archer’s gaze was direct and he wasn’t smiling.
“What’s wrong?”
“If I didn’t know how important this is to you I’d ask you not to go.” That was about as loaded a statement as he could have made and I stared at him.
“But I do go; otherwise you would already remember what happens to you.”
“I know. That’s the part I can’t stand. Here I am, sending you off into the realm of one of history’s most notorious serial killers, and it’s making me insane that I can’t help you or protect you or do anything to keep you safe.”
And I suddenly realized how tightly he’d been holding himself since I came back. I’d been so wrapped up in my own miserable guilt I hadn’t seen his pain right in front of me. My voice had conveniently stopped working and I could barely meet his eyes, but I took his hand in mine and we left the shelter of the alley and headed out into the London night.
I spotted a little all-night market and pulled Archer inside. It was basically a magazine, packaged food, and cigarette kiosk, but they had batteries for Ringo’s Maglite. I added some chapstick, paid the guy behind the counter, and stuffed them into Archer’s bag. I slung it across my body like a bicycle messenger and we were out the door.
There was nobody visible out on the streets, but as we got closer to the bridge I began to get a very itchy feeling at the back of my neck. Archer must have had the same instinct because we moved toward the shadows of the buildings and slowed our pace. And then he stopped.
“There’s someone up ahead.” His voice was the barest whisper in my ear. I shivered. The feeling of prowling Mongers made my stomach clench in fear. Only Archer’s hand in mine kept me rooted to the spot.
“They’re everywhere.” My whisper sounded squeaky to my own ears. “They knew we’d come.” Suddenly there was a commotion on the next block and we could hear a man’s voice shouting.
Archer pulled me away from the noise. “Let’s go.”
Showdown
We turned a corner and slipped between buildings, finally emerging near a bus stop and the entrance to Nancy’s Steps. We stayed tucked just inside the alley, deep in the shadows, but still able to see the scene in front of us.
And all of a sudden I got it. “They’re not here for me.” My whisper was incredulous as I spotted the twins’ uncle, Mr. Landers, standing near their parents, Mr. and Mrs. Arman. Facing him was a man I’d never seen before, wearing really expensive, all-black clothes like a ninja. I loathed him on sight.
“Send Tom out here!” Mr. Landers was yelling at the ninja, and when he spoke, I could feel ‘Monger’ pouring off him in waves.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Landers. My understanding is that your son ran away from you, and it’s no surprise to me that he did.”
Mr. Arman spoke in calm, placating tone. “Rothchild, my wife saw Tom here with Seth Walters, held against his will. We all know Walters works for you.”
The ninja must be Markham Rothchild, the current head of the Monger Family, and Seth’s boss. He practically spat at Mr. Arman. “There is no truth to whatever little ‘vision’ your wife had and it’s slanderous for you to even suggest—“
Mrs. Arman’s voice was so very bored-sounding I almost felt sorry for Rothchild. “Don’t be ridiculous, Markham. Let Tom go and your exposure at the Families’ meeting will be mitigated by your willingness to help. But insist on continuing this charade and we will see that you’re removed from the council.”
Suddenly a very fancy car screeched up and parked, and Ms. Rothchild emerged from the passenger seat. There was a Hunter driving. The one who wasn’t a corpse in Bedlam’s Cellar.
It was everything I could do not to run.
Ms. Rothchild strode to her father and whispered something in his ear. The expression on Markham Rothchild’s face darkened instantly. His voice took on a tone of hatred. “Apparently there may be an issue of mixed blood with Tom.”
Mr. Landers exploded in rage. “That’s outrageous!” But Mrs. Arman touched her brother’s arm and stepped forward, glaring at the Rothchilds as if she wanted to tear out their hearts.
“The issue is one, I believe, of rape, Markham. Something you would do well to ask your enforcer about.”
Oh. My. God. I knew Tom was a mixed-blood, of course, because I could feel the Monger in him. And somehow Mrs. Arman knew too. I flashed back to the shock she’d seemed to have about Tom’s mother during our conversation and it fit. But was it really possible that Seth Walters, the Monger enforcer, was actually Tom’s dad? The thought made me nauseous and so sorry for Tom I could barely stand it.
Next to me, Archer hissed. “They’ll have to kill him no
w.”
I whispered back. “Then we have to save him.”
Ms. Rothchild had begun screeching at Mrs. Arman, and Mr. Landers was yelling at Markham Rothchild so fiercely I thought he would burst something. Archer touched my arm to direct me away from the scene, and I was very happy to be getting out of range of all the drama.
“Is there another entrance to the tunnels?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t heard of one. Nancy’s Steps is the only thing that’s been written about.”
He seemed thoughtful. “Why do you think Tom is here?”
“Because he is here.”
The minute I heard that voice my guts liquefied and I almost puked from sheer nerves. Seth Walters stepped from the shadows, pushing Tom in front of him with a gun. The gun was one of those little sleek, modern, totally deadly-looking kind and was loosely aimed at both Tom and me.
I felt Archer spring-load beside me, like he was using every ounce of self-control he had not to leap at the guy and take him down. Seth must have sensed that too because his loose aim at me suddenly tightened.
“What do you want?” I was proud that my voice was steady, but the leer in Seth’s voice made me want to smack him.
“Same thing I’ve wanted all along, dear girl. You.”
Which was about the scariest thing I’d ever heard. “Why?”
“Oh come now, haven’t you figured out what you are? Suffice to say that unless your blood-sucking friend lets you go peacefully, I will kill you.”
What the hell is that? I’ll kill you unless you come with me so I can kill you? I looked over at Tom, who was positively white-faced with fear. This whole gathering here tonight was about him. Finding me was just opportunity. And now I had to figure out how to get us both out of here.
Archer must have been having similar thoughts because he suddenly lurched right in front of me. “No.” His voice was matter-of-fact, but he might as well have been yelling for the jarring effect it had on Seth.
Suddenly, there was a Vampire between Seth’s gun and me. A Vampire who wouldn’t die if he got shot. Which is handy if you’re me. Not so much if you’re Seth.