Lairs, Caves, & Credenzas

by M J Moores

The orderly nodded and left. The receptionist indicated a wooden high-backed chair set off to one side of the entrance. Louisa took the hint and sat. They left her waiting just long enough for all of her nerve to drain and pool on the floor. She stood to leave just as the same orderly reappeared and inclined his head for Louisa to follow. The man led her down the passage toward the courtyard. No one sat outside today. The inner community room vibrated with a dozen or more separate breaths, but no one spoke. The orderly nodded to an empty seat across a small table from a frail woman in a headscarf, but not just any woman.

  “Mother.” Louisa sat across from her, and the orderly dissolved into the gray of the walls. The woman looked up and stared at Louisa. She didn’t seem any more robust than before, but then, it hadn’t been a week yet. Still, Marie’s gaze cut into Louisa like it had when she was a child.

  “You came back.”

  “I said I would. Are you eating?”

  She shrugged.

  Louisa stood to leave. “Then you have no need of the news I promised.” Her heart bubbled up into her throat at the lie. She had no news. Her mother was going to die.

  “I’m managing the porridge in the morning,” Marie said.

  Louisa sat back down.

  “A small chunk of bread with jelly and tea in the afternoons.”

  “That’s a good start.” A familiar ache speared out from her torso. “Have you been moving around more? I don’t see your wheelchair.”

  “Yes, I walked here from my room. Now, what’s so important you wouldn’t let me die in peace?”

  “That was anything but peaceful and you know it.” Her mind reeled. “There’s a job opportunity you would be perfect for. I submitted your resume this morning.” You’re lucky she never could tell when you were lying. “I should hear by early next week if they’d like an interview. It’s very respectable.”

  “What is it?”

  Good question. “A governess position.” Says who? First rule of the Liar’s Club—base everything off a grain of truth. So far, all she’d done was talk out the side of her mouth.

  “Really? Where? Whose household? Do they know who I am?” A quiver edged the restrained excitement in her mother’s voice as though she dare not allow herself to believe it.

  “Um …” The image of two children running into their Great Aunt’s arms flooded her synapses. “Abercromby. The widow is housing her niece’s little boy and girl as their parents travel abroad for a year. It’ll be a great foothold to get back into legitimate work. But if she asks for an interview, I refuse to bring a half-starved rake with me or my reputation will be on the line. Promise me you’ll keep eating—work up to three proper meals and tea by my next visit.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “A week, week and a half at most. Widow Abercromby will let me know after she’s done accepting applications.”

  “Does she know who I am? Who you are?”

  I’m nobody. “No. I’ve given you a nom de plume—Mary Wicker. You, dear mother, are starting over. No baggage this time. Can you handle that?”

  Marie Pierce wavered a moment. So much weight rested in a name. Mary Wicker was a nobody compared to who her mother really was, but at least her reputation was clean.

  Louisa’s mother nodded and let a small smile slip before her daughter stood to take leave. As Louisa walked away from the clingy gray shadows of the asylum, her only thought was how it might be possible to turn a complete fabrication into the truth.

  Going Out on a Limb

  T he next evening, Henry set the last two pieces of luggage down just inside the large room on the second floor of Bennett’s townhouse. Elenore squealed, clapped her hands, and pulled Louisa into a twirl. Henry chuckled, gave Louisa and her new roommate a tip of his cap, and disappeared back down the hall.

  Elenore released Louisa’s hands and tumbled onto her bed. “Oh, joy! It’s official. The last of your things have arrived. Can you believe it?” she gushed before spreading out her skirts and nesting in the center of the bed.

  Louisa grabbed the handle on the two cases and lifted them across to the double wardrobe on her side of the spacious room, then returned and locked the door. She twitched the curtains closed on the large window between their beds. Few stars lit the darkening sky above the postage-sized backyard, but it was early yet—for her, anyway.

  Her roommate shifted from the bed to the dressing screen in front of her wardrobe and systematically removed layers of clothing. Louisa lifted a satchel from the top of one bag and set it at the end of her bed before opening her wardrobe and organizing the clothes.

  “I still can’t believe Reggie agreed to let me stay. I saw it in his eyes—he wasn’t going to until Andrew suggested we room together,” Elenore said from behind the screen.

  “I noticed that too. I’m glad I could be of help. This is a big step forward in your career. Do you suppose this is what you were meant to do? Be a pilot?”

  “I don’t know. Until we raced together last week, it was a curiosity. A hobby. But being in charge like that—Zooterkins! I simply had to do it again. Opportunities like this don’t come around every day. Andrew has no idea how significant this is.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. He might surprise you. The way he acted like it was his ideas to bring you on was actually quite comical. I’m certain he kicked himself for not thinking of it first.” And Louisa kicked herself for getting backed into a corner. With Elenore moving in yesterday, Louisa couldn’t go home to get her Phoenix gear. What few things she’d brought, as a show of good faith, would not work as alternate clothing for either crime-fighting or training. She could only hope that Joe remembered Louisa mentioning a coming restriction on her evening activities. But she had to get out tonight. Morrie still didn’t know about the impending heist, and Louisa hadn’t figured out where it would happen yet.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Lou. For the next three weeks, it’ll be like having a sister.”

  Louisa smiled to herself as she set stationery supplies in one of the two desks flanking the door. Bennet had thought of everything. “You might come to regret that, you know. I do work every day. We’re on a tight schedule. We have so many orbs to make—I’ll have to return to the workshop again tonight to make more for Henry to fill in the morning. He really is all thumbs when it comes to crafting.”

  Elenore stepped out from behind the screen dressed in a nightgown and plaiting her hair for the night. “I can help. Put me to work. That’s why I’m here. I can’t abide being idle.”

  Louisa slung her satchel over her shoulder and toed one of the travel bags farther under the bed.

  “Thank you, but I don’t know how much time you’ll have to help. Trust me, Bennett has plans for you. Last night’s private fundraising dinner was only just the start. You, my dear, are his celebrity and he will make sure your time is filled with special teas and personal interviews.”

  “But as my chaperone, you’ll be with me, right?”

  “For many of the occasions, but Courtright will likely be with you more often. Remember, my job is to make sure we have enough orbs for the presentation. If I’m with you during the day, I am working longer hours in the evening.”

  “Well, I’ll do what I can, when I can. Hopefully, you won’t be busy every evening.”

  As much as she wanted to be busy, Louisa wouldn’t be able to go out as often as she had been. It’s only for three weeks. Three weeks.

  “I need to get back to it now. Don’t wait up. I work pretty late.” Louisa unlocked the door, patted her vest pocket to check she had her key, nodded, and slipped out.

  “Goodnight, Lou,” Elenore called and pulled a book from her bedside table.

  Louisa had to be careful. She dropped her bag behind the desk in the workshop and headed over to the readied supplies. For a good hour she worked steadily on making orbs before Bennett popped his head around the corner and advised her not to be too late. He’d done that last night, and before she moved in; that had always been her sig
nal to pack up for a late walk home. But now, this was home—at least temporarily.

  She worked for another half an hour, making sure no noises arose from either end of the house, and noted when Courtright lowered the main foyer’s chandelier to snuff the lights for the night. Louisa set the two work tables up for a fresh start in the morning. She changed into her Shadow Phoenix attire in the back corner of the supply area, a tall cabinet door acting as her screen just in case someone wandered in unannounced.

  Louisa nestled her day clothes under her nightdress in the bag, and she slung her boots around her neck, laces tied together. She tiptoed across to the open window behind Bennett’s desk. Louisa dared not open it any wider just in case thieves took notice. So, she squeezed out the narrow opening onto the tiny brickwork ledge delineating the second floor from the first. The house beside her stood close enough she could reach it by leaning just over an arm’s length above the gap—but there were too many windows right there. She couldn’t afford to tap one by accident. What Louisa really wanted was a bloody tree she should scale down, but the poor excuse for one in the backyard barely produced apples let alone was tall or near enough to be of any use.

  Near the corner of the house, Louisa let her upper body fall forward toward the opposite wall. Cold brick bit into her palms, jarring her as she angled nearly forty-five degrees above solid ground. Little by little she walked first her hands then her feet down opposite walls in increments until she reached the ground. Donning her new black boots and straightening her leather mask, Louisa set out among the shadows to Morrie’s place.

  * * *

  “Good Lord, woman. Why do I always find you in my room?” Morrie said by way of greeting.

  “This is your room?” A tightness gripped Louisa’s chest. “You live here?” Suddenly, sitting on the basic cot by the wall in the small space became so much more intimate.

  “Yes,” he deadpanned and stood with his arms crossed, staring at her.

  “But, I thought”—she looked from the wardrobe to the wooden chair back to the floor at her feet and stood up—“this was a spare room. A place where you helped people.”

  “I can see how you might think that as I had nowhere else to bring you that first night when Scythe fractured your ribs and Brick cracked your head against the wall.” Louisa cringed, recalling the two thugs who worked for the Judge. “No, you’re the only one who frequents this place other than me. Though I am working to rectify that. We missed you last night. Everything all right?”

  “Yes—I mean, no. Ugh, damnfino. I’m fine except that my circumstances have changed for the next while, and it’ll be difficult getting out of an evening now. That being said, we have a serious problem. The Judge is planning something big.”

  Morrie dropped his defensive stance and approached her. “What’s that now? How do you know?”

  “I overheard him ordering up a new weapon from Ryn. It’s something special. A disruptor of some kind that’s supposed to take out a Wentworth device. And it’ll have a kill setting.”

  “When?”

  “It’s supposed to be ready for tomorrow night.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I opted out of training or hunting in the shadows tonight. I need your help.”

  Morrie nodded and paced past her, following a pre-set course worn into the wooden floor. “If the weapon is supposed to disrupt a Wentworth, it’ll have to be a well-fortified location.”

  “That’s what I thought too.” Her earlier tension melted from her body as she took up an alternating pacing cycle. The two of them wove in and out, back and forth, keeping time in a strange dance.

  “Bank,” he said.

  “Opera House,” she parried.

  “Patent office.”

  “Botanical Garden—greenhouses.”

  “Basilica.”

  “Museum.”

  “Crown Holdings. Wait—you might be on to something.”

  “Really? What?” They took a step toward each other, the air alive with ideas.

  “The museum. They submitted a press release two days ago about bringing in an archeological find from one of the old Roman dig sites up north. Claimed they recovered ancient tech that’s supposed to change the world.” He dug into his pockets and emptied scraps of paper and small note pads onto the tiny collapsible table, sifting through them.

  “Well, that would certainly catch the eye of a notorious criminal.”

  “If only,” he muttered.

  “If only, what?” Louisa stepped closer and hovered over Morrie’s shoulder, close enough to breathe in his spicy cologne.

  “If only the Judge was notorious. The problem is, only us and the bad guys know who’s behind all this.”

  “Right. Good point. So, what exactly is worth killing for this time?” Louisa asked.

  Morrie snatched up a crumpled sheet of paper, opening it for Louisa to read. Heat radiated off the reporter as she looked over his shoulder at the missive.

  “No bloody way …”

  Performance Issues

  A s always, Louisa arrived late to the crime scene. Her new roomie had wanted to talk about her day out schmoozing big-wigs with Bennett while Louisa had worked double-time to make up for Thursday’s delays in the workshop.

  The side staff entrance to the museum held a darker line along the doorjamb than any of the windows in the same area. No guards stood nearby or walked the perimeter. Louisa became one with the shadows and slipped closer to the entryway. Scorched wood surrounded melted metal.

  Bug’s been practicing with his flame launcher. The precise destruction was not his usual M.O. Still, no one else opened a door like that.

  Inside, the dim light of the moon cast angular shadows across the marble floors. Louisa’s chest tightened. Many a day she’d spent within these walls, learning of the wonders they held … watching her mother work a mark as Louisa studied. She blinked back the past and looked for clues. But Bug hadn’t left any. Perhaps he finally learned a trick or two from his partner. Scythe was a human weapon, lean and sharp like the twin combat blades that hung crossed over her hip.

  Where would they be? The artifact was due to arrive earlier that morning. Even if the curators had a display space ready in advance, they’d wait to asses the piece before announcing its authenticity and then hold a reveal gala to fundraise for the museum. None of that had yet made the news, but money did make the world go ’round.

  In that case, it’s likely in the vault. Thus, the need for a disruptor. A top of the line Wentworth did not rely on pins or cranks or keys—it dealt with frequencies and levers. If the Judge had access to the original patent, Ryn would have been able to make a weapon capable of neutralizing any alarm trigger … and anybody standing in the way.

  Louisa headed for the back stairwell through various alcoves and display rooms. Both ancient and modern artifacts cut long, dramatic shadows across her path. She passed three unconscious guards along the way as she followed a smoky trail toward her destination. Bug had no idea the kind of damage even residue from his flame launcher could have on the artwork.

  Darkness clung to the archway leading to the cellar storage and analysis rooms. The absolute-black velvet air mocked her. Louisa naturally clung to and hid in the shadows, but a smothering threat loomed within its depths. Still, she had to tear through it to reach the cutpurses.

  Complete darkness enveloped Louisa, the chill air wrapping her within its cold tendrils. Razor wind swept toward her head. Louisa ducked, pushing off from the dark step and colliding with a mass. The source of the razor wind growled, then grunted as Louisa landed on her adversary at the bottom of the stairs. A dim thread of light from up the corridor crossed the grappling women.

  Scythe’s brown skin didn’t look so smooth and perfect up close. A network of fine scars attested to either her training or rough past or maybe both. The assassin locked Louisa’s head in a tight arm hold. She gasped, the pressure on Louisa’s throat cutting off her air. The guardian’s
mind went blank, and she flailed, struggling to get loose. Between the white spots flashing before her eyes came the image of Joe’s dark features, two bushy gray eyebrows raised, igniting her training.

  Don’ be flashy. His voice melted some of the fear.

  Louisa tucked her chin down, protecting her throat as she reached around Scythe’s back and grabbed the assassin’s arm. Scrambling up onto their knees, the women struggled as Louisa slammed her free hand into the halfinch’s face. The impact forced the woman’s head back. Louisa clawed at her adversary’s nose and eyes. Scythe tensed, shifting her focus away from her arm. Louisa angled a leg behind her attacker’s knees and flung the two of them backward onto the ground.

  Scythe’s arm straightened up over Louisa’s face. The guardian’s mask flipped from her nose to her forehead. The thief yanked the driving coat off Louisa as she scrambled up. She slid the backward mask down over her eyes and grabbed a lightning orb from her pouch. Louisa smashed it onto the floor and took off down the hall.

  Whoa, that was close.

  Rounding the corner, gasping for breath, Louisa spotted Bug standing before an iron door at the end of the dim hall. He adjusted a nob and several levers on a relatively small device shaped like a futuristic ray gun—which was exactly what it was.

  The disruptor.

  Morrie had looked into the patent on the Wentworth locking mechanism—particularly the operation of the release and how each device was attuned to a specific frequency. A lower resonance could be gauged, but the moment an operator went over, a backup deadbolt dropped, making the door impenetrable. If that happened, it would be easier to bust the cinderblocks holding the doorframe than doing anything of consequence to the iron encasing the mechanism.

  “Stop!” Louisa pushed herself off the wall before he could find the right frequency to disengage the lock.

  Bug glanced up at her and resumed his adjustments. Louisa’s head was yanked back, her scalp screaming. She slammed into the wall and bit her tongue, spitting blood. Louisa grabbed her attacker’s wrists and forced pressure in just the right place. The hands let go. Louisa turned.