“Oh. Right.” I look around. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
I exit the room, near the front of the house, and come back as the rich lord from Spain. Within minutes we’re in a carriage, headed back to Robert’s home. From what I can hear, the sirens still haven’t nabbed her. Which is good, but it also means I’m back to the drawing board.
Whitley
My feet hit the bottom of the tunnel with a splash. I knew these tunnels existed beneath the city—old canals built and abandoned years ago—but I never thought I’d find myself here.
My heart still pounds as I listen to the thumping of feet above me. Will they figure out where I went? And if they do, will they follow?
Despite the unpleasant smell, there is still the hint of salt from bay that fuels the magic in my veins. I bite my lip in anticipation.
The human men won’t follow. But I’d love them to.
Here, I am stronger. In the darkness, I’d have the upper hand. In the water—even ankle deep—I am powerful. I would rip them apart if they came for me.
And my other enemy—well I wouldn’t fair as well. If I’m stronger here, so are they. I close my eyes and listen.
Their song is still audible. Wisps of their magic still swirl here, but they’re muted.
They have not entered the canals.
Yet.
I begin my trek through the pitch-black tunnels, unsure where I’m going or what I’ll do now.
Something stirs in the distance, and I freeze. A scattering of whispers echoes, bouncing off the stone walls. The scuttling of feet and splash of water follows.
My heart pounds.
I crouch, eyes searching in the darkness. Who is that?
The whispers stop. The tunnels grows still, but I know they’re still there.
“Who’s there?” a voice calls.
I blink, and then run in the opposite direction.
Bluff
I sip the bitter tea in the tiny delicate cup. “I have a business acquaintance I plan on meeting today,” I announce over the awkwardly quiet breakfast table. “He should be able to aid me in tying up my last loose ends in my travel to Boston and I will be able to depart this weekend.”
Rosemera raises her eyebrows and takes another sip of her own tea. She smacks her lips impolitely. “Which acquaintance is this?”
“His name is Nick. A sailor I met on my last trip to New York.”
Rosemera narrows her eyes, evidently trying to figure out who I mean, but I’ve never had the chance to tell her about Knick and the child river pirates. I have unfinished business with those kids.
Now that I have a better idea of Whitley’s mindset I know what I need most now is information. I only know so much about her life here, but I do have a few leads. One is Jeb, who will be much trickier to get information from. Plus, if I’m willing to admit it, the thought of meeting him face to face makes me want to vomit.
The next is Knick. He will only know so much about Whitley, but he’ll have a much better sense of the more... unscrupulous goings-on of the city which may be useful, especially now that she’s been run from high society.
There is also one bit of information in particular I highly suspect is going to be relevant. Those kids have that information.
So that’s my next step.
Robert’s father calls his carriage to aid in me in my business. I consider if he’s being kind or is simply eager to get me on my way as quickly as possible. He is fairly polite, but this society is the kind to smile to your face and stab you in the back later, so I refuse to trust it.
I have the carriage driver drop me off on the south west end of the city, a few blocks from the docks. It’s a middle point. I’m still several blocks past my destination, but close enough to the docks that my initial story is still believable.
I didn’t lie. I am seeking an old business acquaintance. It just so happens the business transaction was piracy. He is a sailor... of a sort. He just doesn’t own any vessels. He steals them.
I slip into an alley, fancy boots slipping in the mud as my surroundings shift from well-kept neighborhoods to slums in only one block. I find the river’s edge and travel north until I reach the street, with a familiar hole in the ground. I assume there are several entrances to the canals in the city, but this one I know well.
My toes just hit the edge of entrance, unpleasant smells wafting up at me. I whistle, almost a tune, almost a call. There’s shuffling below me.
I let out a relieved breath. I was nervous I’d actually have to go down there this time and risk getting lost in the tunnels. This same spot worked last time, but I wasn’t sure I knew enough about this group to replicate our previous success. Perhaps this is the spot this misfit group of child thieves meets their prospective clients.
“Ahoy,” I say kindly, leaning down. “Do you know who I am?”
No response. I’m hoping that means no, but realistically it could also mean yes.
“I’ve made a deal with you folk before. I’d like to make another.”
A child clears their throat.
“I know Knick. Is he still around?” It’s been a few weeks since I was here last. Not long enough for a change in leadership—I hope.
More shuffling.
“I can come down, if that’s what’s necessary.”
“No!” a voice squeaks. “No one comes down here except us.”
“Then you’re bringing Knick to me, yes?”
A grunt. “Yeah all right. We’ll pass along the message.”
“Perfect. I’ll wait here then.”
I sit beside the canal entrance, knowing it could take a little while for him to show up. If it’s too long, I could make my way down below and force his hand. But I’ll avoid that smelly option if I can.
I tap my foot and look up at the blue sky, gentle clouds rolling by. There is a bitter bite to the wind that wasn’t here during my last visit. Summer is over, making way for the transition into winter. Trees are few and far between in a city this condensed, so that the shift in temperature is the only real indication of autumn on the horizon. Only a few miles north I bet I’d find a forest full of yellowing leaves.
“Is the girl with you?” a whisper drifts up to me. Perhaps they do know who I am.
“No,” I whisper back, one part to follow his lead. One part because admitting that fact causes me pain.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I need Knick for.”
“How can he help?” The voice grows gradually louder.
“Is she the one who was in the sewers last night?” Another voice asks curiously, so high pitched it must be a girl.
I tilt my head, my heart rate rising, but I don’t respond. I don’t know but... it’s possible. Honestly, I’d like for that to be true.
“Someone was in the sewers?” I ask after a long moment of silence.
“Or some thing,” the whispered voice says.
I nod. Either Whitley or another siren. It would explain how she escaped detection once again. I purse my lips. If it was Whitley it means she found a safe place for the night, but it will also likely lead the sirens into the canals. That route may not work a second time. Every moment Whitley spends running from them, we have fewer options for escape.
Those options are going to run out soon. This game has to end sooner or later. Either I’ll win, or they will.
“What do you want?”
I jump at the deep voice, so much harsher than the child voices of moments before.
“Said he needed yer help.”
“Hush. Why were you talking to him? You know better than that. This lad can’t be trusted.” Dark eyes turn to me, shining in the shadows. “How are you alive anyway?”
I roll my eyes. “Takes more than that to destroy me,” I say looking down through the stone hole. “Though I suppose it was close.”
“Where’s Whitley? Tell me she took your place and died for you?”
“No.” My voice breaks. “Though s
omething bad did happen to her. That’s why I need your help.”
He doesn’t speak for a long moment. “You expect me to help you? That would require trusting you. Want to know those chances? They’re not in your favor.”
“I hold no anger against you. I’ve been around pirates my whole life. Believe me when I say others have done worse. You do what must be done.”
“But you’ll be willing to trust us to do whatever you need done?” His voice is dubious and annoyed.
“I don’t need anything done. I only need information. I promise I won’t hurt you. You are the least of my enemies. I could really use more allies, so if you’re willing to be that again, I’ll forget your betrayal, if you can even call it that.”
“Promise, huh?” he says flatly. “Like that means anything.”
“Again, all I need is a conversation. If you want to have it here, well, my neck will ache after a while, but that’s fine. Or you can crawl out of that hole and face me man to man. Look me in the eye and figure out if I’m telling the truth or not.”
He grunts. “You say Whitley needs help?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“You still pretending not to care for her?”
“No.”
“Good. At least that you’ve stopped lying about.”
“I was lying to myself more than anyone back then.”
“Only a fool does that.”
I nod but don’t respond.
“Back away ten paces.”
I scramble to my feet, backing away much farther than ten paces. Several bodies crawl out from the tunnel, folding almost unnaturally until there is a crew of nearly ten dirty children wearing hardly better than rags, jagged weapons in hand. They aren’t using the disguise of perceived innocence anymore. They know I know better.
I’ve seen these children kill. I’ve watched them sell out a friend and client to an enemy for more money. I know what they’re capable of.
Finally, Knick emerges from the canal, his body so much larger and fuller than the rest. His clothes are even of higher quality. The dark shade of the fine fabric covers the stains that must be present, even if his garments are as new as they appear. One trip below would leave residue.
He stands in front of his violent child crew, arms folded.
“Now what’s this about?”
I hold my hands up, palms out in surrender as I step closer. Then I sit, folding my legs under me. Knickerbocker narrows his eyes.
“A conversation, remember?”
He sighs. “Fine.” Then he sits, one leg folding in front of him, on hitched up. An easier position to spring into action from. That’s fine. I don’t expect him to trust me.
I reach in my pocket, ignoring the way they all tense and grip their blunt and rusted blades harder, and pull out a bag. I toss it forward. It lands with a clink on the uneven stone. Everyone but Knick winces.
He looks back and nods to the smallest of the group, who runs forward, grabs the bag, and sprints back, dropping it into Knick’s hands.
He turns the bag over and spills out several coins, which clink into the ground.
“What do you need to know?”
“I have two entirely different avenues to ask about. One, I want to know the rumors. What’s happening in the city the public won’t know about, that you do?”
Knick swallows. “Well the biggest bit of news this week is the murder at the Carlton’s ball. But that’s hardly hidden information.”
“I’m acutely aware of that situation. What else?”
“There was a similar murder a few days ago. Except several men were killed. Rumors of a monstrous woman eating men alive have begun to surface.”
I swallow and look down at my hands. “Who was murdered? And who’s telling those rumors?”
“It was a mob hub. Police seem to suspect it was an act of vengeance. They say someone attacked the hub by letting in wild beasts.”
“But?”
“But there were a few survivors, who say a beautiful woman covered in blood was the culprit. They haven’t spoken to the police of course, because they’d have to admit they were part of the mob.”
I nod.
“Chippy is convinced he shot the creature dead. The murder last night tells us he lied about that part. It’s also what unnerves my boys most. Because several of them are convinced they saw something in the tunnels last night. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
I take in a long breath. “Who is Chippy?”
“A friend.” His eyes remain flat. Steady. Unmoving.
A friend who’s part of the mob. “That friend—is he the one who gave you those nice new clothes?” I press.
He narrows his eyes. Then nods. “They’ve been attempting to...woo me.”
Unsurprising. What concerns me is that Knick is somehow involved with that mob. It means any information I give him is... vulnerable. And given that Whitley attacked and killed several of them, the mob will be eager for information about her. I must be careful what I tell him.
If he knows Whitley is the creature they’re after, he may be more inclined to help the hunt than to help her. It would certainly get him farther in with his friends.
“Is it working?”
His expression doesn’t change. The boy’s poker face is strong. “I take what they give because it’s convenient. I don’t want to leave the boys. They need me.” His eyes betray him here—they betray sincerity. Whether he’s really able to stick to it is the real question, because he does want to help them. Wanting and doing are two very different things.
I consider the information he’s given me thus far, however. It’s enough. I already knew for sure that Whitley is on a murderous siren rampage. Her desire for revenge is taking over. Her reasons for staying with Jeb could be explained a few different ways. The only clear thing is that she does have some memories that are also driving her. So she is somewhere in between siren and the old Whitley. How strong one urge is over the other—I’m still not sure. What Knick’s information implies to me is that Whitley is not fighting her siren urges, but she is controlling them.
She’s not killing out of pure instinct. She’s able to stop from killing those she deems worthy. The man at the ball was in a dark hall, a place no respectable person should be. It’s possible she lured him there, but given that she was fleeing from me—that’s unlikely. He likely saw her vulnerability and followed her. She killed him, instead of the other men at the ball.
And the mob killings... Well, I think the police were right. This was an act of vengeance. A targeted attack.
“Are there any others?” I ask, blinking back to the present.
“Other what?”
“Attacks. Murders. Whatever.”
“No, not that we know of.”
“What about that coachman across the river?” a little voice asks.
I raise my eyebrows.
“That wasn’t in the city,” Knick responds easily. “And he was found in the river. Any kind of animal could have gotten to him.”
I bite the inside of my lip. No idea about that one. I keep with my first train of thought.
“Very well,” I say definitively. “Onto my next line of questions.”
Knick raises his eyebrows. “Do you have more money?”
I roll my eyes. “You hardly gave me anything.”
“And yet it was enough for you to be satisfied.”
“Fine, how about another form of payment. Information, for information.”
He narrows his eyes. “What kind of information?”
“A warning. That thing your boys saw in the tunnels. Well, I have information you’d be inclined to know.”
He nods curtly. “I thought you might know something about that. Payment first.”
Of course. I sigh. “That thing you saw isn’t exactly what your boys think. But they’re not far off. A creature of legend that has no qualms about killing anyone in its path. The problem is she won’t be alone for long.”
&nb
sp; Every child goes still. Even Knick swallows.
“You expect me to believe your ghost stories?”
“Haven’t you seen enough evidence to know something isn’t quite... normal? All I’m going to tell you is that there will be more of them using those tunnels now that they know about them. But if I succeed, they’ll be gone quickly, never to return.”
“How do you know they’ll be gone?”
“Because there’s something in the city of great value to them. They don’t prefer to travel this close to land as it is. Their power is diminished on land—but that doesn’t make them less dangerous. Not to you. They can be killed, but there will be swarm of them. I don’t suggest even trying unless you must. Once the object of their obsession departs from the city, so will they.”
“So in the meantime—what? It’s not like we use the sewers because we like them. We have nowhere else to go.” For the first time, fear laces Knick’s words.
“Anyone under the age of adolescent—say fourteen?—will be fine, if they keep their heads down. Those creatures don’t like killing innocents, as long as they don’t get in the way. Find a place to lie low. Anyone else, well, if you hear someone you don’t recognize, run. If you hear music, cover your ears. But I’d avoid those tunnels as much as possible for at least a few days.”
Knick’s eyes narrow. “Siren?”
I raise my eyebrows, actually impressed he knew enough to put two and two together.
“We’ve spent enough time on ships to have heard stories.”
I nod. “Just trust me, and keep your head low. They’re desperate right now.”
Knick looks around, considering. “Very well. I’ll buy it, for now. What other information do you need to know?”
“I want you to tell me everything you know about Whitley. Her life before.”
This gets a reaction from him. His eyebrows rise up high, his back straightens. “Shouldn’t you know all about that?”
I sigh. “In a perfect world, yes. But I’ve only known her a matter of weeks, and we had... more pressing issues to deal with than telling each other our full life stories.” I did know a little bit about her even before we met. Once she was established as the subject of the prophecy I made it a point to uncover a few basics but it’s still not nearly enough.
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