“She has running water in her own home?” Taisia said in amazement.
“Clean running water,” Joaquin emphasized. “Indoor plumbing is becoming more accessible in Birmingham, but only the wealthy can afford clean water. Tilly has helped fund the construction of an underground sewerage project that will soon provide sanitation in the slum areas.”
“Very generous of her,” Taisia noted.
“She wanted to give back to her community. You two get cleaned up, and leave your clothes out for the servants to wash. I’ll go fetch us something to eat.”
After washing up, Pierce put on a robe and wandered about, admiring the flat. He had to admit, he rather enjoyed being in such a home. The walls were covered with traditional Victorian wallpaper. Red and blue velvet chairs and couches sat upon dark hardwood flooring, with Persian rugs in every room. Daguerreotypes of people in Tilly’s fashion designs were mounted on each wall. Ceramic vases and sculptures rested on fireplace mantels and on small black tables. Pierce came upon a painting depicting a foxhunt. He felt somewhat connected to it.
“You’re not getting any ideas, are you?” Taisia said, coming up behind him, dressed in her own robe.
He snorted. “No. I’m retired. Besides, I’ve never stolen from mates or anyone willing to help me.” He looked over to her and added, “And this painting isn’t worth piss.”
She laughed and wrapped her arms around his and laid her head against his shoulder. She didn’t seem to mind his damp hair.
“Your brother seems to be trying hard to win you over.”
“Aye,” he admitted softly. “I know he is.”
“You may have to consider forgiving him.”
Pierce had already begun considering doing just that. He just needed to keep telling himself that this witch was to blame.
“It’s not that I ain’t willing to forgive him. It’s being able to trust him not to become consumed by the curse and attack again. What if he can’t fight it?”
She didn’t answer. Most likely, she had no answer to give. Instead, she kissed him tenderly on the cheek.
* * *
That evening, Tilly invited them to a fashion show afterparty. Pierce declined, to no one’s surprise, even though Taisia had decided to join. Joaquin promised him up and down that nothing would happen and left with Taisia and Tilly for a loft near the railway station.
The loft was above a small factory where Tilly had her line of clothing manufactured. When they arrived, Tilly gave Joaquin duds cut from her latest design. It was an off-white linen shirt with a plaid vest and matching britches, spats, and new boots. She even included a dark green dapper coat with silver buttons. After trying the outfit on, they joined the party on the rooftop.
“So, you were going to explain this?” Tilly said, gesturing to the ore stone.
He took it in hand and looked at it a moment. It wasn’t glowing as bright.
“My grandmother gave me this to help keep me alive.”
“Alive? What does that mean?”
“I, er, got myself into a spot of bother a while ago. A witch tricked me into drinking demon blood, and now I’m dying as a result. This stone has a certain essence, and it’s keeping me alive a little while longer until we can find the demon the blood it belongs to.”
The peculiar look on Tilly’s face was expected.
“And this demon is in Scotland?” she asked.
“Apparently.”
Tilly was silent a moment.
“This sounds dangerous, Joaquin.”
“It is, which begs the question: Do you still have the key to the strongbox?”
“Of course,” she said, and then asked in a worried tone, “Are you going after the money? Do you think it’s safe?”
“Safe? No. But I aim to go after the loot sooner or later.”
“What if you run into—?”
“I didn’t say I was going after it tonight. I first have to get this demon’s blood out of me, remember?”
“Joaquin,” she said with concern. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Very much so, I’m afraid. I’m hanging on by a thread, and the chances of me returning alive are slim. I’ve done many wrongs in my life, and I’ve tarnished my soul with sins I’ve committed. If I do a single decent deed in my final days, it will be for my family.”
She offered him another of her dazzling smiles and slid her hand down his face.
“You have done plenty of kind things, too, my love. You are a good man.”
He wished he could believe her.
They turned their attention to the crowd as the music began playing. Bronwen, the daintily dressed young feller from earlier, asked Taisia for a dance, and she accepted.
“She is a vision,” Tilly remarked. “Would Pierce permit me to bring in a photographer to take pictures of him and her?”
“I could ask.”
“Where did your brother find her?”
“Dunno.”
“Does he love her?”
“I think he wants to marry her.”
She knitted her slender eyebrows. “Is that so? Well, I do hope they move somewhere safe so they can have a life together.”
“Aye.” He mulled it over a moment and got an idea. “Do you have a wedding dress?”
“I may have something from an older line. I just might have something for your brother, as well.”
“Cheers.”
“You see? You are a good man.” Tilly raised her glass of wine to him. “May your journey be successful.”
He clinked glasses with her.
“To success.”
Chapter Eleven
Guess Who?
The next morning, Pierce woke up beside Taisia, who reeked of alcohol. He sat up and watched her sleep for a long time. He then kissed her on the cheek and got out of bed.
“Damn,” he whispered as he dressed. “Looks like I missed out on a good shindig.”
He stepped out into the hall, stretching and yawning. The morning light had only just begun burning through the windows. Although he hadn’t fancied Taisia going anywhere with his cursed brother, he had appreciated the time he’d had to himself. He had gone outside on the balcony with a bottle of wine and thought considerably on things. In the end, he had decided to do his best to trust Joaquin and be there for him no matter what. Joaquin was dying, and without Pierce’s help, it was unlikely he’d survive. They had no idea what they were up against once they reached Edinburgh. From years of dealing with the strange and the peculiar, Pierce held little hope that getting this demon—if they even found it—to take back what belonged to it would be easily accomplished. And whatever challenges they faced, Pierce would do what was necessary to save Joaquin and stop letting his damn anger blind him from the direness of the situation.
He pushed open the washroom door and stepped in to use the lavatory. He found Joaquin in the tub.
“Mornin’,” Joaquin said, holding a lit cigar.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Pierce said with a start. “Why are you bathing so early?”
“’Cause I didn’t have time to bathe yesterday, thanks to you. Besides, I was already awake.” He adjusted himself in the bathtub. His tall, lanky body filled the entire brass thing. “Tilly wants to know if she can have photographs taken of us.”
Pierce grimaced.
“Oh, c’mon, now. It’s not like she’ll submit them to the newspapers,” Joaquin assured him.
Pierce thought about it a moment.
“Aye, fine. But I’m not waking Taisia up. You took her out and got her drunk. You wake her and get yourself yelled at.”
“Come over here,” Joaquin commanded, reaching over the rim of the tub for a pair of plaid britches on the floor.
“I’d rather not.”
“Why?” he asked, going through the pockets. “Afraid you’ll see something to be envious about?”
“Hardly.” Pierce approached while shaking his head. “What is it?”
“I want to give you this,” he said,
holding up a small object.
The gas lamps weren’t on, and the room’s only light source came in through a narrow window behind the tub.
“What is that?” he asked, squinting. “A key?”
“Aye. I got it back from Tilly. Remember the safe I told you about?”
“I do. Wait a tick. Got it back from Tilly? Did she have something to do with the heist you pulled at the cuckoo clock workshop?”
“She did, but that’s between you and me only.”
Pierce nodded.
“When I took the money,” Joaquin continued, “I was hunted by none other than the British Guardians. I got all the way to Mansfield before they caught up, but not before I buried the funds I’d stored inside a strongbox under the Major Oak Tree.”
“The Major Oak? In Sherwood?”
“Where the Gypsies used to camp. Yes.”
“You’re joking,” Pierce said in disbelief.
“No. Why would I be?”
Curse his blasted luck! One of the last places Pierce wanted to go was Sherwood bloody Forest, former hideaway of Robin of Locksley, who was now a vampire!
“I got away, but Luca did not,” Joaquin continued.
“He was with you?”
“Aye. Him and Giles. They weren’t with me when I hid the loot because I didn’t trust them.”
Pierce snorted and said sarcastically, “Really?”
“But they knew how much I had.”
“How much?”
“Eight thousand.”
“Huh, not a bad take,” Pierce praised him, crossing his arms.
“Not bad in the least. Luca was able to fool the British Guardians into thinking he knew where the money was, and then made his escape the moment the opportunity arose. When he found us, he told me what had happened. A year later, I returned for it, but some members of the British Guardians had remained in the area. They’d put stakes down in the city of Mansfield. Again, they nearly caught me, but as you can see, I got away. I haven’t gone back since.”
“Do you think the money is still there?”
“I have no doubt, but I also suspect that affiliates of the now disbanded British Guardians are still living up there. Whether they’ve continued searching or not, the fact remains that the danger is there.”
“And you want me to go after it for you?” Pierce said peevishly.
“Not for me. It’s for you and the family. I want you to take the key and hold onto it in case I don’t make it. It’s my gift to you.”
A cold fear filled Pierce’s heart.
“Pardon?” he said, unfolding his arms.
“If . . . I . . . die,” Joaquin said more slowly, “you can go after the loot.”
Ignoring his wise lip, Pierce said, “You’re going to make it through this, Joaquin Landcross. Do you hear me?”
His brother rolled his eyes and tossed him the key.
“Just take it, eh?”
Pierce caught the key and studied it. It was a dragonfly with blue and violet painted wings.
“It’s lovely.”
“Well, don’t get too excited about it,” Joaquin snickered.
“What?” Pierce said before realizing what he meant. He looked down at his morning erection. “Oi! It’s not what you think. I need to take a piss, ’tis all.”
He crammed the key into his pocket and turned away toward the toilet.
“You’re right, little brother, there’s nothing for you to be envious about,” Joaquin chortled. “Taisia must be very pleased.”
“Shut it,” Pierce grumbled over his shoulder.
* * *
It was half past noon when Taisia awoke and found Pierce lying on a fainting sofa in the study, reading a book.
“Afternoon,” he greeted her as she stumbled toward him. “Have a good night?”
She offered a tired grin.
“I’d have enjoyed it more if you’d been there.”
He closed the book and stood. He took her into his arms and hugged her tightly.
“We should leave soon,” he said, gently rocking them both from side to side.
She moved her hand down to his rear and pushed him against her.
“Do we?” she challenged playfully, pecking kisses on his neck.
“Erm,” he said, enjoying what she was doing. “S’pose we have a little more time. Shall we return to the room?”
* * *
It was well into the afternoon by the time the trio left. Tilly had her photographer take several photographs of them. Some photographs were taken with all of them together. A few were taken in pairs, and the rest individually. They thanked Tilly for her hospitality and headed for the Red Apple Stable.
“Oi, any of you want a scone?” Pierce asked as they passed by a bakery.
“No,” Joaquin said.
“I wouldn’t mind a blueberry scone, if they have it.”
“Right. I’ll be back in a tick.”
After gathering his order, Pierce left the bakery with his scones. Taisia and Joaquin were looking at something through a store window down the way. As he approached, someone grabbed him and yanked him into an alleyway.
“Fuckin’ hell!” he yelled as he was slammed against the wall. The blow knocked his hat right off his head.
“Shut it or I’ll slit you clean,” a dirty young man seethed, pressing the tip of a knife under Pierce’s chin.
Pierce raised his hands and allowed the mugger to search his coat pockets. He had buttoned the dapper coat, which helped conceal his gun. Pierce didn’t care about the coin purse, but he’d hate to lose his Oak Leaf revolver. He hoped the bugger wouldn’t check under the coat and find it. Once the robber found the money, he seemed satisfied and withdrew the knife. Pierce sighed with relief until the thief grabbed his stater coin, snapping the thin rope band, and darted down the alleyway with it.
“Hey!” Pierce exclaimed, taking off after him. “Get back here with that!”
The young thief was quick on his feet. He ran with great speed that outmatched Pierce and his wounded leg. Pierce did his best to keep him in his sights as he chased him out into the street, down another lane, and into a different section of the city. Pierce came around a corner and stopped when he spied the thieving twat going into an old building. He thought about pursuing him inside, but his lungs burned and his heart was pounding like a mallet inside his chest. He needed to catch his breath first. As he did, he rubbed his sore leg, now throbbing due to his mad dash.
He couldn’t believe the little bastard had stolen the coin. He took it back, he would much rather have had his gun taken. That coin—one of the thirty pieces of silver—was the only thing keeping him safe from Robin of Locksley. Without it, he might as well save Robin the trouble in hunting him down and hand himself over. Eventually, the vampire would find him, and after duping him weeks ago on the Isle of Wight when Pierce fooled him into believing he had surrendered the coin, Robin would waste no time sinking his fangs into him.
He unbuttoned the coat, pulled his gun, and started for the building. For a split second, he believed gravity had reversed itself when he was suddenly thrust backward. He soon realized someone had grabbed the nape of his coat collar and yanked him back.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Joaquin asked, letting go of him.
“How did you find me?” Pierce demanded, wiping sweat from his brow.
“We . . . we heard you shouting in the alley,” Taisia said breathlessly.
“We’ve been cha . . . chasing you th-through the whole blasted city,” Joaquin said, vexed.
“What happened?” Taisia asked.
“Didn’t you see the robber who pulled me into the alleyway?”
“You were robbed?” Joaquin said.
“Yes, while you both were window shopping.”
“Did he get your money?”
“Aye.”
“Pierce, don’t worry about it,” Taisia consoled. “We have enough.”
“The tosser took my necklace,” he told her.
She widened her eyes in terror.
“What? That coin you were wearing?” Joaquin asked. “You were going in there to take on who knows how many people for that?”
“You don’t understand, Joaquin,” Taisia explained. “The coin protects him from a vampire.”
Joaquin raised an eyebrow to her. “Come again?”
“Aye,” Pierce said. “Years ago, I broke into a vampire’s house and tried stealing the entire set of the thirty pieces of silver. He caught me, but I got away with one coin, which I have to wear to keep him from killing me.”
Joaquin stared at him until he realized just how serious he was being.
“You pissed off a vampire, eh? You really can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”
“I need it back,” Pierce said, turning towards the building.
“Bursting in will only get yourself shot,” Joaquin stated. “Follow me.”
To keep from being seen by any potential lookouts inside, Joaquin led them a block down the road, across the street, and back up toward the building. As they approached the front entrance from the side, Joaquin held up his hand and told them to wait. Pierce carefully watched him from around the corner. Joaquin went to the door, and when he tried it, surprisingly, it opened. He took a breath and cautiously stepped inside with his gun stretched out in front of him. A few heartbeats later, he came back outside and waved them on. Pierce and Taisia hurried over and followed him into the place.
A single candelabrum with short, liquefying candles was the only source of light in the entire first section of a room divided in two by a timber wall.
The building was a factory—an abandoned one, by the grim look of it. Lined up on both sides of the small room were old dash wheels—large, round, wooden contraptions built for washing cloth. A few wheelbarrows, used to haul fabrics, were nearby. Pierce had seen its like before.
“Christ, Joaquin, we’re in a textile factory.”
Already, Pierce hated being in there. Memories of being used as slave labor as a child came flooding back. He could almost taste the despair and sorrow of the children who may have worked in this place.
The Underground Page 11