The Underground

by Michelle E Lowe

  Faolan went to a wardrobe, plucked a handsome vest from the hanger, and slipped it on over his unbuttoned shirt.

  “Her safety means a lot to Joaquin, mostly ’cause he cares for ye, aye?”

  Pierce arched an eyebrow.

  “Erm. S’pose. How can you tell?”

  “I’m a hustler. I read into people. Also, I’ve gathered that Taisia doesn’t seem like the sort to bow out easily.”

  Pierce knew that to be true.

  “Dammit, so I’m s’posed to stand around and do nothing?”

  “Follow ’em to Gilmerton,” Faolan suggested, buttoning the last shirt button and fastening the ones on the vest. “It’s only four miles from the city. Ye can stay close.”

  Pierce mulled it over and reckoned it was his best option.

  “All right. What do you suggest they do?”

  “They’ll have to approach the situation more cleverly than the thickheaded thugs Coira sent in,” Faolan explained. “Those eejits simply infiltrated, thinking they could just steal the canister back. That only resulted in chaos, and one of them was captured or murdered.”

  “They’ll need to go undercover,” Pierce said. “Grand. Erm, right, the Hellfire Club. I’ve bloody heard of them, but what are they, exactly? Devil worshipers?”

  “Not really, but they do believe the de’il is their club’s president. Their practices are more pagan than satanic. They rebel against organized religion, throw parties, and indulge in debauchery. That sort of thing.”

  Hearing the word debauchery, Pierce now really hated sending Tai in.

  “Sounds like children in a clubhouse,” he quipped.

  “Aye, but these bairns can be deadly,” Faolan informed gravely. “Your brother and lover will need to be cautious.”

  Pierce swallowed thickly as he felt his apparent Wren Bird nervousness coming over him.

  Faolan slipped on his striped tailcoat and grabbed a medicine bottle with the words denatured alcohol printed on the label. He also took a fountain pen and a set of keys off the bedside table, cramming the items into his coat pocket and putting on his scruffy top hat.

  He winked at Pierce. “Let’s go, laddie.”

  They took the stairs up to the fourth floor. It made Pierce anxious when he wasn’t physically able to see Taisia. He’d been in many dangerous spots before, some more frightening than others, but he now had another life to concern himself with, one far more precious than his own. Pierce’s heart sped up with the anticipation of being with his love, and he smiled widely when she answered the door.

  “Zdravstvuyte, Faolan,” Taisia greeted him before looking at Pierce strangely.

  He smiled while tipping his hat.

  “’Ello, beautiful.”

  After recognizing him in disguise, she grinned and allowed them in.

  “You look very aged,” she remarked, closing the door and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Aged like fine wine, darling. How is he?”

  “He gained some strength after eating and sleeping. He could be better, though.”

  They found Joaquin sitting by the window with a brandy glass in hand. He studied Pierce as he strutted in with his cane.

  “Pierce?” He snorted. “Fitting disguise. I barely recognized you.”

  Pierce could say the same about him. Joaquin had gotten paler and thinner. Patches of the bruised color that had dominated his skin when Pierce first saw him at Indigo’s cottage had started to return. The blotches had formed on the sides of his neck, with another patch over his jawline. If he kept his hair down, he’d be able to conceal the discoloration. Pierce mentioned nothing about it, for he was certain Joaquin was well aware. Regardless, his appearance served as a stark reminder of what was at stake.

  “Pierce and I discussed a way of getting the canister,” Faolan chimed in. “You’ll have to go in pretending ye wanna be club members.”

  Taisia cocked her head sideways.

  “Will they object to a woman requesting to join?”

  “No. The Hellfire Club is mixed gender.”

  Debauchery, Pierce thought grimly, looking over to Tai.

  “How can we get in?” Joaquin asked.

  Faolan slid a chair over and sat down in front of him.

  “To gain membership isn’t an easy task. You’ll have to make it seem you’re already a member or have been part of another demonic group.”

  Faolan pulled the medicine bottle from his coat pocket. He tipped the jar over his handkerchief.

  “Roll up your sleeve,” he ordered.

  Joaquin obeyed and Faolan rubbed the cloth over his forearm.

  Pierce stepped in closer. “Are you putting a fake tattoo on him?”

  “I’m giving them both one,” Faolan explained, taking out the fountain pen. “The ink will remain until it’s scrubbed off.”

  Everyone watched as he wrote the words Fais ce que tu voudras on Joaquin’s arm.

  “Do what thou wilt?” Joaquin read when Faolan had finished.

  “Aye,” Faolan said, pulling a cylinder-shaped jar from his other coat pocket. “From the law of Thelema. ‘Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. Love is the law, love under will.’ Sir Francis Dashwood used it when he organized his own organization, the Order of the Knights. Before that, he was a member of the Hellfire Club. Knowing some of the history will act in your favor.”

  He untwisted the cylindrical jar lid and dipped his fingers inside. What stuck on them appeared to be translucent powder. He rubbed it over the fake tattoo.

  “If the chance arises, say, ‘To the dark forces we give our service.’ That ought to convince ’em you’re legit.”

  “And what if it doesn’t?” Pierce wondered nervously.

  Faolan reached out to Taisia. “Then ye better hope ye can get yourselves out—and quick.”

  * * *

  The group left for the stables to collect their horses and then rode out of Edinburgh to Gilmerton. Just to be safe, Pierce left after Taisia and Joaquin. Faolan stayed behind to hustle the locals. He informed them that club members drank at the Mechanic Arms when not at home or at their meeting place. To spot a member, they needed to look for a pin on their lapels of a halo with a man’s face on it.

  Joaquin wasn’t nervous. As a highwayman, he’d done things of this sort many times while seeking marks inside of pubs and taverns. Taisia had fidgeted with her clothes the whole ride into town. She acted braver when Pierce was around. Joaquin envied them. In the past few years, Joaquin had yearned to settle down with a woman of his own. Someone he could connect to on every level and share a bond with that they alone possessed. His heart ached with the want of companionship when noticing how well Pierce and Taisia complemented each other. Perhaps, if he survived, he’d put his criminal life behind him and set off to find such a mate.

  He had promised Taisia everything would be fine, and he hoped she believed him. To occupy their minds, they rehearsed their backstory.

  When they found the Mechanic Arms Pub, they readied themselves as they entered. The place was packed with drinkers and love seekers. A band played in the far corner.

  “Let’s split up and look,” he suggested over the music.

  Joaquin walked away, searching for gold halo pins. The low-lit atmosphere made it difficult to see much of anything. The night had played bartender long enough to these Gilmerton locals to get them feeling the drink in their heads. People laughed at dumb jokes, made empty promises, or spouted off ideas they’d later forget. Joaquin made his way to the rear of the tavern with no luck.

  “There are a couple of blokes over yonder with halo pins,” came a soft-spoken voice next to him.

  It was Pierce, though it took Joaquin a second to recognize him in his old man disguise. Behind him was a very happy Taisia.

  “Where?” Joaquin asked.

  Pierce pointed his chin in the direction of a secluded area in the corner. “Over there."

  Joaquin noticed a booth sectioned off by a wooden wall divider, with two
gents sitting at the table.

  “Right,” he said. “C’mon, Taisia.”

  They approached while Pierce went to the bar nearby. With Pierce close, Taisia walked with more confidence. Joaquin kept his sights on the pin-wearing sods until they noticed him.

  “Och, whatcha want?” an Irishman demanded.

  Joaquin stopped behind the chairs on the other side of the booth’s table.

  “We’ve been looking for members since our arrival.”

  The men exchanged glances before returning their attention to them.

  “Dunno whatcha be meaning by members, lad,” the other Irishman, wearing two diamond rings, said. “Up the yard with you, Scotsman.”

  “Sure ye do,” Joaquin contested, pointing to their gold pins twinkling in the candlelight. “That there is the face of Lord Sandwich. It comes from a portrait of Francis Dashwood, founder of the Order of the Knights.”

  Joaquin and Taisia lifted their sleeves to show their fake tattoos.

  “We’re admirers.”

  The men studied the brands before one of them gestured for them to take a seat.

  “So you’re members, eh? What’re your names? Where did ya come from?”

  “I’m Franklin Marsh, and this is me bride, Vasilisa Marsh. I’m from Elgin, but we just cam’ in from Ireland.”

  “Why?”

  “Our own Hellfire Club that she and I formed was disbanded and we were ousted off the island,” Joaquin explained.

  Taisia laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. “And what are your names?”

  Her accent caught their attention. They were both intrigued by her. Joaquin reckoned they hadn’t met many black Russian women before, especially one so lovely.

  “I’m Kane,” the blond, curly-haired man said. “And this is Heber.”

  “Where were you before Ireland?” Heber asked, the light catching in his diamond earring.

  “London,” Joaquin answered, making London sound like Lon’on. “It’s where she and I got our brands.”

  “And you’re lookin’ to join up with us?” Kane inquired.

  “Perhaps,” Taisia answered earnestly. “It depends on how serious your group is. We don’t appreciate wasting our time with those who aren’t true with the law of Thelema.”

  “Aye, is that so, dove?” Heber challenged.

  “Love is the law, love under will,” she said with a sensual smile. “I practice this often.”

  That got their blood heated. Heber’s eyes darted between Joaquin and Taisia, and he licked his lips as if trying to decide which of them he wanted more.

  “Aye?” Kane inquired weakly and then cleared his throat. “If you’re aiming to join, then you’ll first need to see our chairman. Come with us.”

  They left town and went to a small mansion nearby. Kane and Heber entered without knocking, and Joaquin and Taisia followed.

  “Where is the chairman?” Kane demanded of the fancily dressed butler who greeted them.

  “He is in the library, my lord.”

  “Hold up here,” Kane ordered them, “while we announce you.”

  The two left the entrance hall, leaving Joaquin and Taisia alone with the servant.

  “Nice touch with that ‘love is the law’ bit,” Joaquin whispered to Taisia.

  “Blagodarya.”

  After a few moments, Kane returned.

  “Follow us.”

  Gas-powered lamps and candlelit chandeliers lit the way. Many horned stuffed animal heads such as goats, stags, water buffalo, and even a rhino, were mounted on the dark, painted walls. Bosch paintings of hell were also on display, along with pornographic images of orgies between humans and demons. The windows were draped with thick black curtains, sealing out all outside light.

  They came to a large library with shelves embedded in the walls. They were stocked full of novels. A billiards table sat near a bar. Also in the library were two women, one sitting in a chair, smoking a cigarette, and the other an Asian woman, lying on a fainting couch, drawing a picture with her long legs crossed over the arm of it. Both only wore silk robes and a variety of diamond jewelry.

  A man stood by a hearth pregnant with fire. He was dressed in a red and black silk robe, with black silk britches underneath. He was a short, stocky gent, standing only five feet, with dark hair and a dark complexion.

  “Welcome, Franklin and Vasilisa Marsh,” he greeted in an Italian accent. “I’m Benito De Fiore, the chairman here.”

  To Joaquin, he didn’t seem like the leader of the infamous Hellfire Club, but rather, a goblin playing king.

  Joaquin bowed to him. “Good evening, Mr. De Fiore.”

  “Please, call me Benito,” the Italian insisted.

  Joaquin glanced at the women and asked with a smirk, “Are these your demons?”

  Benito raised his hands, palms up. He also wore diamond rings.

  “We’re all demons here.”

  “Are diamonds part of the club’s uniform?” Joaquin inquired.

  Benito slipped his hands into his robe pockets as though to hide his jewelry.

  “They are special diamonds, sì. Kane has told me you are looking to join our family.”

  “Aye, Chairman,” Joaquin admitted. “If ye’ll have us.”

  Benito stepped away from the fireplace, clasping his hands behind him as he approached.

  “It depends. Can you prove in some way that you are, in fact, part of the Hellfire Club?”

  Joaquin looked to Taisia. She nodded. They returned their focus on Benito and recited what Faolan had instructed them to say. What came out of their mouths shocked the entire room.

  “To the dark forces we give our service.”

  However, the words they spoke were in a language never crafted by any human.

  How they did so was lost on Joaquin.

  “You can speak the language of the Demon King?” Benito gasped.

  Despite the weird occurrence, Joaquin forced himself to stay in character.

  “Indeed,” he stated matter-of-factly. “We are committed servants.”

  Benito stood gaping at them a moment longer before shaking off his astonishment.

  “I should say so. Demon speech is not known to many, and you speak it so well.”

  He and Taisia bowed their heads in thanks.

  “Nevertheless,” Benito went on, turning on his heel and stepping over to the woman sitting in the chair, “to become a member, there must first be an initiation.”

  He stroked his hand through the woman’s hair while untying his robe belt. He drew her head toward his crotch. Any ease Joaquin felt suddenly drained away.

  “Initiation?” Taisia grimaced, straining to ignore the sexual act the two were performing before them.

  “We live under the same roof here in the mansion,” Benito said in a surprisingly steady tone. “We are a close family who share everything, even our bodies.” The woman found a pleasure point and Benito leaned his head back. He said through gritted teeth, “You must give yourselves to us.”

  The Asian woman, Kane, and Heber approached Joaquin and Taisia and began pawing at them.

  Benito grinned. “Enjoy.”

  Heber was already groping Joaquin. Joaquin decided that if he needed to bugger some bloke in order to find the canister, then so be it. However, Taisia was not so willing.

  “Ostanovite yego,” she demanded, shoving Kane away.

  The heat in the room chilled drastically.

  Benito gently pushed the woman away and closed his robe.

  “My dear, this is how it’s done.”

  “Aye,” Kane agreed. “Ye said it yourself at the pub. ‘Love is the law, love under will.’”

  “I don’t give my body over to just anyone,” she stated earnestly.

  “And I don’t share me wife unless she wills it,” Joaquin defended her.

  Kane frowned angrily. He grabbed Taisia by the shoulders and held her firm. “This is going to happen, lovely. Ye will enjoy it.”

  He we
nt in for a kiss when she kneed him between the legs. The Asian woman backed away to avoid the fight that was coming.

  “Stay away from me!” Taisia hollered, pushing him to the floor.

  Heber turned from Joaquin and snatched her by the arm, whipping her around. “Oi! Is this our thanks for bringing you here, you slag?”

  A queasy feeling ballooned inside Joaquin’s stomach. His sight grew hazy.

  “Take your hands off me!” Taisia screamed, throwing a punch across his face.

  The strike knocked Hebert back. He recovered and raised a fist when Joaquin seized his wrist.

  “Don’t touch her,” Joaquin growled darkly.

  The expression on both Taisia and Hebert’s face as they stared into his changed eyes told him that the beast had surfaced. A renewed sense of strength surged as he grabbed Hebert by the coat and shoved him backward. He crashed through the window, taking the drapes out with him. Kane rushed at him with a dagger.

  “Look out!” Taisia warned.

  Joaquin whipped around and swung a fist, clocking the tosspot across the head. The impact floored him, rendering him unconscious. He set his sights on Benito and stomped toward him.

  “Franklin,” Taisia exclaimed. “Stop!”

  He remembered his fake name and halted. The adrenalin rush poured over him like a river of power, changing his body into a fighting force he had never experienced before.

  Benito stared at him with fear and excitement. “You are devoted servants, aren’t you?”

  Joaquin didn’t answer. His blood ran thick with the desire to do more harm.

  “Da,” Taisia answered. “And we allow no one to take what we’re not willing to give. Do you understand?”

  The Italian looked at her with newfound respect.

  “I do. You both coming here is truly a gift, indeed. This Hellfire Club would be honored to accept you.”

  “Spasibo,” she said firmly. “Now, if you’d excuse us, my husband and I have had enough excitement for one evening.”

  She took Joaquin by the hand and held it tight. Her quivering touch forced him to calm down and bring him to his senses. She acted unaffected by what had just happened, yet, judging by her shakiness, she was holding on by a thread.

  “Aye, we have,” Joaquin agreed, blinking until his hazy vision cleared. “Good evening to ye, sir.”