The Underground

by Michelle E Lowe

  They turned to leave when Benito called to them. “Please come tomorrow night. I want to show you something very special.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Right now, I am . . .

  Instead of taking the chance of being caught tailing everyone, Pierce had grudgingly decided to stay in town while Taisia and Joaquin left with the Hellfire sods. He couldn’t hear the conversation between everyone at the booth over the loud music. Pierce had no idea where they had gone. In order to keep from losing his mind with worry, Pierce went for a stroll. He came across an antique shop and browsed around for a while. The entire place was an unorganized mess of toys, furniture, and old knick-knacks. It suited Pierce just fine, for it gave him an excuse to dig in and search for hidden treasures. Stored in a soapbox crate was a pile of aged broadsheets and newspapers issued from all over Europe. He rummaged through it, mainly out of curiosity to see if he had been mentioned in any of them. Most, though, had been printed before his time.

  Underneath the papers, he spied old jewelry at the bottom of the crate. After a brief examination, he discovered most of the jewelry was cheap or flat out fakes. He spotted a small box and cracked the top half open to find a pair of rings nestled in velvet lining. Both were Celtic knot designs made of dark silver. The larger ring had a white gold Celtic carving in the front and didn’t quite connect as a complete circle. The other Celtic knot ring was a full band with nothing added. He plucked the bigger ring out and admired it. The middle-aged storekeeper, who had greeted Pierce when he first entered, appeared at his side.

  He spoke with an incredibly thick accent.

  “There’s a story that gang wi’ them rings, auld timer. A young laddie, son o’ a verra powerful lord, fell in loove wi’ a common woman. The lad’s paw was against the match an’ ordered his son tae no’ see her again. The twa loovers planned tae elope, sealing their union wi’ the promise o’ these verra rings. When the faither found oot, he began courtin’ the young lassie himself tae trick her tae stray. When the son discovered whit his faither was doin’, he attacked him. His paw fought him aff an’ had ’im arrest fur attempted murder. Tae save ’ im, the lassie denounced her loove fur him an’ vanished, ne’er tae be seen again.”

  Pierce gave him an incredulous look.

  “Och, that sounds a wee bit similar to the story of Salim and Anarkali.”

  The storekeeper scowled. Clearly, he’d been caught unaware that Pierce should know he’d tagged the rings with an old fable in order to make a sale.

  “Weel, that’s whit I heard. Ye want the blasted things or no’, auld geezer?”

  Pierce placed his hand on the man’s chest and gently pushed him away. “Leave me alone, eh?”

  The storekeeper left with a huff. Pierce returned his gaze to the rings. They were a beautifully unique set that attracted him instantly. He had no clue what their true history was and could really give a toss. He was more interested in what their future could be.

  Without asking for a price, Pierce tossed ten crowns on the front desk counter as he strolled out the door. The storekeeper kept his big gob shut.

  Pierce returned to the pub and had a few more drinks. When Taisia and Joaquin finally arrived, he nearly fell over with relief. Taisia wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly, her entire body tense and stiff.

  “What happened?”

  “It isn’t safe to talk here,” Joaquin stated.

  They went outside to the horses.

  “They tried to do what to you?” Pierce exclaimed angrily when Taisia told him.

  “Shush!” his brother hissed. “You’ll get us caught. We’re allowed to return.”

  “No bloody way. She isn’t going back to that place.”

  “I don’t think they will try it again,” Taisia snickered.

  “Why?” Pierce inquired, completely gobsmacked by her amusement. “What happened?”

  “Your brother,” she explained. “That’s what happened. When they got too aggressive, he threw one of them out the window and knocked another unconscious with a single punch. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Stunned, Pierce turned to him. Joaquin rubbed behind his neck and shrugged. “I didn’t fight it.”

  “Fight it? You mean the curse?”

  “Aye.”

  Pierce’s heart swelled.

  “Joaquin—bloody hell. Cheers, mate.”

  Pierce embraced him, not caring if he would return the hug. Joaquin did, but only for a moment.

  “All right, piss off, you.” Joaquin gently pushed him away. “Let’s head on back to Edinburgh, eh?”

  * * *

  Benito De Fiore went upstairs and stepped into his private chamber upstairs where only he was allowed access. He was very excited about this meeting. He had obtained the canister from that bitch, Coira MacCrum, and now, he was about to offer a very special gift to his beloved master.

  In the center of the small, windowless room, a rug lay on the floor in front of a fireplace. Benito knelt upon the rug, setting the lantern he carried down next to him.

  “My lord, visitors arrived here tonight. One has demon power.”

  The dim space was abruptly lit up with the burst of a flame within the hearth. The fire burned blue and white, pulsated with the voice coming from it.

  “Yes, I was informed about him earlier today,” the strong, disembodied voice responded. “I smelled the blood in his veins when he was here.”

  “You knew already?” Benito whispered, disappointed. He rubbed a diamond ring between his stubby fingers, briefly remembering the person it had come from.

  Benito had been brought up poor in Bari, Italy. He’d had many siblings, but no friends, and his parents were always working to provide for the family. Then came the Demon King, also known as the Demon God or Lord of Demons. He had come to Benito in the form of a child of his same age, and the two became inseparable. They played all sorts of games, went on little adventures, and when other children taunted Benito, his friend protected him.

  He had taught Benito how to read and write, and had told him about other places in the world. Benito was naturally intelligent and in need of guidance. The Demon King provided him with such teachings. All the while, Benito had had no idea who his friend truly was. As Benito grew, so did the Demon King. He joined Benito at university, where the Demon King instructed him in subjects such as science and chemistry. Then came the day their friendship ended, when the Demon King relieved his true identity and confessed to grooming Benito to become his servant all those years. Benito wasn’t the first human the Demon King had had in his service. He’d been recruiting followers from all over the known world for centuries. Benito hadn’t been chosen at random. The Demon King chose him because of his intelligence—a benefit if he was to provide for himself while serving the Demon King. Learning all this only made him more attractive to Benito. He wanted nothing more than to please the Demon King whenever possible, which was why he left Italy and formed his own Hellfire Club in Scotland.

  Benito feared and loved his master.

  “Who has told you about Marsh?” Benito finally asked.

  “That is none of your concern.”

  The heat in Benito’s cheeks intensified. He hated it when the Demon King spoke to him so shortly.

  “This visitor who carries demon blood would make a marvelous addition to your collection, if I can turn him. He could serve as a good soldier.”

  “You mean when you turn him,” the Demon King corrected. “There was someone with him, yes?”

  “Sì, his wife. Marsh nearly killed a couple of my men when they attempted to initiate her.”

  “She isn’t his wife,” his master informed him. “Yet, he does care for her. Convince him to sacrifice the woman. I shall oversee the ritual and be there to accept him—as my son.”

  Those last three words were hornet stings to Benito’s heart. What a privilege to be part of the Demon King’s family instead of a mere servant. Franklin Marsh had simply breezed in and unknowingly, h
e was about to be granted the ultimate honor of standing beside the Demon King as his son? It made Benito tear up.

  “Stop it,” the Demon King demanded. “You were never meant to be included in such circles. You have always known this. Do not forget what I have given you.”

  “No, my lord,” he choked. “I am grateful.”

  “Deliver him to me.”

  “What about the demon?”

  The Demon King remained quiet for a long moment. “When the time comes, you may have it.”

  That perked up Benito’s mood.

  “Consider it a gift for your years of loyalty.”

  A grin split his face. “Thank you, Master.”

  The blue fire snuffed itself out in a quick howl of wind, leaving Benito alone with his thoughts.

  * * *

  Taisia and Joaquin returned to the Old Waverley Hotel while Pierce got a room on the first floor. Since attacking those horny dogs, Joaquin had become an entirely new person. Taisia noticed this as they passed through the luminous hotel lighting down in the lobby. He stood taller, and his pigment glowed with good health. Joaquin had been on the brink of death; now he stood as if he were brimming with redeemed life.

  They entered to find their chambers already lit. Coira and a handful of her thugs were waiting for them. Reeling from the shock, Taisia quickly felt the heat radiating off Joaquin—the same that had come off him in that wretched mansion. His bloodlust wasn’t fully diminished, it seemed, and Coira had a way of bringing out the worst in people.

  However, this bastard of a woman was the key to saving him, and before Joaquin jeopardized his chance, Taisia touched his arm. The heated rage cooled when he looked at her. She couldn’t understand what it was about her that kept him under control, but she wasn’t about to take it for granted.

  “Well?” Coira demanded anxiously.

  “We’re in,” Joaquin announced, more composed now. “We have been invited to come back tomorrow night.”

  Coira’s face brightened with delight.

  “Ye got in?” She clapped once. “Fantastic!”

  Joaquin and Taisia took off their coats and hung them on the coat rack by the door. Joaquin approached the bed where Coira stood, while Taisia stayed next to the dresser with her hands clasped behind her back. She kept a sharp eye on everyone.

  Coira reached toward an Indian woman standing beside her, who then handed Coira a scroll.

  “Where did ye go?” Coira asked Joaquin.

  “The Mechanic Arms Pub, where we found a couple of members. They took us to Benito De Fiore at his mansion.”

  “The mansion, eh? Nowhere else?”

  “No,” Joaquin answered.

  Taisia wondered where else they might have been taken.

  “I see,” Coira said, unrolling the scroll. “Anci, here”—she gestured to the Indian woman— “has brought her diagram of the canister.”

  Anci was a dark-skinned woman in her twenties with braided hair hanging low over her spine. She wore thick kohl around dark eyes and a red, dot-like bindi in the center of her brow. She had on black leather britches, an overbust, and a white linen shirt. Ink blotches stained her hands, possibly from writing or sketching.

  Coira flattened the tan paper over the bed. Without moving too close, Taisia took a step over and saw the drawing of a tube.

  “The canister,” Anci explained, pointing to the sketch, “is cylinder-shaped with brass plating. In it is a slender glass tube with the deed rolled up inside.”

  “Faolan confessed that he told you about the deed to the Vaults,” Coira grunted with displeasure. “The canister cannot be opened once sealed. To get at the contents, one must break it open, which would take some force since the exterior glass is extremely thick, unlike the delicate tube inside.”

  “If the exterior breaks, so will the tube inside it,” Anci joined in. “And the deed will disintegrate in the muriatic acid.”

  “Noted,” Joaquin said. “Do ye have any idea where the canister is?”

  “Most likely hidden in the mansion,” Coira explained. “If ye get a chance, look for places that appear to be a hiding place. A vault behind a painting, a hollow statue—anything.”

  Taisia couldn’t help but detect the desperation in her tone.

  Coira stared Joaquin dead in the eye when she added, “I need the canister returned to me before eleven in the mornin’ come this Thursday.”

  “Thursday? That’s two days awa’.”

  “Last I checked.” She pulled a pocket watch from her trouser pocket and handed it to Joaquin. “And I hope, for your sake, that ye find it soon before succumbing to the illness.”

  “Indeed,” Joaquin agreed earnestly, taking the timepiece.

  The cover was made of bronze and stained glass. He clicked it open and spotted a pair of minute and second hands. Two were still, while the other second hand ticked on and the minute hand slowly rotated over to the next number. The months of the year were written around the face, with another hand—a shiny silver hand—pointing to May, but it was edging toward June. He looked at the clock on the bedside table.

  “The hour on this watch is wrong,” he pointed out.

  “It’s a special timepiece,” Coira explained.

  Special timepiece?

  “Give it back when you’re done with the mission,” Coira ordered. “The canister must be returned to me before the clock hands join or the deal is off.”

  Coira snapped her fingers and began leaving with her small entourage. She winked at Taisia as she walked by. Needless to say, Taisia didn’t return the gesture.

  “Oh,” Coira put in while turning on her heel. “And let me know if ye hear about anybody by the name of Joshua McDay.”

  Joaquin knitted his eyebrows together. “Who’s he?”

  “He’s a traitorous louse who needs to be dealt with. Goodnight.”

  It wasn’t until the door closed and she and Joaquin were alone that Taisia released the hammer of the pistol she held behind her.

  She set the gun down on top of the dresser and sighed. “She needs the canister by this Thursday? I find it odd she has the deed so well protected. How can she ever prove she owns the Vaults if she can’t take the deed out of the canister? She’s hiding something.”

  “I believe so, too.” He picked up the diagram and examined it. “There isn’t anything on here explaining how to open it, though.”

  “Do you think the thing is in the house, like she said?”

  “Most likely. It may be what Benito wants to show us tomorrow night.”

  She shuddered at the thought of going back.

  “You all right?” he asked when he saw her rub her forehead.

  Taisia raised her chin to him. “Huh? Da, I’m fine. I have a headache.”

  Joaquin nodded and rolled the diagram up. “It has been a trying night. Get some rest.”

  He headed on out when she called to him. “Where are you going?”

  “For a walk.” He took his coat and hat from the rack. “I feel strangely invigorated.”

  He looked it, too. She wondered how long it would last.

  Joaquin stepped out, saying, “Take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  When he left, she stood thinking, What an odd family I have wandered into.

  * * *

  Pierce waited by the window of his hotel room, which overlooked the street out front. He reckoned Coira would have been waiting to speak to Taisia and Joaquin about what happened. He also suspected she wouldn’t be spending the entire night at the lodgings when there was an illegal business to attend to. His instincts proved true enough. After a while, Coira and her minions exited the building and headed up the road. With her thankfully gone, he decided to go up to Taisia and Joaquin’s suite and find out what they had discussed. He checked his disguise in the mirror and left.

  Out in the corridor, he ran into his brother. In his hand was a rolled-up sheet of paper.

  “Oi, I was just coming to find you,” Pierce said.

&n
bsp; “Did you get a room?”

  “Aye.”

  “Let’s talk there.”

  “Where’s Taisia?

  “She’s resting.”

  Pierce slumped. After what she’d endured, he wanted to comfort her. He decided to listen to his older brother and leave her to rest. He led Joaquin to his suite and shucked off his dapper coat after they had entered.

  “You look well,” Pierce observed as Joaquin lit the wall lamps.

  “Aye. I feel well. When I attacked those sods at the mansion, it renewed me.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Joaquin grinned and took a seat in the chair in the corner. “The curse revived me after I let it take me over.”

  “That’s . . .” Pierce began to say. “ . . . that’s splendid news. Does it mean you’re no longer dying?”

  “No, the illness is still there like a hungry insect in a bottle, festering in nauseating waves deep in my core and growing worse the longer it’s restrained. I fear, though, if I resist the curse again, it may be the end of me.”

  Pierce took off his braided grey wig. He leaned toward the mirror and peeled off his beard and mustache.

  “Well, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen, eh? What did Coira have to say?”

  Joaquin handed him the rolled-up sheet of paper. “She wanted to know what happened, and then she showed me this. It’s a diagram of the canister. She claims the bloody thing can’t be reopened unless broken, which would destroy the deed in muriatic acid. Taisia believes she’s lying.”

  “About the muriatic acid?” Pierce asked, taking the diagram and studying it.

  “No, that the canister can’t be unlocked. I also suspect she’s lying.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past Coira. However, it ain’t our concern. We only need to steal the blasted thing and get you to that demon.”

  “Couldn’t agree more,” Joaquin said, reaching into his coat pocket. “Here. I believe this is yours.”

  Pierce’s eyes bulged when Joaquin pulled out the ring box. He quickly stepped over and snatched it away.