The Royal Occult Bureau

by Barbara Russell

  As if I knew what that was. “Great. Thank you very much.” The names didn’t ring a bell, but anywhere was better than here.

  The frown returned, but he pushed the door open. “Would you like me to escort you, ma’am?”

  “No. It’s fine. I’m absolutely fine.” A hysterical note crept in my voice. Lord, I wanted to run away, screaming.

  Without waiting for his reply, I grabbed a fistful of my skirts and sprinted up the stairs. The bureau was a maze. I was climbing a long flight of stairs identical to the one I’d taken from King’s Clothing & Tailoring. The only difference was that more people thudded up and down. Frowns and sideways glances were thrown to my directions, but I ran up fast enough to avoid any question. The corridor ended with another cursed door, naturally, and a man was going right through it. I sped up before he could shut the door and leave me trapped again.

  “Wait! Don’t close the door!” By the time I arrived at the top, I was wheezing.

  The man turned, and ice chilled my blood. The soles of my boots screeched on the black tiles when I skidded to an abrupt halt. Mr Blond’s keen gaze trained on me. His jaw clenched so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if it snapped.

  For a moment, we stared at each other, and something like concern or surprise flickered on his face.

  “I, I . . .” I resumed tugging at my reticule. “I need to leave.”

  “Follow me.” His voice didn’t hold any sympathy.

  Caught again. Every time he discovered me where I shouldn’t be, guilt gnawed at my stomach. Only this time fear shuddered through me as well.

  On wobbly legs, I stepped into a storeroom with a metal safe in a wall and reinforced cabinets. After yet another door—I was sorely sick of doors by now—we walked through a jewellery shop.

  In better circumstances, the glitter of diamonds and rubies resting on black velvet in the glass cases would’ve distracted me, but not with a broad warrior angry with me and a knot of dread in my throat choking me.

  The shopkeeper barely lifted his gaze from a golden pocket watch he was polishing as we brushed past. Mr Blond held up a hand, and the shopkeeper replied with a nod.

  Instead of going towards the exit, Mr Blond led me through a side door and shut us in a parlour. It was a lovely parlour furnished with a polished low table and silk armchairs, but again, I was too focused on the scowling man in front of me to fully enjoy the view.

  “You took my card.” He pressed his back against the door, blocking the only way out, as if I could escape and outrun him.

  “It was an accident.” I’d meant to give it back if he hadn’t left the house in a hurry.

  “I don’t believe you. How did you find the address?” Those bulging muscles under the jacket didn’t bode well.

  At this point, lying would be counterproductive and potentially dangerous. “Jean-Pierre. He eavesdropped a conversation that involved the Royal Occult Bureau.”

  “And you came here because?”

  His angry tone grated my skin. I pressed my lips together. “You ask a lot of questions, but never answer mine.”

  “You don’t know what you’ve put yourself into.”

  “Charlotte is gone. She didn’t return to the house. A black brougham chased me, Bertie stalked me, and I saw you climbing the wall of Jasmine House where another girl was found dead. What is going on?” My voice rose.

  “Do you mean the black brougham we saw from your window chased you? And hell, did you follow me?”

  “Where is Charlotte?” I slammed a foot on the floor. “She’s in danger. I know it. Where is she?”

  A tendon in his neck ticked, and the green in his eyes intensified. “I’m doing what I can to find your friend, but it’s not simple, and you shouldn’t go around alone or follow me at night.”

  “What does it have to do with anything? Is someone killing the whores of the most popular brothels? Are we all in danger?” Did you kill that girl of Jasmine House? The last question remained suspended between us.

  He cursed under his breath and raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not a murderer,” he said in a clipped tone, seemingly reading my mind.

  “Then what were you doing at Jasmine House?”

  A flash ignited his gaze. “I was trying to protect the girls of Jasmine House, but obviously, I failed.” His voice cracked at the end.

  Still, his sorrow didn’t placate the turmoil inside me.

  “I want answers,” I said in a gentler tone than before. “It’s my right to know if I’m in danger. And what is this place? What do you do here?”

  He gazed up, exposing his delicious Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Tonight. I’ll tell you more tonight, but now you’ll go to your room and stay there until I arrive.”

  I gnashed my teeth. “I want answers.”

  “And you shall have them, but later.” From his pocket, he fished out a handful of sovereigns and handed them to me. “Take a cab.”

  I ignored the money and adjusted my hat. “I can walk.”

  “Take the damn cab.” His hard fingers closed around my wrist, and he dropped the coins in my palm. “Please,” he added through gritted teeth.

  The sum was ridiculous. I could ride to Reading and back with that money.

  “Tonight,” I said, closing my hands around the coins.

  He nodded and opened the door. “Tonight.”

  Before leaving, I paused on the threshold. “Are you Lynch?”

  His brow cocked.

  “Well?” I prompted, a hand on my hip. “Should I wait until tonight to know the answer to this simple question?”

  That brow arched further, but a corner of his mouth quirked up. “Yes. My name is Evander Lynch.”

  At least I found out his name.

  Nine

  DROPS OF RAIN pelted the glass of my window, making a bullet-like noise. It was almost ten o’clock, the moonlight couldn’t filter through the thick layer of clouds, and Mr Evander Lynch hadn’t arrived yet.

  And Charlotte was still missing.

  “Evander,” I whispered his name to hear the sound of it.

  The fierce glare he’d given me still burned in my mind. Lord, he’d been angry, but it was entirely his fault. If he’d explained a few things, I wouldn’t have become curious.

  Cold draughts sneaked through the windows. Snow was better than rain. At least it didn’t punish the earth like a water sledgehammer.

  I perked up when a flash of red flickered through the sheets of rain. Someone was running on the pavement, and a burgundy cloak whipped wildly in the gale.

  “Charlotte,” I shouted, flinging open the window.

  She paused and tilted her head up. Rain washed over the hood and on her face. Even in the dark and through the rain, her skin appeared pale.

  “Charlotte!” I repeated, but she dashed away.

  Gathering a handful of my skirts, I sprinted out of my bedroom. My sturdy boots clunked on the steps.

  I’d dispensed with fancy clothes and pretty shoes since Evander wouldn’t care to touch me, so I rushed down the stairs without the impediment of the petticoats.

  Despite the awful weather, the sitting room was packed with gentlemen, cradling girls in different degrees of nakedness on their knees. Fanny, an arm draped over a gentleman’s shoulder, shot me a curious glance when I pulled the front door open.

  The chilly wind slapped me, and rain punched my skin. I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the drops and searched the street. Charlotte was nowhere to be seen.

  “Charlotte!” I yelled in the storm.

  A flicker of red sparked on my left, and I ran in that direction. My shirt plastered against my skin when rain soaked it. Cold bit my flesh, and I shivered. Charlotte was running a few yards in front of me and took a sharp turn to a side alley.

  Why on earth was she running away from me? Was it because she feared Evander? Because she knew he wanted to question her?

  “Charlotte!” My teeth cha
ttered. The weight of my damp skirt slowed me, and I had to lift it to keep the speed.

  The soles of my boots screeched on the wet cobbles when I rounded the corner. Charlotte stood in the middle of the alley, staring at me.

  I wiped my drenched face, brushing wet locks from my cheeks and pushed onwards. The walls enclosing the alley blocked the wind and the howling. Even the rain pounded with less strength here. My footsteps sounded like thunder.

  She put a hand on her heaving chest, her hazel eyes flaring wide with fear.

  “Charlotte, it’s me, Asia,” I said.

  “Oh, but I know that,” an icy male voice said from behind me.

  Hard, cold fingers closed around my throat before I could spin around, but I recognised the voice. It was Bertie’s. He pushed me back, and his other arm wrapped around me, blocking my arms.

  Charlotte stepped back until she entered another alley and disappeared from view. For a moment, disappointment and hurt overwhelmed my fear. She left me there, alone with Bertie. Worse, she’d lured me into a trap. The agents, who should be keeping an eye on the house, were my only hope.

  “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.” His lips brushed my ear.

  “Let me go.” I struggled against the steely grip, but he held me in place.

  “Don’t fight me, Asia.” The hand around my throat loosened its grasp. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

  His words did nothing to calm my erratic heartbeat.

  “What do you want?”

  “You know what.” He traced a finger on my jaw, down my neck and over a breast. “I want all of you.”

  I swallowed past the hard ball of fear in my throat. A girl didn’t live years in the streets without learning how to subdue panic and gain time in a dangerous situation. I forced my muscles to slacken to make him believe I didn’t want to struggle.

  “If you want to be my client, why don’t we go to De Luna House?” I asked.

  “I went there, and I asked. Twice.” Wrath dripped from the words. “But you didn’t want me.”

  Lord, a dangerous, scorned client. I put a hand on his, feeling the smooth skin. A gentleman then, probably a lord judging by the expensive woollen coat he was wearing and the gleaming leather shoes. “I’m sorry about that, but you can come inside, and I’ll be with you. I promise.”

  His chest shook with laughter. “Of course you’ll be with me, but on my terms. You’ve forfeited your right to play according to your rules the moment you rejected me.” He leaned closer, so close his breath hit my nostrils. “Don’t think I don’t know what the agents are up to. I saw them patrolling the house, and I saw the blond one with you.”

  A quiver started in my legs, both for the cold seeping into me and the panic. “He isn’t here. I swear it.”

  “I don’t take risks. Now you’ll come with me.”

  Warmth radiated from him, and the scent of roses wafted around. For a moment, it had a calming effect on my anxiety and stirred something deep within my abdomen. I relaxed in his arms. Perhaps it was a good idea to let him have his way with me. I was a whore, after all. I’d done it countless times, and I was tired of fighting, of struggling, of being scared, and his scent was so deuced good.

  But when he dragged me towards the exit of the alley, the drooping sensation lifted, and terror kicked in again. I had no intention of having sex with this maniac who was kidnapping me. He’d done something to Charlotte, poisoned her, made her crazy, because my best friend couldn’t have betrayed me by her own choice.

  I pushed back my hips and bent over. Gathering my strength, I drove the heel of my boot into his knee. He jerked back and lost his footing on the slippery ground. A groan resounded. I darted towards the other side of the alley where Charlotte had vanished.

  Knowing these alleys as the back of my hand was my advantage over Bertie’s strength. I’d taken him by surprise, and it wouldn’t happen again. His black brougham was probably waiting for him somewhere, and the moment he dragged me into his carriage, I was a dead whore.

  The rain had washed the snow, turning it into a mess of mud and dirt. With the constant pelting, I couldn’t hear Bertie’s footsteps, so I chanced a glance over my shoulder. A blurred dark figure stalked me, and a black frock coat fluttered behind him. I sped up.

  The thoroughly soaked skirt hindered my run. Tugging at the strings on my waist, I released the knot that held the skirt in place and let it drop at my feet. Free to run in only my drawers, I dashed to the left where another alley would lead me to the Russian marketplace. Among the discarded wooden crates and rubbish, it’d be easy to find a spot where to hide, and from there I could take one of the underground passages that spread underneath London. A gentleman like my pursuer wouldn’t know where to go, wouldn’t even attempt to follow me if he cared about his leather shoes and fine clothes. At least I hoped so.

  My breath came out in quick wafts as I scurried towards Leinster Square and the Russian quarter. A few more yards and I’d be in a complicated maze of narrow streets and tight passages.

  A silver glint flashed in front of me, then a searing pain slashed through my chest. All the air in my lungs was punched out of me. I was shoved backward a few yards and hit my nape and neck against a brick wall. Pain blinded me for a moment. My head spun, and my vision blurred at the edges.

  I blinked and squinted, but aside from rain and the distorted halos around the lampposts, I couldn’t see who had attacked me. With my stomach roiling with nausea, I bent over, waiting for the pain to subside.

  “I enjoy a nice chase, but I’m on a tight schedule. No more games.”

  Bertie’s voice sent a violent shudder through me. He caught me so quickly. He’d been behind me, but somehow, he’d overtaken me and punched me in the chest hard enough to make me fly yards away.

  Slumped on the ground, I had barely the time to gaze up before he backhanded me and hit my jaw. My head jerked back, and the rusty taste of blood filled my mouth.

  “Your fierce spirit will be fully broken once I’ve finished with you.” His fingers locked on my chin and forced my head up. “Do you believe that, Asia?”

  I did believe him. The menacing glint in his cold eyes and the hard set of his jaw promised retribution. He could’ve been handsome if it weren’t for the evil contorting his features. This man was used to inflict violence and enjoyed it. A whore learned fast to grasp these traits in a man.

  But for now my spirit was whole and hardened by years of hunger, cold, and street fights. I snatched a half-broken bottle from the ground and lashed out. The jagged edges of the glass scraped Bertie’s neck and cheek, and once again surprise jolted him off of me.

  Gasping and lurching, I fled, blood filling my mouth. An orthodox cathedral towered in the middle of the street. Its pinnacles, topped with blue domes, usually reminded me of an ice cream, but now they looked like the gnarled fingers of a monster.

  The gale must’ve discouraged people and constables from a night walk because the road was empty. Not even rats scrambled in the dark corners. It was only me and Bertie, and my energy was fading. The cold, the rain, and the chase were taking their toll.

  I turned left and cursed when I found myself in an alley with no exit. If my head stopped throbbing, I could have a moment to think.

  Bertie hounded me, blood oozing from the slash on his face. Sheer, undiluted fury radiated from him at each step. Still clenching the bottle, I searched around for something else I could use as a weapon.

  “Asia!” His angry voice cut through the pounding rain and thunder booming overhead.

  The throb in my head pulsated in rhythm with my heart, and I tottered forward.

  As he neared me, I clenched the bottle harder and gritted my teeth, ignoring the shivering in my body.

  He shed his frock coat while advancing, revealing a black tuxedo with a white pocket square. The perfect image of a gentleman except that there was nothing gentle in him. He pounced, and I tensed my mus
cles, ready for the impact, but it never came.

  There was a burst of golden hair and the quick flapping of black coattails.

  Evander attacked Bertie with the ferocity of a freight train. A thud resounded when his body collided with Bertie’s. They fell on the cobbles and wrestled like two entwined eels. Punches and kicks flew so fast I could hardly understand who was hitting whom. Rain and mud covered both of them, but the green flicker of Evander’s eyes was easy to spot. Bertie unsheathed a dagger from somewhere under his jacket.

  Evander shot a glare at me while parrying a blow. “Run!”

  No. I wasn’t going to flee until I was sure he was all right.

  “Asia, run!” he shouted again, lowering his head to dodge the sharp blade of the dagger. “He’s going to displace.”

  He’s going to do what? What did Evander mean by that?

  Warm air and the smell of roses filled the air. The ground shook. Evander almost tripped back but drew a dagger from his jacket. Bertie panted, his eyes showing too much black. In fact, the blue of his irises was gone.

  Evander sprang, fast like a cobra snatching a rat. His hand was about to strike when Bertie vanished in a dark puff of smoke. I rubbed my tired eyes. The blow to my head must’ve been harder than I thought. But when I opened my eyes again, Bertie was still gone.

  “Why didn’t you run?” Evander’s hand took my elbow.

  He dragged me away from the alley towards . . . I wasn’t sure where. The pain in my head, the chase, and the vanishing act didn’t make me think clearly. Maybe it was a bad dream.

  “Where did he go?” I asked.

  “That is the question, isn’t it?” He sped up until we were running under the rain, or to be precise, he was dragging me at high speed.

  “Where are you taking me?” My voice shook with pain and cold.

  “Somewhere safe.”

  Drops of rain sluiced down his hard jaw, and maybe it was the blow in the head, but the sight was beautiful.

  “My head,” I muttered for no reason.

  “You might have a concussion.”

  I slowed my pace. Nausea was choking me, and the world didn’t make any sense. A man had just disappeared in front of me after mysteriously managing to overtake me without me noticing it. Cold caused my teeth to chatter, and exhaustion shocked my limbs.