by P M Cole
“If they knew where I was going, they would try and stop me.”
“And where are you going?”
I hesitated. I had the feeling that if she wanted to stop me, she could. “Finlay has the answers I need. If my mother's alive I have to know.”
She turned and moved to the wall, then reached up and pulled down a ladder which slid towards her.
“Follow me,” she said over her shoulder then started climbing.
I hadn’t even thought to look above the balcony but doing so revealed the ladder stretching a further twenty or so feet up the side of the huge chimney, into the heavens. Higher still was only smoke, coming from the cylindrical brick construction. I wondered what purpose there was in going even higher, but I stepped back onto the floor, took hold of the ladder, and started pulling myself up.
“Where are we going?” I shouted to her.
She didn't respond and instead stepped off the top of the ladder, disappearing from my view, and moving into the smog. As I reached the same point, I realised the top of the chimney was covered in a large grate, allowing the smoke to escape, but also creating a surface to walk across.
“Hey, over here,” she said through the white clouds of vapour pouring from the floor.
I followed the direction her voice indicated, walking cautiously across the metal grid, trying not to look down into the depths below my boots.
I then reached an area where the smoke cleared and I could see the easterly expanse of London and the Thames stretching to the horizon, but that’s not what held my gaze.
“What do you think of it? Something else I purchased from an American inventor.”
I recognised the craft floating above me as a dirigible, but I had not seen one so compact and sleek before. A small compartment, with just enough space for two seats below it while a large saucer shaped inflated balloon sat above. A series of cables and straps held the different sections together, and on each side, propellers were already turning.
“It’s amazing.”
She smiled, opening the door to the cockpit. “I think so too. Let’s go for a ride. Whitechapel, correct?”
I nodded and we both moved inside. She flicked a lever upwards on a small instrument panel, the two ropes that were holding us to the chimney fell away, and with an initial jolt, we moved forward.
My heart leapt to my throat as we moved free of the chimney then the roof, and I looked down at the rolling fog. At this height I could see the river emerging from the mist, winding its way eastwards, but we were heading to the north.
“It will only take us a few minutes to get there. Not like being on the street with the horse shit!”
I giggled.
Her face then became cast in shadow, as she steered us against a light wind. “I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to meet Daria again.”
“You’ve met her before?”
“Contrary to my appearance, and indeed hers, we are both much older than we look. Before her current name she was—”
“Martina.”
“Yes, and a hundred other names before that. We have crossed paths a number of times, none of them a pleasant encounter.”
“You’re not stone though.”
“Ha, it has not been without her trying. But my magic has gotten me out of some sticky situations with her. Others I knew were not so lucky. Do you have a plan of how to deal with her abilities? I will help, but she’s quite dangerous.”
“I have a plan.”
“Good, what is it?”
I noticed we were descending, the surface of swirling white mist rising up towards us. I quickly told her of what I intended to do on reaching the workhouse.
We moved into the fog and the tomb like building quickly appeared. I immediately recognised the windows which were above the main room of Finlay’s residence.
Charlotte brought the airship gently down on the roof, which luckily was mostly flat and covered in a light covering of powdery snow. We climbed out and she tied the trailing rope to an iron trellis.
We moved forward, keeping low and looked through the glass panes which were partly frosted over. Fifteen feet below, the temple-like space was lit by the roaring fire. Finlay was seated near it. He appeared to be reading, his glasses perched on his nose. Daria was nowhere to be seen, although much of the room was hidden to us in shadow.
“I can’t see if she’s there or not,” I said.
“Wait…”
Charlotte tore a tiny fragment off her ever-moving cloak, holding it within her clasped hands. When she pulled them apart, a black moth took to the air, then landed and crawled between the brick and wooden window frame. It then flew free inside, but I quickly lost track of it.
“How will—” I stopped, beholden by Charlotte’s eyes, which were as black as coal. She shivered and they returned to their original hazel.
“Snake lady’s down there. She’s in another room.”
I looked at the witch next to me and steadied myself. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. I looked down at the latch on the other side of the pastel white pane of glass and concentrated. The latch wobbled then slid to the side then with some effort I pulled the window up towards me. It only opened a few feet, but it was enough, and I tied my twine around its hinges and crawled through the gap, then lowered myself, hanging.
Finlay turned the page on his book. The only sound was the crackling of wood in the fire. No snakes hissing. I swivelled my wrist letting the twine unravel and slowly moved lower and lower until I rested softly upon the floor.
A noise came from the far side of the room, where there was a thin glow from beneath another door. I froze, waiting for the gorgon to appear, but the door stayed shut.
Charlotte floated down to the slabbed floor beside me, using some kind of magic. She nodded towards the far door, and I nodded in reply.
She then moved off, sliding across the floor without taking any steps, and I moved towards the back of Finlay’s chair, walking as quietly as I could.
His head, covered as it was by his oily black hair, was mere feet away, when a gust of wind caught the open window we had left on a latch, and it dropped closed making a loud thump. Finlay whipped around, his eyes widening on seeing me, but before he could shout for help, I raised my hand, and the poker that was resting near the fire sprang into the air, flying then hovering just an inch from his eyes.
“Don’t bother calling for her, she can’t help you!” I said.
Shouting and a fizzing electric sound came from across the room, accompanied with flashes of light.
Finlay looked back at me, his face full of hate. “What do you want? Come to—”
“My mother…”
Whatever words were about to leave his dry lips, were now replaced with surprise. “What about her…”
“That night in the park. You shot her then the Fury took her away. What became of her?”
The door in the far corner of the room flew open with Charlotte falling out of it. “Time for that plan, Cog!” she shouted.
I saw Finlay smirking out of the corner of my eye. With just a thought the iron poker wrapped around his neck. He grabbed at it gasping for air.
The sound of snakes hissing heralded Daria’s entrance. Charlotte was frantically waving her hands back and forth as if she was weaving an invisible fabric. Without looking properly at Daria, I could see the purpose. A dark ball of mist sat upon the Gorgon’s head. She shrieked and flailed, trying to rid herself of the dark magic, but to no avail. This was my chance.
I ran across the room while removing my helmet and moved the black eye shutters down, locking them in place.
“I will turn you to stone this time witch!” shouted Daria reaching for a bow that was laid across her back.
It was the first time I had seen her hair in its natural state, which was now not strands but a sea of wormlike snakes, writhing, their tongues tasting the air. Fighting the urge not to go near, I ran and slammed my helmet down upon her head, and with a bit of co
ncentration, made sure the metal rivets and straps melded together. She screamed then clawed at the helmet, but despite her strength, it stayed rooted to her.
“Get it off!”
I looked back at Charlotte, who smiled. She nodded back to Finlay who was still gasping for breath. “Go find out about your mother. Me and Daria here, have some catching up to do.”
I turned to the old king, and with my own hatred rising to the surface, walked over to him while waving my hand to release the hold the poker had on his neck. He let out a desperate breath, then coughed. His eyes flicked across the room.
“The Gorgon won’t be turning anyone to stone tonight, Sisyphus.”
He continued to clear his throat. “I see—” Cough. “— you have been doing some reading.”
“Take a seat old man. The only reason you’re not already dead is because you know what happened to my mother, so start talking, and you might live to see the dawn.”
He sat heavily on his plush high-backed chair. I strolled forward and sat in the one opposite.
“He’ll kill me if I talk.”
“I’ll kill you if you don’t. Choose your fate.”
He looked at me with eyes that reflected the weight of his preceding years. “Fine. She’s alive…”
A wave of vertigo flowed through me, and I grabbed the arm of the chair. All the metal close by, including the fireplace implements, started to rattle and Finlay looked at them anxiously.
“Where… is… she?” I had to push the words from my throat.
“Where do you think? He has her.”
Confusion overtook the shock. “What do you mean he has her? Is she being held captive? Is she his…” Now nausea came upon me. “His slave?”
Finlay smirked then leant forward. “That would be easier wouldn’t it?”
My head shook involuntarily. “No… this can’t be.”
Pokers, rakes, and metal tankards all jumped and skipped around the room as my emotions threatened to manifest.
Any confidence that Finlay was showing quickly left him, and he pushed himself back in his chair. “It ain’t nothing to do with me! She’s his! Always has been! Go to Grayton! See for yourself!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Snowflakes fell around the dirigible as we sailed over the streets of London back to the Factory. I pulled down the window. Instantly, a chill wind hit me, but I needed to feel the world outside my head. Needed to know it was real.
“I know you want some air, but no point getting ill. Just going to make the future days harder,” said Charlotte.
She was right of course, but instead, I pulled the glove from my hand and stretched out my arm, letting a snowflake catch in my palm. It sat there for a few seconds, a vision of mathematical perfection, before dissolving into its more fluid form.
“If you’re thinking of going to the manor. That’s probably not the best of ideas.”
“I know.”
My mother was there, at the same time as I was. The idea jarred in my brain, not being able to settle.
She must be his prisoner. I don’t care what Finlay says. I have to free her from him. All those years…
Despite the inert gas above my head keeping us afloat, I felt as if I was falling.
“You are powerful, but you don’t know what the truth is surrounding your mother. You shouldn’t trust anything Finlay says. It might be true; it might not be. You know he likes to play games.”
“I know.”
“I know, I know. What do you not know?”
I realised I couldn’t feel my hand from the cold outside, pulled it back in, and rubbed it against the other. Then I pulled the window back up. “Too many things.”
The airship rose up to the height of the top of the chimney then came to a slow stop. I climbed out while Charlotte tied the craft down.
We quickly descended the ladder. Upon stepping foot back on the balcony, the door to Charlotte’s home sprung open. Lucas stood in the gap. “Where did you go?” He looked up.
Charlotte looked at me.
“We went to Whitechapel,” I said.
Anguish struck him. “To see Finlay?”
“Calm yourself Lucas. We took care of the Gorgon, and Cog here found what she needed to know about her mother.”
Lucas’s head whipped between us both, finally resting on me. “And?”
“She’s alive. Hades has her at the manor.”
Lucas expression flowed from disbelief to sadness. “You can’t trust what he says, Cog, he’s known to—”
Charlotte moved past him, to the inside. “That’s what I said.”
“He’s being honest. Or at least as honest as he could be. I think she’s at the manor.” I followed Charlotte and walked near the fire.
Lucas closed the balcony door.
“It could be a trap,” he said.
The thought had already occurred to me.
“You don’t have to worry Lucas, I have no plans to slip off in the middle of the night again. When I return to the manor, I’ll be more prepared than last time. If my mother is there, I’ll be leaving with her.” I noticed Lucas and Charlotte exchange a brief look, but I did not have the inclination to pursue it. I sat on the sofa, too tired to remove the rest of my suit. “We can talk more in the morning.”
*****
I was too exhausted to dream. My eyes opened to a cold light, streaming through the glass balcony doors and the din of hundreds of people somewhere far beneath my feet. The fire had died down, and the blanket had made its way over me. I looked at the chairs opposite. Both were empty. I wondered where everyone had gone, but I was glad to be alone. I needed to think without the distraction of people around me. It’s how I had lived my entire life. Even being in the basement of the shop, I only saw Mr Gladwell during work hours and then on a rare occasion, other times. We both respected each other’s space. Just how I liked it, and what I needed now. I sat up, then leaned back on the sofa.
A weight lay upon my thoughts, crushing everything else. It was the possibility that she wasn’t being held captive by Hades. That for some unknown horrible reason, my mother actually wanted to be there. I swallowed. My mouth was dry.
I closed my eyes once again and tried to reach into the past before my earliest memories for any trace that she was not being faithful to my father, but there was nothing but darkness.
My eyelids flicked upwards as the elevator clattered behind my head, and the door slid back.
“Ah, good to see you awake and just in time,” said Charlotte. The smell of fried meat and vegetables followed her into the room, and then through the single door into a darkened hallway. “In here!” she shouted.
I sleepily got up, instantly regretting falling asleep in my suit, as every limb felt as if it was made from wood. “Are we alone in here?” I shouted into the shadowed room beyond.
“Yes!”
I quickly undid the fastenings and slid out of the leather and metal, then threw the blanket around me and walked into the hallway. Following the smell, which was making my stomach growl, I moved into a small kitchen which contained a table and two chairs. Two plates with the most enticing of breakfasts looked up at me.
“Sit. That’s yours, and that’s mine. My usual morning feast from Mr Baintree’s stall. Thought you would like some.”
“Thank you.” I sat and greedily tucked into the sausages. “Where did they go? Lucas and Colin?”
She sat opposite and started eating. “Colin left, looking for you, last night, Lucas said he would go to the young man's lair and tell him you have been found. Then he said he’s off to Scotland to try and find Dax.”
“Dax? He used to be part of the league?”
“Yes, Dax Kaylock. I do not know if he is still alive as he was in his fifties when I last saw him… but if he is… maybe he will be willing to help this lost cause of ours…”
I ignored her pessimism, continuing to enjoy the food.
“Meanwhile… he has asked me to help you.”
“
Help me to find my mother?”
“At some point maybe, but before then, you need to learn a thing or two about magic, and Lucas seems to think I’m the person for the job.”
I frowned, then bit into another sausage. “I think I have been doing rather well considering just a month ago, I had no knowledge of any of this.”
“Aye, you are a fast learner and that's good because your first lesson has already started.”
I looked at her confused, then returned to my plate of delicious sausages, but there were none. My plate was empty.
Could I have eaten them all? I’m sure there were—
I heard Charlotte chuckling. Her plate was also empty. She pointed to her temple. “First thing you need to learn is, trick the senses, fool the mind.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
I looked out at the expanse of blue sky, with just a few fluffy white clouds. A gust knocked me back, but I quickly regained my footing on the grating of the chimney top. I was a few feet away from the edge, and that was still too close for my liking.
This was Charlotte’s second lesson. I think I preferred the first.
At night, I was thrilled to see London all around me, but in the light of day, despite the fog covering most of the city, the height that I now stood at was decidedly unnerving. Charlotte and I were standing on the third of the five chimneys. The first one, being where the dirigible was located, was a few hundred yards behind us, but the others were much closer. The one I was standing on was devoid of smoke, giving me a clear view of the world around.
“I thought you were okay with heights?” she shouted from the other side, some twenty feet away.
I tried not to look at the rolling fog and buildings poking their roofs through its surface some hundreds of feet below us. “Err… I’m… fine… what do you want me to do?”
She smiled then disappeared.
I leaned forward, straining my eyes. Nope. Definitely not there anymore.
I sighed. “More illusion?” I shouted into the wind that was doing its best to knock me off balance.