Ivy: Daughter of Alice

by J. A. Armitage

  He took hold of the door handle and opened it, motioning for me to leave. “You don’t want to know.”

  5

  16 August

  I flicked open the case of Mr. Pillar’s pocket watch as I waited. It kept perfect time, despite not being wound in the five days since Mr. Pillar had tasked me with “fixing” it. I flicked the lid closed again, then open, then closed as my thoughts turned like clockwork.

  So many puzzles I’d barely slept last night thinking about them. I hated a puzzle that I couldn’t solve. Now I had two.

  First, this pocket watch that should not be working at all kept time with no winding.

  Second, and more worryingly, the mysterious Raven, a vampire who was connected with black market blood, was also linked to the white rabbit. According to the man who’d petitioned Alice, the white rabbit associated with the Queen of Hearts, and was gathering her supporters. In Alice’s office, the claim had seemed ludicrous. The Queen was dead. Now, I wasn’t so sure—it made little sense, yet I was sure these things were all somehow tied together.

  “Number 13,” a feminine voice called out.

  I looked at my ticket. 17. I sighed.

  The vial of black market blood weighed heavy in my pocket. I’d made another visit to a blood bank—this time, the one on Seventh Street—to see if I could persuade anyone there to talk. I pretended to be a seller rather than announce myself as an inspector. In the last few days, people seemed more wary of inspectors than usual.

  The scruffy woman who answered to number 13 shuffled through the sliding door, and I went back to flicking the lid of Mr. Pillar’s watch. There was nothing wrong with it, and despite Chesh’s suggestion that I break it and collect Mr. Pillar’s generous fee, the act of breaking a beautiful and antique pocket watch seemed wrong. No, after the blood bank, I planned to visit Mr. Pillar and return his watch, explaining that I could not take his commission.

  Let someone else take a hammer to the watch if they had to, but it wouldn’t be me.

  The man next to me glared at me, so I slipped the watch back into my clutch and picked up the day’s edition of The Forge Hart left on number 13’s seat.

  The front page blared: Hearts Return! An article followed that listed various sightings of robotic Hearts.

  I frowned. At face value, sightings were increasing, but how many of these were eyewitness accounts, and how many were people who wanted their names in the newspaper? Still, after having seen one of the Hearts myself, I couldn’t discount the story completely.

  Another puzzle.

  “Terrible, isn’t it?”

  A man leaned over my shoulder and jabbed a finger at the picture on the front of the paper. I murmured agreement as I noticed dirt underneath his fingernails.

  “I didn’t even want to come out of my house today, in case I came face-to-face with one. My neighbor was killed by one of them in the old days. You’re too young to know what I’m talking about, but things were terrible back then. A Heart would kill you as soon as look at you if you got in their way. Terrible—if the stories are true… Where did it say they’ve been seen now? I’m making a list of places to stay away from. Mind if I look?”

  I shook my head and handed over the newspaper, eager to extricate myself from the conversation. I smoothed my skirts and wondered how much longer I would have to wait.

  “Number 17?”

  I sprang out of my chair, waving my ticket.

  I smiled at the older woman with a nametag that read Mrs. Sprick. “Eager, are you?” she said, mistaking my relief for enthusiasm. “Have you visited us before?”

  “No, first time.”

  Mrs. Sprick raised her eyebrows. “We’ll see how eager you are next time, dear. Some people don’t like the needles much.”

  I swallowed. I hadn’t planned to go through with the blood donation. I’d only wanted time to ask some questions. The idea of the needle made me break out into a cold sweat. “What exactly are you going to do?” I asked, stalling for time as Mrs. Sprick led me down a hallway into a small room. She gestured for me to sit down.

  “Roll up your sleeve, please,” she said.

  My mind went blank. I stared at the needle she pulled out of a box—she would jab it into me. The questions I’d prepared vanished from my mind.

  “What happens to the blood?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “After you… err, take it?”

  Mrs. Sprick frowned at me. “Having second thoughts, are you? If you won’t let me prick you, then I’d rather you tell me now. I don’t want to waste my time when there are so many other people waiting.”

  “No, no,” I stammered, stalling. “I’m just… interested”—I cleared my throat— “in the process.”

  “You’re too pretty to be thinking about a career in the blood bank,” she said.

  “Do you have any problems with black market blood?” I blurted out, leaning back subtlety as Mrs. Sprick came towards me with the needle.

  “What on earth are you talking about? Why would there be a black market when the vampires can get safe, regulated blood from the banks at a reasonable price? Roll up your sleeve,” she said. “Above the elbow.”

  I fumbled with the button on the cuff of my blouse. My fingers weren’t working properly. Mrs. Sprick took another step forward, holding the needle up in the air to test it.

  “Is there a lot of demand, at the moment, for… err, the product?”

  “You are squeamish. Can’t even say the word. Blood. Is there a demand for blood? There’s always a demand for blood. Those vampires are a thirsty lot. Back in the day, a single vampire could hunt down dozens of people in one night. So, it takes multiple donations to quench their thirst. Will you please roll up your sleeve, miss? I can’t do this through your blouse.”

  Mrs. Sprick huffed, then reached down to the cuff of my blouse to unbutton it herself. I shot to my feet, knocking over my chair, causing it to clatter to the timber floor.

  “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be leaving.”

  I was still breathing heavily when I entered the oldest quarter in Melfall. After leaving the blood bank at a run, I’d made my way to Mr. Pillar’s residence. As a member of one of the oldest families of the city, he lived in a grand house in the Hearts Quarter, once reserved for those supporters of the late Queen. Most of her supporters had renounced the Queen of Hearts after she’d died, but few had moved out of their stately homes.

  I hurried towards the address that Mr. Pillar had provided when he’d left the watch with me. As I turned a corner, about two blocks away from Mr. Pillar’s residence, I found myself facing the late Queen’s palace. An ornate wrought-iron fence twisted into heart-shapes along the top, and beyond the fence, rows of red roses were in full bloom. I stopped in the middle of a driveway of white gravel running toward a fountain opposite the large doorway to her residence, the Palace of Hearts.

  The gates were open. The fountain was running. Several groundsmen were tending to the roses. The gardens were neatly groomed, and the palace seemed full of activity.

  Far too much activity for an abandoned palace.

  I blinked. Nobody had lived here since the late Queen. If that was true, who was maintaining this place and paying the staff? Who was living here?

  Another puzzle.

  I forgot about my mission to return the pocket watch to Mr. Pillar as I took one step down the driveway. Then another.

  Before I knew it, I was looking up at the fountain. It was a statue of the Queen of Hearts, water flowing from her outstretched hand, as though she was giving a gift.

  “May I help you, miss?” A butler appeared next to me. “Are the Tweedles expecting you?”

  The Tweedles, I thought. Of course.

  “I imagine not,” I replied, peering around the doors. “I thought this place was abandoned.”

  “Oh no, the Tweedles took up residence some years ago. They thought it was a shame to let such a historic building go to ruin.”

  I pursed my lips. Tweedle Dee a
nd Tweedle Dum were twin brothers and ardent supporters of the late Queen. They had given Alice lots of trouble, objecting to everything she’d tried to change within The Forge over the years and had become unofficial spokespersons for all opposition to Alice’s presidency.

  “I would be very pleased to see what they’ve done with the place. Are they in?”

  The butler bowed. “I shall announce you.”

  The gravel crunched under my feet as we trudged around the fountain and up the steps to the entrance. The butler held the door open as I stepped inside.

  “Wait here, please,” the butler said, turning on his heel to disappear into the house, leaving me in a hallway of black-and-white tiles laid out like a large chessboard. I tapped my foot, looking around at the large paintings on the walls—all of the late Queen in various poses.

  She had the look of a queen—straight-backed with her head held high. Her crown rested on her black hair, pulled back from her face, and in every picture, she was dressed in red gowns, with stiff lace collars that stood straight up from her shoulders to frame her face. Her eyes were cold, and I had the impression that she was looking at me, watching me, where I stood. I shuddered, turning away.

  A foolish notion, I thought. She’s dead.

  Still, being in the palace, which was operating as though its owner had never left, was… disconcerting.

  “Miss. Rowntree!” A chorus of two voices rang out as the Tweedles appeared at the top of the stairs. They were portly gentlemen, wearing bottle-green coat tails paired with gold waistcoats and black trousers. Their once platinum blonde hair was fading to white. The only difference between the two was that Tweedle Dee parted his hair on the left, while Tweedle Dum parted his on the right. At least, I thought that was it—or it might have been the other way around.

  “Welcome to our humble abode,” Dee said.

  “A pleasant surprise,” Dum continued.

  “We weren’t expecting you,” Dee finished.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t send word ahead, but I wasn’t expecting to come myself,” I said.

  “How did you get here—” Dee said.

  “If you weren’t planning to come?” Dum finished.

  “I was running an errand in the area, and I noticed the old palace was bustling with activity,” I replied. “Isn’t it odd—the old Pinnacle clock starts working again, and now the palace is in use?”

  “A mighty coincidence,” Dum said, with a smirk. He exchanged a look with his twin.

  “A coincidence indeed.” Dee agreed.

  “Anyone would think the two events are connected,” I said.

  “They would?” Dee asked.

  “Would they?” Dum asked, at exactly the same time as his brother.

  I sighed. “Do you know anything about the clock?” I asked.

  The Tweedles looked at each other, raising their eyebrows, grinning. When they turned back to me, they gave me innocent, wide-eyed looks.

  “It’s tall,” Dee said.

  “It’s round,” Dum continued.

  “It’s got twelve numbers on its face and—”

  “Two hands,” Dum finished.

  “I mean, why has the clock started working again? Did you have something to do with it?”

  “Us?” The Tweedles asked in unison.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, staring at each of the brothers in turn. “Yes, you!”

  “Not I,” Dum said.

  “Nor I,” Dee added.

  I hesitated, wondering whether there was any use in pressing them further.

  “What about the Hearts? What do you know about them?” I persisted.

  “Hearts are red,” Dee answered.

  “And usually found inside your chest,” Dum finished. He turned to his brother and poked a finger at the middle of his chest. “And yours.”

  Dee grinned, poking him back. “And yours.”

  I took a deep breath and clenched my fists, fighting the urge to shake both of them. “You know what I mean. People have seen the Hearts in the streets of Melfall.”

  “Have they?” Dum asked.

  “They have?” Dee asked at exactly the same time.

  “Surely, you’ve heard,” I replied. “Why are they here? I don’t believe you know nothing about it.”

  “Neither do I,” Dee said, turning to Dum.

  “Nor do I,” Dum agreed, facing Dee.

  “It’s settled then,” the Tweedles said in unison, grinning back at each other.

  “Shall we have a song?” Dee asked.

  “No,” I replied, putting up both hands.

  “Oh, yes, I love a song,” Dum replied, ignoring me completely. He turned to his brother. “Will you do the honor?”

  “After you,” Dee said. They both linked arms and strode to the grand piano standing in the corner of the room.

  “Wait!” I said, but it made no difference. The twins sat down in front of the piano and began playing a tune in unison with a flourish.

  It had neither melody nor rhythm, but the Tweedles seemed very pleased with themselves.

  I sighed, shaking my head. Conversation with the Tweedles was impossible. It was nonsense, or lies, or both. I was turning to leave when I spotted something on top of the piano.

  A crown.

  I blinked, then looked up at the painting of the late Queen in the hall.

  The crown on the piano was exactly the same as the crown that rested on her painted head.

  “What are you doing with the late Queen’s crown?” I said, pointing at it.

  “Who me?” The Tweedles said together, looking at each other without pausing from bashing the keys of the piano. They looked from side to side. “Where?”

  “There,” I pointed at it. “The crown.”

  “Is it?” Dee asked.

  “It is?” Dum said, at the same time.

  “You know it is,” I said. “Where did you get it?”

  “Must have been—”

  “Lying around somewhere.”

  I hesitated again. They were lying; I was sure of it, but there was no point hurling accusations. I tried one more question: “Are you working with the white rabbit?”

  The two men blinked at me, their song pausing mid-note. “White rabbit?”

  “You heard me,” I replied. “What do you know about the white rabbit?”

  The Tweedles looked at each other, their ‘song’ beginning again.

  “The white rabbit,” Dum started.

  I leaned forward slightly, hanging on his response.

  “Is always late!” Dee finished.

  I sighed, putting a hand over my eyes. I shook my head again, then turned to leave. “I’ll show myself out.”

  “So long—” Dee said.

  “Until we meet again…” Dum finished.

  Both of the Tweedles burst out laughing as I turned away.

  6

  17 August

  I ran my hands over the metallic curves of one of the two machines that stood in the midst of Chesh’s workshop at the rear of the Emporium. With one larger wheel at the front and a smaller, but thicker one at the back, and a leather seat in the middle. The metal handlebars and bodywork gleamed, lovingly polished to a shine.

  “Bicycles,” Chesh said, beaming. “Mechanical bicycles. What do you think?”

  I bent to look at the metal struts that joined the two wheels, then glanced at the engine. The bicycle felt right under my hands. I grinned back at my friend, then swung my leg over the bike, settled myself on the smooth leather seat, and gripped the polished metal handlebars.

  Earlier in the day, I’d been in the President’s Library, immersed in old newspapers trying to find out more about the clock, and the Hearts. Then, I’d started looking in the recent newspapers to see what I could learn about the vampires and the white rabbit.

  The puzzles nagged at me. I wasn’t sure whether the white rabbit’s activity was just a rumor possibly started by an old supporter of the Queen, but I was certain that the vampire, Raven, existe
d. Something told me that finding Raven would help me fit all the other pieces together.

  By the time Mr. Hopewell, Alice’s butler, brought me a message, my eyes were tired from staring at the tiny print. I opened the message, which read, “I’ve a surprise for you. Don’t delay, you’ll love it, Chesh.” Grateful for the interruption to my research and I was excited about Chesh’s surprise, I left immediately.

  When I’d arrived at the back door to the Emporium shortly afterward, Chesh ushered me into his workshop.

  “Steam-powered bicycles,” Chesh was explaining. “That’s what I’m calling them.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. “They’re powered by a steam engine? Interesting.” I tightened my grip on the handles. “Steam bikes,” I murmured. “Can we ride them?”

  Chesh pulled a leather cap down over his curly hair, then offered one to me.

  He settled himself on the other steam bike, grinning from ear to ear. “I didn’t bring you out here to sit on them,” Chesh winked.

  I pulled the cap on, fastening the strap under my chin. “How did they do in testing?”

  “We’re testing them now,” Chesh replied. “Why, are you afraid that your magical ‘knack’ won’t save you?”

  I arched one eyebrow, then placed both of my hands on the metal casing over the engine and felt it thrumming. I could see, in my mind’s eye, all the elements of the engine working together—each part in its proper place, serving its proper purpose—to make the machine purr like a contented cat. It felt right. I felt a surge of excitement for Chesh—the bikes were ready, and he might really be onto something worthy of Guild membership this time.

  “I’m not afraid, if you’re not,” I replied, pulling the goggles over my eyes. I kicked the bike stand out of the way and revved the engine. “Follow me.”

  “Wait,” Chesh called as I was about to start out of the back of his workshop. He tossed me a metal tube, which I caught with one hand. It felt cold.