Ivy: Daughter of Alice

by J. A. Armitage

  I waited, hanging on his response, but Raven didn’t say anything. He just looked mournful.

  “Did you?” I whispered; the words escaped my lips before I could bite them back. “Or…maybe… one of the other vampires?”

  “Does it matter?” Raven whispered. “You think I’m a monster.”

  I started shaking my head. “I don’t think you are a monster,” I said, then I steeled myself for what I needed to ask, taking a deep breath. “I saw you with a vial of blood. Black market blood. You didn’t get it from the blood banks. So…”

  Raven looked down at his hands. “You think I got it from those people who went missing?” He turned away from me then and went to stand by the window, looking out over the rooftops of the city and the stars in the night sky. In the distance, I could see the face of the Pinnacle clock standing proud and tall in the center of the city. In the silence, I heard it ticking, like a heartbeat.

  “I tell you truly—I don’t know what happened to them, though I am as worried as you are. Do you believe me?”

  The lump in my throat persisted for another moment, but as I saw the pain on his face, the doubts drained away, and a sense of relief lifted the load off my shoulders. I nodded.

  “When did you see me with a vial of blood?”

  “At the apothecary. It was before that night I followed you.”

  Raven nodded. “I can explain that. Why don’t we sit?” He motioned with his hand, making a motion for me to sit on the bed. I looked at it, but it felt too intimate to sit on the bed with Raven in my room. I walked over to the small work table instead.

  Raven noticed it for the first time. “What is this?”

  I looked down at the tiny wheels, springs, and gears spread across the table. “I’m making a pocket watch for my new sister.”

  Raven frowned. “You have a new sister?”

  I laughed. “Yes.” I slipped my magnifying goggles onto my face and picked up the work I had done so far. “Look,” I laid it out on my hand. When I looked up at Raven, his eyes seemed really large as they stared at me. “Sorry,” I said, and pulled the goggles off again.

  Raven shook his head. “No, keep going. In fact, keep working on that watch. I’ll tell you why I had a vial of blood, but do you have a sheet of paper?”

  I got up from my seat and brought him a slip of paper. “What for?”

  “If I tell you, it will ruin the surprise.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, still standing as Raven took the leaf of paper from my hands.

  “You will. Sit there,” he instructed.

  I sat down at the dressing table that functioned as a workbench and picked up the half-made pocket watch again.

  “As you know, I help Dr. Lapin find patients so he can heal the ill and injured in Melfall,” Raven started talking. He glanced at me, then leaned the paper against the wall and started making markings with some quick strokes. His eyes darted from me to the paper, then back again.

  I stared, noticing the look of concentration on his face as he sketched something I could not see. I leaned forward, craning for a view of the picture. When he noticed me looking, he waggled a finger at me, then pointed to my workbench. I suppressed a smile, then pulled my goggles over my eyes again and stared at the parts scattered over my bench, trying not to be distracted by the vampire on my window seat.

  “Dr. Lapin is kind enough to charge people only what they can afford to pay,” Raven said, still drawing. “Unfortunately, most of the people he treats cannot afford to pay anything for his services. Dr. Lapin doesn’t lead a lavish lifestyle, but he would find himself as destitute as those people dwelling in the tunnels if he didn’t find a way to earn an income.”

  I frowned. “He mentioned that his wealthier clients were not willing to be treated by him when he treated the poor alongside them.”

  Raven nodded, glancing at me again, then turning his attention back to his sketch. “He no longer keeps the rooms where he used to treat his old clients. It became too expensive. I had been working with Dr. Lapin for some time when the blood banks stopped supplying Melfall’s vampires with blood to quench their appetites.”

  “As soon as I knew what was happening, I feared for my kind. If they couldn’t quench their thirst legally, I knew it would only be a matter of time before people would start dying. Then, no amount of money would keep us from the citizens’ vengeance. There is little enough goodwill between the vampires and humans in this city.”

  “With the number of people going missing, some people have leaped to that conclusion already,” I interrupted, thinking of Chesh.

  Raven nodded. “I feared as much.” He leaned back, holding his sketch up to the light of the candle.

  “Are you going to show me now?” I asked, looking up at him.

  Raven shook his head, tucking the piece of paper into an inside pocket of his coat. “I will show you the finished product.”

  “A hat?” I asked.

  “You shall see,” Raven replied. He sat on the window seat, leaning back against the windowsill. The pallor of his skin contrasted with the darkness of the night sky outside. “Now, I was telling you about the blood trade. When I found out about our supply problem, I worried about it for a few days, before seeking out Dr. Lapin. I proposed a trade for his clients who could not pay his bills in coin.”

  I fixed one of the small wheels into place with a set of tweezers. It was such fiddly work. When I was done, I looked up at Raven again, and his face bulged with the effect of the magnification of the goggles.

  “And that was?”

  “I knew vampires would pay for fresh blood. I also knew Dr. Lapin’s clients couldn’t pay for the treatment they were provided. I asked Dr. Lapin to set up a trade—their blood as payment for his services. The vampires then paid him for the blood. I deliver the product and provide payment to Dr. Lapin.”

  “Does that make Dr. Lapin’s patients sick?” I asked, feeling as though this situation was slightly unethical.

  “Dr. Lapin takes blood from a patient once they’ve recovered, or from a willing family member,” Raven replied.

  “Are Dr. Lapin’s patients happy for their blood to be used in this way?” I asked, still feeling uneasy.

  “Actually, yes,” Raven said, though he seemed a little surprised himself. “Apart from the needle used to draw the blood from their bodies, they do not seem to notice the small amount of blood that Dr. Lapin takes from them. In fact, they are pleased to have a way to repay Dr. Lapin for his services. You might be surprised, but most people—even the poor—would prefer to pay their way, rather than take charity from someone else.”

  “Everybody benefits,” I murmured, setting my tools down on the table again. I removed my goggles and set them down too. Then I got up and went over to sit next to Raven on the window seat. I sat close to him—so close that our knees were almost touching, but not quite.

  A sudden energy buzzed between us, a sort of magnetism calling our bodies together.

  Raven looked sideways at me. “Did you really think I had killed those missing people?”

  I shook my head. “No, but when Chesh suggested it, I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind.”

  “Mr. Cheshire Jr.? Your friend?”

  I nodded.

  “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” Raven frowned.

  I hesitated, then looked up at Raven. “Not the only reason, but… yes, I suppose so.”

  “What was the other reason?”

  I brightened, the smile coming unbidden to my face once more. “I discovered I have a new sister.”

  “The president is pregnant?” Raven asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

  “No.” I laughed as I shook my head. “As it turns out, Mother is not my mother—not really. Pearl is not my real sister, either. A woman—a princess—arrived here a few days ago. Her name is Gaia, and she’s my biological sister. We’ve spent some time getting to know each other over the last few days.”

  “And?”

>   I looked down at my hands, clasped in my lap, and smiled. “We have a lot in common.”

  Raven smiled, gently taking my hand. “You both make pocket watches?” he guessed.

  I shook my head. “No, but we’re both troubled by the fate of the people in the tunnels. We want to help them. We’ve decided to organize a march, to force the people in this city to see the people who are living in hiding in the tunnels, and to petition Mother to change the aesthetic laws.”

  “A march? Through the city?”

  I nodded, twisting my body around to face him. “I was going to come to see you about it, actually. I need your help convincing the people to march. Do you think they’ll do it?”

  The excitement of the idea bubbled inside of me again, but Raven didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm.

  The smile slipped from my face. “Don’t you like the idea?”

  Raven put his hands in his pockets. “Do you really think it’s necessary? Why can’t we just speak to the President? Surely we can petition her for changes without the need for a march?”

  “What’s wrong with a march?”

  “Your mother could change the laws without a march.”

  “People in the city don’t believe the people in the tunnels exist. A march would—”

  “These people have been forced out of the public eye. They have been ridiculed enough.” Raven was shaking his head. “Making them march…Don’t you think it will be like putting them on display as though they’re curiosities to be stared at? They’ll be jeered at, mocked, maybe even stoned. This city is their home, they should be able to enjoy it like every other citizen. That’s why the President must change the laws.”

  I sighed, closing my eyes. “Mother can’t just change the laws on a whim.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s not the queen.”

  “She’s the ruler of The Forge. If you asked her—”

  “Mother needs to see the people in the tunnels for herself,” I interrupted.

  “If we spoke to her, told her about them, then she’d know. If you don’t want to be the one to tell her, then let me. I’m not afraid to tell her the truth about what is really going on in Melfall.”

  I pulled my goggles off my face and crossed my arms across my chest. I remembered Wit said Raven had been looking for me, even before he’d left that card for me at The Tea Party.

  “Is that the reason you’re here? So that I will introduce you to my mother?” I glared.

  Raven froze, a guilty look passing over his face.

  My stomach dropped, and my cheeks blushed, red and hot. Raven held up his hands as though in surrender.

  “At first—yes, that’s why I left my card at your table. I wanted to find a way in to speak to the president, to find a way to plead for the people living underground.” Raven gave his head a little shake. “Then I got to know you, and you surprised me. That’s why I’m here—to be with you. But the people living in the tunnels still need help. The President could change their lives with a word.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to help, but I know it won’t work.”

  “But—”

  “Mother is afraid the people will revolt against her. When she first became president, The Forge was in chaos. Recently, with the people’s concerns about the Hearts and the rumors of the return of the Queen, the chaos is again bubbling just below the surface. The aesthetic laws are entrenched, and many people earn their living from the aesthetic stipend. Mother is afraid that if she changes the aesthetic laws, people will move against her. She doesn’t want to disrupt the peace in Melfall.”

  “The people hiding in those tunnels are her people too, whether she likes it or not.”

  I sighed. “I know that, but Mother doesn’t. If she sees them for herself, she will feel differently; I’m sure.”

  Raven stared at the other side of the room. By the small wrinkle above the ridge of his nose, between his eyes, I could tell he was thinking. After several moments of silence, he nodded. He stepped over me and took my hands, squeezing.

  “Perhaps you’re right. The people have been hidden for too long. Out of sight, out of mind—as the saying goes. Still, the idea of a march makes me uneasy.”

  A familiar laugh wafted through the open window from outside the front entrance below.

  Raven raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s Pearl,” I replied. With Raven sitting next to me, I was less troubled about the idea of Pearl and Chesh enjoying each other’s company as a couple. “She went out to dinner and the—”

  Raven froze, then his eyes widened, and a small smile appeared on his lips.

  “Dinner,” Raven echoed. His smile broadened as he turned to me, taking my face in his hands and pulling me forward for a quick kiss. “That’s it!”

  I blinked at him, part of me wondering what he was talking about, while the other part relished the jubilant look on his face. His eyes danced, and he smiled wider than I’d ever seen.

  “What is it?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Forget the march,” he answered. “I’ve got a better idea.”

  6

  31st August

  I put the pen back into its holder and blotted the paper. I’d finished writing my report on the blood banks that Alice had requested. Still, it felt unfinished. Someone was taking all the donated blood, but I hadn’t found out who it was or why they were doing it.

  My nerves jingled at the promise of the night ahead. I stood abruptly, unable to sit still, and paced around my bedroom. I couldn’t stay here all day, fussing over my hair and clothes and preparing for the night ahead. The wait would drive me crazy.

  Perhaps, I had time for one last attempt at finishing my report properly.

  I crouched at the base of a nondescript wooden fence near the gate where I’d seen the carriage enter with the day’s stock of blood. There was nothing special about it at all, neither the fence nor the gate—the two were held together by old nails and a rusty latch.

  The sun beat down overhead, and I repositioned my hat to provide some shade over my face. It would be hours before the carriage came past again, but I would need to be home by then to meet Raven.

  There was only one thing for it.

  I looked left and right, then, seeing nothing, stepped up to the fence and stood on my tip-toes. The fence was too high, and I couldn’t see over it.

  I reached up, straining to get my fingertips over the edge of it. I was just a stretch away from getting a grip. I jumped, getting a hand on the top of the fence, but couldn’t hold on, coming away with a painful splinter in my forefinger.

  I sucked on my finger as I examined the gate. I tried to force it open--the latch was rusty but unfortunately, solid. It held fast.

  I heard people moving around inside and took several steps backward to conceal myself behind the fence again.

  I squeezed my hands into fists, frustrated at being so close but unable to find out what was happening on the other side. I crouched down, gathering my skirts, and crawled along the bottom of the fence to see if I could pry a board loose. I tested them, pulling at them, one by one.

  Finally, about halfway along, I found a rotten board and pulled with all of my strength.

  With a creaking and cracking sound, the plank broke away.

  I froze, certain that someone must have heard me. Pressing my back against the fence, I didn’t dare even to breathe. I waited for the cry of discovery.

  It didn’t come.

  Finally, I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. I sucked in several lungfuls of air, then crouched down again and peeped through the gap I’d made in the fence.

  A stack of crates towered on the other side of the fence, and I couldn’t see past it.

  I paused a moment, then unpinned my hat and shrugged off my jacket, leaving both in a pile outside the fence. Without dwelling on the grass and mud stains I would surely get on my shirt and skirts, I lay flat on my stomach and wiggled through the gap.

  The
jagged wood scraped down my back, but my shirt took most of the damage. On the other side, there was barely any room, but I managed to crawl into a squat to peek into one of the crates.

  I frowned. The crates looked exactly the same on the outside as those that had stored the blood in the blood banks. On this inside, though, there was no blood.

  A jumble of cogs, gears and other metal parts, all crowded together like scraps.

  I looked around. There were crates stacked all over the small area that stretched between the fence, the driveway, and a wooden building. It didn’t have enough windows for a residence, but from the look of the smoke billowing from the chimney, it could be a blacksmith’s forge.

  I scooted around the crates, edging closer. A door opened, and somebody went inside. Through the open door, I glimpsed the white-orange glow of heated metal.

  I crept closer, cautiously, keeping my eyes on the inside of the shed, moving from one stack of crates to the next.

  The squeal of ungreased metal rang out, and I dropped to the ground, panting. It was the sound of the gate opening.

  A steam carriage came through the gates and stopped on the driveway, near the open door. The carriage door swung open, and a figure stepped out, closely followed by another, identical to the first.

  I didn’t need to go any closer to recognize them. The Tweedles.

  Then someone else was bundled out of the carriage. A man stumbled, blindfolded, before being pushed roughly into the shed.

  I inched forward to get a better look, but a shout brought the Tweedles directly back out again.

  Someone came running up the driveways, holding something.

  My hat and jacket.

  Instantly, the Tweedles started issuing orders, and several people appeared from inside the building, spreading out to search around the stacked crates.

  I gasped, then started crawling away, keeping low to the ground. I retraced my steps to flee back to the hole in the fence and dove underneath.

  The sharp edges of the wood scratched my back as I pulled myself back into the lane, then pushed to my feet and started running.