White Lady

by Nix Whittaker

  She threw her crutch over the brick fence and then using a springing hop she pulled herself up over the lip of the fence. She landed in a crouch on the other side. Her face almost planting into a small bush. Righting herself she frowned at the bush.

  It had spear-shaped leaves. There weren’t any flowers on the plant as it was too late in the season but the leaves themselves held a familiar smell. A hint of apricot but faded. She picked some of the leaves. Waxy against her touch she shoved some into a pocket to study when she had decent light.

  But she already had an idea of what kind of plant it was. Her heart skipped in fear. She knew this poison. It was the same one that Cayman had placed in the meal that had killed the people who had rescued her from the floodwaters. Was this Cayman?

  She felt around and found her crutch. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find at the home but she went over to the windows. It must be a good neighbourhood as there were clean windows lined along the back wall of the house. The back door had a simple latch. They didn’t expect people to scale the wall. Definitely a good neighbourhood.

  The house was dead silent and she doubted anyone was there at all. She wandered the rooms but there was nothing that spoke of the witch doctor. No signs he had taken anything from the people. The smell of sickness was in the house. Not the witch doctor’s usual tactics. His poisons worked with no signs. Whoever had cleaned up had tried to cover the smell of vomit but they hadn’t been successful.

  She stopped, the light of the moon slanted through a window. There was a large tapestry on the wall. It was of a dragon and surrounded by arcane symbols. Was this why people thought it was magic? Her hand went to the pocket with the leaves. Could it be something as simple as an accidental poisoning?

  There had been no sign Cayman had a hand in this.

  ___

  Rayne stepped into Fields’ office. Sitting behind his desk he frowned at a piece of paper that must have killed his dog for the glare it received. She cleared her throat when he didn’t acknowledge her entrance.

  He glanced up and asked, “What do you want Ancaster? I’m busy.”

  “You know you can hire someone to do the paperwork for you.”

  “Are you here to annoy me or do you have a reason to be wasting my time?”

  She hesitated but ploughed forward with her plan. “I want to ask what you think of my work.”

  He frowned at her though the expression was more confusion than the hatred he had been showing the paper. It wasn’t the kind of question she usually asked. She was used to keeping her head down but if she wanted to have respect and the life she deserved she would have to stand up for herself. And not to her godfather.

  “Your work is fine.” That was high praise from Fields.

  “So you don’t think I’m incompetent.”

  “No, you get the job done. Seriously Ancaster get to the point, you know I hate it when you talk around the subject.”

  “I want you to sort out your men.”

  His hands tightened into fists as his voice rose. “My men! How dare you?”

  “I am a good officer and yet you allow the men here to ruin my good name.”

  “I don’t allow anything.” His voice lowered to a growl.

  “So you are saying you don’t have control over the men under your command.”

  “Of course I do.” He rose to his feet. His fists clenched on the surface of his desk.

  “Then you can make them stop.” She raised a single eyebrow. Her chin raised as he was a lot taller than her.

  Fields crowded her, his papers forgotten on the table. His face twisted with his emotions and she could see he wanted to say something as his lips twisted with his unsaid words.

  Before he could yell she pulled some leaves out of her pocket and said, “I solved the murder from yesterday. No magic. Just a jealous wife and poison.”

  Fields sputtered. When he did nothing she placed the leaves on the table. “You might want to start a reference manual on poisons. I only discovered this one because of a tip. I don’t have an affinity for plants.”

  She patted the leaves and flashed Fields a smile before she left.

  Chapter Eleven

  Everett frowned as he approached his shop after a short lunch break. There was a wheelbarrow on his doorstep. A white sheet with the name of St Andrews inked into a line down the side covered the contents of the barrow.

  His steps faltered as he worried that he knew what was inside. The last time something had been left on his doorstep it had contained a hand. This was significantly bigger than a basket and the sheet implied that the wheelbarrow was filled to the top. The smell had him stopping a few feet away. He steeled himself to check even though the odour had already confirmed what was inside.

  He had worked on a battlefield for six weeks. He had thought then that was the most horrifying thing he would ever behold but he thought this would be close. At least then they had quickly disposed of the ruined body parts. He steeled himself and breathed through his clenched teeth.

  Using the tip of his walking stick he flicked up the edge of the sheet. Even that small glimpse had his gorge rising. Feet and hands of multiple people were haphazardly piled up with no respect to their previous state. He recoiled.

  This was worse than the hand. There was no way this had been done by accident. Someone was leaving him a message.

  The sound of running feet had him spinning on the spot. Two peelers were headed toward him, full tilt with batons raised. He dropped his stick and held his hands out. The two men barrelled into him and took him to the ground.

  ___

  Everett struggled to rub at the itch on his cheekbone as they had tied his hands behind him. It was probably for the better as he was pretty sure they had left a bruise when they had tackled him to the ground. Any moving would have been painful.

  He wiggled his nose to see if that could somehow deal with the itch only inches on his cheek. He winced as he shifted a little too much to the side as he tried to scratch the itch with his shoulder. Nothing was broken. He had broken a rib when he had gotten into a fight with some of the boys at school. This didn’t feel anything like that. More it was a twinge as a muscle complained about him moving. There weren’t any other injuries as he hadn’t fought their arrest.

  He wished though he could get a message to Rayne or Victor. If he didn’t get to a hot tub soon that twinge would turn vicious.

  The peeler who had arrested him took a seat opposite him. “Where did you get the body parts?” The sneer that came with the question implied the peeler thought he had cut them all up himself and loaded them onto the wheelbarrow to sit outside his own store.

  Everett frowned in confusion that someone could be that idiotic.

  “They aren’t mine. Surely you don’t think I’m responsible? I just arrived. I was out for lunch.” Everett couldn’t imagine how someone had managed to wheel that through streets with people walking around without someone seeing them.

  “But you own that store. Maybe you were trying to create new clients by cutting off parts of people.”

  Everett frowned at their ridiculous logic. “I am the son of a duke if you are implying I am somehow in need of wealth I can assure you that I don’t need a cash flow to improve my bank account. My mechanical limbs are luxury items. I couldn’t fit limbs for all the people who need them even if I wanted to.”

  The peeler narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. Everett shifted in his seat, trying to figure out a way to argue his way out of this. He could call on his father but he doubted the peeler would allow him to send a message any time soon.

  The door opened and they both turned. Rayne shoved her way in. In that moment she was the most glorious thing he had ever seen. “Why are you interrogating my brother?” An avenging Valkyrie dressed in a dark navy blue wool coat and brass buttons, alike but so different from her colleagues; their own blue coats weren’t cut as sharp to their frames. More like the uniform they were supposed to resemble than the tailored clot
hes his sister wore.

  The peeler staggered to his feet at Rayne’s entrance. Everett couldn’t help the smile on his lips. He had always wondered what the other peelers thought of his sister. Clearly fear and awe were at the top. Though Victor had implied that the reaction of the men to his sister was beyond complicated.

  “He had a wheelbarrow of body parts, there could be bodies.” The peeler pointed an accusing finger in Everett’s direction.

  Rayne waved aside the accusation. “Not unless someone died of old age in the meantime. Those body parts come from St Andrews. I mean the sheet on top should have made that clear. Untie him thank you.”

  She was a shark. The man hesitated for a moment then came over to untie his hands.

  Everett rubbed his shoulder and didn’t rush to get to his feet. He finally scratched the itch on his cheek. Giving his sister a grin he said, “Don’t feel so bad. She scares the bejeebus out of me as well.”

  Rayne asked, “I take it you received another gift? If Larkin hadn’t heard in the rumour mill you were being interrogated you could have been in there for hours. Why didn’t you use dad’s name?” He shot her a look.

  She winced. “Alright that was a stupid question.” They had discussed years ago that they wanted to be considered for their own merits rather than being born into nobility. They couldn’t escape that completely but there were some things they decided were just too far. Calling on their dad when they were in trouble was the top of the list.

  Though that didn’t always mean their father’s title didn’t make things easier. If he hadn’t been a duke’s son they have never would’ve allowed him to apprentice with one of the best clockwork tinkers in the world. Or when he had gotten into trouble while at school, the dean had been all too aware that he was the son of a duke and allowed him more leeway than say a son of a knight. Even though both paid the same amount of tuition.

  Everett had seen the unfairness in his preferential treatment but there was little he could do to change the blood in his veins without insulting his parents. They at least supported their children when they came up with cockamamie career choices like clockwork maker and peeler.

  Once they left the interrogation room he started for the lower rooms. Rayne asked, “Where are you going? I thought you’d want to get out of here.” She motioned towards the closet set of doors leading outside of Scotland Yard.

  “I have to check on something.” He knew the sheet was from the hospital but he had also seen the Collectors folding up similar sheets when he had questioned them about their collection habits. Rayne asked, “Check on something with Larkin or check on something with your one-handed sister?”

  He glanced back at her. “Something wrong with your hand? You haven’t let me have a look at it since I got back.”

  She wagged her head. “I’ve been having some trouble with judging the pressure.” He stopped and asked for her hand by offering his own. She sighed and placed her mechanical hand in his.

  He wrapped her fingers around his fingers and said, “Squeeze gently.” He frowned as some of the fingers squeezed more than the others.

  He patted the hand. “Yeah that needs some work. We can head to my shop later.” But he was determined to check out his hunch first.

  He heard voices before they arrived at the cooled room in the basement of the Yard. Rayne caught his arm to stop him but he had already come to a standstill.

  The surly younger Collector snapped, “That is not nearly enough. You said you’d pay me ten pounds.”

  The voice that replied was familiar with a strong accent. “You said you had the albino. These are not from the albino.”

  “How can you tell? They are white, isn’t that good enough?”

  Everett’s heart thumped heavily. They couldn’t be talking about Medea. But even the thought of her cut up and put into a wheelbarrow had him shaking. Everett glanced at Rayne when she started to move. She pulled her gun out of the holster.

  His heart jumped into his throat at the thought of his sister risking her life. But she did it all the time so he stepped aside and let her pass him in the corridor. He didn’t stay there though and followed close on her heels.

  The witch doctor was in the room with the Collector. They had a collection of hands and feet on a table. A familiar basket sat to the side. It was the same kind that had been left on his doorstep.

  Rayne said, “Hands where I can see them.” The witch doctor went for his walking stick leaning against the table with the macabre display of limbs. Rayne kicked out and knocked it over before the witch doctor could get his hands around it.

  The Collector rushed Rayne but she managed to sidestep him and away from the Collectors lunge. Everett shoved the Collector to the side as he passed by Rayne. With his head still lowered for the charge he ran headfirst into the wall on the other side of the corridor. He crumpled to the ground.

  Everett assumed Rayne could deal with the witch doctor so he threw himself on the Collector. Awkwardly Everett pulled the Collector’s arms behind him and pinned him to the ground. He was still stunned from running into the wall so it wasn’t a difficult task.

  Rayne threw him some rope that slapped Everett on the side of his head. Once he had secured the man he turned to help Rayne. She still held her gun on the witch doctor who glared at her.

  Everett asked, “Do you have any more rope?” She offered him some more and he approached the witch doctor.

  Snarling, the witch doctor’s teeth gleamed in contrast to his dark skin. “This is not the end garoo. I will still get your roho.” When Everett caught the man’s arms to tie him up, he used just a little more force than was needed.

  Chapter Twelve

  St Andrews was much quieter at night. He wasn’t even sure if Margaret would still be there but at least he could leave a message. He knew she would like to know the outcome of the case of the hand left on his doorstep.

  No one was around to tell him otherwise so he wandered around. A helpful nurse pointed him in the right direction when he asked where Margaret was. Apparently he’d been right to assume she would work late.

  The corridors were eerie with their silence. Light leaked from some of the rooms and nurses moved around silently in rings of candlelight. The further he went into the hospital the quieter it grew.

  The screaming cracked the dark silence. Picking up his pace he pushed to the open door at the end of the corridor. He came to a halt at the scene. Margaret, in a leather apron, was pressed against the wall. A hand over her mouth. Doctor Carthart wrestled with a person on a table. A table with leather straps.

  The doctor yelled, “Get the chloroform. Now, you daft woman.”

  Everett glanced around and grabbed a tray holding surgical tools and swung it. The tray connected with the doctor’s head who stumbled away from the patient.

  The man on the table surged up and rolled off away from the doctor. Ignoring the patient the doctor picked up a scalpel and sliced at Everett, catching him on the arm. The line of fire from the blade had him recoiling.

  The doctor took advantage of Everett’s distraction and grabbed Margaret. He placed the scalpel against her throat and said, “Back away or I’ll slit her throat.”

  Margaret shook so hard that the scalpel cut into her skin and blood soon soaked her collar. The patient knocked over a tray as he dragged himself to his feet with the aid of the table. The doctor glanced in the patient’s direction and Everett took his chance and rushed the doctor.

  The doctor flinched and shoved his wife into Everett’s path. Everett caught Margaret. Staggering back he tightened his arms around her. Blood cascaded over his arm in an alarming splash. The Doctor must have knicked her when he pushed her away. Twisting her around, he pressed his hand against her neck. She was shaking and wrapped her arms around him.

  The patient now standing mumbled, “He is getting away.” But Everett couldn’t take his hand away from Margaret’s throat otherwise she would bleed to death before he could chase the doctor halfway across th
e hospital.

  Everett called out, “Get help. She is bleeding out.”

  The patient frowned and said, “She was in it.” From what he had seen when he had first entered the room he wasn’t sure Margaret had been a willing participant in the doctor’s crazed practices. She certainly didn’t deserve to have her life end because of it. The patient stumbled out of the room. Hopefully to find some help.

  When nurses and other doctors rushed into the room, he knew the patient at least had made the more righteous choice even if it didn’t appeal to his need for justice. The doctors and nurses took over from holding down on the wound and he stumbled back. He didn’t wait to see if Margaret would be alright and went through the door where the doctor has escaped.

  The corridors were a maze but eventually led to a door that opened to an alley behind the hospital. Everett stared at the streets lit by lamplight and knew there was no way to catch up to him now. Exhausted more from his emotions than the running through the corridors he returned to Margaret.

  The doctors had taken her to a room to recover. She slept with a bandage around her throat. Everett took a seat next to her bed. When no one mentioned that he should move on he closed his eyes and dozed off by her side.

  ___

  Everett woke up as he slid off the chair. His knees hit the cold floor with a hard thunk. He snorted and rubbed his face. His back and arm were numb from his awkward position in the chair. Margaret groaned and opened her eyes. They didn’t focus on him but then he was still on his knees and he doubted she was even aware he was there.

  He groaned as he used the chair to get to his feet. He went to the wall and turned the gas light up. Margaret blinked and turned her head towards him. She moved her lips to say something but no sound came out.