The Witch Watch

by Shamus Young

  “Weapons!” she cried when she saw that the sitting room had been stripped almost bare. “Why would they take the weapons? And why are the furnishings so tossed about? Look! Someone slashed the sofa! What religious text demands this sort of needless vandalism?” Her hands were clenched into fists and her face was red with fury.

  Gilbert looked around the room, “The furniture has been overturned in a search for valuables. If you look at the front door, you’ll see it was forced open and no longer shuts properly. I suspect the church forced their way in. The door was left hanging open, an invitation to robbers and vandals.”

  “Oh! You are right,” Alice growled. “Who knows what foul sorts have been here, or what they’ve taken. I suspect most of our valuables...” she trailed off, her eyes going suddenly wide with fear. “Oh no!” she cried as she dashed upstairs.

  Simon stood just inside the doorway, having never been properly invited in or asked to sit. He took his bowler from his head, holding it gently under one arm. He busied himself with cleaning his spectacles on his shirt. Gilbert headed for the back door, intending to see if it was still secure. They both stopped when they heard a shriek from upstairs. Worried the Alice was in danger, they stormed up after her.

  They burst into the library. The room was barren. Not a single book was left on a shelf. No shred of paper remained that had any writing on it. The ink and the pens were taken. Not a fragment of chalk remained. The bookshelves had been pulled away from the walls. While the church hadn’t found any secret doors, they hadn’t bothered to put the shelves back where they found them. But none of this concerned Alice.

  They found her sitting at her workbench, weeping. It was bare.

  “My tools,” she said after a minute of silent tears. “All of my tools. My watch-works. My electrical supplies. My copper parts. Everything.”

  Simon and Gilbert looked at one another. Gilbert shrugged.

  Alice turned to them and sniffed, “My father gave me these things. Some of them were rare and expensive, some of them were less so, but all of them were gifts from him. It was all I had left.”

  They were silent. Alice looked behind the scattered shelves and under the tables, hoping to see some glint of metal, some small item that might have been overlooked or dropped. She shoved the tables and shelves as she searched. Gilbert followed along behind her, checking where she had already looked. He suspected she was likely to have trouble seeing clearly through her angry tears. Finally she returned to her stool and sat down in a huff, defeated.

  “Alice?” Simon asked meekly after a few minutes had passed. He looked very nervous. His hand was inside of his jacket.

  Her shoulders fell, “I’m sorry to make such a scene. I would like to have given you a better welcome.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just that...” he drew out an object from his coat and placed it in front of her on the workbench. It was a fine pocketwatch. On the back was engraved the name ‘Donnovan White’.

  Alice took it up in trembling hands and examined it closely. “How?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  Simon cleared his throat. “I’ve had it for some time. Years. I realized it belonged to you during our trip to America, but I was too embarrassed to say anything. It was a gift.”

  Alice looked up from the watch and eyed him suspiciously.

  He continued, “It was a gift from my old master. About three years ago, he gave it to me when I ‘graduated’ from the academy.”

  Alice went red again. Her eyes flashed. She let out a scream of anger and frustration. Then she stormed out of the room, leaving the watch behind.

  Simon sat down on the floor beside the cold fireplace, dumbfounded. “I’d hoped that she would be glad to have an item of her father’s.”

  Gilbert shook his head. “You didn’t just give her an item of her father’s. You gave her proof that her father is dead.”

  Alice turned down the narrow street; carefully following the directions she’d been given. She counted five doors, turned left into a narrow alley, and found the black iron staircase. She was now behind a tight line of weary houses.

  The sun was setting. The smell of a dozen meals floated from the nearby homes. People lived close in this part of the city, and they kept careful track of who belonged. She could feel the eyes on her back as she fumbled through the twisting streets.

  Earlier she had visited King Charles Street, hoping to meet with Lord Moxley. As she entered, she saw the place was filled with young and unfamiliar faces. She headed for Moxley’s office, but was headed off before she could reach it. The man pretended to know her and flirted with her. He took her hand as if to lead her away from the office. Alice, already greatly distressed, had nearly lashed out at the unwelcome gesture, but she felt a slip of paper pressed into her palm. The man shooed her away playfully, giving no sign that he’d given her anything at all. Alice thought this subterfuge was absurd. Couldn’t he have simply handed her a message? Certainly most people who worked here would have a passing familiarity with her face. Then again, these new men did not, and this show was most likely for their benefit. She departed, and examined the note. It contained only directions, which were signed simply ‘M’. The journey had taken her to this poor and unfamiliar area of the city.

  Alice found the door marked with yellow flowers, as the directions had promised. The buds were quite sad and withered by now, and were more brown than yellow, but this was the address. She knocked, and a man of thirty answered the door. He was a pale and slender dandy, with red lips and thin eyebrows. His head was topped with long dark locks. He regarded her with bemusement. For a moment Alice thought he was going to slam the door in her face without a word, but instead he waved her in.

  The apartment was small, even smaller than she might have guessed from the outside. It was little more than a bed, a table, and a stove. A man sat at the table, illuminated by the square of fading red sunlight that reached between the London rooftops and entered the small window. His face was drawn, and bags were under his eyes. His head was covered in short grey hair. Alice scarcely recognized her old friend.

  “You are sure you’ll be all right with her?” the younger man at the door asked suspiciously.

  “Even safer than I am with you,” Lord Moxley replied. “Do not underestimate the woman. She is cunning, but trustworthy.”

  The pale man rolled his eyes, and departed.

  “I hope you will forgive dear Byron,” said Moxley. “He’s been out of sorts lately. Also, he’s never been particularly friendly towards the fairer sex. But he’s a valuable ally in these troubled times.”

  “Your hair is white,” Alice blurted out. “Of course it’s white. I don’t know why I thought...”

  Moxley blinked in rare surprise. “I am flattered that you mistook my wig for my own hair. You are gullible, but very kind.”

  “I don’t know that I mistook it, I just... I never thought about it until I saw you without it.” She was shocked at how old he suddenly looked.

  There were only two chairs at the small table. Moxley waved her into the one he was not using. She entered the house only reluctantly. It seemed a strange and unwelcome place.

  Moxley ran one of his soft hands over his head. “Well, my ceaseless vanity has worked to my advantage. I am able to wear my proper appearance as a disguise. I thought to grow a beard, but Byron wouldn’t hear of it.” Moxley stood and walked over towards the stove to add fuel, “Curse that I’ve been forced into hiding in winter. Still, one cannot reschedule disaster.”

  “Disaster?” Alice asked. “I originally sought you for advice, but now I see you are in some sort of trouble yourself. What has happened?”

  Moxley did not answer right away. Instead, he stood over the stove and warmed himself for a while before returning to his seat at the table. He refilled his wineglass and held up the bottle to offer some to Alice.

  “Thank you, no,” she replied.

  Moxley shrugged and returned to his seat. He began with a deep breath, “Ab
out five days after you left for America, I became aware that there was a great number of new faces at King Charles Street. Faces come and go as ministries hire and fire their lower staff, but I had never before seen so many at once. Worse, they seemed to spread themselves throughout the place, poking their noses in where they weren’t wanted and listening in on business that did not belong to them. They were young men. Fit men. This alone was alarming enough. Only the highest offices have the financial means to hire in such numbers, but more troubling still was their attitude. They did not respond to threats or demands from the old names. These men had no respect for the order of things, and were beholden to someone higher. Or at least, someone who they thought would eventually be higher.

  “And the young men were not wrong. There was power at work. Some ministries were closed. Some were suspended. Our ministry was merely the first of many to find itself without support or funding. Others have followed. A few men complained, and were relieved of their positions entirely, without explanation.”

  “Were you put out? Was Ethereal Affairs closed forever?” Alice asked in alarm.

  “No. I’m shrewd enough to lie still and listen when my betters are at odds. I watched and waited, and drew no attention to myself. I heard rumors. Some of the men who were dismissed complained loudly, and I was able to gain intelligence from their downfall. All paths led to Sir Edward James Brooks.”

  “The Member of Parliament?”

  “The Member of Parliament you threw into prison, yes. One of the ‘Four Horsemen’, I believe you called them? Dangerously charming fellow. I saw that much of the money and influence being exerted was flowing from him.”

  “And this drove you into hiding?” Alice asked doubtfully.

  “Well, if Brooks were a more conventional man I would have done the smart thing and begun polishing his boots, as it were. I would have ingratiated myself to him, or to his supporters.

  “That’s very unseemly!” Alice said.

  Moxley shrugged. “Not particularly. Not in this line of work, at any rate. I’ve done so before. The power structure has changed many times over the years. The key to survival is to fit oneself into the new order before things settle. It happens every ten or fifteen years, by my reckoning. And I’m sure the cycle itself is older than Buckingham Palace. No, what drove me into hiding was the connection between Brooks and the late Viscount of Ravenstead.”

  “You think this is some scheme of Mordaunt’s?”

  “I don’t know that His Lordship is instigating it from beyond the grave. I will leave that sort of conjecture to your expertise. But we know Brooks is a powerful man with powerful friends, and the large and sudden following tells us this is a stroke long planned.”

  “I suppose you see the danger more clearly than I do, or you wouldn’t have come to this dreary place to hide.”

  Moxley gasped and placed his hand on his chest in feigned offense. “You wound me, madam!”

  Alice folded her arms and looked at him seriously.

  Resigned, he abandoned the pretense. “It is a baleful hovel, isn’t it? But don’t say so if Byron returns. This is his place. Not his proper residence, mind you. He keeps this room in London for when he needs a bit of privacy. I am only staying here out of necessity. I could have remained at home, or gone to visit one of my many colleagues, but I wanted to disappear for a time. I wanted to watch from a distance, where I would not myself be watched. I would be looked for in the other places, but my dealings with Byron are secret, even to my peers. Unless I have been very reckless, I will not be found here. Of course, this is all a dreadful bore to Byron, who has no patience for this sort of thing.”

  “But how can you spy on the dealings at King Charles Street from this place? And why hide? Do you think you are in danger?” Alice asked impatiently.

  Moxley drained his glass. Again he proffered the bottle. When she refused again, he shrugged and poured himself the last of the wine. “I did not say my spying was limited to King Charles Street. As for being in danger? I’m not sure.” He sat back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “A man like myself is usually seen as reliably unreliable. That is, I can be trusted to follow whoever has the most power. We’re generally overlooked in power struggles. Each side will see me not as a threat, but as a prize to be won. The players will generally focus their attention on the loyalists. But! I’m the head of Ethereal Affairs. If this new power is aligned with witchcraft, they will have no use for my friendship. As for how I observe from here, I do not intend to reveal all of my secrets to you. Not out of lack of trust, of course. But there is nothing to be gained by telling that long tale. Suffice to say, I have others acting as my eyes and ears.”

  “Like the gentleman who passed along this note?” Alice said, holding up the paper she’d been given.

  “Exactly so,” he nodded, “Although you should not have carried the note with you.” Quickly, he snatched the paper away and tossed it into the stove. “So, now you know what has occupied me in your absence. Now it is your turn. How fared your journey?”

  So Alice told him of their voyage on Callisto, their dealings with the headmaster, the sinking of the ship, the events at the Hiltman home, and recounted a bit of their journey home.

  “I had heard about lost Callisto. It wasn’t until you arrived at Grayhouse earlier today that I knew you’d survived.”

  “You saw us this afternoon?” she asked incredulously.

  The question clearly pained him, “Of course not. Not personally. But I have my spies and my rumor hunters. They are only as loyal as the coin I give them, but I trust them to tell enough of the truth that I may re-create the whole. Grayhouse is watched.”

  “So you know the house has been emptied?”

  “I knew it was invaded by the church. I did not know that it was emptied. Once I saw that the protection of Prince Albert had vanished, I knew that a visit from the church was unavoidable. I had hoped that you were perhaps more cunning than you seem, and had hidden the most scandalous and valuable items out of sight.”

  “No. Although, if we had used a secret compartment it would not have helped. Their search was very thorough.”

  “Nonsense! If we get through this with our positions intact, I will instruct you in the art of keeping your treasures secret. It’s a delightful endeavor.”

  “It sounds tedious to me, but I will be glad to hear your instruction if we make it through.” Alice stood and walked over to the window. The sun was lost below the rooftops and the room had fallen into darkness. The stove was now the brightest spot in the room. Moxley still didn’t seem inclined to light a candle. Alice wondered if he owned any. She looked out over the city, watching the black soot waft into the sky as London struggled to keep warm.

  “I suppose your next question will be regarding Archer,” Moxley said casually.

  “Oh! Archer! I am awful. I had forgotten about him.” Alice was glad for the darkness to hide her blushing.

  Moxley seemed to take no notice of this. “He reported to me two days after you departed. I gathered you left him to recover the bodies of his fellow soldiers and return to London with them. He had a strange story to tell when I saw him. Apparently, a few hours after your assault on Ravenstead, more soldiers arrived. He ran off before he was discovered, and watched until dawn as the men cleared away the bodies and cleaned away the blood.”

  “Lord Mordaunt seems to employ an alarming number of men.”

  “He may,” nodded Moxley, “But these were not his men. These were proper British Soldiers.”

  “But how?” demanded Alice.

  “As I said, Brooks has more supporters than any of us had guessed. They cleared away the bodies, and did not return them to us. The bodies vanished. They made off with the carts, the horses, everything. Archer was obliged to return to me on foot. Poor lad was half-starved by the time he found me. It wounded me to tell him that after all his hardship, he was simply being folded back into regular service. I gave him a few coins and my thanks. I hope he didn’t take
offense, but I had nothing else to offer.”

  She left the window and stormed back across the room. “This is worse than I would have thought possible! Our own soldiers, working for a cult. My father never allowed a crisis to get this bad.”

  “He never had to face one this broad,” Moxley countered. “Now please don’t stomp your feet so. Byron rents this room from the neighbors downstairs. They are old, temperamental, and very particular about noise.”

  Alice sat down at the table, and wished she’d taken the wine when it was offered. Exasperated, she said, “Now I know what has happened while we were absent, but I’m no closer to knowing what to do next. Our enemies are suddenly and inexplicably legion, Grayhouse is plundered, our forces are slain, and our ministry is without support.”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Moxley. “But we need to move soon. Our foes grow in power. In service of Mordaunt or not, Brooks controls a great deal more of the government than I had guessed. Possibly more than the Queen understands. I might go to Prince Albert, but my instincts are telling me that is an unwise move. Albert is a card we can only play once, and I fear that my rumors and guesses - as all of this will sound to his ears - will not be enough to rouse him into action. He has other business on his mind.”

  Alice slumped in her chair, defeated. “You have no advice at all? Is there nowhere we might look for allies? Is there perhaps someone we might watch, or question?”

  “Well, there is one thing,” Moxley said, digging through his pockets and producing an envelope. “This invitation was delivered to my office, and another one to my normal residence. I don’t know who it’s from, but I’m told it was delivered by one of the new faces on King Charles Street. The invitation asks me to visit an address near London. Tomorrow night. Likely as not our foes are hoping I’ll appear and save them the trouble of hunting me down.”

  “Do you plan to go?” Alice asked in surprise.