The Witch Watch

by Shamus Young

  Moxley laughed in response.

  “What does the invitation say?”

  “It’s a dinner party, hosted by Brooks himself, if the invitation is to be believed. According to the papers, many people from King Charles Street have been invited. None of those invited are people I count among Brook’s loyalists.”

  “So this is an invitation to a dinner-party for all of Brooks’ foes, hosted by Brooks himself?” Alice asked.

  “I wouldn’t say foes. Independents. Holdouts. Rivals.”

  Alice nodded. “Well, perhaps I might go in your stead.”

  “Don’t do that!” he scolded. “I was only offering it as a lead, something to investigate. If you walk in the front door, they will be able to stab your back as easily as mine.”

  “Not as easily, I think, unless you’ve developed a talent for fireballs while I was gone.”

  “Don’t go alone, at least. I wish Archer was still available to us.”

  Alice laughed. “I do not think he would be able to offer me much in the way of assistance.”

  “What do you mean? Was he unsatisfactory as a soldier?”

  “Sometimes,” Alice said reluctantly. She had often been exasperated by his shortcomings, but he was a decent fellow and she didn’t enjoy giving an ill report of him. “Perhaps not as attentive as he should have been. He was given to complaining. The captain always said he ‘lacked backbone’. He did seem to linger behind the other men when it was time for manual labor.”

  Moxley looked at the ceiling and gave an exasperated sigh. “Well, if Captain Turpin had wanted brawn he should have said so, and I would have sent him a mule. But on many occasions he expressed his frustrations with getting his men to hit their targets. As he explained, you often needed the men to be able to shoot with precision. Previously, I had selected men based on bravery, as I assumed it would take a good deal of courage to face all of the unnatural things you find. When Turpin expressed a need for marksmanship, I spared no effort in obtaining him the best possible man.”

  “Private Archer is the best marksman in the British army?” Alice asked skeptically.

  “I did not say that. But he was the best I was able to find. The army is always testing new rifle designs, and he was apparently an important part of that process. Apparently, he was one of a small handful of men who had both the skill and knowledge to really compare the various rifles being produced and… I don’t know, to be honest. Whatever it was they needed to know about new rifles, he was able to tell them after just a few shots. He was the son of a gunsmith of some renown, as I understand. In any event, the army was slow to release him to me, and I had to bully them a bit to secure Private Archer for you.”

  “But, if he was such a remarkable marksman, why didn’t you say so when you sent him to us?”

  Moxley shrugged, “I assumed the captain would know what to do with him. I must admit to feeling rather unappreciated when he never expressed any gratitude for Archer.”

  “No. The captain had no idea. Archer had said something about being good with a rifle, but the captain assumed he was boasting as soldiers do. Or simply trying to avoid strenuous work. I suppose, looking back, it’s clear that ‘boasting’ was never one of his faults. Oh, foolishness. I can’t believe we made such a blunder. My father would never have made that mistake.”

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Moxley admitted quietly.

  There was a long silence. Finally Alice took up the invitation, which Moxley had left on the table between them. She couldn’t read it in the dim light, so she tucked it away for later. “You said that Prince Albert has other business on his mind. What could be more important than this plot?”

  Moxley sighed. “Leopold, his son, has been missing for a fortnight.”

  X

  When Alice returned to Grayhouse, she found Simon and Gilbert sweeping away the debris and putting the house in order. They had found an enormous ash pile in the garden where the church had burned their books. It had since rained, and much of the ground was now black mud. They did not speak of anything, aside from the affairs of the house.

  Alice gave Simon the sitting room for the night, and retired to bed. Simon found some old coats that he could use as blankets, and slept on the couch. Gilbert spent the night prowling about in the shadows, and was disappointed when the looters failed to return.

  The next day was cold, overcast, and quiet. London itself seemed to be subdued. The people were apprehensive and ill at ease. The faces on the streets were grim and reluctant to meet the gaze of strangers. Alice spent the day running errands. First she had to buy food. What little was left at Grayhouse had spoiled during their trip. After that she visited the glaziers and arranged to have the windows replaced. Finally she traveled the streets near Grayhouse, learning what she could about the visit from the church. People were slow to talk, but she eventually learned what she already suspected: An aging Hierarch, leading six young men in red sashes, had invaded the house in late October. They had kicked in the door, and sometime later the smoke of a bonfire rose over the place. The only curious detail was that the fire had been set in the garden, and not in the street as was their custom.

  Gilbert and Simon spent the day working on the house. Many of the storage rooms had been ransacked by robbers. Most of the contents were either of little value, or too large to be easily carried, and so the floors were awash in unwanted possessions. The two of them set to righting these rooms and clearing out enough space that Simon could have a room of his own.

  “Do you think I should say something to her?” Simon said abruptly as he was carrying an armload of clothing out of his future room.

  “You mean about the pocketwatch?” Gilbert asked, following behind. He was carrying a chair that was too uncomfortable to sit on, too ugly to use as decoration, too large to leave in a room that anyone planned to use, and too expensive to throw away.

  “Yes.”

  “No. She is angry. Not at you, not really. But if you get in the way of her anger you may feel the brunt of it.”

  Alice returned home and began cooking the evening meal without a word. The silence that seemed to infect the city had come to Grayhouse as well. She prepared enough for three, and even set three places at the table. She realized her mistake when Gilbert took his seat and casually asked what was for dinner. She looked suddenly stunned at the question. She had lived with him for almost a month now, and had no explanation for why she had made such a blunder.

  “What is it that has you so preoccupied?” Gilbert asked once the other two had begun eating.

  Alice shook her head. They ate in silence, save for Simon’s frantic chewing and gulping. His plate was clean before Alice had made any serious progress on her own. He was grateful that she had prepared extra. After cleaning off Gilbert’s plate, he hurried off to the kitchen to get more.

  “How did you get it?” Alice asked suddenly as Simon returned to the table.

  Simon looked down at his plate in confusion.

  “The watch!” she said impatiently. “How did you come to own the watch?”

  Simon blinked, “As I said, it was a gift from Lord Mordaunt.”

  Alice fixed him with an expectant gaze.

  “I was... I was brought to a large house, just outside of London.” he continued. “The Four Horsemen took me from the academy and brought me to the house, where His Lordship was waiting for me. He said I’d done well in my studies and that I wouldn’t need to study under the headmaster any longer. That’s when he gave me the watch.”

  “Did he say anything else? Did he mention my father, or what happened to him?” her voice was tense.

  Simon shook his head. He stopped eating, and looked very frightened, as if he expected Alice to strike him at any moment.

  “What did he say about the watch? Why did he give it to you?”

  Simon shrugged, “He said it was a gift, on ‘the occasion of your graduation’. Those were his words. After that I was returned to the academy, but allowed my own room, away fr
om the other boys. I was fed more regularly. Not a lot, but at least I didn’t need to fight the other boys for every mouthful.”

  “What was the date?” she asked after a long pause.

  Simon was looking down at his plate and moving his food around with his fork. “I don’t know. I never had a calendar. We rarely kept track of dates at the academy, because all of the days were the same. Sometime in late summer, I think. I know that Lord Mordaunt died on October first, although I didn’t hear news of it until the end of the year.”

  “Father disappeared in late August of 1882. He didn’t say where he was going. I hadn’t even heard the name Mordaunt by that point.”

  “He didn’t tell anyone else in the Witch Watch where he was going?” Gilbert asked.

  “No. At the time, I wasn’t a part of the ministry. He would never discuss the particulars of his work with me. We studied the books he confiscated, but he never discussed his field work. He worked alone most of the time, and only took the soldiers with him when he needed to make an arrest. He found it was far easier to gather information when he was alone. He said that having a large group of men with him would only cause people to scatter. When he vanished, I was given his investigative duties, and it was decided that I would always have an escort.”

  “So what are we going to do next?” Simon asked with a full mouth.

  Alice looked out the window. “I called on Lord Moxley last night, and he gave me an interesting lead.”

  Their carriage rolled through the gates and left them in front of a large manor, walled by towering hedges. They had passed through a broad iron gate. It was flanked not by private guardsmen, but by proper British soldiers. They waved Alice and her companions through.

  Alice had instructed the carriage driver to stop well short of the doors, and allow them to approach the house on foot. Out of habit, Gilbert exited first, and helped Alice down. This irritated her, since it betrayed the notion that he was an old man. Simon climbed out reluctantly, holding his coat closed with his arms. It was evening, and the November wind worked diligently to punish them for daring to go outside at this late hour.

  Alice had deliberated on what to wear. If this was to be a meeting with someone from the ministry, then she would want to be dressed like a proper lady. If this was a trap set for Lord Moxley, then she would want to be wearing something more suitable and less flammable. In the end, she decided to wear a dress. Her father’s watch now hung from a chain around her neck.

  “There aren’t any streetlights here,” Simon said with disappointment. He was still captivated by the sight of electric lights and had spent the entire trip looking out of the windows, watching the lights dance by.

  “What do you say now?” Gilbert asked. “Earlier you said you didn’t know if this was a trap or a party. Now that we’re here, what do you think?”

  “This is not a trap,” Alice said definitively. “At least, I don’t expect anyone to attempt to murder us on the spot. Look at how many servants are about, and how many carriages are here. The house is brightly lit…”

  “Those are electric lights!” Simon said with excitement.

  “Yes,” Alice replied patiently. “But more important is the fact that the house is prepared for a party, and other guests have arrived. I doubt Brooks is the sort of man to butcher his foes over dinner. Whatever is in store for us tonight, I doubt our lives will be threatened.”

  The house would no doubt have some space near the kitchen where carriage-drivers could go to keep warm while their charges were entertained. Alice gave their driver firm instructions to not do this. He was to stay with his coach, in the street, in the cold. He did not take kindly to this suggestion, but she placated him with enough coin that he vowed to wait until dawn, if need be.

  “It looks very spooky and ominous,” Simon said as they approached the house.

  “It looks ominous because you’re not used to seeing a house glow like this. This house is probably very similar to its neighbors, aside from the lights,” Gilbert said.

  “No, I think Simon is right,” Alice said. “This place has an unwholesome look about it.”

  “And smell,” Simon added. “It smells like something rotten.” He sniffed the air as the wind blew, holding his hat onto his head with one hand.

  Gilbert clapped his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Bad smells and spooky lighting can’t hurt you. If anything more dangerous comes along, I have my sword.”

  “The invitation was extended to Lord Moxley,” Alice said to Gilbert suddenly. “We are no doubt going to meet one of his political rivals. It would be unwise to introduce such a person to an abomination. I think it would be best for you to wait outside.”

  “But if these people mean us harm, we will want to stand together,” Gilbert countered. “There is no sense in bringing along a bodyguard if you plan to leave him behind when you go into danger.”

  “I could call to you if there is trouble.”

  “And if I am very lucky and you scream very loud, I may hear you above the sound of the wind. Then I can assault the house alone and run around frantically looking for you. Perhaps I will even arrive in time to avenge your death.”

  “I am hardly defenseless!” she retorted.

  “I would never suggest otherwise. Yet you may find yourself in a position where setting everything on fire is not the best strategy.”

  “I also have my pistol.”

  “An excellent option for situations where you only plan to face a single foe,” Gilbert said, nodding towards the cluster of guards gathered around the main gate.

  Alice relented and they approached the house together.

  “I’ve been here before,” Simon said suddenly.

  “What?” Alice asked in surprise.

  “The day I graduated. This is where they brought me. I wasn’t sure when we arrived. On my last visit it was daytime, and summer. This place looks very different now. But this is the same place. I was led around the left side of the house. There’s a garden there, and an entrance that leads to a room full of sorcery books.”

  They reached the front door, which was flanked by a pair of British soldiers. Alice had concocted an elaborate story to explain why she was attending in Lord Moxley’s stead. She also had reasoning to explain who her companions were and why she had brought them. Her tale was so thorough and so detailed that she was genuinely disappointed when the doormen failed to question her.

  “You’ve missed the meal,” said one of the guards. “The guests will have gathered in the ballroom by now.”

  He began to give her directions to the ballroom, but Alice dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Oh, I always come through the garden entrance when I visit,” she insisted.

  A row of dim electric lights lit the path around the house. It was a lane of red brick, winding its way through the grass and around the house. The grim silhouettes of bare trees hid just off to the side, at the edge of the light.

  They followed the path, with Gilbert walking out in front, gripping the hilt of his sword.

  “Did you meet Lord Mordaunt when you visited?” Alice asked.

  “I did. Our meeting was brief, but he shook my hand and gave me the watch.”

  Alice nodded, but said nothing. She fingered her watch nervously.

  The path ended at a large circle of brick paving, ringed with bright electric lamps. Beyond those was a circle of low hedges, and beyond that were gnarled, sickly trees. There was a set of grand double doors here.

  Gilbert pulled them open and led everyone inside. Another pair of guards greeted them with surprise. “‘Evening!” said one cheerfully, giving Gilbert and Simon a strange look. “I’m afraid you’ve missed the meal. The other guests will be in the ballroom now. Just down that hallway and turn left.”

  Alice thanked him and they moved on.

  “I remember this,” Simon whispered once they were out of earshot. “This is where I met His Lordship,” Simon pointed to a closed door.

  Alice opened the door and
peeked in. It was a very curious room. On the far wall was another door. There was also a fireplace, some chairs, and a bookshelf. The near side of the room was bare. Between these two halves were strong iron bars that ran from floor to ceiling, with a prison door affording access. The room was dark, but they could clearly see chalk dust had been worked into the floorboards on this side.

  Simon stepped a few paces into the room, “I stood here and performed sorcery, while the master and his men sat on the other side of the bars and watched.”

  “What are the bars for?” Gilbert asked.

  “To protect the observers, obviously,” Alice explained. “It’s common for sorcerers to lock themselves in rooms or other places where their work won’t be a threat to others. If a man dabbles in necromancy, he doesn’t want his creation to escape and menace his family or colleagues.”

  They had stepped into the darkened room, while Gilbert stood in the door and held one hand on his sword. “We shouldn't be in here.” he said.

  “Are you frightened?” Alice teased. “You can wait in the hall if this is taxing your nerves.”

  “Certainly. If a guard comes by I will strike up a conversation to distract him from your trespassing. Perhaps we can have a chat about what it’s like being dead.”

  “I wish I could reach that bookshelf,” Alice said, pointing to the opposite side of the room. She held herself against the bars and squinted into the dark. “Someday I will build an electric lantern that can be carried around. I can’t see the spines, and I want to know what they are.”

  Simon gripped the door and tugged lightly, “Locked. I don't imagine they would keep the key close at hand.”

  “It would render the gate pointless,” Alice admitted, nudging Simon out of the way. She produced a pair of small tools from the folds of her dress, and went to work on the lock. After a few seconds of clicking and scraping, the lock gave way and she slid the door open.

  “Careful!” Simon whispered as she stepped through to the other side of the room. He looked around nervously.

  Alice put her hand on her chin and examined the books. Occasionally she would pull one out and leaf through it.