by London Shah
I glance at Ari; his gaze is steady as it meets mine. I take a deep breath. “We killed them.”
I wanted it to die. I was glad when it did. I swallow the memory away.
“Too bloody right. Sorry you had to go through that,” Charlie says. “Don’t want you worrying while yer here, though. Yer safe as houses with us, and, er, Jas here is always on edge”—he jabs his thumb in the other guy’s direction—“so don’t worry about coming across jumpy.” He grins.
Jas glares at him.
Safe as houses. Still, better to remain alert.
“Oscar?” I beckon the Navigator. The duo stare at him when he materializes. “Keep her on standby until you hear from me.”
He nods. “My lady.”
“You,” Jas says to Ari. “Blade-boy. No knives from here on.”
Ari’s brow creases. His gaze meets mine, and I pull my best pleading face. He presses his lips flat and removes the knives from somewhere behind his back. And then another one appears from his waistband. And yet two more are unveiled from just behind his shoulders. I stare at him.
“And the one around your ankle,” Jas says.
Ari’s eyes flash so bright and hot now, I can’t believe Jas isn’t on fire.
After taking Ari’s last knife, Jas turns to me. “And you can leave the umbrella behind. Everything will be waiting right here for you when you’re done.”
“This?” I hold my brolly up. “But it’s just my brolly.” I stare at him wide-eyed. “It’s— It’s the only accessory I have.” The corners of my mouth turn down.
Jas narrows his eyes.
“It’s only a brolly.” Charlie shrugs and waves his hand, and Jas relents with a curt nod. We’re finally good to carry on.
I turn to Charlie. “Erm, you said Bia sent you. Is Bia a scientist?”
“Nope,” Charlie says. “Bia’s . . . just Bia. She’s the boss!”
“Of what?”
Charlie opens his mouth but closes it again. “Of us, I guess.” He chuckles, deflecting the question.
I exchange looks with Ari. Please, God, let them not be some kind of cult. . . .
Charlie pauses now, turning to me with a shy smile, his eyes warm and welcoming. “Want the scenic route through the shop—much shorter, too—or are you after peace and quiet?”
A shop?
“The quiet route,” Ari says, at exactly the same time that I say:
“Anything that might take my mind off the attack for a few minutes. Definitely the shop.”
Charlie looks hesitantly at Ari for a second, then nods at me. “Scenic route it is!”
We’re led down a dimly lit corridor and through several sealed doors. Just how big is this place? At last, we pause by a guarded door. Two heavily armed men move aside, and we’re granted access. We all step into an endless room. My mouth falls open. What the— I stare, taking it all in. It’s the last thing I expected.
“This here’s the Trading Post,” Charlie shouts over his shoulder as he walks through the expansive place.
My gaze darts from one sight to another.
Ari twists his neck in every direction and takes the Bliss-Pod from me. He rubs his jaw. “Erm, maybe be careful here? There are too many people around.” He points to my ribs, and I nod.
It’s like the London markets. Only so much more . . . alive.
Each colorful stall bears a huge banner stating its name in fancy lettering. Ropes of ancient-style light bulbs connect the stalls, and neon signs decorate the walls of the enormous hall. Voices ring out all around us. Owners and customers alike barter, laugh, and argue. Salespeople, dressed in bright and bold fashions, whiz by on hover boards. All manner of merchandise hangs off their bodies as they dart here and there. I wrap my arms around myself; Ari’s right, I’m definitely too sore for someone to bump into me.
“I don’t get it,” I say to Charlie. “Why’s this place hidden? People would love it.”
“The trading here doesn’t go by any laws,” he replies. His voice drops low. “And where anything goes, just about everything goes on. You wanna stay alert.”
A bald girl skips out of a nearby stall, the Royal Infirmary, thrusting something into Charlie’s hand. He stuffs the tiny bundles away with haste. “Top stuff,” whispers the girl. “Bia will love it. Only come in this morning.”
I crane my neck. My eyes widen at the Deli. Every shrub Britons are warned about is openly on display. Customers laugh and chat as they try the products—as if they’re buying sweets! There’s a woman slumped against the wall in front of us. Shrub juice dribbles from her mouth. She adjusts the virtual glasses she’s wearing and sighs as she escapes her reality. Charlie tells off a boy who’s about to rummage through her coat pockets as we move on.
“This is Bia’s?” I ask him. “The Trading Post?”
He laughs. “We wish! Nope, we just rent the place beneath it.”
Bloody hell, the place goes even lower? What on earth do Bia and her people do?
We move on past the Flea Market. Delicate ancient china and jewelry dominate the goods. Most items are either chipped or cracked, but they’re priceless. The Royal Preservation Society would implode if they found out they were on sale to the public!
Jas gestures to us all to pause as he stops at Hamley’s. It’s full of every weapon imaginable—both Old World and very modern. He takes an interest in the tiniest grenades I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many. But these look like pearly marbles.
“Half price on all treatments today, my lovely.” A voice whispers in my ear and makes my heart stall in my chest. “Come take a quick gander.”
Before I know what’s happening, someone grabs my arm and we’re moving. I freeze. I think I stop breathing. It feels as if I’m back in the engine room with the Anthropoid. In seconds we’re inside a tent called the Salon. Surgical-looking equipment dots the shelves and almost everything is a cold milky color. I finally manage to pull my arm back, glancing up at a tall, lean man twisting the ends of his lengthy mustache as he peers down at me.
My arm automatically goes up, and I aim the brolly at him.
I clench my teeth and try to slow my breathing. “You can’t just drag someone to your bloody stall.”
“Aw, come on, me duck.” The owner pulls the corners of his mouth down and his mustache lowers. “Delicate wrists like yours? They were meant for our newest epidermal tattoos. And you’ve my personal guarantee—
absolutely no pain during the implanting. You’re a reader, aren’t ya? Clever lass, I can tell. I’ve just the thing for ya. A whole library of books inside those delectable slender wrists. Tell ya what, just for you, I’ll throw in an art museum on your other—”
He moves toward me. I go blank. I don’t want him to touch me.
My grip tightens on the brolly, and I press down on the button for the immobilizing spray.
Mist spritzes through the air as the spray leaves the tip of the brolly, surrounds his face, and settles into his eyes.
The stallholder inhales, blinking it away. He hisses and swears, and his hands dart to his eyes, pressing his palms into his sockets. “Ya little witch!”
I step away from him. “Don’t you dare ever drag anyone like that again.” I rub my arm where he grabbed me, a particularly sore spot since the beast kicked me there.
He grabs at the air, his eyes now red and watery. “Where are ya?” Instruments fly as he flails and knocks into things.
My heart pounds against my rib cage and thumps away inside my ears. How long did Theo say the effects would last? I duck and brush past him before he has time to grab me; my ribs ache. As I bolt out of the tent, I almost run into Ari, his eyes wide.
“Where did you go?” he asks.
I shake my head and hurry to join the others, just as Jas is done at the weapons stall and calls us over. Charlie turns to look at the sudden commotion behind us; I risk a peek.
Several concerned people surround the stallholder now as he shouts. “It was a little witch, am telling y
a! I swear it on the Old World. She wants locking up, the bitch!”
“Someone’s been at the shrub juice, I see,” Charlie says, shaking his head at the increasingly angry man.
Ari’s gaze darts from the stallholder to me, his eyes narrowing. I raise my eyebrows a fraction and shrug as we all walk away. I can’t risk attracting attention here, but that guy was well out of order.
We leave the lively space and descend via an iron staircase.
“How much farther down does this place go?” I ask.
“Low enough. We needed something deep down. It’s the only way we can be sure of—”
Charlie cuts off when Jas shoots him a hard, disapproving look.
“Oh bugger, I’m off again!” Charlie says. “Pay me no mind—I get confused sometimes. I mean who doesn’t want secure digs, right?” he hurriedly adds. “And this place was always designed to be off the grid, what with the illegal gaff above.” He opens a door for us. “It was the perfect place to set up the Den.”
The Den? I straighten, trying to summon courage I don’t really feel right now. I turn to Ari and he meets my gaze. The same doubt lurks in his. His hand moves toward me, his expression reassuring. But then he pauses and drops it before he touches me, and a deep russet blush spreads across his cheeks. Instead, he looks at me and nods as if to say it will be all right. I swallow and nod back, cursing the warmth in my own cheeks now.
Charlie enters a series of codes into the largest door yet, and we walk through. He halts before another similarly hefty door where a laser scans us. We’re granted entry. I gulp, my grip on the brolly tightening as I take in the sight ahead. Ari tenses beside me.
I’m not sure if they can fix the Kabul’s propeller.
But I do know these people are very definitely up to something.
The Den is considerably smaller than the place above it but far more intimidating. Technology of every kind dots the room. Real screens are lost among the sheer number of holograms, and information hovers everywhere you look. We pause just inside the doorway. The surrounding walls and ceiling reflect strange instruments.
I point at the odd apparatus. “What are they?”
Charlie whistles. “Only the most advanced scrambling and blocking signals!”
“Why? What do you guys do?”
He suddenly looks as if he thinks he’s already said too much; he glances away and presses his lips into a straight line. If only Theo were here. He’d not only love the place, but I bet he’d know exactly what they’re up to in an instant. How well does Papa know these people?
There are at least twenty-odd people around the space, all of them looking busy. Several work on the projections—sifting through what looks like endless charted data: coordinates, costs, and all manner of categorized info. An elderly, agile woman exits one of the many doors around the open space, heads straight for a giant wall rack and busies herself with the biggest armory I’ve ever seen. Why would they need weapons? She seems to be inspecting each piece, checking each one against a file hovering beside her.
Charlie takes Ari and me to a small group watching a news report. It’s an interview with Captain Sebastian. A chill comes over me as I’m reminded of his involvement in all this.
Are they tracking me in some way? I must trust in Theo’s modification.
We wait as Charlie moves to the front of the group and speaks with a Black woman. She turns around, and I immediately know it’s Bia. She most definitely looks like she’s in charge, her dark-brown eyes focused in a soft face. Bia, lean and statuesque, glances at both Ari and me. Her eyes linger on my face, and then she lowers her gaze and shakes her head, her expression tightening. I chew on my lip; have they changed their minds about fixing the propeller? She moves forward and beckons us all to a quieter area.
We take up a group of chunky, comfortable sofas, one of several seating areas randomly scattered around. Jas joins us, too. Ari refuses to take a seat and stands by, leaning on a structural post. Charlie brings food and drink. I shake my head at food but ask for a cup of tea.
I shift in my seat as Bia studies me; her oval russet-brown face is tilted, eyes searching. Long dreads hang down to her waist, and a bright orange silk flower is pinned to her dress. She crosses her legs.
“So you’re Hashem’s child,” she says. “Can I see the note?”
I pass her the paper Papa had scribbled her name on.
She nods after reading it. “Very well. You need help, and I will not turn you away. But know this: I’m deeply uncomfortable with you being here. Once your vessel has been sorted—” She breaks off to turn to Jas. He leans in, has a hushed exchange with her, and leaves the room. “Then you leave immediately. Understood?”
I twist my hair and nod.
“And know that very rarely are strangers allowed inside the Den,” she continues. “You’re only here because I trust your father without question. This place is years of hard graft, girl. You never mention its location to another soul. Is this clear?”
I nod again, hoping I’ll never forget. “How do you know my papa?”
“I just do. We’ve never actually met. But I have nothing but respect for Hashem McQueen. I’ve done what I can to help Gideon locate him since he went missing. And I know your father would not have you within ten leagues of this place. He wanted to keep you safe. And Hashem never felt you would be safe if he joined us here. That’s all I can tell you. Don’t worry about your vessel—people are seeing to it as we speak. And then, like I said, I would appreciate it if you left instantly.”
Well, wow, my head’s spinning. So many questions. “Are you a scientist?”
“No. And now I have to go, I have—”
“But why would Papa think this place is dangerous for me? What do you—”
Bia holds a hand up when a frowning woman hurries toward us and whispers something about an earthquake. They both look back at one of the hovering maps.
Bia stands. “My apologies, it’s a busy day.” Her eyes take in my face, strapped fingers, and the way I’m curling my arm around my ribs. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry about the attack. You did well to come out of it alive, and by all accounts they got what they deserved. Need anything, just ask someone.” She gestures to the room.
“Thank you.”
She nods curtly and moves away, conferring with the worried woman.
I take Jojo from Ari, and he sits down to tuck into the food.
“You’re not eating?” he asks, chewing on a large rib with a hint of concern in his eyes.
“I’m not hungry.” My head’s too full of questions; I can’t focus properly.
I check on Jojo. The puppy’s wound is healing nicely. The effects of the treatment are wearing off, and she’ll awaken soon. With any luck, she won’t remember what happened.
Charlie comes over with my cup of tea. “Are you sure you don’t want some grub with that? If you don’t fancy what I brought over, I can cook up a mean omelet in no time. No trouble, I swear.”
I shake my head. “I’m all right, honest. Thanks.”
He hangs his head. “I’m dead sorry about the Anthropoids storming yer sub like that. It must have been hell.” He wrings his hands. “You want anything, let me know.” He breaks into a smile, and his eyes light up. “Can I watch Jojo for you while you have yer tea?”
I nod, cupping the warm drink. When I look up, Ari’s gaze is concentrated on me. His own eyes are cloudy, his expression conflicted. I swallow. A beastly flush creeps into my cheeks out of nowhere, dammit. Thankful for the curtain of hair, I tip my head and take the place in.
I squint at the screens. All manner of geographical imagery, coordinates, names and locations, routes, and codes flash back. Who are these people? What are they up to?
A young woman walks by and looks Ari up and down. Her eyes shine. She pauses by a screen trying to look busy, but she isn’t fooling anyone as she continues to stare at him. I prickle; how bloody rude. I turn and screw my face up at her; she snee
rs at me and goes back to eyeing him. Whatever. Why do I care?
I feign interest in a huge map of Great Britain on the wall and walk over to it. Multicolored pins dot its surface.
Ari’s immediately beside me, his voice low. “I don’t—”
“Trust them,” I finish.
He pauses, and then his mouth twitches. He cocks his eyebrow, and the amber flecks in his eyes dance and tease. His whole face softens, lighting up. He towers over me; big, strong. Beautiful. Secretive. There—right there, just behind the bright eyes. A guarded look, always, all the time. And yet still I feel safe around him.
Charlie walks over. “We have mixed news on yer propeller, Leyla. It’s going to take a while—possibly well into the night. Good news is it’ll be right as rain once the Johnson sisters have worked their magic on it.”
“ ‘Well into the night’? I mean, thank you tons, I’m so grateful, honestly. But what do I do now?”
“I suppose you’ll have to stay over,” Bia says, walking up to us, brow crinkled and lips pressed in a straight line as she makes no secret of her discomfort at the idea. She holds up a hand. “But then you leave bright and early.” She walks away, calling back over her shoulder as she points to a row of doors along the right of the space, “We’ve plenty of rooms if you don’t want to be on the vessel as they work on her. I just pray your father never hears of this.” She joins a few others by the huge map on the wall.
Ari and I move to a quieter spot.
“You’re staying here?” he asks, his face tightening as his eyes flit around the room.
“Yes. I want to know more—like what they’re up to hiding down here. Maybe then I might figure out how Papa’s connected to them. I won’t learn anything about them if I stay on the sub. And you?”
He squints as he glances around uneasily. “I don’t exactly have any choice.”
A quick trip to the submarine later and we have what we need for Jojo and ourselves, including further doses of painkillers. Despite Ari stating he’s more than capable of protecting me, Bia sent an armed woman with us, too. “Nothing happens to you on my watch,” she insisted. I’d rather you just shared some truths with me, I wanted to reply.
