Ephraim raised an eyebrow at her. “I’ve known since the beginning,” he explained. “I could tell the first night we met that it was your first time coming to London. Then you had dust stains on your shoulders and your lap, like you’d been sitting in place for months. Finally, when I came to see you the next day, after both you and Arhyen had a very late night, you appeared energetic, your face flawless, while Arhyen looked like he’d been dragged through the gutter.”
Liliana felt like she might cry. Was she that transparent?
Ephraim didn’t seem to know what to do with her change in demeanor. “Most would not notice,” he added quickly. “It’s simply my job to note the small things, and don’t worry, I can tell you’re not a normal automaton.”
She took a deep, shaky breath, resigning herself to what she needed to say next. “My father used the Advector Serum to administer a very special type of medicine to me,” she explained. “The added substance, he referred to as my soul.”
Ephraim blinked down at her in surprise, then gazed off distantly with a wry smile. “Oh Arhyen,” he muttered, “what have you gotten me into this time?”
Liliana wasn’t sure what he was talking about. She retrieved Victor Ashdown’s file and sat back down with it, not wanting to leave Ephraim with an opening for questions once he’d recovered from the shock of the news. She gazed down at the photograph on top of the papers. Who are you, Victor Ashdown? she thought. And what exactly did you help my father create?
Arhyen hurried toward the meeting place. His smoke bombs were in his pocket, and he’d equipped himself with several extra blades, a few of which, he’d had to borrow from Ephraim. Also from Ephraim, was the pistol hidden in his long overcoat, just in case. He pulled his bowler cap down to shadow his eyes, and hitched up the collar of his charcoal coat, also borrowed from Ephraim, to obscure a bit of his lower face, preferring to remain unrecognizable to any passersby.
His thoughts remained on Liliana and Ephraim. Hopefully they’d find something useful about the LN and Victor Ashdown at Watch headquarters. Arhyen would just need to live long enough to hear about whatever they found. There was a great possibility that the meeting was a trap to simply get him out of the way, but he could not risk missing out if it was not. Despite the casualties, Clayton would surely send more men after him soon. Now that the tycoon wanted Liliana added to the bargain, Arhyen wouldn’t be coming through on either end. The new journal, which had remained with Liliana, would never be delivered, and Arhyen would never receive the largest payday of his life. He shook his head as he walked along. It didn’t matter. He had a feeling he’d stumbled onto something much larger than him, and his main concern now was to get himself and Liliana out alive.
As soon as he was out of the night time crowds, he picked up speed, keeping to the shadows. His feet fell near-soundlessly on the pavement. The meeting would take place in the industrial district. If he recalled correctly, the corner of Lowfield Road and Newland Street played host to a massive steel smelter, surrounded by warehouses for storing the manufactured beams. The area boasted numerous dark alleyways and ominous buildings, most of which had been long since abandoned. It was the perfect place for a clandestine meeting . . . or an ambush.
Nearing the location, he crept to halt and pressed his back against the side of a nearby building, concealing himself in the darkness of an alley. He peeked out at the street corner where he was to meet the mysterious V. There was no one there. Perhaps they were waiting in hiding for him to show up, or perhaps they hid inside the manufacturing plant. He could either wait beneath the lone street lamp that illuminated the corner, or investigate the looming building some distance behind, bordered by tall fences topped with spiky wires.
His mind made up, he crept around the corner to approach the smelting plant in a roundabout manner, hoping to see whoever might wait there before they saw him. Just as he approached a cross section in the street, he heard voices.
“It’s after ten, perhaps he isn’t coming,” a man’s voice whispered.
“He’ll come,” a female voice assured. For some reason, the voice sounded familiar to him, though he couldn’t quite place it.
He waited in the shadows for them to speak again, but the pair remained quiet. Cursing to himself, he silently backed away, then hurried back down the previous alley to loop around to the one where the mysterious people hid. Panting slightly with exertion, he peeked into the new alley. He could barely make out two forms silhouetted by the moonlight, standing amongst the rubble of the alley. They waited near the main road, just far enough back to be concealed by the surrounding buildings, watching the street corner for his appearance. His forehead damp with nervous sweat, he crept forward, taking cover behind various trash pails and other debris, until he was within a few yards of them.
He was about to make a move, when a light caught his eye, flickering near the fence that surrounded the smelter.
“There’s no sign of him inside the plant,” the woman whispered.
Arhyen froze. They must have had other accomplices watching over the warehouse, and perhaps observing the street corner from other angles. He was lucky he hadn’t been spotted. Quickly changing his tactics, he withdrew a dagger from the sheath at his wrist and considered his options. He would have preferred to attack the man, disabling the larger opponent, but the woman was closer. She would have to do.
He crept closer, then rushed forward. He grabbed the woman from behind, pulling her against his chest and placing the dagger against her throat. She was tall for a woman, but Arhyen could still clearly see her male companion over her shoulder.
“Not a word,” Arhyen cautioned as the man blinked at him in surprise. The woman wore a cloying perfume that scratched at his memories, but he still couldn’t quite place her, and now with their positioning, he had no chance of seeing her face.
“Why Arhyen,” she whispered softly, “I knew you were clever, but I honestly didn’t expect to find a dagger at my throat.”
His eyes widened as realization dawned on him. He did know that voice. Rouged lips came to mind, obscured by a haze of tobacco smoke. He’d played poker with her a handful of times, and she’d been present at the game he’d attended with Liliana. What was her name again? He wracked his brain.
“Viola,” he whispered, the name finally coming to mind. “I must admit, you are the last person I expected to find waiting in ambush for me.”
“Not in ambush,” she stated calmly. “We only wanted to ensure that you truly came alone.”
“Well I’m here,” he replied simply.
The man stood by with a blank expression. Arhyen suddenly realized that he recognized his facial scars and thick neck, atop a massive body. He had manned the door at the same establishment. Arhyen had seen him many times before, though he looked far different in his current black clothing and matching fedora, partially obscuring his bald head.
“We want the journal,” Viola said simply, “and we’re willing to pay for it.”
“Why?” Arhyen asked instantly.
Viola tsked at him, not seeming at all frightened to have a blade pushed against her throat. Perhaps she knew he had no intention of using it. “Does it matter?” she questioned.
“Quite,” he replied simply.
She chuckled. “Because of the girl? You know she’s not real.”
Arhyen had to stifle his surprised grunt. Liliana did a splendid job at passing as real, so he found it unlikely that Viola had deduced her true nature during the course of a single poker game. Whoever had informed her about the journal knew just what Fairfax Breckenridge had created.
“Hardly,” he lied. “My interests lie with the LN.”
He waited for her to stiffen in reaction, but she remained relaxed. If the acronym caught her off guard, he didn’t sense it. The lights flickered again from the fence near the smelter. He was probably running out of time before someone came to check on Viola and her companion.
Viola’s head turned slightly to glance in the di
rection of the lights. “And the LN’s interests have recently come to lie with you, Arhyen,” she explained, laughter in her quiet voice. “If you give us the journal and the girl, you might be allowed to go about your life as before. If not, well, you might just end up like Victor Ashdown. Or even worse, like Clayton Blackwood’s men.”
Arhyen did his best to keep his breathing steady. She was claiming to be with the LN, which he’d assumed was associated with the masked man . . . yet he had stolen the original journal, and Viola didn’t seem to know that.
Footsteps began to echo toward them down the main street, coming from the direction of the smelter.
“Time’s up,” Viola taunted.
Arhyen stepped back and withdrew the dagger, just as he reached his free hand into his pocket. He withdrew a glass vial and threw it at his feet. Within seconds, the alley was filled with smoke. He darted back in the direction he’d come, stepping lightly to avoid making sound in case one of them had a pistol. Viola and her companion coughed and sputtered in the polluted confines of the alley, likely thinking of nothing more than the need for oxygen.
Two figures stood at the end of the narrow street to intercept him. Not slowing his pace, he hit them with another smoke bomb. In their surprise, he managed to slip past, and continued running as if his life depended on it, which it probably did. He made several turns down the various alleys he’d scouted out on his way there, being sure not to hit any dead ends. For a while, the sound of numerous footsteps followed him, but eventually he was able to slip away into the night.
It was only when he was almost back to Watch headquarters that he paused to catch his breath. The LN had kidnapped, and possibly killed Victor Ashdown. Viola seemed to be taking credit for that, as well as the mass murder of Blackwood’s men. It could all be a lie though, especially since she was still looking for the journal. Perhaps Viola had only been observing what was going on, and was using the acts of others to threaten him. Perhaps she’d encountered the masked man, and had emulated him to pique Arhyen’s curiosity. There were too many perhaps.
At that moment, the only thing Arhyen Croft was sure of, was that he wouldn’t be giving the replicated journal, nor Liliana, to anyone.
Chapter 11
Liliana jumped as a knock sounded on the outer door of the station. Ephraim left the office to investigate, cautioning her to remain where she was. She looked down at the paper still in her lap, realizing she'd missed her window for escape. She'd become so entranced as she read over Victor Ashdown's file, that hours had gone by without her noticing.
Moments later, Ephraim reappeared with Arhyen at his side. “It seems our young lady knows Victor Ashdown personally,” he explained as both men entered the room.
Arhyen gazed down at Liliana in surprise. He seemed tired and slightly shaken. “Why did you say nothing earlier?”
“I knew him by a different name. He visited my father on several occasions,” she explained.
“Tell him the rest,” Ephraim softly urged.
Liliana gazed down at her hands in her lap, then looked up to meet Arhyen’s eyes. “Mr. Ashdown created the serum my father used to give me a . . . soul,” she finished hesitantly.
Arhyen stepped forward, then pulled out the desk chair to slump down into it, obviously taken aback. He glanced up at Ephraim. “I’m assuming the two of you had some interesting conversations while I was away?”
Ephraim eyed him blankly. “I was already aware of Liliana’s nature, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Arhyen shook his head, an amused expression on his face. “You’re a much better detective than I give you credit for.”
Ephraim smirked. “So glad you’ve finally admitted it.”
Arhyen shook his head again, then turned his attention back to Liliana. “So you're saying that your father used this serum, along with the formulae in the journal, to give you your . . . ” he trailed off, turning his hand in the air as if trying to think of the best word to use.
She nodded somberly, once again recalling the fuzzy memory. “When Ephraim explained to me what the serum was for, I managed to remember something from an earlier time in my life. When my father made me what I am, it was through the inhalation of certain compounds. He told me he was giving me a soul, but I'm no longer sure if that's what he really meant.”
Arhyen scooted his chair closer to hers, though he didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Are you sure you want to keep looking for answers?” he asked hesitantly. Finally, he turned his gaze up to her.
The look in his eyes was so earnest that she almost ran away on the spot. She thought perhaps she could face the answers she sought, if Arhyen was willing to face them with her, but she knew she could not ask him to do so. She had missed her opportunity for a clean escape, but perhaps it was not too late to save her friend any further trouble.
“I think I would like to take the new journal and go back home,” she stated.
Arhyen’s eyes widened in surprise. He leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. Liliana couldn’t help but feel like he was leaning away from her.
“Where on earth is this coming from?” he questioned, disbelief clear in his tone.
She searched her mind for an excuse. “I can ignore my father’s message no longer,” she lied. In reality, she would gladly ignore it for the rest of her life, but she could not tell him that. “I am not human, and I cannot live a normal life. I should never have left my home in the first place.”
Ephraim watched the exchange silently, his face void of emotion.
Arhyen, on the other hand, seemed to be suddenly filled with rage. He stood abruptly, knocking his chair aside. “Fairfax Breckenridge does not get to decide what you are, or who you are. As far as I'm concerned, you’re human. You’re more human than half the people I've met in this sorry city. If anyone deserves a normal life, it’s you. What happened to wanting to find your purpose? Was that all just a passing fancy?”
Liliana felt tears dripping down her face. He was so angry, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. She tried to think of more excuses, but was without words.
Arhyen suddenly knelt in front of her, quickly removing his gloves. He lifted a hand and wiped her tears away, then held his moist hand up to the light. “You see? You are far more human than the rest of us.”
Liliana laughed, but it came out more like a sob. “I don't want you to get hurt because of me," she finally admitted, unable to force out any more lies.
“Of course, no one cares if I get hurt,” Ephraim chimed in.
Arhyen took her hand in his, ignoring Ephraim’s remark. “I'm not going to get hurt,” he assured. “I did not become the finest thief in London without having a few tricks up my sleeves.”
Ephraim snorted and muttered something that sounded like, “Finest thief my arse,” but Liliana’s attention remained on the man before her.
“Plus,” Arhyen continued, “If you left now, you would make me break my promise. You upheld your end, so now I must train you in my profession.”
“Oh don't tell me you plan on making the poor girl a thief,” Ephraim cut in.
Arhyen smiled mischievously, then glanced back at Ephraim. “Better than a detective,” he teased.
“Hardly,” Ephraim muttered.
Arhyen turned his gaze back to Liliana and offered a warm smile.
She smiled back, suddenly glad that she hadn't managed to escape. She was still nervous to discover more information than she currently had, but suddenly found she had the strength to move forward. If Arhyen had that much faith in her, it would be a direct affront to him for her to not have faith in herself. Perhaps she wasn’t a real person, but so what? Maybe she was simply something more.
Though Arhyen no longer had to fear arrest, at least for the time being, he couldn’t very well take Liliana back to his apartment. Clayton was likely still looking for him, and now Viola might be too. Since they had been spotted with Ephraim, anywhere he might be expected wouldn’t work either.
And so it was that the trio ended up in an abandoned warehouse, sharing the space with a few other vagrants. Arhyen kept Liliana close to his side, wanting to cut off any trouble before it happened as the warehouse’s inhabitants eyed them curiously.
“If you owed me a lifetime of favors before,” Ephraim muttered, “now you'll be working for me in the afterlife. I never thought to be sleeping in such filth in my life.”
Arhyen snorted. “Just be grateful that you were not born into this filth. Some of us have not always had a choice in where we sleep.”
They entered an empty room within the warehouse, save a few piles of debris, that he instantly deemed their best choice. Without a word, the trio formed beds from blankets stolen from the police station. Hopefully any criminals that were taken in would not miss them.
“I'll take first watch,” Arhyen offered, though he was utterly exhausted.
Liliana shook her head, still standing beside him. “I don't actually need to sleep,” she reminded him. “It's better if the two of you get fully rested.”
Ephraim had already laid down in his makeshift bed. “I'm not going to argue,” he grumbled. Within seconds, he seemed to be fast asleep.
Liliana stared at Arhyen, obviously expecting him to follow Ephraim’s example.
“I'll stay up with you for a little while," he whispered. “You can tell me once more all you found on Victor Ashdown.” He wasn't particularly interested in hearing more after the initial briefing Liliana and Ephraim had given him, but he felt bad making her stay awake alone. He’d already told her and Ephraim what little he’d learned about Viola, leaving out the part that he had gone to meet her on purpose. Liliana had already felt guilty enough for involving him, he didn't need to rub it in by admitting he'd gone to the meeting alone to keep her out of danger.
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