The masked man answered with a slight nod, confirming Arhyen's suspicions. He'd already known that Viola was likely only claiming credit for the deaths, and that only left one suspect. A suspect who moved unnaturally fast, and seemed to be stronger than any man should be.
“Let's go,” Arhyen demanded.
Ephraim didn't look happy about it, but he nodded. The masked man left them without another word, making his way toward the front door like a graceful shadow. Not wanting to waste any more time, Arhyen turned and led the way toward the back of the dilapidated mansion. He hadn't heard any more screams, but he found that fact even more troubling than if he had. At least screams meant Liliana was still alive.
Pushing his satchel into a more convenient position, he ran, weaving his way amongst the rubble, seeking out another way into the structure. His shoulder screamed at him from the extra movement, but it had at least stopped bleeding. If he survived the night, he’d make it a point to never get stabbed again. It really was quite vexing.
He slowed as a large covered porch came into view, dominating the backside of the building. Ephraim reached his side, and they both observed the porch for a moment. It was difficult to tell with the shadows cast by the porch’s wooden roof, but there seemed to be only one door, and several boarded up windows. Entering either would likely take time, and the masked man had requested they join him in ten minutes. They needed to get moving.
Taking care to move silently now that they were within hearing range of the mansion, they both approached the porch stairs, then stepped cautiously onto the rotten wood, Arhyen leading the way.
Ephraim followed close behind him as he tiptoed toward the only visible door, bordered by the boarded up windows. The wood creaked and groaned perilously beneath his feet, threatening to give out. He heaved a sigh of relief as they reached the door. He tried the doorknob, knowing it couldn’t be that simple. Locked, as expected. He was skilled at lock-picking, but didn’t have the appropriate tools on him, nor did he currently have the patience.
Shouting erupted from within the building. Had the masked man made his move? Loud thuds and the sound of shattering glass joined in to create a distracting cacophony. With a nod of understanding to each other, he and Ephraim stepped back from the door, then charged as one, ramming it with their shoulders. The door burst open, its flimsy lock unable to hold up to the impact.
A man inside, holding a pistol, turned to them in surprise. Arhyen barely had time to blink as Ephraim flew through the doorway, straightening his hand to chop the man on the side of the neck, instantly rendering him unconscious.
Ephraim looked down at the man now sprawled on the stained carpeting. “Splitting up is a risk, but we’ll stand a better chance of finding Liliana,” he stated, as if trying to make up his mind on a previously internal debate.
“We split up,” Arhyen replied.
Should they meet with force, splitting up might end badly, but it increased the chances of at least one of them being able to save her. He only had his single dagger, but could defend himself one on one if it came to it. Facing someone with a pistol was another story, but he couldn’t waste time worrying about it.
They walked silently to the end of the narrow hallway that led in from the door, looked from side to side to see if any more men stood guard, then took off in opposite directions.
Sounds of fighting could still be heard near the front door, so Arhyen ignored that direction and hurried toward the back right side of the building. The wood paneled walls had all been stripped of their paintings, leaving slightly lighter rectangles on the wall in their place, and the carpet was torn up and moldy, but this portion of the house was otherwise unremarkable. He saw no signs of human life, likely because they’d all gone to meet the attack at the front door. He knew the masked man was strong and fast, but could he really take down an entire building full of armed assailants? There was always the possibility that only a few guards had been in place inside the mansion, but it seemed unlikely since the fight was still going on. He jumped as a pistol fired, thinking that perhaps the masked man had been hit, but the fighting continued.
He turned left down a hallway, then kept running. He neared another bend, then skidded to a halt as someone came into view. It wasn’t a man like he’d expected, but a woman in a white coat carrying a folder of papers. At first he thought it might be Viola, then realized this woman was older, with gray streaks in her dark hair. Her eyes widened as she saw Arhyen.
Knowing he couldn’t let her get away to bring the guards down upon him, he dove forward and tackled her. The papers in her arms went flying into the air to rain down on them as Arhyen wrestled her to the floor.
“Where is Liliana?” he growled down at her.
She struggled beneath him, to little avail. Giving up, she huffed, “The automaton?”
He nodded.
“Down the hall, take a right, then it’s the door at the end,” she grumbled. “Now please get off me. There’s a man in a mask killing all of the guards and I want to get the hell out of here.”
Well at least it didn’t seem she’d report him. He lifted himself off her, then allowed her to run past, leaving her scattered papers behind.
Hoping he hadn’t made a mistake in letting her live, he continued his search. He took the first right as instructed. At the end of the hall, there was a closed door with light shining through underneath it. He continued to run at full speed. Upon reaching it, he lifted his foot and kicked the door in as he reached it. The impact sent a thrill of pain up his leg to his spine, but he barely noticed it. The door slammed against the back wall, and he tumbled into a white room that looked like some sort of surgery. He forced himself to his feet, not taking the time to scan the entire room since he’d found what he was looking for. Strapped to a table a few paces ahead of him, was Liliana.
He ran forward, his heart racing. Her body was perfectly still. Too still.
Standing by her side, he began undoing her restraints, unable to bring himself to check her for signs of life. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her face. She wore a flimsy white nightgown, baring her thin arms to the bright light of the room. A trickle of blood marred the arm closest to him.
“Please be alive,” he rasped, frantically releasing the last of the restraints.
“Arhyen?” a weak voice questioned.
His gaze whipped up to Liliana’s face. Her eyes were open just a sliver, watching him.
He heaved a huge sigh of relief.
“Look-” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, then someone hit him in the back of his head with a heavy object. He fell to the ground, pain radiating through his skull, and everything went black.
Chapter 17
Arhyen knelt cradling his hands to his face, but couldn’t seem to clear away his dizziness. Acting purely on instinct, he lowered his hands to brace himself against the concrete floor, then kicked out behind him. His boot grazed something, and there was a feminine grunt of pain. His vision finally cleared enough for him to glance over his shoulder, finding Viola standing above him, looking crazed with a thick glass apothecary bottle gripped in her right hand. She seemed to now be favoring her left leg as she recovered from the kick, but it hadn’t been enough to upend her.
Snarling, she threw her arm back in preparation for another hit. Arhyen knew he wouldn’t be able to move out of the way in time. Her arm sailed downward, then a white shape dove from the table and tackled her to the ground.
Finally Arhyen’s faculties returned to him, and he was able to stumble to his feet. He staggered toward the two women, just as Liliana straddled Viola and ripped the bottle from her grasp. The bottle now in her clutches, Liliana brought it speeding toward Viola’s face as the other woman cowered in fear. It would have possibly been a killing blow, but Liliana seemed to be dizzy, making her aim a little off. The bottle hit the floor beside Viola’s face and shattered.
“Hey!” someone shouted from the doorway behind Arhyen.
He turn
ed, still feeling somewhat unsteady on his feet, to see the scar-faced thug from the gambling establishment, the one who’d been present when Arhyen held Viola at knifepoint in the alley. In retrospect, he should have slit her throat that night, but it was too late to think about it now. Perhaps he’d still get a chance after he dealt with the new threat.
He turned to fully face his assailant, hoping Liliana was well enough to handle Viola. He desperately wanted to aid her, but would do her little good if the massive man standing in the doorway managed to get a hold of him. His head was still screaming, echoed dully by his wounded shoulder, yet he had no choice but to fight. He crouched into a defensive stance, prepared for the attack, but it never came. A long blade shot out the middle of the man’s chest. He slumped to the floor as the blade withdrew, revealing the masked man standing calmly behind him.
Distracted by the scene in front of him, Arhyen hadn’t heard anyone approach, but suddenly felt a presence at his back. He turned just in time to see a bruised and battered Viola hold up a shiny silver scalpel to stab him, then a delicate hand reared up behind her and jammed a broken bottle into the side of her neck.
Viola sputtered. Blood spewed from her mouth to mingle with her perfectly red lips. She coughed more blood, then fell to the ground with the broken bottle still protruding from her skin.
Her fall revealed Liliana, wide eyed with shock, her hand still in the air where it had gripped the bottle before stabbing it into Viola. She swayed on her feet. Arhyen reflexively stepped over Viola to gather Liliana quickly into his arms, though his wounded shoulder protested. She felt so small, and trembled from either fear or exhaustion. Probably both.
“Well it seems I missed all the fun,” a voice said from the doorway.
Liliana still in his arms, Arhyen turned to see Ephraim now standing next to the masked man, appearing unharmed.
Ephraim glanced at the masked man warily. “I saw the state of the entry way,” he commented. “How did you manage to defeat them all?”
“He’s an automaton,” a small voice said beside Arhyen’s ear.
He pulled away from Liliana just enough to see her face, still supporting her to keep her from falling. The flimsy nightgown barely covered her, but he had no coat to offer.
Not seeming to notice her state of undress, Liliana continued, “I realized when we saw him run from Clayton and Viola. He was too fast to be human. He escaped because he was able to jump to the top of the wall like I was.”
Arhyen turned to the masked man for confirmation.
He touched a finger to the top of his mask where it met his dark hairline, as if tipping his hat, which he’d lost at some point in the fighting, then bowed. “The lady is correct. I am an artificial life, created by the alchemists of the London Network.”
At the notorious name, everyone gasped.
“I am referred to as Codename Hamlet,” he continued, stepping over the corpse of the scarred man to come further into the room, “after the failed project that would have resulted in more of my kind, but you may simply call me Hamlet. Though I am an automaton, I am not quite like our young lady here. I was created to be a soldier, or, more accurately, a weapon.”
“So Viola’s claim that she was a part of the LN was a lie?” Arhyen questioned. Things slowly began to add up in his mind, but there were still so many unanswered questions.
“Not quite,” Hamlet answered. He moved to stand over Viola’s body as it bled onto the floor. Looking down at the woman’s corpse, he continued, “Many of London’s business leaders are involved in the Network, though they mostly hold lesser roles, and do not have access to all information. Viola was no different. Unhappy with her lack of power, she hired many spies within the Network, and gained numerous supporters among the lesser members. When it was revealed that the London Network planned to interfere with the work of Fairfax Breckenridge, she disagreed with our proposed tactics. Her faction branched off on its own, to meet its own ends. Clayton Blackwood was among that group.”
“Then who killed my father?” Liliana questioned weakly. “Was it Viola’s faction, or was it you?”
“I do not know who killed your father,” Hamlet admitted. “Our plan had only just begun when news of his disappearance began to spread. Our intent had been to obtain his research before it reached the public, by any means necessary.”
Ephraim snorted. “So basically you intended to kill him, but someone else got to it first.”
Hamlet nodded. “That is correct, though I was not involved in that side of the mission. My orders were to observe Viola and her followers. They had abducted Victor Ashdown, who was involved in Breckenridge’s work. We hoped to find him to ensure that he had not hidden any information on Breckenridge’s research.”
Arhyen shook his head in disbelief. Liliana was perfectly still, steadied in his arms, quietly taking in the news. “If you already knew that Ashdown had been abducted,” he began, “then why did you prompt us with that note to search for him?”
Hamlet nodded, acknowledging that Arhyen had correctly interpreted his intent. “It was learned that Clayton Blackwood had tortured and killed Victor Ashdown for information on Breckenridge’s research. I also knew that Ashdown had been involved in some capacity in developing said research. Therefore, I needed to learn what Blackwood knew, and who else he might have told. Unfortunately, after murdering Victor Ashdown, Blackwood had not acted, aside from hiring someone to steal research.” He nodded in Arhyen’s direction, acknowledging that he knew Arhyen was that someone. “You were the catalyst I needed to spur him into action. You had brought Liliana to London, and I needed to see if Blackwood would attempt to obtain her. Sending both of you after Victor Ashdown guaranteed you would remain in Blackwood’s sights. He would soon figure out just who Liliana was. If he tried to obtain her, I would know that Ashdown’s side of the equation had not been released. If Blackwood knew of Ashdown’s research, and was able to obtain Breckenridge’s journal, he would not need Liliana. The fact that she was abducted has let me know that all is not lost. This splinter faction of the Network has not figured out how to complete Breckenridge’s formulae.”
“But they’re all dead,” Arhyen argued. “What does it matter now what they knew?”
Hamlet nodded in acceptance of the rational viewpoint. “It would not matter, if those in this building were the only parties involved, but Viola was just one of many. Some are not even known to the LN itself. It is imperative that this information does not reach certain hands.”
Ephraim cleared his throat. “If you wanted them out on the streets in Blackwood’s sight, then why plant the note in the dead man’s pocket? Incriminating Arhyen for murder seems counterproductive.”
Hamlet turned his head toward Ephraim. “To pique your interest, of course. I had already observed your arrangement with Arhyen, and wanted to ensure you’d be involved. You have access to resources out of his reach.”
Ephraim sighed. “So we played right into your hands on every front?”
Hamlet simply nodded, not bothering to elaborate further.
Arhyen felt dizzy and tired, and all he wanted in that moment was to get Liliana out of that room, but there was still a question he needed to ask. “What is all of this for? Why is Breckenridge’s research worth dying over?”
“He created synthetic emotions,” Liliana answered for him. “That’s what my father made, what he called my soul. He used a compound created by Ashdown, the Advector Serum, to administer them. Nothing I feel is truly real.” Her voice was perfectly even as she spoke, showing no emotion whatsoever. It was her tone that scared Arhyen the most.
Hamlet nodded again. “Such compounds could be used in a myriad of ways, though the end result would always be the same. Chaos. The Network could not allow these things to come to pass.”
Liliana stepped away from Arhyen, though she still seemed unsteady on her feet. “Viola took my blood,” she explained. “She claimed that it could be refined to produce those same compounds. It should probabl
y be destroyed.” She stared directly at Hamlet. “And you should probably kill me.”
Arhyen turned to her in shock. “Liliana, you can’t-” he began, but Hamlet cut him off.
“That was a ruse,” he explained, his gaze on Liliana. “One I apologize for. It was part of the initiative I took to force Blackwood into acting. He happened upon information that should he fail to acquire the formulae, your blood would suffice, though it would be a limited supply, obviously. I apologize for endangering you, but it seemed the most simple option.”
“Simple option, my arse,” Ephraim muttered to himself.
Arhyen shared his sentiments. He looked back to Liliana, who appeared pale and utterly dejected. Why would she give in to death so easily?
“Be that as it may,” Hamlet continued, still addressing Liliana. “Your brain is still dangerous, but at the same time, may prove incredibly useful. You will be offered a position as an alchemist for the London Network.”
Arhyen frowned. “Let me guess, if she refuses, you’ll kill her?”
Hamlet nodded. “The same offer stands for both of you,” he glanced at Ephraim, then back to Arhyen. “It is a risk leaving you alive, but many feel you would prove more useful to the Network in life, than in death.”
Ephraim scoffed. “And who are these people that feel we would prove useful? I already have an occupation, you know.”
Seeming unfazed by Ephraim’s attitude, Hamlet explained. “You will both continue your lives as you have, and remain in your . . . ” He glanced at Arhyen. “ . . . occupations. The Network will be in contact. You will obey all orders, and maintain utter confidentiality.”
“Or we’ll be killed,” Arhyen added. He had no doubt that Hamlet would kill them right there if they refused. Judging by Ephraim’s earlier comments, he’d already killed an entire room of men, and seemed no worse for wear. “What about Liliana?” he pressed.
Hamlet tilted his head to the side. “She has been offered a prestigious position with the Network, but if she chooses, she may remain in your care . . . though she will be called on from time to time, not only for information, but so that we might study just what Fairfax Breckenridge created.”
Clockwork Alchemist (The Thief's Apprentice Book 1) Page 17
