Requiem

by Skye Knizley

  “Darmstadt?” Chastity asked.

  Malachi waved his hands vaguely. “Animate dead, grave robbing and so on. He received a communiqué that has him in a foul mood. I think we’re chasing a wild goose, but his will be done.”

  “It sounds interesting, he didn’t tell you what was in the communiqué?”

  Malachi held his scrolls close to his chest and shook his head. “He wouldn’t say.”

  He turned and walked toward the library, scrolls flapping.

  Chastity frowned. “Hmm…”

  Malachi turned back. “Do not get any crazy ideas, Chastity. If Father William wants us to know what he is doing, he will tell us. Don’t you go bothering him. Or worse.”

  Chastity grinned and leaned up against the wall, rain-chilled limbs forgotten. “Perish the thought, dear brother. I wouldn’t dare enter his office without good reason.”

  Malachi blinked at her and Chastity could tell he was unconvinced. But he shook his head and toddled off to the library where he closed the door with a slam that echoed throughout the Sanctuary and made Chastity flinch. She clucked her tongue at him and turned toward her chamber to disrobe, bathe, and ready herself for the evening. She was nude and standing beside her bath waiting for the water to warm, when she noticed the envelope on her side table. It was fastened with the Order’s seal.

  Chastity slit the end of the envelope and removed the contents. Inside was another envelope and a note from Father William:

  The envelope was old and marked by water, but the Edinburgh stamp was still clear. It looked as if it had taken some time to get to London, which was ridiculous. The Royal Mail was second to none and should take no more than a week to reach London from Edinburgh at the worst of times. She opened the damp paper and out dropped a large iron key she didn’t recognize. A scrap of paper tied to the end read, in shaky hand, Chillgrave. That meant nothing, either, but she was certain Malachi or one of the other scribes would know what it meant or perhaps recognize the design of the key.

  She set the key aside and continued her bath, her mind pondering on the events of the day. The hair she’d found looked like a perfect match for the poor lass found beneath the wharf. She would have to obtain a sample, but it would be simple enough to match with a little alchemy. The noise, on the other hand, was something else entirely. It had sounded and indeed felt as if something was moving around inside the wall. The weather was far too cold for a snake and, having grown up in an orphanage, she was familiar with the sounds rats made when scurrying about inside the walls. This was something different, something larger. She would have to find a way to get the other tenants out long enough to see what was lurking between the layers of plaster. How to do it was the question. Fire, or rather smoke, seemed the obvious choice, but her time would be cut short by any locals who braved the smoke to fight the fire and discovered there wasn’t any. On the other hand, in the winter rain they would be likely to let the rain put the fire out rather than risk death. It was a chance she was willing to take.

  She finished her bath and dressed in a fresh set of night armor, one that didn’t smell of cadavers and blood. When she was finished, she collected the Chillgrave key and hurried toward the library. She found Malachi sound asleep atop a pile of scrolls, a half-eaten plate of mutton and boiled potatoes sitting beside him. An empty mug lay on the floor not far from his fingers. Chastity shook him awake with a light touch and smiled when he looked up through bleary eyes.

  “Chastity? What happened?”

  “You fell asleep, Mal,” Chastity replied. “It looks as if Rhianna brought you supper and it did you in. When was the last time you slept in a bed?”

  Malachi sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What month is it?”

  “That long? You need to get some rest, research can wait.”

  Malachi shrugged. “Father William is concerned, therefore I am concerned. Every moment we waste is another moment that innocents are in danger.”

  Chastity picked at Malachi’s plate. “Innocents are always in danger, Mal. There is always someone in need of saving, a victim about to be dragged into the darkness. We can do them no good with fogged minds and empty bellies.”

  “I don’t disagree, but—” Malachi replied.

  His voice trailed off as he spotted the key Chastity had set on the table. He picked it up and examined the scrap of paper, his face contorting into a deep frown.

  “Chillgrave,” he muttered. “I know this…”

  He stood and began rifling through a bookcase, tossing unwanted tomes aside like old toys.

  Chastity arched an eyebrow at him. “It’s just an old key, Mal, it can wait. Someone sent it to me by post, it can’t be that important.”

  Malachi examined a book of old maps then dropped it to the floor where it sprayed a cloud of dust. “By post? A key by post? That doesn’t make much sense. Why send a key by post?”

  Chastity took a bite of potato from Malachi’s plate. “I have no idea, I didn’t send it. The envelope was marked with Edinburgh’s crown stamp, if that helps. What are you looking for, anyway?”

  “Edinburgh? That can’t be right, it makes no sense at all, he wasn’t in Edinburgh,” Malachi muttered.

  He continued tossing books aside until he pulled out an old leather-bound book full of home-made paper. It looked as if it had seen better days, many of the pages were falling out, the cover was scratched and even looked as if a giant dog had gnawed on the spine. Malachi set it on a podium and flipped through the pages.

  “What’s that?” Chastity asked.

  “Abraham’s diary,” Malachi replied.

  “Abraham who?”

  Malachi didn’t stop turning pages. “Abraham, Abraham. You know, the hunter.”

  “Thank you for your vagueness. What are you looking for?”

  Malachi held up a burned page. “This.”

  The charred paper depicted a castle high on a craggy mountain . The drawing was stylized with lightning flashes in the background, a full moon and ragged trees that looked as if they would fall off the mountain in a strong wind. Barely legible was the word Chillgrave written in the margin.

  “Okay, so the key goes to a castle? I didn’t know they had keys. Where is it and why did someone send me a key?”

  Malachi put the book back on the podium. “No one knows.”

  Chastity sighed in exasperation. “Which part?”

  “Either. Any. No one knows where the castle is and I have no idea why someone would send you a key with the name attached.”

  Chastity moved to his side and examined the drawing more closely. It had been drawn with charcoal blended by hand, there were finger marks in the tower and pillars where the charcoal had been smudged. She would be the first to admit she was no expert, music was her sole artistic talent, but she was certain it had been drawn by someone who had been there. Someone in whose memory this scene was permanently etched. She said as much to Malachi, who nodded his agreement.

  “By all accounts, that is the case. Abraham indeed found the Castle and he is the artist of the drawing. But he vanished before finishing the investigation or even reporting back. All anyone found was his diary, left on a ship from Italy.”

  Chastity placed a silk bookmark on the page and flicked forward and back through the diary. “When was this?”

  “Before you were born,” Father William said from the doorway. “Long before.”

  “I apologize, Father,” Malachi said. “We didn’t see you there.”

  William entered and closed the door behind him. “There is nothing to apologize for, Malachi. What is your interest in Chillgrave?”

  “The envelope I received contained a key and a piece of paper,” Chastity said.

  Malachi nodded. “It says Chillgrave and I knew I’d seen the name somewhere—”

  “Which is why the library looks like a Poltergeist ran amok,” William finished. “Chastity, who sent you the key?”

  Chastity spread her hands and shrugged. “I have no idea. It was marked with
the Crown of Edinburgh over a week ago.”

  William rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “Interesting, but I doubt it has anything to do with your current assignment. We can look into it later, once this headsman has been dealt with.”

  He moved closer and took a seat at the table, motioning for Malachi and Chastity to join him. “What progress have you made on the decapitated woman and scientist?”

  Chastity sat and tucked her legs under the table. “Not much, I’m afraid. I believe the Thin Man, Calvin Moody was involved in the death of Davis, but as of yet I have not been able to find him. I have two of the runners watching the tavern and two watching his apartment in case he comes back. I am going back to Moody’s apartment tonight to do additional research into his whereabouts. As of now, the female victim has not been identified and I’m starting to believe she is not from London, perhaps not even English.”

  William’s brow knit and he leaned back in his chair.

  “Is it wise to return to Moody’s residence this night? Will there not be prying eyes?”

  Chastity smiled. “I am taking some of Herbert’s toys with me. I believe I can safely clear the building long enough to do what is necessary. No one will see me and no innocents will be put in danger.”

  William stood. “Be careful. I want an update on what you find as soon as you are able. Malachi, please come with me, we must discuss the other matter.”

  Malachi gathered up his scrolls and books and hurried after Father William. On his way out he cast a meaningful glance at the diary and pulled the door shut, almost dropping several of his papers in the process. Chastity waited until the echo of their footfalls had faded away, then moved to the podium where the diary still sat open to the drawing of Chillgrave.

  How could no one know where this house is and why would someone send me the key? she wondered.

  She flipped backwards to the entry before the drawing. The page was covered in script she could barely decipher that formed a complex code of letters, numbers and occult symbols, some of which she didn’t even recognize.

  Chastity bit her lip and considered the page for a moment before marking the book and taking it with her. If anyone could figure out the code without alerting Father William it was Herbert. She found him in his lab hunched over a collection of metal parts beside a flaming burner hot enough it had singed his hair. He looked up at Chastity through a pair of magnifiers and smiled.

  “Are you here for something else to cause mayhem and excitement to the city of London?”

  Chastity pulled some of the burned hair from Herbert’s face. “I could use some of your famous smoke bombs, and you should practice more care. You’ve almost burned your face off with that toy of yours.”

  Herbert brushed the burned hair away absently. “It can’t be helped, these pieces won’t fit together without the hottest possible torch. Nikola is working on something he calls the ‘electric-arc metal connecting device’ that should make things go faster, but you know him, he’ll design something that causes earthquakes and something else that shatters metal before he ever finishes what he was working on to begin.”

  He turned away toward a locked box on another bench, this one covered with hardened tar and braids of horsehair. He opened the box and removed a pouch of waxed leather. He then bowed and offered the pouch to Chastity. “Four of my best. They should smoke for ten minutes or so and leave very little residue. Do I want to know what you’re doing with them?”

  Chastity opened her mouth to reply and Herbert cut her off. “Never mind, if I don’t know I have deniability when Father William asks why I let you do whatever silly thing you’re going to do.”

  Chastity laughed and slipped the smoke bombs onto her belt. “Good choice, though I hope things will go well this evening.”

  Herbert looked skeptical then noticed the book she was clutching.

  “What is that?”

  Chastity opened the book and held it out. “It is the other reason I came to see you. Is there any way I can ask you to decipher a page of text?”

  Herbert lowered one of his magnifiers over his left eye and squinted at the text. “Hmm, numbers, letters, it would be a simple cypher were it not for the alchemical symbols and notations in the margins that contradict traditional—”

  He raised his eyes. “Is this the diary?”

  Chastity considered feigning ignorance, but Herbert was an old friend. “Of Abraham? Yes. Someone sent me a key in the post that may lead to an old mansion called Chillgrave. I have a feeling this page might explain why. Can you decipher it for me?”

  Herbert frowned. “Shouldn’t we ask Father William? Perhaps he or Malachi knows the code.”

  “Father William doesn’t want to talk about it and Malachi is up to his eyes in research on one of the Father’s pet cases,” Chastity replied.

  Herbert frowned and looked back at the text. “Why do I have the feeling this could land us both in big trouble?”

  Chastity smiled. “It won’t, I will make sure, can you make sense of the page?”

  Herbert sighed and set the book on his cleanest desk. “I’m sure I can, give me a few days to work it out.”

  Chastity’s smile widened and she almost leapt forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Herbert.”

  Herbert blushed. “You’re welcome. In return, try not to get us into any more trouble, eh? At least not until after Merry Mass?”

  Chastity crossed her heart. “I promise to try.”

  “I guess that’s the best I can hope for.”

  Chastity did kiss him this time, then turned for the exit. She still had to locate the Thin Man and find a lead into her current assignment before Father William changed his mind and put someone else on the case.

  THE STOREFRONT FOR JW Reynolds was dark and looked gloomy in the night rain that was still falling when Chastity reached the shelter of the adjacent alley. On the way, she’d kept to the sewer tunnels and underground as much as possible, remaining unseen. She didn’t usually go abroad in her armor until most of the city was fast asleep, but tonight she needed to be earlier lest her smoke-bomb ruse injure sleeping tenants.

  When she arrived, she saw that the rain had driven most into the shelter of their homes and inns, but a handful of people were still hurrying through the mud to their evening destinations; homes, inns or something not quite so comfortable. Chastity waited for the street to clear then hurried down the alley that ran alongside the cobblers, to where the back door was located. She paused at the door and again checked to make sure she wasn’t being observed. With no one in sight, she placed a hand against the lock; her magik glowed and the door opened with a click that was more felt than heard in the continual rain.

  The inside of the shop was dark and smelled like oiled leather and tobacco smoke. Chastity moved like a shadow through the rows of tools, racks of leather, and stack of shoe lasts until she reached the small vent in the far wall. She lit the first of her bombs, placed it inside the opening then moved the next and repeated the process. By the time the second vent was closed the back of the shop was already filling with smoke; it looked as if a fire was raging through the store.

  Chastity muttered a silent apology for anything damaged by the bombs and moved to the stairway door. After a few moments the woman from upstairs and her family exited, cloths and hands held over their mouths for protection from the smoke. As soon as they were clear Chastity tossed another of the bombs into the stairwell and ran to the top, her own mask serving as protection from the foul air.

  Moody’s room looked as it had when she’d left. The stove remained unlit, the bed unmade and the air thick with an unusual chill. Chastity left the door open in case anyone decided to brave the smoke and turned her attention to the wall where the strange sound had come from. She reached out for the wall, but paused before touching it; the sensation before hadn’t been a pleasant one. She swallowed and placed her hand against the cold plaster, but this time there was no slithering vibration, no strange sensation of movement. It was just
a wall made of cracked plaster coated in layers of grime and whitewash.

  Chastity stepped back and spun, lashing out at the wall with her heel. The wall cracked under the impact and a large chunk of plaster fell to the floor trailing tendrils of slime that glistened even in the smoky room. Chastity frowned at the goop and pulled one of Nikola’s toys from her pouch. It was a double-walled glass tube with two liquids inside. He called them ‘phosphorescent sticks for seeing light without flame’ but everyone else called them torchglass. She shook the vial and directed the pale blue light it emitted into the hole she’d made. What was inside could only be described as the nest or burrow of some kind of slug-like creature. The slats within the wall were covered in a translucent slime that thickened toward the bottom into a milky white mucus. What she thought was discarded skin mixed with the mucus to form the floor of the nest, a sort of hammock shape that would support a full-sized person.

  Chastity explored the nest with one gloved hand, working hard not to gag at the texture and stench. Inside were a variety of Calvin Moody’s personal items; a cheap watch with his name engraved on the outside, calling cards and tickets to his show, all wrapped in cheesecloth to protect them.

  Moody, what on God’s earth are you? Chastity wondered.

  She set Moody’s belongings aside and used a test tube from her pouch to collect a sample of the slime. She would give it to Herbert’s lab to identify when she returned to the Sanctuary.

  Chastity stepped away from the foul opening and checked the still smoldering bomb in the hallway. The small black ball was almost gone, only a small patch of grease remained, fitfully spitting smoke and sparks. She would have only a few more moments before the bombs went out and the smoke began to dissipate. When the tenants and police found there was no fire she suspected they would be rather angry.

  Chastity turned back to the room and almost ran into Calvin Moody, who stood just a few feet away. He was nude, though considering the state of his manhood and the slime covering his body his nakedness would be the last thing anyone commented on. His body was emaciated and corpselike, with long spindly limbs, eyes that rolled in their sockets and shrunken testes. Yet he was very much alive.