Black Iron

by Franklin Veaux

“Oh sh—” Thaddeus began.

  “Language!” Alÿs said sharply.

  “—allow shambling misfortune,” Thaddeus said. “They’re going to talk to him!”

  “Then we will wait,” Alÿs said. “We need to blend in.” She rose, slipping out of the pew.

  “But what are they—”

  “I don’t know. Follow me.”

  “Where?”

  “To light a candle for the Virgin.” Alÿs knelt in front of the statue of Mary, crossing herself as she did. She picked up a candle and looked back over her shoulder at Thaddeus. “For a man who didn’t want to see the Cardinal in the first place, you sure are impatient, Shoe Man.”

  Thaddeus knelt beside her, shaking his head. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. What if they arrest him?”

  “Arrest him?” Alÿs looked perplexed. “The Cardinal? Why would they arrest him?”

  “I don’t know, they’re the Queen’s Guard! It’s what they do!”

  “You have strange ideas about the Guard. Now hush.”

  ✦

  “Your Eminence, a moment of your time, please,” Julianus said.

  The Cardinal paused, halfway through the door to the right of the altar that led to his private chambers. “Ah, my excitable friend Julianus. Splendid to see you at Mass. And Max, too. How are the two of you getting on?”

  Max growled.

  “We have some questions for you, Your Eminence,” Julianus said. “If you don’t mind. Some time-sensitive questions. They concern the missing Lady Alÿs.”

  “I see.” The Cardinal’s long face contorted into a grimace. “Well, in that case, I imagine you should join me in my office. If you please.”

  He ushered them through the door, into a long but very narrow hallway tiled in marble. He opened the first door on the right. It led into a small study, equipped with a desk and several chairs. The desk was filled with papers, all neatly constrained inside soft leather folders to prevent them from running around and causing mischief. He had eschewed electric arc lights in favor of more conventional gas jets, and the tiled floor gave way to a thick woven rug. “Please,” he said, “sit down. What can I do for you?”

  Julianus sat. Max remained standing, arms crossed in front of him.

  “I’m sure you’re aware the Lady Alÿs remains mysteriously unaccounted for. She was last seen in a shop on Highpole Street—”

  “Yes, so I have been told,” the Cardinal said. “By the two of you, no less. Fleeing the scene of a most grisly murder, if I am to believe the report.”

  “That is correct, Your Eminence,” Julianus said.

  “Ah.” The Cardinal leaned back in his chair behind the desk, fingers steepled in front of him. “I must confess to some incredulity regarding this tale I’ve heard. You are here, I am sure, to ask me if I have seen or been in contact with the Lady Alÿs, no doubt under the assumption that I am her friend and therefore her sanctuary in times of trouble?”

  “Something like that, Your Eminence,” Julianus said.

  “It took you rather longer than I expected to arrive at my doorstep to ask me these questions,” the Cardinal said. “I was beginning to question my decision to put you on the task.”

  “We’ve been busy,” Max said.

  “So I’ve heard, so I’ve heard. In any event, the answer is no. No, I have not seen or heard from the Princess Alÿs. No, I have no knowledge of her whereabouts.” He leaned forward. “A situation I find intolerable. I do not like not knowing these things. I am very distressed by her absence. I am not a man who takes distress kindly. What, may I ask, have you done beyond bothering me to locate her and ensure her safe and speedy return? There is a diplomatic sensitivity to the state of affairs as they are now.”

  “So?” Max said.

  “While I appreciate the sensitivity of the current situation,” Julianus interjected smoothly, “our task is to find out what happened on the airship. Alÿs was there, and then she was at a place where a lead in that investigation was murdered moments before our arrival. I’m sure you can appreciate we would like to speak to her very much indeed. The diplomatic aspects of the investigation are best left in more diplomatic hands than ours.”

  “Diplomatically put,” the Cardinal said. “Should you ever find yourself growing tired of a life dedicated to watching the moneyed class eat and exchange gossip, please come see me.”

  Julianus shot a glance at Max. “Thank you, Your Eminence,” he said. “I will consider your proposal.”

  “Again, diplomatically put.” He rose. “Unfortunately, as I said, I have neither seen nor spoken to the princess, nor do I know where she is. I’ve set some members of my private guard to making enquiries, which have so far been uncharacteristically fruitless.” He passed his hands over his eyes. “Now that I have answered your questions, I would ask you to continue your enquiries.” He sagged. For a moment, he looked less like the second most powerful person in London than like a tired old man. His voice softened. “Please. Find her. Bring her back.” Then the moment passed, and he was the Cardinal again. “Good night, gentlemen.”

  The two men left the office, Max annoyed, Julianus thoughtful. They walked across the cathedral to the side entrance at the far end of the nave, their footsteps echoing in the enormous space. “Do you believe him?” Max said.

  Julianus thought about the question for a moment. “Yes,” he said finally. “I do.”

  “I thought you didn’t trust anyone.”

  “I don’t,” Julianus said. “Not even you. Certainly not him. But I don’t think he knows where she is. He seems genuinely worried about her.”

  A priest in red robes showed them out. A scraping sound told them the door had been locked behind them.

  Max looked up, through the steady drizzle into the blackness above. He blinked rain from his eyes. “Another dead end. What now?”

  “We’ve been on our feet all day,” Julianus said. “There’s a pub across the street. I could use a hot meal in front of a warm fire. I still want to keep an eye on the place. I’m not giving up on Alÿs coming to see the Cardinal just yet.”

  ✦

  Thaddeus nudged Alÿs, who was still kneeling before the statue of the Virgin Mary. Candlelight flickered on the Blessed Mother’s face. It made Thaddeus nervous, the way the light seemed to make the statue’s eyes follow him. “They’re leaving!” he said.

  Alÿs rose. From the shadow of the pillar in front of the Blessed Virgin, they watched Max and Julianus cross the nearly empty transept, talking to each other in low voices. The side door creaked open, then closed. A priest moved around, tidying up after Mass.

  The hooded figure still seated in the pew rose. Alÿs and Thaddeus started forward toward the Cardinal’s office. The figure turned.

  Time stopped.

  Thaddeus clutched Alÿs’s hand, so tightly she cried out. “You’re hurting me!” she said. “What—”

  Thaddeus pointed. Alÿs gasped. Somewhere under the hood, the man who had tried to kill Thaddeus, the man who had murdered the shopkeeper and then fled through the window, smiled.

  Things happened very fast after that.

  Thaddeus turned to flee. His feet felt like they were dragging through molasses. The hooded man’s smile grew wider. His hands came out of his pockets. In one hand, a long, wicked knife gleamed. He’s fast, Thaddeus thought, so very fast…

  The main door to the cathedral might as well have been miles away. It seemed pointless to run.

  “Yes, Thaddeus Mudstone,” the man hissed. His voice writhed and squirmed in Thaddeus’s head. “You remember me. So nice to see you, Thaddeus Mudstone.” He moved toward them, not hastily, gliding with eerie silence over the floor. “We have unfinished business, Thaddeus Mudstone.”

  Thaddeus backed up a step, then another. Alÿs kept pace with him, her hand clutched tight in his.

 
“There is nowhere for you to run this time, Thaddeus Mudstone. We will conclude our business, Thaddeus Mudstone.”

  Thaddeus watched the glittering knife, unable to tear his eyes away from it.

  The priest walked back into the nave. “I’m sorry, the cathedral is closing,” he said, moving toward the man. “You will have to leave.”

  “Father! Look out!” Alÿs screamed.

  “What?” He turned toward them. “I—”

  The knife flashed. Surprise crossed the priest’s face. A jet of blood described a graceful arc through the air, landing in long dark streaks on the snowy white tile. He fell to his knees, hands on his throat, eyes wide.

  “Run!” Thaddeus said. He pushed Alÿs away from the man in the cloak and bolted toward the transept, straight toward his attacker, the eyes of the Blessed Mother following him.

  The priest slumped forward on the floor. The paralysis that had gripped Alÿs left. She fled, running as quickly as she could between the pews toward the opposite side entrance.

  The hooded man darted between the pews toward them, as quick and graceful as a hunting cat. Alÿs flung herself sideways, landing with a painful jolt on the hard floor. He held the knife in front of him, smiling. His eyes met Alÿs’s.

  Thaddeus sprinted down the aisle and collided with the man, taking advantage of his instant of distraction to throw his entire body weight against him. The man staggered for a moment, off balance, but recovered almost immediately. The knife flashed.

  Thaddeus was already gone, running toward the altar as if his life depended on it, his speed made all the greater by the fact that his life did in fact depend on it. The hooded figure turned in pursuit, padding catlike after Thaddeus, careful and deliberate.

  Alÿs scrambled to her feet and darted across the aisle. The figure turned at the sound. She dove forward and slid beneath a pew, then wrapped her arms tightly around her body and rolled, coming to a stop beneath another pew.

  Thaddeus darted up the raised platform directly beneath the dome and crouched behind the altar, breathing hard. The hooded man turned back in his direction. He padded lightly down the aisle, looking between each row of pews as he passed.

  He mounted the steps to the platform, knife in front of him. Thaddeus leaped up, snatching a heavy, elaborate candlestick from the altar and swinging it with all his might. It connected with the man’s head with a satisfying thud.

  Beneath the hood, the man smiled again. He grabbed the candlestick and wrenched it from Thaddeus’s grasp, flinging it away to clatter on the floor. Thaddeus circled the altar. The man followed, wary.

  Thaddeus grabbed the other candlestick and threw it. The man evaded it easily and was already lunging across the altar, quick as a snake, before it had even hit the floor.

  Thaddeus turned and ran, heading for the gloom of the tiny chapels lining the transept. The man followed slowly, stalking his prey like a cat. “Thaddeus Mudstone!” he called in his slithering, sibilant voice. “Thaddeus Mudstone, would you like your reward? Thaddeus Mudstone, I have something for you! Thaddeus Mudstone, come and collect your payment!”

  Alÿs crawled under the pews, moving forward toward the altar. Her cap caught on a footrest and came off. Her hair spilled free. The man turned.

  “Thaddeus Mudstone, why won’t you come play with me? Thaddeus Mudstone, will your friend play with me?”

  Thaddeus flattened himself against the polished wood wall of the tiny chapel. A carved statue of John the Baptist regarded him mournfully over a field of tiny candles and a small, sad handful of flowers, their dry petals crumbling into gray dust.

  Thaddeus pressed back further, wrapping the shadows around him, quieting his breathing. He looked around the space for a weapon. Nothing.

  Alÿs crept forward another inch, then another, flat against the floor beneath the pew. Something hard pressed painfully into her chest. She reached beneath her borrowed apprentice’s coveralls and pulled out her handbag. Hands shaking, she rummaged through it.

  There it was! The dagger from the shop in Highpole. She stared at it, warm and heavy in her hand, hypnotized.

  “Thaddeus Mudstone,” the hooded figure said. He passed the knife from hand to hand. “Thaddeus Mudstone, where are you going? There is nowhere for you to run! Will your god save you from me, Thaddeus Mudstone?”

  Alÿs slid forward, angling toward the voice. Her heart pounded. She slowly crawled across the smooth marble floor, willing herself to invisibility beneath the pew. Another inch, another…

  Her foot caught on the prie-dieu. The kneeling bench fell with a thump. The man whirled.

  “Thaddeus Mudstone! Is that you, Thaddeus Mudstone? What will you say to your god, Thaddeus Mudstone? What questions will you ask him when you see him?”

  Thaddeus crept out of the far side of the chapel and ran to the door. He pulled on the handle. The lock did not budge.

  “Are you frightened, Thaddeus Mudstone? Do you know what is coming?” The man moved slowly down the aisle, between the rows of pews. “Do you think you will go to heaven, Thaddeus Mudstone?”

  Alÿs held her breath. She could see the man’s shadow, coming closer and closer. From under the pew, she saw the hem of his cloak, almost reaching the floor. His foot descended, right next to her, his skin white and withered and covered with blue blotches. He wore simple sandals made of leather, his toes long and tipped with thick, downward-curving nails.

  Alÿs closed her eyes. Sweat formed on her skin. Her body shook.

  She opened her eyes again. Then, with every ounce of strength, she stabbed outward, aiming for his exposed heel.

  His skin was surprisingly tough, but the dagger was well made and exquisitely sharp. It pierced that mottled flesh and came out the other side. She sliced sideways, twisting as she pulled. The blade came free, severing the man’s Achilles tendon.

  Thick blue fluid splattered on the tile floor. The man fell heavily to the ground without a sound. Alÿs shimmied backward. Already, his knife was whirring through the space she had just vacated.

  She scrambled out from under the pew and climbed to her feet. The man tried to rise, and fell again. He grabbed the edge of the pew, hauled himself upright, and lunged at her. His knife blurred through the air. Alÿs screamed and leaped aside, her knee colliding hard with the edge of the pew. The man fell again, hissing.

  And then Thaddeus was there, charging down the length of the aisle like an avenging banshee. The tip of his heavy work boot smashed into the man’s hooded chin. The man grabbed the boot with both hands, his dagger skittering across the floor. He pulled and twisted. Thaddeus crashed heavily to the ground.

  The hood fell. Alÿs’s eyes grew wide.

  Beneath the hood, the man’s face was a patchwork of scars, assembled from parts of a dozen people. His mouth was filled with needle-sharp teeth. His eyes, deep set in his scarred and bone-white face, were the eyes of a cat, not a human, golden-hued, the pupils vertical slits.

  Alÿs screamed.

  Thaddeus shook his head, stunned. The man, or creature, whatever it was, picked up his fallen knife, his motions graceful and unhurried. He—it—smiled broadly. “It is time, Thaddeus Mudstone,” it said.

  Alÿs screamed again.

  The door to the Cardinal’s quarters slammed open. The Cardinal stood there, framed in the rectangle, a rifle at his shoulder.

  The creature turned. Its mouth split into a horrifying expression of triumph. It crouched and sprang, scrabbling toward the Cardinal on hands and knees.

  Thaddeus twisted away toward Alÿs. “Run!” he said.

  His eyes locked with the Cardinal’s. An expression of surprise and recognition flashed across the Cardinal’s face.

  The creature snarled.

  The gun spoke.

  In the enclosed space of the cathedral, the sound was like the thundering voice of God. Thaddeus cried out in pain as spikes
of agony drove themselves into his ears. Alÿs covered her ears with her hands. It looked like she was still screaming, but Thaddeus could hear nothing save the agonizing roar in his ears.

  “Run!” he tried to say. The words were swallowed up in that dreadful noise that was not noise.

  A hole bloomed in the creature’s back. It fell backward in a slick puddle of blue fluid. “Run!” Thaddeus screamed again.

  The main doors of the cathedral, so very far away, opened. Two men rushed in, dressed in the uniform of the Cardinal’s guard, already unslinging their rifles.

  The creature rose on hands and knees. It whirled toward the Cardinal and sprang again, far faster than any biped on all fours should move. The Cardinal dropped the gun and drew a knife of his own.

  Thaddeus staggered over and grabbed Alÿs by the arm. She started toward the side exit. He shook his head. “It’s locked!” he said. “This way!” He pointed toward the other exit on the other side of the transept.

  The thing flung itself at the Cardinal. It jumped, propelling itself at the Cardinal’s face with its working foot. He stabbed at it with his knife, striking only empty air. It knocked him to the floor. Its knife came up and descended, once, twice. Blood erupted across marble. The creature let out a triumphant hiss. “This is how you will end too, Thaddeus Mudstone!” it said.

  Alÿs screamed again and stopped dead, eyes fixed on the Cardinal, lying motionless in a grotesque, impossibly vivid mixture of red blood and blue ooze. Thaddeus followed her gaze. “Come on!” he shouted. “We can’t help him!” He ran, half-leading, half-dragging Alÿs. He could hear distant shouts, somewhere on the other side of a thick layer of cotton.

  The creature turned and fled in the opposite direction, moving fast on all fours toward the door to the chapter house.

  One of the Cardinal’s men raised his gun. An explosion of sound filled the cathedral. The creature collided with the chapter house door, which slammed open, sending a spray of splinters and bits of broken lock in all directions. It darted through the large octagonal room without slowing, crashing through the door on the far side and out into the damp London night.