Devil Take Me

by Jordan L. Hawk

  “Two weeks ago you speculated that it was Nurse Fuggas who shot you in the back,” Archie replied.

  “I’m certain of it now.” Nimble sounded frustratingly amused. “She and her brother are both very good with those stage guns. I’m also convinced that if she’d wanted to, Nurse Fuggas could’ve taken the top of my head clean off.”

  “And yet you’re going to take part in the fights?”

  “Not a lot of other options left, frankly. I need to know exactly what’s happening. And I’m sure that they’re going to make their move this Sunday. It’ll be the girl—”

  “Phebe?” Archie had been worrying over the same thing. Her supposed illness would be a clever way to threaten Agatha with the prospect of the child’s death and force Agatha into marriage. It also ensured that no one would wonder when—after the nuptials—Phebe never returned. Silas wasn’t the sort to feed and house anyone after they’d served his purpose.

  “Exactly the one I meant,” Nimble replied. “But now ask yourself, is her absence an indication that Silas is threatening to drown her in the river tonight to force Agatha Wedmoor’s hand? Or has your girl Agatha agreed to the engagement to keep him from realizing that she’s about to have the child ferried out of his reach?”

  “Is that possible?” Archie asked in return. Could Agatha and Nurse Fuggas have outmaneuvered Silas? If so, Agatha would have to get Phebe away before Silas realized he’d been duped. “It would all depend upon how much my uncle knows about the other missing Prodigals. Does he have a hand in their disappearances, or does he think that the only secret in the Dee Club is an illegitimate child?”

  “Yeah, that does seem to be what it all comes down to,” Nimble said quietly. “Now you see why I’ve got to be there tomorrow?”

  Archie did, but he didn’t like it. He considered saying as much, but he already knew none of his objections would change Nimble’s mind.

  “You’re a bloody hard man to care about, Nimble.” He didn’t mean to say it aloud. The silence that followed made him feel all the worse for his confession. As much of a declaration as it was.

  One of the great tower clocks rang out the hour in low, long notes.

  “It’ll all be done and over after tomorrow.” Nimble’s voice sounded so quiet that Archie wasn’t sure those words were even meant for him. “Just a precious little time left to us.”

  The gaslight glow of a streetlamp briefly cast golden tones across the interior of the carriage. Archie realized Nimble leaned in closer to him than he’d expected. He gazed at Archie with that look of longing that sent a rush through Archie’s body. Neither of them were drunk nor had three months passed, and yet Nimble stretched so his leg brushed against Archie’s thigh. He reached out with his right hand, and Archie clasped his fingers against his own.

  “With the road this rutted, I don’t suppose too many will notice if the carriage rocks a bit, do you?” Nimble’s smile looked a little wicked. Then darkness closed in around the carriage again.

  “I don’t think so, no.” Archie managed to get the words out. A moment later his breath caught in his throat as Nimble opened the front of his silk trousers and gave Archie’s jutting prick a hungry kiss.

  NOT SINCE the war had Archie felt such turmoil churning through him. A good portion of his agitation stemmed from that jostling, joyous, but all-too-brief carriage ride. Nimble’s attention had filled him with such hope but also left him feeling undone and far too alone. His disquiet only mounted the next morning when he discovered Nimble had already left for the Dee Club, hours before him.

  All afternoon he ranged through the club, drinking tea as if he enjoyed the stuff and taking pains not to finger any of the odd objects hidden away in the cheat’s pockets sewn into his tasteful steel gray coat.

  He attempted to look in on Nimble in the theater, he didn’t manage more than a quick nod before Burns spirited Nimble away behind some infernal black curtain. On Archie’s second try a half hour later Lilly and Gina seemed to materialize from a display of giant peacock fans to swath Archie in cheery, playful flirtation, all the while escorting him out of the theater.

  “It’s not that we wouldn’t love to see more of you, Lord Fallmont.” Lilly brushed her gloved hand over his forearm. “But it will ruin the fun if you see how all our tricks are turned backstage.”

  “I was only hoping to have a few words in the wings with Mr. Hobbs.” Archie cast her an entreating look, and Lilly seemed to consider.

  “Oh, but you’re far too distracting, Lord Fallmont.” Gina offered the absurd flattery with a knowing wink. “If a swell as fine as you stands in the wings during rehearsal, we’ll all miss our cues and trip over one another. We have to send you away if only to save ourselves from shame and broken ankles.”

  Archie laughed and didn’t bother to argue further. If Nimble wanted to talk to him, then he could come and find him. If Nimble wanted to avoid him after last night’s carriage ride, well, then that too was his right.

  Archie withdrew to the library out of habit more than any purpose. Sunlight and shadows played through the skylight overhead as he paced the upper floor. One beam briefly lit the framed etchings hanging in a reading alcove. Not etchings, Archie realized, but building plans. Two for ships and the other four depicting floors of a building. Having recently sketched the Dee Club, Archie recognized the plans right away. He took the empty seat and began studying the layouts very closely. On the floor below, several scholarly-looking types came and went, natural and Prodigal both, discussing subjects from the laws of gravity to biblical prophecy.

  Sunlight dimmed and the skylight overhead took on a pale twilight blue. Archie absently noted the regular denizens of the library fleeing the club as the noise of rowdy voices drifted from other rooms. The Sunday night regulars were arriving and with them their fighters.

  A shadow fell across Archie. He glanced up to see Agatha Wedmoor, dressed in a green damask gown and clenching her pale hands together as if she feared what her fingers might get up to if left unrestrained.

  “Lady Umberry, what a delight to see you,” Archie said.

  “You do realize that I am never going to marry you,” Agatha stated as if Archie had asserted otherwise. “There is absolutely no point in you remaining here.”

  “Well, at least you do me the kindness of a gentle rebuff.” Archie glanced past her to see the familiar figure of Nurse Fuggas standing near a collection of botanical volumes. Nate Smith presented a much more unexpected and unpleasant addition to the few people present to witness his exchange with Agatha. He glowered at Archie from the first floor, then started up the circular staircase to the second floor.

  Glancing back to Agatha, Archie saw strain, like cracks feathering porcelain, marring her normally placid face.

  “How did my uncle ever obtain your father’s approval?” Archie asked very quietly. If nothing else, the sheer number of debt collectors hounding Silas should have given her family pause.

  “It’s not any of your business, but if you must know, my father had refused the elder Lord Granville on several occasions. A week ago, however… Papa suffered a hunting accident. A stray shot from—” Agatha’s voice caught, and for an instant, Archie feared she might cry. Instead she lifted her chin and drew in a slow breath. “Charles has been in charge of matters since news reached us.”

  “I see.” Archie wondered if the stout, sporty man he’d seen with Silas weeks past had played a role in the accident. Or perhaps that had been left to Mike and Nate. “I am sorry. I had no idea.”

  “Charles only learned of papa’s death late this Friday,” Agatha replied in a dull, automatic tone. “I was informed yesterday.”

  Her manner and expression made Archie wonder if Charles had compelled her to accept Silas’s proposal.

  “I am most sorry, Lady Umberry,” Archie said again.

  “We all are,” Agatha replied, but then she pinned Archie with an intent stare. “But since my brother has given his approval for my marriage, you must see that th
ere is absolutely no reason for you to remain in this place. It will only cause me embarrassment and hurt you to do so. If I could, I would not see you come to harm, sir.”

  Archie couldn’t fail to take her meaning. By removing Agatha’s father, Silas had undermined the one impediment to seizing control over both Charles and Agatha, and thus the Dee Club as well. Very soon none of them would be safe within the confines of the insolated, isolated building. Despite her poise and steady gaze, Agatha Wedmoor was terrified, Archie realized. Looking again to Nurse Fuggas, he noted the pallor of her complexion and the shadows beneath her eyes. She turned as Nate Smith reached the top of the stairs and blocked his advance, making cheery observations about the summer weather.

  “You must go, Archibald,” Agatha repeated. Archie guessed it wasn’t only his well-being that depended upon his departure.

  “Of course, I’ll leave, if you insist,” Archie replied. “Though, won’t you allow me the smallest parting favor?”

  “A kiss, I suppose?” Agatha actually looked as if she might be sick.

  “Lord no!” Archie raised his hand in reflex to her nauseated expression. Then he forced a smile. “It would break my heart to come so near paradise, knowing that I can never attain it. No, I rather thought I might beg one of these pretty pictures from you.” Archie tapped one of the framed floor plans.

  Agatha studied the layout, then glanced at Archie. The slightest furrow wrinkled her brow, and then she gave him a very odd look as if recognizing him for the first time.

  “Your Mr. Hobbs shares your interest in unique architecture,” Agatha commented quietly.

  “Well, it is all rather fascinating.” Her mention of Nimble sent a shot of alarm through Archie. He forced himself to remain seated and smiling. “I do hope he hasn’t gotten too caught up in his curiosity. I will have to have a word with him before I pack up. I’d never forgive myself if I left him in a tight spot. The foundation of these older structures can be so surprisingly unreliable. If you take my meaning.”

  “Yes…. They’re particularly dangerous where new construction has been built over old faults,” Agatha replied, then spoke more brightly. “Do let me see that silly picture, and I’ll show you.”

  Archie stood and lifted the picture from the wall and placed it on the small reading table beside him. A maze of strong rooms and secret corridors cut through the outlines of mundane rooms throughout the building. Strange to see the plans for deception spread out in such clean mechanical lines. And more spread out beyond the visible structure of the club.

  Agatha traced her finger over a faint series of scratches that Archie had taken for details of the rocky bank. But now he realized she followed a crooked, half-sunken corridor running from the river’s edge, beneath the building, and around to the private dock. The jagged course looked natural, not man-made—perhaps a narrow inlet that had been carved out over hundreds of years past and then exploited as smuggler’s cavern. A good place to stow a rowboat out of sight, though no doubt most of the narrow space flooded every time the tide came rushing up the White River.

  Agatha tapped her finger once, and Archie took in the small square at the end of the meandering path. A store room, or a prison?

  “Take the picture if you like.” Agatha lifted her hand from the frame. “But you had best go soon. It is already growing late, and your way may be hard to find in the dark.”

  “Thank you, Lady Umberry. I will not forget your kindness.”

  Archie waited until she, Nurse Fuggas, and Nate Smith had left the library. Then he tore the backing from the frame, took the plan, and hurried from the building. He left a single footman staring, aghast, after he commandeered a storm lamp from the man and bounded down to the marshy dark of the river’s edge.

  “Perfect evening for collecting fireflies!” Archie called back over his shoulder.

  The lamp’s green light chased away shadows as if they were shivering little snakes. Overhead, gulls screeched and winged across the sunset, returning to their roosts. Archie peered down at the dark stone and black water of the riverbank. Stands of tall reeds and outcroppings of rock disguised the actual outline of the bank, but Archie knew what he needed to find and approximately where it would lie.

  Indeed, very near an old willow, he picked out the deep shadow of a fault running down the face of the bank. Water surged in and out the narrow mouth. Archie guessed that when the river was at its highest, only a foot of the opening would be visible above the water. Two large rocks blocked the view of it from the opposite bank and sheltered the opening from the full force of the river’s current.

  Archie quickly rechecked the items hidden in his coat and rewrapped them in their oilcloth pouch to ensure they remained as dry as possible. Then he clambered down the rocky slope of the bank and tromped into the flooded cavern. Ice-cold water surged around his thighs and mud sucked at his expensive calfskin boots. He held the storm lantern high and fought through the surges of the water, racing deeper into the dark passage. Clusters of sharp barnacles jutted up from the rocks, and snails retreated into their glossy shells as his lamplight struck them.

  The farther he penetrated, the more he encountered wooden supports peppered with colonies of black mussels. And the jagged faces of the stone walls and ceiling gave way to raggedly carved surfaces. Bats hurled themselves past him, brushing his hair and face with their hot, soft wings. The air stank of their droppings and of moldering wood. It seemed to him that he struggled up an incline, but the water continued to rise as he went. It reached his hips now. Waves jostled him against the rough walls and dragged at his cold feet as he trudged onward.

  The water rose to his chest. His teeth chattered, and the tremors in his hands shook the lantern so the shadows surrounding him jumped and danced. Knowing the water would rise higher still, he pushed on, despite the numb lethargy that weighed down his legs like lead shot.

  Lamplight glinted along the metal bars of a large grate, and Archie’s heart sank. He had to get past it before the floodwater reached Nimble. He prayed that the constant influx of water had rusted the damn thing enough for him to kick out a couple of bars and squeeze between the rest. As he slogged closer, he realized someone had already ripped the thing off its hinges. Now the grate fell aside with a shove, and Archie easily stumbled onward, paddling as much as walking through the rising water.

  Then he heard a string of familiar growled obscenities. He turned a corner. Nimble looked as annoyed as a drenched cat when the green light fell across him. He spun on Archie with a murderous expression, then stopped short and stared.

  “Archie?” He seemed caught between delight and disbelief. Then he pelted through the water to pull Archie to him in a hard embrace. Archie felt the warmth of his body radiating through his soaking clothes. “By God! How did you find me here?”

  “Followed the map, old boot.” Archie returned his smile as the dread he’d felt seemed to melt away. He’d found Nimble and they would be all right so long as they were together—that certainty heartened him more powerfully than any faith. “You know the way out is behind us.”

  “The water’s too deep for me.” Nimble scowled at his hands, and Archie realized they were bleeding. “I wasted too much time fighting with that bloody grate. By the time I got through it, the water was nearly up to my nipples. I had to turn back.”

  “There’s higher ground the way you came?” Archie asked.

  “A little higher, and a rotting jetty above that.”

  “Then lead on. I’ve not come unprepared.”

  They hurried together up the slight incline until they reached a small grotto, where the water lapped around Archie’s waist. Ghostly white crabs scuttled through the water at Archie’s feet. Something long and dark wriggled past the back of his leg and then shot away through the water after a crab.

  The rickety jetty looked like it had been lashed together from wrecked boats, barnacle-encrusted planks, and ropes well past the point of being picked apart for oakum. The whole thing rose nearly t
wo feet higher than Archie’s head and stretched some ten feet back to the far rocky wall. There, a solid iron door stood, banded with steel. Archie noted the surrounding rock walls, jetty, and the iron door all bore signs of exposure to floodwaters. Even standing on the jetty, he and Nimble might be in over their heads if the tide was strong.

  The aged wooden beams of the jetty groaned as Nimble heaved himself from the water and clambered up them. Archie handed the lantern to Nimble, then climbed much more quietly to his side. The air smelled stale, but its stillness spared Archie from the chill of any breezes.

  “How did you get here, of all places?” Archie asked.

  Nimble dropped his gaze to his cut hands with a sheepish expression. “The nurse got the drop on me,” he said after a moment. “Asked if I could help her move some crates into the infirmary. Soon as I was loaded down and out of sight of anyone else, she spiked me in the ass with a hypodermic.”

  Archie scowled. He’d assumed that Nurse Fuggas served Agatha, but he wasn’t sure how drugging Nimble helped anyone but Silas.

  “I think she just wanted me out of the way. Meant to lock me up in one of those infirmary rooms to sleep the drugs off. But I guess she miscalculated just how much I weigh.” Nimble smiled like it was an amusing encounter, though Archie guessed it masked his embarrassment. “So there she was, straining and grunting, trying to roll me across the floor. And there’s me, floppin’ and moaning like a drunk whale. She ended up shoving me down some kind of chute. That spit me out behind that damned door, locked in like some kind of hapless damsel.”

  “Hardly hapless, if that grate downstream is anything to judge by,” Archie assured him.

  “Fat lot of good it did me, the way this water’s rising.” Nimble glowered down at the dark waves rising up the supports of the jetty. Then he looked to Archie and his expression lightened. “How did you ever find me here?”

  “Agatha Wedmoor realized that I wasn’t going to clear out without you. So she hinted me in your direction.”

  “Don’t suppose she was so kind as to slip you a key to Leviathan’s Gate over there?” Nimble jabbed his thumb in the direction of the massive door at the end of the jetty. Archie noticed a cluster of deep dents studding the surface.