The Faerie Ring

by Kiki Hamilton

  Tiki shook her head and started walking again. She didn’t want to hear what Shamus was saying. “We have to take the chance. She’s burning up with fever.”

  Shamus reached forward and took Clara in his arms. “Let me carry her.”

  Tiki didn’t want to relinquish her hold on the sick little girl, but it was a relief to let the weight of her body slip into Shamus’s arms. He held the small, shivering child close to his chest as Fiona tucked extra blankets around her.

  Shamus’s long hair was soaked from the rain and plastered to his head. “We better hurry. There’s bloody few cabs out tonight—it’s too cold and icy.” As if in response, a deep hacking cough that seemed to reverberate in the air around them rose from the pile of blankets that Shamus held.

  “We’ll go east and cut over at Aldwych,” Tiki said. “Then head north on Kingsway. That’s the fastest route. We should be able to get there in an hour.”

  The long walk to the hospital rattled Tiki’s nerves. Coal dust hung thick in the air, making it difficult to draw a deep breath. Clara coughed often but never woke once to ask where they were going.

  They turned on Southampton Place and stopped to ask directions from a milk-woman collecting her cans for the day.

  “It’s the white brick building down there, dearies.” She adjusted the wooden yoke over her shoulders. Churns on each side swayed. “They only take very sick children, though.”

  Tiki thanked the woman, and they continued down the street at a faster pace. White columns framed the stone steps leading up to the entry of the three-story hospital. Tiki led Shamus and the others in through the front doors. They passed a room full of people; some of the men were sitting, others were leaning against the wall, many holding their hats. Women sat with children clutched in their arms, trying to ease their suffering as they waited to be seen. Muffled sobs could be heard, and the strident cries of a sick child rent the air. The despair that filled the room was palpable.

  A stern-looking nurse in a black dress covered by a white apron and wearing a long white lace cap on her head eyed them from behind the entry desk.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” Tiki took care to speak clearly. “My little sister is ill. Would it be possible for a physician to look at her?”

  The woman frowned as she eyed Tiki. “Where are the child’s parents?”

  Before Tiki could reply, Clara began coughing. The nurse rose and walked to the bundle Shamus held. She peeled back the tattered blankets to look at Clara’s face, her capable fingers resting on the little girl’s forehead. Then she stepped away and disappeared into another room. It was only a moment before she returned, pushing a gurney.

  “Put her on here.”

  Shamus stepped forward and gently lowered the bundle in his arms to the flat surface of the movable bed. He straightened the blankets around Clara’s face, pulling them clear of her mouth.

  The nurse pulled a device from around her neck, sticking two tubes in her ears while she placed a small hornlike instrument on Clara’s chest. After listening for a moment, she pulled the tubes from her ears and moved toward the end of the gurney, forcing Shamus aside.

  “The waiting room is down there.” She pointed toward the room they’d passed.

  Tiki threaded her fingers and clutched her hands together tightly. “Thank you for your help, ma’am.”

  The woman looked Tiki up and down. Her eyes skimmed over Toots, Fiona, and Shamus, then returned to Tiki. “Your parents will need to come in and discuss payment.” She gestured toward the waiting room. “Now, go there and wait for me. I’ll be needing information in a bit, but this one is too sickly to wait. What did you say her name was?”

  “Clara,” Tiki whispered. She bit her lip hard so she wouldn’t cry. She was torn between fear of losing Clara and relief at knowing she would be getting the proper care.

  “You better pray for Clara. She’s going to need it.” Then with quick, efficient movements, the nurse pushed the gurney down the hall and disappeared between two swinging doors.

  Tiki moved toward the other room, her thoughts on Clara. Taking the little girl to the hospital was a risk, but if she didn’t get the proper care, she might die.

  “What do you think?” She cast a worried glance at Shamus.

  “She doesn’t sound good. I’ve heard coughs like that before.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders sagged. “When my father used to force me to mudlark with him down on the Thames, he said some of the dead bodies we pulled from the river had died from coughing up blood. Consumption.”

  Tiki fought back a shudder. Her parents had died of consumption. She would never be able to erase the sound of their coughing from her memory. She tried not to allow herself to think of the possible outcomes. “We had to do it, Shamus.”

  “Where’d they take Clara?” Toots’s voice wavered and he rubbed his eyes with a grubby hand, ducking his head as though he didn’t want Tiki to see his tears.

  Tiki slid her arm around his thin shoulders. “They’re going to keep her here in the hospital and help her get well.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know for sure. Maybe just a few days.” Tiki glanced in at the shifting crowd of people in the waiting area. A lone figure stood unmoving in the corner, staring at her. Tiki started in surprise. She recognized those blond curls. That exquisite face. It was the girl from King’s Cross.

  “Shamus,” Tiki hissed. She tugged at his sleeve.

  “What?”

  She tilted her head toward the room, not wanting to give away her interest in the girl. “Do you see that blond girl in the corner staring at us?”

  Shamus was silent for a moment as he peered at the crowd. “No, where?”

  Tiki jerked her head up, intending to point out the girl, but she was nowhere to be seen. A chill crept down Tiki’s arms. She scanned the entire room, but the girl wasn’t there. Unnerved, Tiki grabbed Toots’s sleeve and steered him out the door. They needed to get out of here. “Come along now.”

  As underage orphans and not relatives, none of them could stay and give information without risk of being taken themselves.

  If they were sent to an orphanage, they would be separated and put to work in different places. They might not ever see each other again. Tiki had heard the tales of workhouse jobs that included oakum picking and stone breaking and not even being paid a wage for the backbreaking work but given day-old bread instead. She’d heard that the masters in the workhouses liked to beat the children. Her father had raged against the unjust conditions in the workhouses enough for her to know it wasn’t any place she ever wanted to find herself or anyone she loved.

  The image of a stone block cell shrouded in shadows formed in her mind. There was one alternative to the orphanage. That was prison. If she got caught for stealing the queen’s ring, the workhouse might look like an inviting option considering what she’d be faced with. Conditions in Newgate Prison were said to be unspeakable, where rats feasted on your flesh and the cries of the insane kept you awake at night.

  Tiki shivered, a fear filling her like she’d never known before. For the first time, she truly grasped what a dangerous game she was playing with the ring.

  Once they were outside, Tiki took Toots’s hands in her own. “Clara is going to be back home with us soon.”

  “D’you promise, Teek?” The hope in his voice put an ache in her chest.

  Tiki whispered a silent prayer. “Yes, I promise.”

  “The hospital is going to make her well,” Fiona said, sliding her arm around Toots’s shoulders.

  “Well, now what do we do?” Shamus asked.

  “We might as well head back home,” Tiki replied. “We’ve got more coal and we’ll be able to build a bigger fire.” She raised an eyebrow at Toots. “Maybe we can even get some warm pea soup on the way home.”

  Toots’s face lit up. “Do you think so?”

  “Yes. I think we’ve still got some bread and cheddar in the cupboard.” Tiki forced a smile. �
��Clara will be home with us before we know it.”

  “Hey! You there!” A voice interrupted their conversation. Tiki glanced over her shoulder. The nurse in the black dress stood in the entrance to the hospital, staring at them. “I told you to wait. I want to know where that child has been living.”

  “Run!” Tiki cried.

  Toots, Shamus, and Fiona all bolted in different directions. Everyone knew to split up. That way they were harder to catch. Tiki ran hard, ignoring the startled looks of strangers. It felt good to run, to run away from her sadness and fear.

  Chapter Nine

  TIKI was exhausted by the time she returned to Charing Cross. Her fear for Clara’s health was now entwined with a sense of desperation. It would probably cost several pounds a day to keep Clara in the hospital. She would need to pay the hospital before they allowed her to take the little girl home once she was well. If they let her take Clara home. And the only way to come up with that much money was to sell the ring. But how to sell the ring without getting caught?

  Tiki had spent the entire walk home trying to come up with a plan. All the while, her conversation with Rieker ticked in the back of her head like an annoying clock. The ring is a well … A reservoir that holds things. If you do have the ring, they’ll find you. She shivered just thinking about it. If “they” were like Marcus, she didn’t want anything to do with them.

  The moon gleamed straight overhead as she pulled open the large doors of Charing Cross and trudged wearily down the main thoroughfare of the station. She checked the corridor for any bobbies, then eased into their home. Shamus’s hunched form sat by the stove, whittling a small piece of wood while Toots’s soft snores echoed from a dark corner.

  Tears hovered close to the surface as Tiki collapsed into one of the chairs. The day’s events had finally caught up with her—the disturbing glimpse of the blond girl in King’s Cross, the attack in the alley, her fearful belief that Rieker was telling the truth when he spoke of the fey’s interest in the ring, and then Clara’s admission to the hospital. It was almost more than she could bear.

  “Where have you been?” Shamus whispered. “You scared the daylights out of me. I thought maybe they’d caught you.”

  Fiona sat up on the girls’ side of the stove and rubbed her eyes. “Teek, is that you?” She wrapped herself in a blanket and tottered over to them, half-asleep. Yawning, she sat down across from Shamus, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Can we go see Clara tomorrow?”

  “I’d like to, but we might have to wait a day or two, Fi.” Tiki sighed. “Clara’s in good hands now. We’ve got to come up with some money. Fast. I’ve been trying to figure out how to sell the ring. It’s the only way we’ll be able to pay for Clara’s care.”

  Shamus paused with his knife poised above the wood. “Selling the ring is our only hope, but if we’re caught, they’ll split us up and lock us away in prison.”

  “What did you learn over in Cheapside?”

  “I talked to a couple of different gents, but I don’t know, Teek.” He shook his head. “Most of those men would sell their soul to the devil if they thought it would make them some money. I’m not sure we can trust them if someone comes asking about the ring. Who knows? The royals might give them money if they name us.”

  Tiki raised a shaking hand to brush a strand of hair from her forehead.

  “Teek, are you okay?” Fiona asked.

  “Something happened today.” She told them about being attacked by Marcus. “There was something strange about him.” Her voice faltered. She couldn’t bring herself to tell them more. “We need to be extra careful right now.”

  “I still think we should ask Rieker.” Shamus spoke with unusual stubbornness.

  “Ask Rieker what?” Fiona asked.

  “No,” Tiki replied. “I don’t want him involved.” Faeries and truces. She pushed away the memory of Marcus’s lips on hers, the strange feel of the … wing on his back. “He probably just wants the reward, like the rest of us.”

  Tiki closed her eyes and the backs of her eyelids were imprinted with the otherworldly faces she had seen, leering and snarling at her. Their images were suddenly replaced with the breathtaking beauty of the blond girl, silently watching her. Then Rieker’s face …

  Tiki bit back a gasp. Was Rieker trying to protect her or set her up to steal the ring?

  Shamus shrugged. “I’m not so sure. I’ve heard things around. How he shares food with some of the street children and took care of some old bloke who was dying.”

  Tiki wasn’t sure what to think of Shamus’s comment. “I don’t believe anyone would walk away from the fortune that this ring is worth. Rieker included.”

  “He knows the streets like the back of his hand,” Shamus said. “And Rieker has connections.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Tiki retorted. “Connections that can make the ring disappear and we’ll never see a farthing for the risk we took.” She held her hands out to the warmth of the box stove. “I don’t fancy going to prison either.”

  “The queen’s ring?” Fiona asked.

  “Yes.” Tiki looked over at her. “We’re talking about who will pay the most and how we can get the money without being caught.”

  “Oh.” Fiona yawned again. “Why don’t you just sell it back to the royals?” She gave them a sleepy smile. “They probably want it returned. Maybe they’ll give you a reward.”

  Tiki’s eyes locked on the young girl. Sell the ring back to the royals? An image of the handbill she’d found outside the station flashed before her. There was a reward being offered. It was clear that they were desperate for the ring’s return. Why not pretend they’d found the ring and return it for the reward? Tiki’s lips stretched in a big smile. “Fiona, you’re brilliant.”

  * * *

  AT first light, Tiki snuck out of the clockmaker’s shop and hurried outside. There was a large section of wall on the front of Charing Cross that was designed to post information. It didn’t take long to find another handbill tacked there. She ripped it free.

  She skimmed over the words and came to a stop on the red letters scrawled across the middle of the page. Five hundred pounds! A fortune.

  Her gaze riveted on one line: “If you have any information, contact Captain Davis-Smith of the Royal Horse Guards.” Tiki hurried back inside and showed the handbill to Shamus, Toots, and Fiona.

  “Five hundred pounds?” Fiona stared at Tiki with wide eyes. “We’d be bloody rich.”

  “We’d never run out of food again,” Toots cried. He skipped around the room in excitement.

  “But how can we tell the Guards we have the ring without getting arrested?” Shamus asked. “If we tell them we know where it is, they’ll want to know how we know. It’s not like a bunch of street rats are going to be able to hand them the ring and they’ll hand us the reward.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t work that way.”

  “You’re right.” Tiki sighed. “Somehow, we’ve got to give them the ring without being seen.”

  Toots stopped and looked at her with wide eyes. “No way to do that unless you’re invisible.”

  * * *

  THEY spent hours discussing ways to collect the reward, but in the end there was always the possibility of getting caught. In the meantime, food needed to be either stolen or purchased with stolen coins.

  Tiki nodded at Fiona, and they both edged closer to their mark. The woman’s vivid red hair, with the blue hat pinned to the center of her head, reminded Tiki of an actress who used to shop at Mr. Potts’s bookstore. But this woman was much larger, and her stout arms were so full of packages that she could barely see where she was going. Her bright blue handbag dangled on her arm like a sweet begging to be eaten.

  “Flowers, mum?” Fiona called out to the woman, holding up a red rose she had snitched from a nearby shop.

  “Oh, no, thank you, dear, not a hand to hold it with, I’m afraid,” the woman replied. Tiki put her head down and moved forward, her shoulder bumping
hard against the woman’s arm as she reached for the coin purse within the handbag. Instead, the strap snapped and the whole thing fell into her arms.

  “S’cuse me,” the woman called in a singsong voice, unable to see Tiki below her bundles amid the thick Christmas holiday traffic. Tiki grunted in return as she shoved the heavy bag under the coat hanging over her arm and gave Fiona a slight nod.

  “Hey, you there!”

  Startled, Tiki glanced back over her shoulder. Her breath froze in her throat. A bobby was staring right at her.

  “I want a word with you.”

  “Fi, run!” Tiki took off, tucking the coat and handbag under her arm as she raced around startled travelers. She skidded around a corner and headed down a hallway, zigzagging around people and trolleys filled with luggage. Daring a glance behind, Tiki saw the bobby’s blue suit hurrying around the corner, his head swiveling back and forth as he looked for her. On impulse, she dove into Mr. Potts’s bookstore, located along one of the walls within the station down from where the trains loaded. Her breath came in great gasps as she hurried into the store, looking for a place to stash the coat and handbag.

  “Can I help you?” a wavery voice called.

  Tiki raced to the end of the aisle, stopped in the darkest corner, and dropped to the floor. She pulled a number of books from the lowest shelf and shoved her dark coat with the bag wrapped inside onto the shelf in their place. With a grunt, she hefted the stack of books and dropped them on a nearby shelf.

  Taking a deep breath, Tiki slid her hands in her pockets and whistled a soft tune as she tried to catch her breath. She sauntered toward the front of the shop, perusing the titles on the shelf as she walked.

  “Wot you be about today, young miss?”

  Tiki feigned surprise as she glanced up. “Oh, hello, Mr. Potts. Didn’t see you when I wandered in.” Large windows covered the front of the shop, providing a wide-open view to the railway station filled with passersby. Tiki eased toward the window.