Necropolis

by Wendy Saunders

  ‘Ello,’ the one with freckles smiled warmly at Eve. ‘I’m Effie and this is Josephine, but you can call ‘er Nix, everyone does.’

  She sailed into the room confidently.

  ‘We’ve come to ‘elp out,’ she grinned as she took Eve’s hand and towed her over to the dressing table and sat her down on a cushioned stool. ‘Goodness, what are we gonna do wiv this then?’ she picked up a lock of Eve’s dripping hair. ‘Nix?’

  ‘We’d better dry it first,’ Nix replied as she stared at it in great consideration. ‘It’ll probably be easier to comb out the snarls when it’s dry.’

  ‘Go on then,’ Effie nodded.

  Nix stepped up and lifted Eve’s hair, but as she ran her hands through it softly, over and over, Eve could feel the heat from her hands drying her hair.

  ‘Don’t worry ducky,’ Effie winked, ‘you’re wiv friends ‘ere.’ She lifted her hair and pulled down the velvet choker covering her neck to reveal three deep ridges of skin either side of her neck. ‘Heard you’re a Siren. Me, I’m descended from a water sprite. Got myself a pair of gills; at least I’ll never drown, right? Nix ‘ere, she’s a Phoenix, creature of flame and ash. So, you see girl, you’ll fit in just fine.’

  ‘She’s not staying Effie,’ Ada reminded her.

  ‘I know, but it don’t ‘urt to know you got friends,’ she replied stubbornly.

  ‘Effie,’ Ada smiled, ‘you ‘ave such a sweet heart. Sometimes I think you’re too good for this life.’

  ‘Oh, hush up,’ Effie pffted. ‘I love my life, there ain’t nuffin’ bout it I’d change, not for all the tea in China.’

  ‘Okay it’s dry now,’ Nix interrupted as she picked up the comb and began the laborious task of unsnarling Eve’s hair.

  ‘You know you really do look like a mermaid wiv eyes and hair like that. No wonder your kind is where the stories all came from.’

  Eve didn’t know what to say. It was overwhelming, like being battered to death with kindness. Her mother had always warned her to never let anyone know what she truly was. Well the cat was well and truly amongst the pigeons now and yet these strangers had shown her nothing but kindness and hospitality, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, so she simply sat and let them fuss with her hair.

  It took some time, but once they were finished, her hair was shiny and beautifully coiled into tight ringlets, drawn back from her face with elegant braids and cascading down her back.

  She turned to look away from the mirror, finding it too disconcerting to stare at a reflection she was certain was not her own, but as she did, a little girl entered the tent. Eve blinked in surprise. The child, no more than perhaps ten, had not used the entrance like the others but had appeared in front of the wall as if she’d simply stepped through the solid canvas barrier.

  She gave a small grin and a wave and skipped happily across the tent toward Eve, climbing up into her lap.

  ‘You’re pretty,’ she told Eve as she stared into her azure blue eyes. ‘You wanna come see the elephants?’

  ‘Eve, this is Etta,’ Nix introduced the pretty child as she turned her attention to the small curious girl. ‘Where’s Silas?’

  ‘Outside,’ Etta replied easily, ‘he knows better than to come in ‘ere.’ Seeing that Nix was satisfied with her answer she turned back to Eve. ‘You want to see the elephants then? We got two, Sahana and Roshni. They’re girl elephants by the way and they’re from India! They don’t like the cold much, so we have to make sure they’re nice and warm.’

  Etta jumped down from Eve’s lap, chattering away as she grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  ‘Come on,’ she urged.

  Eve glanced up at Ada not sure what to do, the child seemed very determined.

  ‘Go ahead love,’ Ada smiled, ‘we’ll come and find you when it’s time to eat.’

  ‘Ere,’ Etta dug in her pocket and pulled out a handful of peanuts which she pressed into Eve’s hand. ‘You’re gonna need these.’

  Eve stared down bemused at the strange nuts in her palm as the very determined young child towed her from the tent.

  17

  ‘What do you think she wants?’ Olivia asked quietly as they approached another of the small, warren-like tents.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Scarlett shrugged, ‘but Ada’s right about one thing. It’s not usual for her to seek someone out. If anything, it’s the reverse; people go looking for her. If she’s here and asking to see us, it must be important.’

  ‘I guess we should find out then,’ Olivia drew in a deep breath and reached for the tent flap, drawing it aside and peering into the darkened room.

  It was smaller than some of the other tents, more intimate. Great swathes of diaphanous fabric in primary colors draped across the roof and down the canvas walls. Braziers were stationed evenly around the room, giving the air a smoky haze. Huge posters hung from the walls at intervals around the entire circumference of the small round tent. The posters read, THE FORTUNE TELLER and showed a woman’s head, with her eyes closed, her skin green and a third eye open between her dark sculpted brows.

  In the center of the tent was a round table draped with more of the same shimmery material and at the center sat an enormous crystal ball mounted on a coiled golden serpent and surrounded by fat flickering candles.

  Olivia and Scarlett stepped further into the tent and found Eden sitting at the table, her long fingers entwined and resting on the gauzy material, as she watched them with her amber colored gaze.

  Olivia and Scarlett shared a look before each taking a seat. The chairs were gaudy, heavily and clumsily gilded in gold and cushioned in crimson, a far cry from the tree stumps they’d sat upon in the Garden.

  Once seated, something caught the flickering candlelight and sparkled. Olivia’s gaze dropped to Eden’s neck and there, resting against her skin, was the small apple Olivia had created for her, suspended on a fine chain and dancing with earth fire trapped deep within its ruby crystalline structure. For some reason it really pleased Olivia to see the enigmatic woman wearing her gift.

  Her gaze drew back to Eden’s face and the pleasure evaporated. Eden did not look happy, more than that, she looked downright furious.

  ‘You wanted to see us?’ Olivia said evenly.

  ‘You lost the Hourglass?’ Eden’s eyes flashed dangerously.

  Olivia’s stomach clenched painfully. It had been less than twenty-four hours since their unfortunate run in with Bower which had culminated in him using magic, stolen magic no doubt she thought scornfully, to abscond with the one item that was capable of getting Scarlett and herself back to their own time.

  She hadn’t really had time to absorb the complicated new reality, the fact that not only did she have no idea who Bower was and how to find him to reclaim the Hourglass, but also that she was now responsible for the quiet little servant woman from the Drunken Duck, who apparently was some sort of endangered magical species. Damn it, she fought the urge to rub her face tiredly and run her hands through her hair in sheer frustration. Instead, she forced a sense of calm she did not feel and turned her gaze directly on Eden.

  ‘We didn’t lose it,’ Olivia replied coolly, ‘it was taken.’

  Eden’s jaw clenched as if she were trying to rein in her temper, a temper Olivia was certain would be able to bring about Armageddon if unleashed. So, it was with relief, and a great deal of reluctant admiration, Olivia watched the strange woman get control of her fury and even out her expression somewhat.

  ‘You have heard of the ones calling themselvess the men of truth?’ The only giveaway that she was still not quite in control of her emotions was evident in the slight hiss on the end of some of her words, in her strange reptilian way.

  ‘They call themselves the Veritas,’ Olivia snorted in disgust.

  Eden tapped her long, thin, claw-like nails against the table restlessly as she considered her next words.

  ‘They should not be interfering,’ Eden scowled darkly. ‘They upset the balance a
nd casst everything into chaos. You musst stop them, the Hourglass cannot be allowed to remain in their possession. You need to return to your own time. The longer you are here the more you disrupt the time flow. The balance must be maintained.’

  ‘So you keep saying.’

  ‘You have to get the Hourglass back,’ Eden demanded.

  ‘I’d love to,’ Olivia replied easily ‘Just tell me where it is, and I’ll go and get it, and tear them a new one while I’m at it.’

  ‘I CANNOT TELL YOU,’ Eden snapped. ‘I am bound by ancient rules beyond your comprehension.’

  ‘I think you’d be surprised at what I’m able to comprehend,’ Olivia replied dryly.

  ‘Eden,’ Scarlett interceded quickly, sensing Olivia’s frustration, which usually meant she was approaching the point of letting her mouth run, often with unpredictable consequences. ‘Eden,’ she drew the woman’s gaze, ‘we don’t know where the Hourglass is. All we know is that it was taken by someone called Abraham Bower and that he is part of the Veritas. We will get it back, of that you can be certain, but we don’t know who he is, or how to find him, or the Veritas for that matter. I know you’re not supposed to interfere, I know that you don’t want to upset the balance, but they tipped the scales first. By their interference, the Veritas have tipped the balance. Surely by helping us, even a little, you could even the scales back out?’

  ‘Clever,’ Olivia muttered under her breath.

  Eden stared at Scarlett thoughtfully.

  ‘There could be some truth to your words,’ Eden mused. ‘It is impossible though; I cannot tell you where the Hourglass is.’

  ‘Then what are we supposed to do?’ Olivia scowled in irritation. ‘London is a big place; we don’t have time to kick every rock and see if he scurries out from under it.’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ Eden replied as she turned her attention back to Olivia. ‘When you encountered this man, Bower, did you recognize him?’

  ‘No,’ Olivia frowned, ‘well... not exactly. I’ve never met him before, of that I’m one hundred percent certain, but there was something about him that seemed familiar… why?’

  ‘He seems familiar to you because you have seen him before,’ Eden told her, her voice smoothing out as she relaxed her temper, seemingly having reached a solution.

  ‘Where?’ Olivia replied suspiciously.

  ‘Think,’ Eden muttered, her eyes deepening, ‘think back Olivia. You knew somehow you were going to end up here in London with Scarlett. How?’

  ‘The newspaper clipping,’ Olivia answered in confusion, ‘but I don’t see h…’ she broke off mid-sentence, her eyes distant. ‘The clipping,’ she muttered, ‘I’ll be damned.’

  ‘What?’ Scarlett asked curiously. ‘What clipping?’

  ‘When Theo and I went to Vegas to find Sam, we tracked him to the Black Orchid casino.’

  Scarlett nodded.

  ‘I know it, Sam and Elias co-own it,’ she replied, not wanting to add that it was also the place where her own brother had stabbed her to death.

  ‘Do they?’ Olivia raised her brows in surprise, ‘anyway, we found a room with loads of stuff in it. Pictures, photos, paintings, all of you throughout the centuries.’

  Scarlett knew the room she was speaking of. After all, she’d seen it herself, but everything had happened so fast, the fight with Ash, New Orleans, giving herself up to the Angels to save Sam, that she hadn’t had the chance to talk to Sam about his stalker tendencies.

  ‘When we were there,’ Olivia continued, ‘I found a stack of old newspapers. One of them was the Illustrated London News dated 9th Jan 1863. It was an article covering the opening of the Metropolitan Railway and the Farringdon Street banquet. The reason the paper caught my eye was because there was a photo on the front page, taken at the opening of the station, and you and I are both there, standing side by side.’

  ‘I was never at the opening,’ Scarlett murmured. ‘I would have still been in Paris in ‘63.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Olivia replied, ‘which means it’s you and I this time around. We’re supposed to be at the opening of the first London tube station.’

  ‘But what does this have to do with Bower?’ Scarlett asked.

  ‘Because,’ Olivia replied quietly, her eyes burning darkly, ‘he’s standing right in front of us in the photograph.’

  ‘Are you absolutely sure?’ Scarlett asked.

  ‘Definitely,’ Olivia nodded. ‘I must have stared at that picture a dozen times trying to figure out why the hell I would be in Victorian London. Not only that, Theo didn’t seem to be with me. I studied the photo to see if he was hiding further back in the crowd.’

  Olivia turned to Eden. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? Bower is going to be at the opening of the station?’

  Eden nodded silently and Olivia closed her eyes and drew in a deep shaky breath.

  ‘Olivia,’ Scarlett grasped her arm gently, ‘this is a good thing. The opening hasn’t happened yet. We know where he’s going to be and when. That gives us the upper hand. We can find him and force him to hand over the Hourglass.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Olivia muttered unenthusiastically.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Scarlett asked genuinely confused. ‘I thought you’d be happy.’

  ‘I am,’ Olivia sighed, ‘there’s just one problem.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The newspaper was dated the 9th Jan 1863,’ Olivia replied. ‘It’s barely even December, which means… we’re stuck here for another month.’

  Elias hurried out of the way of the passing omnibus as the horses pulling it snorted impatiently. He crossed the road and turned down an alley under a huge brick archway. He dodged and weaved his way through a half dozen men filling the narrow side street, each carrying huge sacks of flour or casks of beer on their shoulders.

  He rounded another corner, past the dirty sooty brick buildings looming on either side of him. He could already begin to feel the sweat dampening the armpits of his shirt beneath his jacket, despite the cold. There was a sharp pain somewhere behind his right eye, a dull thudding in his head, and his mouth seemed to have dried out like an old leather shoe.

  Drawing in a breath to calm the random rolls of nausea in his belly, he glanced down at the instructions, scrawled on a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Looking up again, his eyes were drawn to the building at the end of the street. As he approached a young man in a worn jacket and scuffed brown boots jumped to his feet, almost toppling the crate he’d been sitting on. He docked his flat cap as Elias approached and opened the door for him.

  Elias didn't bother acknowledging him, it was what the boy was paid for anyway. He glanced at the brass plaque mounted on the brickwork to the right of the doorway as he stepped across the threshold and noted with some satisfaction that it did indeed read, Hadley and Mason, Property Brokers.

  He felt the door close efficiently behind him as he followed along the dim corridor toward a pair of glass paneled doors. The only sound to reach his ears was the clicking of his boots against the floorboards. Reaching the doors, he lifted his hand and twisted the worn brass handle.

  The room he stepped into was almost deadly silent but for the scratch of several quills and the quiet ticking of a clock which suddenly chimed the quarter hour. Elias closed the door behind him and stopped in front of a row of three desks, each with a severely suited man hunched over stacks of heavy ledgers and parchments.

  Elias cleared his throat and the nearest man looked up, peering over his half-moon spectacles, his fingers stained with ink.

  ‘Yes?’ the clerk responded, ‘may I help you?’

  ‘I’m here to see Mr Hadley or Mr Mason,’ Elias answered.

  ‘Well which is it?’ the clerk demanded impatiently, ‘Mr Hadley or Mr Mason?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Elias admitted with a faint shrug. ‘Their establishment was recommended to me by Pearl. I am interested in a listing from the green ledger.’

  The sound of scratching quills suddenly halted, and two more c
urious pairs of eyes peered up from their ledgers.

  ‘Right,’ the clerk replied as his eyes widened, ‘one moment.’

  The nimble man hopped off his tall seat and scurried over to another door, knocking politely before disappearing behind it.

  Elias stood awkwardly as the two other clerks openly stared at him. Giving a polite nod he turned and glanced at the room, feeling the weight of their collective gaze settle between his shoulder blades like lead.

  The room was unremarkable. The light was dim, and the room filled with dark wood furniture, file drawers, cabinets, bookcases, all overlaid with the heavy musty scent of dry parchment and paper.

  ‘Ahem.’

  Elias turned to see the bespectacled clerk had reappeared and was hovering by the door he’d just emerged from.

  ‘Mr Hadley will see you now, Mr?’

  ‘Black.’ Elias cleared his throat when his voice emerged as a dry croak, ‘Elias Black.’

  The clerk nodded and opened the door for him. Stepping through, his eyes fell upon a huge heavy desk and, more pertinently, to the thin man sitting behind it. He lifted his eyes from the paper he’d been reading and instead studied Elias.

  ‘Mr Elias Black, Sir,’ the clerk intoned.

  The man behind the desk appeared to be tall and thin, judging from the length of his arms, which looked like twigs, encased in the expertly tailored sleeves of his frock coat. His fingers were long and spindly and the severe white starched collar of his shirt was so high and tight around his neck, it put Elias in mind of an illustration he’d once seen in a treatise on primitive African cultures, of a strange long necked creature known as a giraffe.

  The man was clean shaven with dull brown eyes and hair slicked into a neat, ruthlessly symmetrical parting.

  ‘Mr Black,’ he spoke after a few moments, his voice clear, his accent crisp.

  ‘Mr Hadley,’ he approached, extending his hand.

  Mr Hadley stared down at Elias’s hand as though it were a slightly soiled handkerchief and reached out to shake it with a reluctant politeness.