by Darcy Burke
Kate ignored his tone. “Finn’s got Daniel.”
“Bollocks.” Atlas pushed himself off the tree, striding forward into the graveyard.
Knight’s gray eyes flitted over Atlas’s frame, cataloguing the thief’s spotless black clothing and top hat. He lingered for a second watching Atlas, his arms crossed over his chest. As Kate followed Atlas, Knight jogged after her. “That’s the Gentleman Thief. He’s the most brilliant thief in all of London. What exactly are you involved in here?”
Kate glanced over at him. His lips were slightly parted, his posture alert. He held the truncheon perfectly poised for attack as he ran. This, she decided, was a man who excelled under conflict. It was in her best interests to keep silent.
They ran around the back of the church toward the workhouse cemetery. Kate cut a tight corner, half-boots skimming over the rocks in the St. Sepulchre-without’s cemetery. Another storm was coming, worse than the former, as if the weather realized the injustice of Daniel’s disappearance and wished to protest.
The cemetery was not particularly large. On the whole, it took fifteen minutes to search.
He had to be here, he had to be here, he had to be here. Such was the constant refrain that beat down upon her brain. For if he was not here, he’d been taken somewhere else entirely. Somewhere she could not find him and all would be lost.
She couldn’t give up hope, even as she heard nothing from Officer Knight to indicate he’d found activity in his quarter.
Then she saw it, in a glen with two large overhanging trees. Three men huddled in a small circle with their backs to her. One man held a lantern, while the other shoveled dirt onto a rising pile. Graves rose up around them, solitary stone meant to commemorate the lost but instead marking the place where the resurrectionists would dig next.
The man closest to her resembled Finn from the rear. He had the proper height and build, and the other two men with him vaguely resembled his associates that had broken into Daniel’s room.
I’ve found them!
She gestured to Knight and Atlas, not daring to cry out and alert the men to her presence. Knight crested the hill from the other direction, Atlas shortly behind him.
Where was Daniel? He had to be here, if Templeton, Ezekiel and Finn had all assembled in this one place. Templeton clutched a shovel. What cause did they have to bury something?
Kate looked from one end of the cemetery to the other. Nausea washed over her. They had taken Daniel to a place where his murder could be easily disguised, lost in a sea of corpses. They had intended for him to be forgotten about until they dug him up.
“They buried him.” She barely forced the words out.
Atlas whistled. “Damnation.”
Hearing them, Finn turned around. He said something to his men, and Templeton and Ezekiel turned as well. Templeton hoisted up the shovel, while Ezekiel pulled out a knife.
For a second, it was as if time stopped. The two groups stood there in silence, facing each other, weapons ready. No one dared breathe nor move.
That was insane. Finn was right bloody there, not even a yard away, and he stood over a pile of rocks and dirt. She planted her feet firmly in the ground, and cocked her pistol. Her left hand balanced her flintlock and her right thumb went to the trigger, squeezing it.
In a cloud of gray smoke, the flint sparked the frisson. The powder in the pan ignited. Bursting forth from the gun, the shot sailed through the air, but did not meet its mark. Finn still stood.
Shit!
Scattering quickly, each man dived in another direction. Ezekiel ran closest to Knight, who took off after him. Ezekiel kept attempting to strike out, but Knight was firm, blocking his punches. He struck out with his truncheon, connecting with Ezekiel’s shin.
Looking over his shoulder, Finn took off toward the edge of the graveyard.
A patch of dirt was exposed in the middle of where they had been standing. Kate started to race toward that space, the gun grasped firmly in her hand. If the men came at her, she’d beat them away until she could get to Daniel.
Atlas grabbed her arm. Gesturing to her flintlock, he motioned her onward. “Go help Knight. I promise I’ll get him free.”
The thief ran toward Templeton. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him wrestle Templeton to the ground, wrenching the shovel from his hand. Templeton took off running. Atlas ignored him and began to dig.
Finn had made it halfway through the cemetery. Quickly, she reloaded her pistol. Finn would be hers now, to rip him limb from limb and make him pay. For bringing her father into this horrible trade, for falsifying evidence so Daniel would be arrested for murder, for taking him from her when they’d finally admitted their feelings. A simple shot to the head would not be justice.
She needed to make him suffer.
Finn took another step toward the gate. From this distance, she wouldn’t be able to make the shot.
She ran toward him, seeing Finn and only Finn. His smug smirk, manicured good looks and the easy way he used to quiz her over the day’s activities, like they were two colleagues. The goods she’d fenced to him appeared before her eyes, her father’s journal entries imprinted on top. Every ounce of suffering that she’d experienced went back to Finn.
“Come to end me, have you?” Finn called, when she stood but a few paces from him.
She was enough to shoot him with almost assured accuracy. The pistol was loaded and ready, cocked fully. She braced it properly, finger upon the trigger.
Finn did not move, his eyes fixed upon her flintlock.
“I suppose you are not your father’s daughter after all. Do you know that Morgan begged for me to take his life? In the last few months, when the disease had set deep into his bones and he knew he’d die. But I wouldn’t because his death wouldn’t do anything for me. He could go in a month or two, in pain or not, and it’d change nothing.”
She gritted her teeth. He tried to bate her.
“Where’s Daniel?” She hoped to God that she wasn’t right—that Daniel was somewhere safe, dropped off to the police perhaps so they’d arrest him again.
Anywhere but in a fucking hole in the ground.
“I think you have already discovered what I did with him.” Finn looked toward the mound of dirt scornfully. “You’d best hope the Gentleman can dig quickly, as it is highly doubtful the human body can sustain more than a half hour without air.”
“I caught you.” Yet she felt no form of relief, no vindication.
“So you did.” Finn shrugged. “Will it matter? They’ll take me in and I shall face the same trial the others did. But they acquitted May, and they’ll do the same for me. With my connections, I’m worth more to the Met alive than dead.”
He reached for her, so quick she could not stop him. His hand came down on her shoulder, hard, hitting her existing bruises. She grappled with the gun, trying to position it so she could get off a shot, but Finn was too fast.
His hands closed around her arms in a lethal lock. He spun her around, dragged her back against him. “You’re just like us,” he murmured in her ear. “You’re no better than your basest impulses.”
She couldn’t let him go, never paying for the crimes he’d perpetuated. If she shot him here now—if she hit him in the chest, like she’d meant to in that back alley—then no one would be hurt again.
His blood would be on her hands forever. He’d never feel the pain and suffering he had intended for Daniel. To have to face trial for his sins and rot in Newgate waiting for his execution—that was the bloody fate he deserved.
She would not bear the mark of another’s sins any longer.
She thrust her shoulders back with all her might, slamming into his chest. The movement threw him back enough that she could squirm out of his hold. Turning around, she faced him.
Swiftly, Kate grasped the butt of the flintlock. She swung out, bringing the side of the gun down on Finn’s temple. It met his face with a stomach-turning thud. He slipped to the ground, unconscious.
She had a full life ahead of her with Daniel by her side. She was more than the daughter of an old shipping magnate, more than a fence.
With a bit of twine from her pocket, she tied Finn’s hands behind his back. The bastard would live until he was hanged for his crimes.
Chapter Twenty-Six
In the chaos, Knight had subdued Ezekiel. Finally, he held the man in a vice grip, while Atlas ran behind him, tying the man’s hands.
“First time I’ve ever been on the opposing side of this,” Atlas remarked.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Knight pass off Ezekiel to Atlas. The thief held on to him, even as Ezekiel dove backwards, smashing his head into Atlas’s chin.
“Enough of this,” Atlas cursed, releasing him long enough to land a bruiser across the man’s jaw. Ezekiel fell to the ground and Atlas dropped him.
Templeton had made it to the edge of the cemetery. Knight went after him, as Atlas and Kate knelt on the ground next to the hole Atlas had dug.
The wooden coffin had emerged from a pile of fresh dirt and rock. In tandem with Atlas, Kate lifted up the top of the box, grunting from the sheer heft of it. Barely registering the weight of it, she moved without thought, up and over as they hurled the lid away from them.
Daniel laid peacefully, arms crossed over his chest and feet pointed upward. No breath came from his lips. They were too late. She’d failed trying to save him, failed because she’d been too damn stubborn to admit she was wrong, failed because she couldn’t face the hurt of giving her heart away.
But no amount of pain had prepared her for this.
“Please, Daniel, please be alive, I love you.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, unbidden. She had not the strength to stop them.
Atlas knelt on the ground across from her, silent and stone-faced. Sadness appeared wrong on his cherubic features, and made her cry harder.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” she gasped out between sobs. She beat her hands against his chest, twisting the fabric of his coat in her hands violently. “You can’t be gone, not yet.”
Pulling her back from the coffin, Atlas laid a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged him off, grabbing Daniel’s hand and pressing it to her chest.
His skin was still warm.
She flung his hand down as though his flesh had singed her skin. Kate leaned down, ear upon his chest. Only silence greeted her.
They’d found each other again to be ripped apart.
Another Peeler had come by as Knight was restraining Finn, likely lured by her gunshot. She tilted Daniel’s head back slightly, opening his mouth. Pinching his nostrils closed with one finger, she slid her mouth over his and breathed.
No response. Struggling not to panic, she breathed into him again and pulled back. Nothing.
Once more she breathed.
His chest rose.
Kate lifted her fingers from his nose and pulled back from him. He blinked once before his eyes opened, focusing in on her. She fell back on her haunches, relief flooding through her bones.
He was alive.
“Kate?” He tried to sit up, but could not complete the attempt.
“Stay still,” Atlas ordered.
Confusion flickered in Daniel’s cloudy green eyes. “How did I—” He stopped, apparently deciding better of the inquiry.
Kate rested her elbows on the edge of the coffin, unable to keep from him for long. “I thought you’d died.”
He reached out for her, taking her hand in his. “This is getting to be a habit with us. We really must put a stop to it.”
“They’ve got Finn, Danny.” Atlas grinned, tapping a cheery beat on the edge of the coffin. “We got ourselves a bloody resurrectionist.”
“Let’s get you out of there,” Kate said, extending a hand to help Daniel from the coffin.
With Atlas’s assistance, soon Daniel was sitting on the grass beside Kate, his head resting on her shoulder. She ran her hand through his hair slowly.
“There’s Knight,” she said, as Knight emerged from the other side of the cemetery, Templeton in hand.
Atlas squinted. “Old chum, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll take my leave before the Peelers get a hint of who I am…”
Kate nodded. “Thank you for coming.”
Daniel’s gaze flitted from her to Atlas and back to her. The smile on her lips never faded; stretched so far across her cheeks she thought her face might split in two. She’d smile forever. He was back in her life and she’d never let him go again.
“I don’t know what miracle happened to get you two to behave around each other, but I do wish it hadn’t started with me in a coffin.” Daniel chuckled, a throaty laugh that shook his entire frame and sent him coughing.
“Careful,” she cautioned.
Knight returned with Templeton subdued. He dragged the man next to Finn, unconscious and bound on the ground. Knight looked at Finn for a moment, then back to Ezekiel, stricken not far from Daniel and Kate.
His brows arched. “This is one of the most unusual cases I’ve ever encountered.” He pointed toward Daniel. “I suspect that’s your affianced?”
“Yes,” Kate said, squeezing Daniel’s hand.
Knight pursed his lips. She suspected he knew far more than he was letting on. If she had to face time in gaol for her fencing, she’d do it—Daniel was safe and that was all that mattered.
“Daniel O’Reilly.” Daniel’s voice was weak.
“The man accused of murdering the warehouse laborer.” Knight did not wait for Daniel to confirm his statement. “I followed your case before I joined the police. I have a bit of a hobby in behavior studies, you could say. It fascinated me, your complete lack of motive. Because of you, I kept myself up-to-date on the downfall of the Emporia shipping company, trying to find an explanation for what you’d done.”
Kate gulped.
“Miss Morgan.” Knight’s eyes narrowed. He angled his body toward her, his expression a strange mix between curious and appalled. “I’ve sent out for other officers to help me take in the criminals here.”
She knew it. He was going to arrest her. “And you’ll be taking me with them?”
Knight fell silent. His forehead crinkled as he thought. Daniel’s hand did not waiver from her own.
“I’ll keep you safe,” Daniel whispered in her ear.
Knight watched them. Finally, he stood up straighter, shaking his head. “At the moment, no. You’ve suffered enough today, I think. If Finn truly has ties to the Italian Boy’s murder, then I suspect that’s all my superiors will care about.”
Kate breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“But if you come across my notice again…I won’t think twice about arresting you.” Knight stepped back from her, going to collect Templeton again. “Don’t think that I won’t be watching you.”
Dragging Templeton to the front of the cemetery, Knight went to await the other officers. Ezekiel and Finn lay in the grass, both incapacitated.
Kate ran her hand up Daniel’s arm, marveling in the sheer aliveness of him. Bold, strong, and powerful…to think that a few minutes later, she would have lost him. “I love you, you know that? I love you more than I’ve ever loved any damn thing in my life.”
He smiled. “That is quite satisfactory, as I love you too.” He squinted, reaching up to run his finger along the cut at her temple. “Finn’s men—did they hurt you?”
She shrugged. “I thrashed Finn with my gun. I think whatever hurt Ezekiel did is inconsequential by now.”
“You didn’t kill him.” He sounded unsurprised.
Pride welled within her. He’d never believed the worst of her, never thought she had it in her to take a life. The rookeries had not changed her so much after all. Ratcliffe had made her independent, forced her to understand the worst of the world, but she’d kept the one part of her that made her human.
She would not regret these last three
years now, not when her experiences had formed her into the woman she was today.
The woman Daniel loved.
***
He stood at the edge of Upper Shadwell, silhouetted by the street light. Bruised hands shoved deep into the pockets of his greatcoat, he leaned against a two-story tenement building. He wore no hat and his ginger hair was not darkened by soot. A long scratch ran from underneath his eye to his left lip, on the cusp of healing. If one looked close, the lump on the back of his head from the hit of a shovel was visible.
But none of that mattered to Daniel O’Reilly.
For up the shadowy alley that joined Broadwell Street to Upper Shadwell came a tall woman, her chocolate hair tucked up underneath a broad grey hat. She stepped out of the darkness to join him. No greatcoat masked her green dress with little white flowers, flared out at the waist and padded at the top of her sleeves. Against her leg tapped a half-cocked Forsyth pistol, once errant but now fully accepted back into her good graces.
“Shall we depart?” she asked.
He held out his arm for her and she took it without hesitation. Standing back, he watched her for a second, eyes flicking over her willowy frame.
She tilted her head to the side, smiling quizzically. “Do I want to know what you are thinking?”
He tugged her closer to him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Pressed up against him, she fit perfectly.
“You’re giving me devilish ideas.” Narrowly avoiding the brim of her hat, he breathed in the jasmine of her hair while his hand squeezed the rounded curve of her hip.
“If you tell me them, I might be amendable.” She let her lips glide along his in a feather-light kiss.
It wasn’t enough to satisfy him. He took the kiss deeper, holding her steady against him, tasting and exploring her delectable mouth until a shout from the street tore them apart. One hand clutching her flintlock, Kate touched her lip with a gloved finger. He’d knocked her hat askew.
“If I was not still a wanted man, I’d take you here now,” he whispered as he righted her hat.
“Perhaps I shall miss the criminal.” She stepped away from him, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt.
