The Secret Life of Kitty Granger

by G. D. Falksen

  Kitty knew she had to do something. She looked around for any sort of solution. She couldn’t take the room by force, even if the men didn’t have guns. What could she do?

  There was an old grandfather clock between her and the stairs. Maybe she could knock it over and the noise would bring the men out of the room. But if she did that, there was no way she could get to a hiding place before she was seen.

  Her gaze fell on a porcelain vase on a small nearby table. The vase looked fragile, and it was small enough to throw. That was something.

  She grabbed the vase and crouched behind the table, hoping she’d be concealed in the dim light of the hallway. She threw the vase against the wall a little ways down the hallway, near enough to be heard, but hopefully far enough away that the men would leave the room to investigate.

  “You hear that?” asked one of the men.

  “Aye.” There came the click of a pistol hammer being cocked. “The other girl might be in the house.”

  The door slowly opened and one of the men looked out. He turned both ways, and Kitty made herself as small as possible to keep hidden.

  “Cover me,” the man said to his partner. “That came from near the stairs.”

  The man stepped out into the hallway, with his pistol ready and aimed. As he advanced toward the staircase, the other man ventured out, holding his own gun.

  “Do you see anything?” he called.

  “There’s a broken vase here,” his partner answered. “Looks like someone knocked it over. Must be the other girl. Probably ran when she did.” The man reached the staircase and leaned over the railing. “Don’t see anyone. Odd.”

  The other man followed him for a few steps, leaving a small gap open by the door. “This isn’t good.”

  “Don’t make no difference. They’ll find her sooner or later.”

  As the men called to one another, Kitty crept around the table and tried to calculate how long it would take her to get inside the room and lock the door. It was going to be a near thing. One of the men was still very close indeed. If he noticed her before she got the door shut, she wouldn’t be able to keep him out.

  She glanced down at the camera in her hand and an idea came to her. The poor thing deserved a medal after what it was being put through tonight. She gripped the strap and let the camera dangle from her hand.

  As Kitty neared the door, the man in front of her seemed to sense her approach. That was not a surprise, but even so, as he lifted his head and turned toward her, Kitty’s chest clenched with fear. Fortunately, she was well acquainted with this primal reaction, and she had anticipated it. She didn’t freeze, and as the man turned toward her, she swung the camera overhand and smacked him in the face with it.

  The man cried out and stumbled away. His companion turned and shouted. Now they both knew Kitty was there. Kitty dashed into the room and shoved the door shut behind her.

  Lock it!

  Kitty threw the bolt to secure the door and looked around. Her eyes turned toward Verity, who was tied to a chair by a length of cord taken from the curtains. She had a bloody nose, and bruises were forming on the side of her face, where the men had hit her.

  Verity looked at Kitty in shock. “What are you doing here?” she cried. “You were supposed to get away!”

  “I weren’t gonna leave you,” Kitty answered.

  She heard pounding on the door. The men were trying to break it down. Kitty hurried over to Verity and untied her. Verity leapt to her feet and shoved the chair under the doorknob, wedging it shut.

  “That should hold them for a little bit,” she said. Then she hugged Kitty. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Normally Kitty disliked being touched, especially unexpectedly. But with Verity it didn’t feel as intrusive. Even in the middle of a crisis, there was a calm about Verity that made Kitty feel more at ease. She didn’t pull away, and after a moment she gave Verity a pat on the back.

  “Kitty Granger don’t abandon ’er friends,” she whispered.

  With a sigh, Verity pulled away and sat down on the edge of the bed. She wiped the blood from her face with the back of her hand. “Now we’re in a bit of a pickle,” she said to Kitty. “They will get the door open eventually.”

  “I got a call through to Mrs. Singh,” Kitty said, trying to stay hopeful. “Said she’d be ’ere in forty-five minutes.”

  Verity laughed, and it wasn’t a happy sound. “Forty-five minutes? From London?” Then she shrugged. “Well, if anyone can do it, she can. When did you talk to her?”

  “Maybe ’alf an hour ago,” Kitty ventured. It was hard to say. Ever since they’d been discovered, Kitty’s sense of time had grown shaky. That was on account of the haze caused by her overwhelmed senses, and it had only gotten worse after the fight in Lowell’s office.

  There was a loud crash from the door. The men outside were starting to throw their weight against it. The door and the chair shook from the impact.

  “I’m not sure the door will hold much longer,” Verity said.

  Kitty nodded. “Then we gotta get outta this room.” She went to the window and looked out. It was still dark outside and it was difficult to gauge just how far down the ground was. “Think we could make a rope with them sheets?” she asked Verity.

  Verity frowned and rummaged through the bedsheets, yanking on the fabric to test its strength. “Maybe,” she said. “We won’t be able to tear them, so we’ll have to tie them end on end. They probably still won’t reach all the way to the ground. If we get it wrong, it’s a long drop onto pavement. And even if that works, the men out there are sure to hear us.”

  Kitty noticed that the window wasn’t latched. She opened it and leaned out. A small ledge jutted out from the stonework below the window. It was decorative, but it would certainly hold her weight.

  She looked at the window of the next room. It wasn’t far, and maybe it was unlatched just like this one. And the wall was rough, with deep gaps between the stones and more decorative stonework that could serve as handholds. The bedroom windows didn’t slide up, they swung outward, so she wouldn’t need any leverage to get it open if it was already unlocked.

  “What if we climb along to the next room?” she asked Verity.

  Verity’s expression grew very uncertain. She took a look for herself and acknowledged, “It might work. And then what?”

  “If we can, we sneak downstairs an’ get back to the car.”

  Verity still looked doubtful, but she said, “Fine. Let’s try it. Better than waiting around for the door to break down.”

  Kitty led the way. She slid out feet first and waited until she felt her toes reach the ledge. Once they were planted firmly, she took a deep breath and started climbing. It was sort of an awkward sideways slide, moving her feet inch by inch while her fingers groped for handholds. Feeling her way along in the darkness was a special kind of agony, as she balanced the sensations of her toes trying to keep their foothold, her fingers searching for safe purchase, and her ears and eyes straining to detect anything at all that might help her.

  Finally, Kitty reached the next room, opened the window, and climbed inside. Then she turned and helped Verity in after her. Verity was moving gingerly. Her injuries weren’t superficial, and from the way she stood, Kitty gathered that she’d been hit in the side and stomach too.

  Even so, Verity wore a determined look as she grabbed a candle holder from the mantelpiece and held it like a club.

  “Whatcha doin’?” Kitty whispered.

  “We’re only one room down,” Verity whispered back. “Those men are going to see us as soon as we open the door. I don’t think we can run for it, so if we have to fight, we’re going to fight properly.”

  Kitty felt herself trembling at the idea. She had experienced more violence in this one night than in the entire rest of her life. She’d almost been killed! And now she had to realize that it wasn’t over, not yet. It wouldn’t be over for a while.

  What had Smythe said? The longest day in British hist
ory. It already felt like it.

  She set her face to show that she was equally determined, and unplugged the bedside lamp. It was big and heavy. It might work.

  “You’re going to use that?” Verity asked.

  “Do me best,” Kitty replied.

  Verity sighed. “All right.” She went to the door and slowly turned the knob. “Don’t attack unless they see us. If they do see us, attack before they do.”

  “Got it.”

  Kitty followed Verity into the hallway. Only one of the men was still there, glaring at the door to the empty bedroom, and occasionally throwing his weight against it. Where’s the other man? Kitty wondered, as she and Verity made for the stairs.

  She gasped as the missing guard appeared at the top of the staircase, holding a fire ax in his hand.

  “Right, I’ve got the ax!” he called to his partner. “Let’s break the damn thing . . .” His words trailed away as he spotted Kitty and Verity. “Christ! They’re here!”

  The other man turned and saw them too. “Get ’em!”

  Kitty’s mind spun in circles as she anticipated what was going to happen next. Both of the men had guns and would likely draw them now. That meant running wasn’t an option, but if they got into close quarters fast enough, the guns wouldn’t be a problem. Then again, that meant getting into close quarters in the first place.

  Kitty’s eyes flicked toward the ax. That was the biggest danger. Not only did the men have the advantage of size and strength, the ax gave one of them reach and deadly force. The ax had to go first.

  “Go left!” Kitty shouted at Verity as she raised the lamp above her head and charged the man holding the ax. He hadn’t expected a fight in the hallway, so he was still gripping the weapon high on the handle, just below the head. That would make it hard for him to swing.

  The guard shifted his grip, steadied haft with his other hand, and started to swing. There was a confused look on his face at the sight of Kitty running at him and not away from him, but the confusion only slowed him down. It did not stop him.

  As Kitty closed the distance she roared as loudly as she could and threw the lamp with all her might at the man’s face. The man raised his hands to block the throw, and the ax came with them. The lamp’s body smacked him in the chest, and the ax blade became caught in the lampshade as the man struggled to knock it away. It was a tiny opening at best, and Kitty knew better than to squander it.

  She knew she had to strike. First, something had to be done about the man’s height. As the guard struggled to free the ax from the lamp, Kitty kicked him in the shins again and again until the man finally stumbled and cried in pain.

  Hobbling in place, he took one hand off the ax handle and reached for his injured shin.

  Next, the ax. With the man bent over, Kitty grabbed his arm and bit him on the wrist as hard as her jaws could manage. It was surprisingly easy, especially given how badly her head was spinning from the fear and the noise. Just a simple set of motions: wrist, teeth, bite. Simple was good. Simple was easy. Simple was going to keep her alive.

  The man screamed again and dropped the ax. He let go of his shin and grabbed Kitty by the scruff of the neck, trying to yank her away from his arm. Kitty kept her jaws locked on tight until the guard threw her against the wall. The jarring impact made Kitty gasp, and she had to let go. The guard clutched his wrist and howled curses at her.

  Act. Act. Act, Kitty thought. She had to keep attacking. Even hurt and disarmed, the man had every advantage over her. The only way to beat him was to make him react to her, not the other way around.

  Simple was good. Keep it simple.

  Kitty rushed back at him and kicked him in the shins again, this time going for both legs. The man lurched forward and almost fell. He managed to grab Kitty’s arms, and slammed her against the wall again. Kitty saw one hand ball into a fist and draw back to punch her in the face.

  Kitty couldn’t hit anywhere near as hard, and she knew it, but she did have another weapon at her disposal. She curled her fingertips and clawed at the man’s face. It was a chaotic mess of blows that didn’t aim for anything in particular, but she left marks across the man’s cheeks, forehead, and nose. She kept going until the man finally knocked her away with a savage blow to the side of her head.

  Kitty hit the ground and lay there as the world spun in circles. Her heart was pounding and there was a cloud of noise hovering over her.

  She looked up and saw Verity struggling against the second guard. Verity was a much better fighter and she’d already gotten in several good hits with her candlestick, not to mention her elbows and knees. But she had been struck too. Blood was streaming from her nose, and she looked exhausted from the fight. The guard loomed over her, undeterred.

  Kitty gritted her teeth and pulled herself onto her knees. She looked over her shoulder. The man behind her sagged against the wall, trying to catch his breath. When he saw her rise, he cursed loudly and fumbled for his pistol. Kitty knew he was going to shoot her and be done with it.

  Her gaze fell on the shards of the vase she had broken as a distraction—now scattered on the floor within arm’s reach. She grabbed the largest chunk of porcelain and threw it at the man’s face. This time she hit him dead in the nose. The man grunted and cursed some more, his gun forgotten for a moment.

  It was just long enough. Kitty forced herself to her feet. It was a strange experience. Her body felt impossibly light, like she could just float away from all of this. She didn’t even register the pain anymore, even though she knew that everything hurt. But even feeling light as a feather, her limbs were sluggish and fought her as she made them move.

  Kitty lowered her head and charged just as the man yanked his weapon free of its holster. His hand was still injured from the bite, and he struggled to bring the gun to bear. Before he could finish aiming Kitty drove her shoulder into the man’s stomach and tipped him backward a half step.

  There wasn’t much force behind the charge, but the guard was already off balance. As he stumbled, he collided with the grandfather clock that stood in the upper hall. It bonged loudly from the impact, and the man dropped onto the floor, stunned and swooning.

  Kitty saw the man and saw the clock and her mind made an instantaneous connection. Her hands reacted before her thoughts did. She grabbed the clock and heaved it away from the wall with every ounce of strength she had. It tipped over and fell onto the guard in a mass of wood and brass.

  No time to stop. Check on Verity. No time to stop. Check on Verity.

  Kitty gasped for breath as she turned toward the other fight happening a few feet away. Verity had gotten some more good hits in, but she was on her knees now, struggling to get up while the remaining guard pinned her down with one arm. And she’d been disarmed: the candlestick lay on the ground beyond her reach. She had neither leverage nor ability to maneuver. The fight had finally been distilled into one of raw strength, and her enemy had all the cards there. The man reached for his gun.

  Gun.

  Kitty snatched up the pistol belonging to the man she had just taken down. Her hands were trembling, but she didn’t drop it. She tried to remember her training. She hated using firearms. They were loud and heavy and they shook when she shot them. None of that mattered now. Only Verity mattered.

  Safety.

  Her eyes looked at the gun’s safety catch. It was already off.

  Hammer.

  She pulled back on the slide, cocking the hammer.

  Aim.

  She leveled the pistol at the guard. He was still in the middle of drawing his own weapon. His attention was only on Verity. He wasn’t in a hurry. He thought he had time.

  Or maybe it was just that the whole world was moving so slowly. Kitty felt her heartbeats coming at one a minute. That was just her brain, though. She couldn’t allow herself to be confused by it.

  Fire.

  Kitty’s finger squeezed the trigger.

  Chapter 24

  Kitty found herself looking straight ahead,
over the smoking barrel of the pistol. For a second, she wasn’t even certain what had happened; she must have blanked out.

  Then everything came back to her.

  Her first thought was of Verity. She looked down and saw her on the ground, leaning against the wall and gasping for air. Verity looked at Kitty in utter amazement, tinged with the shadow of recent terror. Slowly a relieved smile crossed her lips, but the look in her eyes remained the same.

  “My God,” Verity whispered. “You just saved my bloody life.”

  Kitty remembered the man who had been attacking Verity. She looked for him next. He was on the ground too, with three bullet holes in his chest.

  “I shot ’im,” she said. She had never shot anyone before. She had no idea what she should think or how she should feel about it. She just felt numb. The noise alone had overpowered her senses.

  Verity got to her feet and went to Kitty. She placed her hand on Kitty’s and gently forced the gun down. Kitty hadn’t really thought about the fact that she was still aiming it, but at Verity’s touch she relaxed her arm and let it fall.

  “Is ’e dead?” Kitty asked.

  Verity looked at the guard. “That’s about as dead a man as I’ve seen, yeah.”

  The pistol tumbled out of Kitty’s hand. Verity just managed to grab it before it hit the floor. Kitty covered her mouth and gasped.

  “I killed someone!” she squeaked. She suddenly felt very small and wretched.

  Verity got in front of her, blocking her view of the dead man. She took Kitty’s face in her hands and gazed into her eyes.

  “Kitty, listen to me,” she said softly. “You had to do it. He was going to kill me, and then he was going to kill you. You saved both our lives.”

  “But . . . but ’e’s dead!”

  There was a disconnect inside her brain. The twin understandings that she had killed the man and saved their lives weren’t meeting up. She was having trouble reconciling that the one had led to the other.

  “He beat me for information and he was going to murder the both of us,” Verity said. “He doesn’t deserve your guilt, Kitty.”