“There!” the first voice hissed.
His proclamation was followed by the sound of light hurried footsteps. A pistol fired.
Cursing under his breath, Arhyen crept in the direction of the retreating footsteps. They had continued to sound after the shot rang out, giving him hope that Liliana remained uninjured. Still, these men were obviously guarding something important if they were willing to fire at shadows in the night.
“There’s another one!” one of the men called out, seconds before something zinged into the brick wall less than a yard in front of his face, echoed by the blast of a pistol.
Growling in annoyance, Arhyen reached into his coat pocket and threw a smoke bomb in the direction of the men, hoping to obscure their night vision, which seemed impeccable. Perhaps he should support Liliana creating some portable explosives after all, as he would have loved to have one to hurl at them in that moment.
Confused murmurs erupted as smoke filled the street, three voices now instead of two. Arhyen hurried toward the cross street where he estimated Liliana had gone. The clouds had moved away from the moon enough to let down a dim glow, illuminating dark splotches across the cobblestones. Blood? He would have crouched down to check, but he might still be within sight of the men and their pistols. He needed to find Liliana. Could the blood be hers? She was three times faster than Arhyen, but anyone could be caught unaware. One of the men might have gotten lucky with that first pistol shot.
His heart in his throat, he raced onward, following the dark splotches. For a moment he thought the men would not give chase, then someone shouted “Over here! They went this way!” from behind him. Had they somehow managed to recognize him? It made no sense for these men to give chase to someone who might have just randomly happened upon the building they guarded . . . unless they’d known he was coming. Could this all be some random setup put in place by Hamlet? He couldn’t quite fathom it, nor could he take the time to think about it. Footsteps echoed down the street behind him, and the dark splotches left a trail ahead of him. He needed to find Liliana and get the hell out of there.
Liliana held a hand to her ribs as she debated what to do. She’d crammed herself into a dark crevice between buildings to hide, but her blood trail would inevitably lead her pursuers right to her. She knew she should be formulating a new plan, but she could only focus on the throbbing pain of the wound in her side. She’d never been injured before, and in fact had felt little pain as far back as she could remember, save some minor scrapes and burns, and the jabbing of Viola’s needle as she drew Liliana’s blood.
This pain was something entirely new. It clouded her vision and made it difficult to think. That she’d even run this far was a surprise. She’d been acting on pure instinct, but now regretted not waiting to make sure Arhyen was alright. There had been at least one more pistol shot after the one that hit her, and it easily could have been meant for him.
Unfortunately, she felt incapable of going back for him now. Her thoughts came to a screeching halt as the sound of hurried footsteps neared her hiding place. She glanced over her shoulder at her only possible route of escape. The narrow path between the two buildings ended abruptly with a tall brick wall. If she were uninjured, she could easily scale it, but she doubted her capabilities in that moment.
She screeched as someone shoved themselves into her crevice, then grabbed her wrist.
“We need to move,” Arhyen’s voice whispered.
Her knees nearly giving out in relief, she nodded. “I’m injured. I’m not sure how well I can run.”
Arhyen tugged her out of her hiding place, then unceremoniously lifted her off her feet. She was airborne for a brief moment, then her abdomen landed across his shoulder. She gritted her teeth against the fresh pain. Did he have to toss her so roughly?
Hearing a clamor not far down the street, she suddenly understood his hurry. The armed men had not just been warding them away from the building, but were now pursuing them.
Arhyen took off in the opposite direction of the clamor, his arm clamping around her trouser-clad legs. She could see little in the darkness, and couldn’t seem to lift her head far enough away from Arhyen’s back to attempt a peek at their pursuers. After a few seconds his bouncing gait began to make her queasy, much like the feeling of riding in the coal carriage. She hoped she would not vomit, as Arhyen was already getting soaked with her blood.
Obviously oblivious to her predicament, Arhyen picked up speed, racing around corners without slowing, creating enough momentum that she felt she might sail from his shoulders, despite his arm securing her legs.
She groaned in discomfort, mixed with fear.
“I’m sorry,” he panted as he ran. “We can look at your injuries once we’re safe.”
She would have replied if she could find the words, but she was barely maintaining consciousness. They seemed to be putting distance between themselves and their pursuers. Why were they being so ardently pursued? Hopefully the assailants would soon tire and retreat.
She could not tell how long they continued to run. It seemed like thirty minutes had gone by, but she doubted that was the case. As a human, Arhyen would have at least slowed his pace after such an extended period, especially with her added weight on his shoulder. At some point the sound of pursuit vanished. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but she was grateful. The pain in her side had turned into an icy chill. While she appreciated the reprieve, she doubted it was a good sign.
The world spun as Arhyen suddenly halted, then lowered her to the ground, leaning her back against a cold brick wall. She tried to look up at him, but her vision swam. She thought she heard the gentle clinking of his lock-picking tools, and exhaled in relief. Perhaps he’d decided it was time to hide. Hiding was good, because it meant no more movement.
The sound of the lock clicking seemed like it came from a far off distance, though Arhyen crouched right next to her. The next thing she knew, she was lifted gently, carried into the dark building, and laid down on something soft. A pile of fabric? She listened as the door shut and locked, then Arhyen’s shadowy form appeared above her. Next his hands were on her, peeling away her layers of blood soaked clothing.
“Don’t you dare die,” he muttered under his breath.
Her skin chilled even further as her wound was revealed to the open air, then what felt like wadded up fabric was pushed against it.
“Die?” she questioned distantly, finding herself confused. Was this what dying felt like?
“Don’t worry,” he muttered. “I won’t allow it.”
Pain blossomed anew as he partially lifted her, wrapping more fabric around her waist over her wound.
“Why not?” she rasped.
“Because you’re too important,” he whispered, securing the fabric.
“Hmf,” she replied, finding the answer odd. She would have liked to question him further, but she couldn’t seem to move her mouth. At what point had her eyes fallen shut? She felt Arhyen lifting her back into his arms, then her remaining senses faded. Perhaps she really was dying. At least she wasn’t alone.
Chapter 10
Liliana slowly opened her eyes, unsure of where she was. The last thing she remembered was being in a dark building with Arhyen. She’d thought perhaps she was dying, but apparently that wasn’t the case, or else there was an afterlife for automatons. The space she occupied was illuminated by soft light from a nearby open window, letting in a gentle breeze to tickle her face.
She blinked her eyes, waiting for her vision to clear fully, but it remained fuzzy around the edges. She stared at the blurry ceiling, not quite ready to move her head to look around the rest of the room. Even so, she was quite sure she was in Arhyen’s apartment, though how she got there, she had no idea. She truly never thought to see the space again.
“She’s awake,” a cool, calm voice stated. Ephraim. Good, so he was alive too, unless automatons were allowed into the human afterlife. From the way England viewed her kind, she doubted it.
Arhyen’s blurry face came into view above her. He had smudges of red on his cheeks. Her blood?
“Oops,” she muttered, trying to lift her hand to wipe the dried blood from his face. Her hand didn’t move.
“You need rest,” he said softly. “Everything is fine. The pistol round went right through your side, so there should hopefully be no need for surgery.”
“How . . . ” she trailed off. She wanted to ask how the men had spotted them so easily, and why they had put so much effort into chasing them. Perhaps it all made sense, but her bleary thoughts couldn’t quite put things together.
He didn’t answer, and instead placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her eyes slowly drifted shut.
“Can an automaton get an infection?” she heard Arhyen whisper.
“How in the blazes should I know?” Ephraim’s voice replied.
Liliana wanted to chuckle at them, but couldn’t quite manage it. She couldn’t get infections. She could probably die from blood loss, but as she was still alive currently, her body would likely repair itself far faster than a human’s could. The idea flitted through her mind that humans might want to alter organs just for that purpose, to heal like an automaton could. Perhaps that was the goal of whoever worked within the guarded warehouse. She would have liked to voice her theory, but darkness quickly consumed her.
The next time Liliana woke, night had returned. The room was dark, illuminated only by a stream of light from the open bathroom door. Her side still ached, but she felt well enough to sit up, pooling the blankets around her lap. She glanced around the apartment until she found Arhyen fast asleep on the sofa. Judging by his full state of dress and shoes upon his feet, he’d fallen asleep unintentionally.
She sighed and looked down at her lap. Some day she’d stop causing him so much trouble. Noticing that she still wore her bloody shirt, buttoned up to hide the bandage she sensed over her wound, her attention shifted. She needed to bathe.
Not sure if she’d regained enough strength for the effort, she lowered her feet to the floor, then found she was able to stand. She had just begun to hobble toward the bathroom when a knock sounded at the door. She jumped, then glanced at Arhyen, still fast asleep.
Knock. Knock.
Her eyes flicked up to the door across the room. Who would be calling at this hour? She shook her head. She wasn’t really sure what hour it was, but judging by the dark curtained window, it was pitch black outside.
Knock. Knock.
Arhyen still did not stir. He’d likely pushed himself far too hard getting her back to the apartment, then caring for her afterward. Retrieving a dagger from the low table near the sofa, she hid it behind her back and approached the door, stepping over the tripwire on her way. There was a peephole for monitoring visitors, but she was too short to peek through it. She could scoot something across the room to stand on—
Knock. Knock.
“Don’t get your knickers in a bunch,” she grumbled, reaching for the first of the locks. She was hesitant to open the door, but it was likely just Ephraim, and he wouldn’t thank her for leaving him out in the cold. She quickly turned the remaining locks, but left the chained lock in place, just in case. Holding the dagger in her left hand behind her back, she opened the door as far as the chain would allow, then peeked out into the darkness.
A woman stared back at her. She had wide, greenish colored eyes, or perhaps they were gray, surrounded by dark curls. She wore a pale blue dress with a matching overcoat. She appeared to be alone.
“C-can I help you?” Liliana stammered, gripping the dagger so tightly her hand ached.
“You must be Liliana,” the woman said with a warm smile. “My name is Hazel. I’m Arhyen’s sister. I believe he’s expecting me.”
Expecting her? Liliana vaguely recalled Arhyen telling his mother that he’d welcome a visit from his sister. Was that what she meant? “Erm, he’s resting,” she explained hesitantly, wondering why she’d come at such an unusual hour.
“May I come in?” Hazel asked, stepping forward as if she might force her way through, despite the door chain still in place.
Liliana resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder toward the sofa. Arhyen obviously wasn’t waking up any time soon, so she’d need to handle this on her own. “It’s truly not a good time . . . ” she trailed off, hoping Hazel would take the hint and return when it was light outside.
Hazel’s eyes widened as she looked down at Liliana’s clothing. “Oh my, are you alright?”
“Err,” Liliana mumbled, wondering how rude she was allowed to be to this woman.
She was saved by a presence at her back. She glanced up to see Arhyen standing close behind her, peering out the partially ajar door over her head. “If you’re here to deliver another note from Catherine,” he growled, “you can just toss it in the street.”
Hazel looked down at her feet. “I suppose I deserved that.”
Liliana felt like it was time for her to exit the conversation, but Arhyen was standing so close to her back she would need to shove him away to get by.
“So what is it you want?” he asked sharply.
Hazel raised her eyes to meet his over Liliana’s head. “To apologize, and to catch up. It’s been a long time.”
Feeling wildly uncomfortable sharing in the tense moment, Liliana finally ducked her head and squeezed past Arhyen, then scurried away toward the bathroom. Reaching it, she shut herself inside, muffling Arhyen and Hazel’s continued conversation. She glanced in the mirror above the sink and blushed. Her hair was a snarled mess, still partially held in the small buns she’d hidden beneath her hat. She unbuttoned the collar of her shirt to find trails of dried blood that had dripped upward instead of down. She stared at them, momentarily confused, until she remembered being tossed over Arhyen’s shoulder. The position had caused the blood to drip toward her face instead of her feet. The rivulets cut off abruptly at her collar bone, where her neck and face must have been scrubbed clean while she rested. She was grateful for the attention, else Hazel might have had quite a few more questions upon seeing her.
Thinking of Hazel, her mouth twisted into a confused pucker. According to Arhyen, he’d not seen her since they were children, so why would she return now? Liliana disliked assuming Hazel was involved with the LN or whatever organization was stealing corpses, but it seemed a very large coincidence that she had appeared with seeming innocence at this moment, and in the middle of the night, no less. Especially after Ephraim had pilfered that strange coin from Catherine.
Resisting the urge to press her ear up against the door to eavesdrop, she approached the sink and turned on the water, then continued unbuttoning her shirt. The blood had entirely soaked her undergarments, and still clung to most of her chest, but the area around the wound in the side of her abdomen had been scrubbed clean, and a crisp white bandage now covered it, secured by white gauze wrapped around her waist. Noting the perfectly folded bandage and neat wrapping job, she guessed it was Ephraim who’d dressed her wounds.
She stared in the mirror, debating what to do. What she really wanted was a bath, but it might be rude of her if Arhyen ended up inviting his sister in. She still might have considered it, but had forgotten to retrieve a fresh set of clothes. With a beleaguered sigh, she retrieved a clean face cloth and dampened it, then started scrubbing at the extra blood on her skin. Once she was as clean as she could get without a proper bath, she untwisted her hair from its partial buns, then used a comb to undo the snarls. It wasn’t long before she was moderately presentable . . . barring the massive dried blood stain on her shirt, and a bit on her trousers too.
Glancing longingly at the bathtub, she turned around and opened the bathroom door. On the sofa waited both Arhyen and Hazel. Lovely.
Hazel shifted uncomfortably at Liliana’s appearance, her gaze lingering on her stained shirt.
“Hazel has some rather interesting information for us,” Arhyen explained, seemingly oblivious to her blood-stained clothes. He turned his ga
ze to his sister.
Hazel glanced at Liliana warily, then turned to Arhyen. “I was to inform you and no one else.”
“She’s my partner,” he assured, gesturing toward Liliana, still standing awkwardly in the center of the room. “You can trust that no information will leave this room.”
Hazel’s shoulders slumped as she seemed to deflate. She glanced at Liliana again, then, while not fully meeting her eyes, explained, “Our mother owes a great deal to a dangerous agency in return for saving her life. She previously suffered from consumption. It would have been a death sentence.” She hesitated, as if divulging this information pained her.
Arhyen glanced at her, then continued the explanation, one he’d obviously already heard while Liliana was in the bathroom. “This agency offered her surgical assistance for her terminal disease. She does not know all of what was done, but retains scars across her chest from the event.” He gave Liliana a knowing look.
She nodded. Consumption was a wasting disease affecting the lungs. There was no known cure, but perhaps altering, or even replacing the lungs - though she didn’t fully understand how that would be possible - would eliminate the disease. Arhyen’s mother must have gotten herself involved with the same organization they were attempting to investigate. That perhaps explained why she had the same type of coin found at Ms. Conway’s graveside.
Hazel’s eyes rested solidly on Arhyen. “She had hoped that if she helped you, you might help her,” she quickly added. “Everyone knows you have an arrangement with an upper level detective of the Watch. You can make them believe these people are a threat.”
“These people who saved Catherine’s life?” Arhyen countered.
Hazel looked down at her hands resting in her lap. “They saved her life, but now demand her constant cooperation. You know how she is. She has connections to everyone in the underground. They’re just using her, and she wants out.”
Ire flashed across Arhyen’s face, then was gone. Was he learning more from this conversation than was outwardly stated, or was he just angry his mother had come to him for help?
Clocks and Daggers (The Thief's Apprentice Book 2) Page 10
