He was not looking forward to winter, especially if eviction for lack of rent was in his future.
The trio walked together in silence down the avenue heading toward the Market District to catch a carriage to Tailor Street, but they did not make it far. Just down the street, five officers of the Watch approached them, badges glinting on their caps. It was not an unusual scenario with Ephraim around, but something about the officer’s grim faces made Arhyen uneasy. He had almost convinced himself to take Liliana back to the apartment when the officers reached them.
“Ephraim Godwin and Arhyen Croft,” one of the officers, a young man with short black hair and a heavy moustache, announced. “You’re under arrest.”
Liliana fidgeted beside Arhyen nervously, but did not speak.
“On what grounds?” Ephraim demanded, taking a menacing step forward.
One of the other officers, an older gentleman, cleared his throat. “On suspicion of grave-robbing, the desecration of multiple corpses, and murder.”
Arhyen flexed his hands, debating whether or not now would be a good time to flee. None of this made any sense, but their altercation with the man hoping to collect Arhyen’s bounty flitted through his mind. The thug had been under the impression that Ephraim would leave him sliced up in a waste bin. Now they were being arrested for that very crime.
He took Liliana’s hand and gave it a squeeze, prepared to pull her along when he fled, then the older officer lifted a pistol and leveled it at his chest. He didn’t tell him not to move, but the threat was clear.
With a sigh, Ephraim stepped forward and held out his hands to be cuffed by an officer. While the officer encircled his wrists with handcuffs, Ephraim glanced over his shoulder to Arhyen. “We’ll clear this up at Watch headquarters.”
Arhyen met Ephraim’s eyes as two of the officers closed in around him. He flicked his gaze down to Liliana, silently asking, What about her?
Ephraim shook his head, then asked loudly, “I imagine the young lady is free to go?”
The officers muttered amongst themselves, then the older one said, “Yes, we’ve no warrant for her.”
Liliana’s frantic gaze darted back and forth between Arhyen and Ephraim.
Quelling his own internal panic, Arhyen leaned near her shoulder while the cuffs were closed around his wrists. “Go home,” he murmured. “Lock the door, and do not answer it for anyone.”
“I can’t!” she breathed, but the officers had begun to drag Arhyen and Ephraim away.
They neared an intersection, revealing a coal carriage with the symbol of the watch emblazoned on the side door. Arhyen stole a final glance back at Liliana, still standing in the middle of the street, before he was tugged around the corner.
Rather than the tears he’d expected, she wore a look of grim determination. In that moment, he knew she would not be obeying his orders. She would continue the case on her own in order to uncover who might be framing them. Arhyen silently cursed Ephraim for making sure she was left behind. She would be far safer imprisoned with them. As it was, she was on her own, with no one to carry her away next time someone fired a pistol at her.
Liliana ran full speed back toward the apartment, going over a mental checklist as she went. She would proceed with their initial plan, but could no longer afford to go about things so gently. She would not risk Arhyen and Ephraim paying for a crime they did not commit.
As she reached the door and withdrew her key for the first series of locks, Ephraim’s speculations ran through her mind. There was the possibility that the Captain of the Watch, or at least another officer, was somehow involved in this whole scheme. Even if she found proof of the real culprits, it might not be enough to see her friends set free. If that were the case, she would break them out of prison herself.
Finished with the locks, she burst forth into the apartment, then forced herself to take the time to shut the door and turn the locks behind her. She would obey Arhyen’s request, for now.
She gathered the new alembic Ephraim had acquired for her, along with the new and leftover compounds previously purchased before she attempted to make smoke bombs. This time, she’d be going for something a little more volatile. She moved everything to the stove, then got to work.
Chapter 12
“This is utterly ridiculous,” Arhyen groaned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The hard metal bench had long since caused his bones to ache, while the sterile surroundings of the jail cell further soured his mood. He’d been waiting in the small, dank place for hours, with only the flickering light of oil lamps to entertain him. Ephraim had long since been taken away for questioning, leaving Arhyen entirely alone with his thoughts.
He sighed. Someone had set them up, but who? Or perhaps the better question was why? As far as he knew, his only true enemy was Allistair Walmsley, but as Allistair had already placed a price on Arhyen’s head, having him imprisoned made no sense. The only other viable option he could think of was Hamlet, but Hamlet had seemed sincere in his desire to have him investigate the grave-robbings. He supposed his mother could also be to blame, but really, even that made no sense whatsoever.
Footsteps preceded the appearance of a guard, one Arhyen had not seen thus far. His bright red hair, covered by a square guard’s cap, had orange side whiskers to match. He wore the usual guard’s uniform of a long, double-breasted jacket and trousers, yet . . . his eyes flicked around nervously as he approached. Almost as if he wasn’t supposed to be there.
Reaching the cell, the guard nodded to Arhyen, then produced a key ring from his jacket pocket. His hand shook as he unlocked the cell, jingling the other keys on the ring noisily.
“My turn to be questioned then?” Arhyen asked suspiciously.
The guard’s eyes flicked to him, then back to the bars of the cell as he opened the gate.
Arhyen stood, but did not approach, sensing his release from the cell was not part of proper procedure.
“This way,” the guard instructed, stepping away from the cell, then gesturing with his hand down the corridor.
Seeing no other choice, he cautiously followed him out of the cell, then down the hall. The guard had not re-cuffed his hands, nor was he even watching him as he walked, solidifying Arhyen’s theory that he was not truly a guard at all. He was there to be questioned for murder, after all. That fact alone warranted caution.
“Where are we going?” Arhyen demanded.
The guard continued to move down the narrow, cell-lined corridor. “This way,” he said again, reaching the end. There was a set of stairs leading up, and one leading down. The guard seemed to want to go down.
Arhyen crept forward, wishing for his daggers. All his weapons had naturally been seized upon his arrest, leaving him with only the clothes on his back. They’d even taken his hat. “I believe the interrogation rooms are that way.” He pointed toward the upper staircase.
“This way,” the guard said again, a new, stern edge creeping into his tone.
“Fine, fine,” Arhyen sighed, moving forward. He couldn’t risk attacking the man if he was indeed a guard, not to mention the pistol at the man’s hip. He might be quick enough to take it from him, but stealing a guardsman’s pistol was probably a bad idea.
Instead, he walked cautiously ahead of the man down the dimly lit staircase, his boots echoing softly on the stone until he reached a locked door.
The guard squeezed past him on the narrow landing and once again withdrew the key ring from his pocket. He unlocked and opened the door, then gestured for Arhyen to continue on ahead.
Arhyen did as he was bade, entering a near pitch dark storeroom. The guard followed, then pointed toward the corner of the room. When Arhyen didn’t move, the guard whispered, “Go over there.”
At this point quite sure the man was an imposter, he debated his options. He could flee, and report the man to the real guards . . . but that would still leave him in a jail cell. The other option was to see where this whole ruse was leading. Perhaps to freedom? Yet
, if he escaped, he’d have the whole of the Watch after him, but perhaps that was a better fate than what might await him in an interrogation room. If he was just going to end up hanged for a crime he didn’t commit, he might as well become a fugitive.
He walked over to the corner of the room, careful to avoid the various boxes and stored furniture blocking his path. The guard procured a lantern from a hook on the wall and struck a match, better illuminating the area. Arhyen reached the corner and found nothing remarkable, except for a pile of dusty boxes, then jumped as the guard shut and locked the door they had entered.
The guard approached, the glowing lantern in hand. “Move the boxes,” he whispered.
Beginning to regret his decision to cooperate, he did as he was bade, then narrowed his eyes in confusion. There was a corridor chiseled into the solid stone wall. He imagined he could fit though it, but would have to move on his hands and knees to do so.
“In,” the guard instructed, gesturing toward the corridor with the lantern.
Arhyen took a step back. “I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me where we’re going first.”
The guard frowned. “Somewhere better than a prison cell, I’d wager.”
Arhyen quirked an eyebrow at him. “You don’t know either?” He was acutely aware of the fact that a real guard could happen upon them at any moment, but he just couldn’t bring himself to crawl into a dark hole without an explanation.
“Just doing my job,” the man explained.
“Who is your employer?” Arhyen asked, not expecting a real answer.
“The London Network,” the man replied, surprising him. “Now in you go.”
Arhyen wasn’t sure if the man’s answer made him more nervous, or less, but regardless, he crawled into the dark hole in hopes it would eventually lead him to Liliana.
Liliana jogged down the dark street, her soft boots and trousers allowing her to move near silently. Alone, she could run across the entire city without really tiring. Tonight it would be a benefit, as she feared exposing herself long enough to catch a carriage.
She had Arhyen’s satchel slung across her shoulders, the lower half bundled in her arms to prevent unnecessary bouncing. Some of the satchel’s contents were volatile, and it would not do for them to go off earlier than intended.
She took a sharp right, using her memories of her previous visit to navigate her way back to the building where the armed men had awaited. This time she would not be caught off guard.
Recognizing the surrounding buildings, she slowed, knowing she was near. Keeping to the darker shadows near the tall brick walls, she glanced around for a covert path to the guarded building. Elation filled her as she spotted a fire escape mounted on a different building at her back. She hurried toward it and began to climb. From the roof, she should be able to clearly see any guards present around the building. From there, she would formulate her plan of attack.
The rungs of the fire-escape were so cold she found them hard to grip. While the chilly air might not overly affect her, she did still have blood in her veins, and the cold metal was making that blood flow more slowly then it should. Still, she kept onward until she reached the roof. Fortunately, the pitch was low enough that she had no trouble creeping across the shingles toward the South edge where she could better view armed guards across the way.
She crouched near the roof’s apex, knowing she would stand out against the moonlight, but hopefully no one would be looking so high up for a threat. She gazed down at the building across the street, noting the area where she’d been shot. Her eyes skimmed across the metal platform where the guards had been posted that night, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She continued to observe every area around the building, but saw no signs of movement. How was she supposed to avoid the guards if she could not see them?
With a sigh, she hurried back across the roof and down the fire escape, feeling increasingly nervous. What if the building had simply been an ambush point, and there was no evidence to be found? How on earth would she get Arhyen out of jail then?
Shaking away her thoughts, she took one rung of the ladder at a time until she reached the cobblestones below. She was here now, so there was nothing left to do but investigate.
Crouching in the shadows, she crept slowly forward alongside the building she’d climbed. Reaching the end, she leaned her head around the corner, observing the previously guarded building from a new angle. Still, no guards presented themselves.
Steeling herself against her fear of getting shot again, she darted across the open expanse of street, quickly pressing her back against her target building. No shots rang out. Nothing moved at all. Her ragged breathing seemed incredibly loud, but she was beginning to realize there was no one else there to hear it.
She shook her head and crept around the building, sticking close to the wall. It would be silly to become careless now, so she would continue to pretend there were plenty of armed men waiting to attack her. Perhaps there still were.
She reached a heavy steel door, mounted in the brick face of the building. Glancing all around, she grabbed the handle and gave it a turn. Locked. Of course it was locked. What had she expected?
Feeling nervous about wasting time, she withdrew a set of Arhyen’s lock-picking tools from his satchel and set to work. He’d shown her how to use the tools, and she’d even managed to pick a few locks herself, but she was nowhere near as skilled as Arhyen. She cringed each time metal clinked against metal, until finally the lock rolled over.
She quickly stuffed away the tools and reached for the doorknob, then hesitated. Perhaps it would be wiser to enter through a window, just in case. Although, the only windows she’d seen were mounted high up in the wall. Reaching them was likely more trouble than it was worth, and she felt she had little time to waste.
She reached for the knob and slowly turned it, pulling the door outward just a crack so she could peek inside. Everything was dark. She took a moment to listen, but heard not the faintest hint of movement, save the gentle whirring of the wind over the shingles.
Opening the door a bit further, she slipped inside, then gently shut it behind her. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she began to pick out shapes of broken furniture and other discarded items. The back side of the room was bordered by a long metal platform with a staircase leading up to it, likely a path for workers to reach the second half-story, consisting of a row of rooms bordering the back wall. The doors to the rooms were all shut, revealing nothing.
Glancing around the dark interior, she began to think perhaps their original theory was correct, that this was just a building chosen at random as an ambush point, then she saw a glint of metal. She crept forward and crouched, lifting a shiny silver scalpel into her palm. Her eyes darted around the space once more, and more medical equipment became apparent. This was the building Martin Burbank had referred to. It had to be.
She rose and hurried across the open, rectangular space toward the only door on the first story. She quickly turned the handle and let out a sigh of relief that it wasn’t locked. The room inside was darker than the main room, making her wish she’d thought to bring a lantern. She also wished she hadn’t wasted time with alchemy, when everything she made to defend herself was apparently going to go to waste.
With a sigh, she stepped into the dark room, which appeared to be an office. In the center of the room was a small, rectangular desk, surrounded by cabinets against three of the four walls. She stepped forward to more clearly see the cabinets in the minimal light provided by high windows in the previous room, then nearly cried in dismay at what she saw. They’d all been hastily emptied. The top doors were ajar, and the bottom drawers had been left partially open, or had been pulled out and left on the concrete floor. There was nothing left in the room but some crumpled pieces of paper and other trash. Nothing to lead her to the real grave-robbers to help her prove Arhyen’s innocence.
Her hopes dashed, she turned to observe the desk, emptied out in much the same fashion. She was
about to step away to investigate the rest of the building, when she noticed a neatly folded piece of paper on the ground.
She lifted it and gently unfurled the corners, revealing neat handwriting. Her breath hitched. She recognized that handwriting. She’d seen it in all of his journals before she began transcribing them herself. At the bottom of the page was signed a neat F, for Fairfax Breckinridge.
A loud bang sounded in the previous room. The sound of the steel door shutting. Had she left it slightly ajar to be caught up by the wind? Or, had someone returned to clear any remaining evidence out of the building. She shoved the letter into her satchel, then waited.
“I saw her come in,” a voice whispered. “You check the office, I’ll check upstairs.”
Liliana gulped. Multiple someones. Likely multiple someones with pistols, and one was heading her way.
Stepping as lightly as possible, she scurried toward the doorway, pausing just beside it. Hopefully the man would step right past her, and she could make her escape while his back was turned.
No such luck. Instead of stepping fully into the room, the man just peeked his head inside, holding a lantern out in front of him. His eyes quickly found Liliana. With a yip of surprise, she jumped back as he made a grab for her with his free hand. Acting purely on instinct, she reached into the satchel and withdrew one of her creations, then tossed it at the far wall. With a loud bang, the homemade explosive broke free of the glass vial to blast apart the side of a cabinet, sending wood shards flying. Liliana had ducked behind the desk before she could be struck by any of the shards, but the man wasn’t fast enough. He grunted in pain and dropped his lantern as several pointy spears of wood jammed into him. His lantern shattered, catching several wads of crumpled up paper on fire.
Not wasting any time, she fled the office, only to be met by three armed men guarding the exterior doorway. Two more stood beneath the metal platform bordering the rooms of the second story. Still running forward, she hurled a bomb at those two, then leapt with all her might.
Clocks and Daggers (The Thief's Apprentice Book 2) Page 12
