by C. J. Archer
"By how many?" Duke asked darkly.
"Five men," Cyclops said as the carriage rolled away.
"Five?" Duke grunted. "What a coincidence. There were five in Lemon Street just now."
Cyclops's jaw hardened. "I noticed."
"You think it was them?" I said. "You think those men overpowered Willie and Matt? And did what with them?"
"They were paid," Cyclops said with certainty. "Hired muscle to do a coward's work. They know where Willie and Matt are but won't say. It ain't worth it to them to blab to us."
"We'll report them to the police," I said. "That will get them to tell us—"
"No," both Duke and Cyclops said. "It won't."
"Then what?" My voice pitched high, hysterical. "We can't just walk away. We can't leave until we know where they are. Turn back." I lifted my arm to thump on the roof, but Cyclops caught my hand.
"There is another way." His one-eyed glare bored into me like a drill. The intensity of it on such a gentle man alarmed me. "We return with firearms."
I swallowed and sank into the corner. He let me go, but his grip had left a mark on my skin. I turned to the window but hardly saw anything through the blur of tears.
When would this end? How? With bloodshed and loss of life?
Surely there had to be another way. Surely, if we thought it through, we could work out who took them and why. Surely we could find them in a peaceful manner.
And then it struck me. I sat up straight and thumped on the cabin roof. "Open the window," I directed Duke, unable to keep the elation from my voice.
He and Cyclops frowned at me, but did as asked. "What do you want me to tell the driver?" Duke asked, holding onto his hat as the breeze streamed in. "Where do you want to go?"
Chapter 16
"Mr. Gibbons, please, we don't know where else to turn." I hated to beg, but this was an exceptional circumstance. Daniel's grandfather was the only person who might be able to help find Matt and Willie, although my wild theory may not work in practice. Indeed, the chance of failure was very high.
But I had to try.
"Don't be absurd." Mr. Gibbons's gruff reply dismissed us as clearly as his wave at the door. "Now, unless you have something to tell us about Daniel, please leave. You're upsetting my daughter."
Miss Gibbons, Daniel's mother, did indeed look upset, but that could have been because I'd just informed her that there was no news of Daniel and the man commissioned with finding him had also disappeared. She pressed her handkerchief to her nose and sniffed.
"You owe us this, after the fright you gave me last night," I said.
Miss Gibbons lowered her handkerchief. "Last night?" She frowned at her father. "You told me you were with friends last night."
Mr. Gibbons puffed out his chest and offered no explanation. His daughter didn't press him.
"I cannot find Daniel alone," I said, my voice thin. My nerves were stretched tight. We were being blocked at every turn, and this time by someone who was supposed to be on our side. "I need Matt."
"Explain why you think my father could help you find him," Miss Gibbons asked. "I'm not sure I understand."
"Last night, your father…came to our house in search of one of Daniel's maps."
"Which Munro, the bloody fool, gave them," Mr. Gibbons growled with an accusatory glare at his daughter.
She lowered her head and sat demurely with her hands clasped in her lap.
"He thought he might be able to use his magic and the map to find Daniel, since it's infused with his magic." At her hopeful gaze, I added, "It didn't work."
"Precisely," Mr. Gibbons said. "So why do you think it would work for you and your friend?" I opened my mouth to speak, when he indicated the door. "I'd like you to leave."
"Listen to her." Cyclops closed the gap between them and looked as if he'd pull Gibbons up by his shirt, as he'd done with the thug in Lemon Street. But he simply stood over Gibbons, a tower of muscle and fury.
Mr. Gibbons shrank into his armchair and swallowed. "I'm listening," he said without taking his wide gaze off Cyclops.
Cyclops rejoined Duke. Both stood by the door, arms crossed over their chests, looking every bit like warriors on guard.
"Thank you," I said. "What I'm proposing may not work, but I want to try anyway. I want to try combining my magic and yours to find Matt."
Miss Gibbons gasped. "You? You're…?"
I nodded. "I'm…raw. I don't know any spells, but every watch or clock I've worked on seems to respond to me. I've worked on Matt's watch, and I know he has it on him." I closed my eyes briefly, and drew in a fortifying breath. It had occurred to me—to all three of us—that Matt may have lost his watch in the scuffle, or that the five thugs had stolen it from him. He'd left home four and a half hours ago. Time was running out.
"And you want my father to use his magic to draw you a map of his location," Miss Gibbons finished. "Or that of his watch, at least."
I nodded.
"It didn't work last night," Mr. Gibbons said heavily. "And nor will this. It's foolish."
"Even so, you have to try," Duke growled.
"Why do you think it will work this time, Miss Steele?" Miss Gibbons asked. "Why should your magic be any different, particularly if you don't know any spells?"
"Because my magic is strong. Your father told me so. And I'm hoping that the magic watch in Matt's possession will be the key difference." And because I had a hunch. I couldn't explain it, but this felt right.
Father and daughter eyed one another. Miss Gibbons said, "You have to help, Papa."
He nodded. "Come with me to my workshop." Mr. Gibbons led the way down the dimly lit corridor to the back of the house and out into the small courtyard.
Behind the kitchen addition, a lean-to looked as if it would blow over in a strong wind. Mr. Gibbons unlocked the door and pulled aside the curtains. Light streamed into the workshop, which barely had enough space to contain all five of us as well as Mr. Gibbons's sloping desk and small chest of drawers. Unframed maps had been nailed to the walls, some of them quite beautiful. Magical maps? I touched the corner of one and my hand warmed.
Miss Gibbons watched me.
"Come stand here, Miss Steele." Mr. Gibbons pointed to the side of the desk where he spread out a large piece of paper. His daughter wordlessly picked out pencils and rulers from one of the drawers, and another map of greater London.
"The watch may not be in London," Mr. Gibbons said as his daughter spread the map on the desk.
"I know," I said, removing my gloves. "But we have to begin somewhere."
Mr. Gibbons leaned over the large blank page and began to sketch. His hands moved quickly, as did his lips as he chanted strange, lyrical words. If his words could be drawn, they'd feature swirls and loops and a flowing pattern. I recognized none of them.
He drew a copy of the map of London, but so much better. It filled with dense detail, street names, and identifiable landmarks. Roof tiles and brickwork emerged from the page as if they were real, only in black, white and gray, and to my amazement, even buildings under construction took shape, the scaffold a skeletal shell that seemed to reach up from the surface. His new map was the same scale as the original, even though Mr. Gibbons took no measurements.
"Beautiful," Duke breathed from behind me. "There's Park Street," he said, pointing.
Mr. Gibbons batted his hand away without breaking his chant. A moment later, he set down his pencil.
I placed my hand on the map's nearest corner. Heat surged through my fingers up my hand to my wrist where it petered away. I gasped and pulled back. Mr. Gibbons and his daughter exchanged glances, and he resumed his chanting.
"India?" Cyclops whispered.
"I'm all right." I returned my hand to the map, this time ready for the heat. It burned fiercely but was bearable.
I felt somewhat foolish, simply standing there while Mr. Gibbons did all the work. I ought to be chanting too. His words flowed around me, and the warmth from the map swarmed past m
y wrist, up my arm to my shoulder. I closed my eyes to concentrate on it, to let it into my body, though I did not allow it to overpower me. I could almost hear Matt warning me to be careful, to not do anything that could endanger me. Yet this felt natural. It felt real, like I could draw on the magic and use it. Build on it.
The watch in my reticule throbbed. I didn't know if the others could feel or hear it, or even if I could. Perhaps I simply sensed it.
"There!" Duke cried.
The chanting stopped.
"That's here," Cyclops growled. "This house."
Mr. Gibbons continued his chant.
I cracked open my eyes and stared at the bright purple glow on the map. The sketch had been done in pencil, not with colors. That glow…that was me. My watch, to be precise. That's why it had throbbed. It had felt my magic.
I pressed both my palms down on the map. The heat no longer bothered me, even though it felt fiercer, stronger. It coursed through me, and I wondered if my veins lit up like Matt's did when he used his watch.
The map throbbed, just like my watch had. Mr. Gibbons must have felt it too, because he stopped chanting.
"Keep going," I urged. Think about Matt's watch again, a small voice told me.
I pictured the way it made his veins glow, the way it erased the lines of tiredness, the shadows of exhaustion. I pictured the watch's housing, and recalled each individual spring and cog that I'd carefully cleaned and replaced mere weeks ago.
"My God," Duke whispered, leaning over my shoulder. "Cyclops?"
"I see it," he intoned. "A curved street in the city. I can't make out the writing. It's a long name for a small street."
The chanting stopped. Miss Gibbons drew in a sharp breath. "It worked!"
"Bucklersbury Street," her father said.
"Bucklersbury!" I opened my eyes to see a glowing patch over the heart of the city. Over the exact position of the Roman mosaic excavation, if I wasn't mistaken. "I was there only recently."
I straightened and removed my hands from the map. The glow vanished. The map was a masterpiece that could grace an art gallery. But it was just a map now.
"India." Cyclops's voice commanded my attention. "We have to go."
"Thank you," I said to Mr. Gibbons. "Your help has been invaluable."
"Good luck," Miss Gibbons said with a tentative smile. "I hope this means Mr. Glass will resume the search for Daniel."
"As soon as he is able, I assure you." To Mr. Gibbons, I said, "We are trying our best."
He nodded but hardly seemed aware of me. He stared at the map, at my hands, and then at his own. "Remarkable," he murmured.
It was, but I didn't have time to ponder it, or my part in the exercise. Matt and Willie needed rescuing.
For once, I was glad Bryce liked to drive fast. He managed to maneuver the cumbersome coach through the traffic at speed and we made it to Bucklersbury Street in good time. He didn't stop outside the scaffold-clad building where we'd seen the mosaic floor, however, and I was about to call out to him when I heard him shout.
"Sir!"
I craned my neck out the window and my heart leaped into my throat. Matt! Beside him stood Willie. They were alive and free. Thank God. Thank God.
"Matt!" I shouted, opening the door and springing out of the carriage without a care for my skirts. They wrapped around my legs and flapped behind me as I ran.
Both Duke and Cyclops passed me and reached them first. Duke embraced Willie and looked as if he wanted to envelope Matt in a hug too. Cyclops slapped them both on the shoulder.
"Matt! Willie!" I was too happy to see them and not embrace each of them in turn. I held onto Matt the longest. His arms tightened before he released me and set me at arm's length.
He looked tired but not exhausted, and the bruises on his face and cut lip told part of the story of his capture. I lifted a hand to touch his cheek, but thought better of it. He wouldn't want my sympathy.
Duke, Cyclops and Willie spoke over the top of each other. Matt and I remained silent, our gazes locked. I knew mine held all the relief swirling through me. I couldn't contain my happiness at seeing them safe, and I suspected that was why he gave me a small smile despite looking thunderous.
"I'm half starved," Willie said. "There's a chop house around the corner. What's say we get us a steak and talk revenge there."
"We have to know who kidnapped us to get revenge," Matt growled. But he nodded. "We'll talk as we eat."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "Shouldn't you rest?"
"I've been resting all damned day. I've had enough resting."
He strode off. I eyed Willie and she gave me a flat smile. "It's been a long day," she said. "And Matt don't like getting tied up like a hog."
"How did you get away?" I glanced back at the building down the street. "And why is no one coming after you?"
"We'll tell you after we eat. I can't talk with an empty stomach."
Cyclops trotted back to the coach to inform Bryce of our plans, and we walked to the chop house. It was too early for dinner and too late for luncheon, so the place wasn't busy. We slipped onto the bench seats in the furthest corner, where the sunshine didn't reach and the lamplight barely did either. The portrait of a woman lounging against a bar stared down at us, an expectant glimmer in her eyes. I wondered if I looked like that as I waited for Matt and Willie to tell their tale.
A waiter wearing a white neck cloth took our orders. As soon as he disappeared, Duke leaned forward, elbows on the table, and said, "Well?"
Matt glanced at Willie. His eyes narrowed. She swallowed and studied her dirty fingernails. "Well," she began, "I made a mess of things."
When she didn't continue, Matt prompted her. "Go on. They deserve to know."
Willie cleared her throat. "I told you I'm sorry, Matt. I mean it."
He held up his hand. "No more," he said, gentler. "Tell them."
"I arrived in Lemon Street at six, but I was ambushed by five men. I didn't stand a chance. They hog-tied me, gagged me, and bundled me into a cart."
"Did they hurt you?" Duke growled.
She winced. "Only a few bruises."
"You went without your gun?"
"I didn't get a chance to use it." She touched her hip where her gun usually hung when she carried it. "They drove me here, to that building where the archaeologists are digging up the floor. It was empty. They took me down to the cellar and left me there, all trussed up."
Duke pushed up her cuff to reveal wrists rubbed raw from rope burn. He swore under his breath.
"Didn't anyone see?" Cyclops asked.
"They threw a coat around me and hustled me inside," Willie said. "But no one was around anyway."
"And then?"
"And then Matt arrived a few hours later, the same way. They left him with me in the cellar."
I glanced at Matt. He looked like he'd rather snap someone's head off than talk about what happened.
The waiter deposited five frothing ales on the table. Willie pounced on hers and drank half the contents in one gulp. Matt drank all of his.
"You were ambushed too?" I asked him when he set the pewter tankard down. "By the gang from Lemon Street?"
He inclined his head in a nod. "They were waiting for me, four inside the arch where I couldn't see them, and one dead ahead as bait. I didn't have time to draw."
But he must have fought them. The evidence of the struggle was all over his face. "Where are your weapons now?" I asked.
"Stolen," Willie spat.
"But not your watch?" I asked Matt.
He shook his head. "They inspected it, but the leader told the others that it was the watch they were ordered to leave with me."
I sat back in the chair, all the air knocked out of me.
"Someone knew how important it was to you," Cyclops said, rubbing his bristly jaw. "That means the one who paid them knows it's magic and you need it."
"It means they didn't want me dead," Matt said with an incline of his head.
"Just out
of the way," I murmured. "Abercrombie is my guess, keeping you from meeting Mirth. That means he knows more than we thought—he knows two magics are combined in your watch."
"Or he simply knows it's important to me in some manner."
Willie thumped her elbows on the table and buried her hands in her hair. It had come loose and hung around her shoulders in wild tangles. "You missed meeting Mirth," she groaned.
"I met him," I told them.
Willie peeped through her fingers at me. "You did?"
"And?" Matt asked.
"He's not Chronos," I said. The shoulders of both slumped. "I'll explain more after you tell me how you escaped."
"Willie and I were locked in the cellar," Matt said, "tied up but not gagged. We shouted but no one came. Willie managed to untie my bonds and I freed her, but we couldn't get out of the cellar itself."
"We even tried digging," Willie said. "We found some of the archaeology tools, but it was hopeless in the dark."
"Where was Mr. Young?" I asked.
"Not working today, it would seem," Matt said. "He keeps his tools in the cellar, locked up and out of sight."
"So we waited." Willie glanced at Matt. "Rested. Then suddenly we heard the bolt slide back. We had to fumble our way to the door in the dark. By the time we got there and opened it, whoever unlocked it was gone. We searched the building, and up and down the street, but couldn't see no one."
"And then you three arrived," Matt said. "Did you see anyone you recognized leaving?"
We shook our heads. "We weren't really looking," I said.
"It don't make sense," Duke said with a shake of his head. "They just let you go?"
Matt nodded. "I've had all day to contemplate it, and I think India's right. Someone went to great lengths to keep me from the bank today. Someone who knew there was a cellar in that building and knew we wouldn't be stumbled upon. Someone who didn't want us to die but wanted me out of the way."
Duke swore softly. "It must be Abercrombie."
"But me, Willie and Duke know what Chronos looks like," Cyclops said. "You weren't the only one who could confirm if Mirth was Chronos."
"My kidnapper didn't know that," Matt said. "He thought it was all down to me."
