He’d never told anyone this. For years he’d heard the sounds and discounted them as childish fantasy. But he was fifteen now and no longer prone to childishness. If he couldn’t trust Pip, then he was truly lost.
Holding the cathode up, he looked at the steam lamp through the glass. “I’m scared of monsters.”
“There’s no such thing as monsters.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have said—”
“No, no, no.” Her fingers were warm as she squeezed his arm. “What kind of monsters?”
He’d never had to put it into words before. It really did sound ridiculous when he thought about it. “I’m scared that the Archives are alive. That it’s really a monster trying to get us all.”
He threw the cathode against the opposite wall, the glass shattering into a hundred pieces. “I’m scared that it wants to eat me.”
She stiffened, shifting her gaze to the floor. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why? It’s your name.”
“No. It’s your name for me. I can no longer be that person.” Pulling her shoulders back, Piper looked up once more. “I’m an archivist now.”
“I know. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” They held each other’s gaze. Piper blinked slowly and gave her head a shake. “And congratulations to you as well. You’re a sergeant. Not that I had any doubt you would be successful in your life.”
“I’m in line to become a detective inspector soon.”
There was the grin he’d longed to see from her once more. He knew little about the drug they used to wipe the memories of the archivists, but Samuel had seen the aftereffects more than once. Piper was handling things better than most.
“You’ll get all those whelps in the Tower whipped into shape in no time.” She stumbled as she came forward. “Bloody hell. I feel like I’m drunk.”
“As if you’ve ever been drunk.”
Piper grinned again, this time chancing a look in the direction of the watch glass. “Just that one time.”
Despite his claims of being able to consume alcohol and survive the effects better than them, Dennison had passed out long ago. Samuel took the mostly empty bottle from Piper and tried not to stare at the flush on her cheeks. “We should get him in bed soon.”
She pouted and he pinged her bottom lip.
“You’re far kinder than I am.” Piper giggled as she tugged on the skin where he’d touched her. “Let’s drag him to Master Lowe’s room and prop him against the door.”
“Minx.” Samuel struggled to his feet, helping Piper up as he went. “Let’s do it.”
Her gaze slipped to the sun-filtering goggles now hanging around his neck. “Headaches?” The note of concern was subtle, but there in her voice. “They can help with those. It could be that you’re retaining too much information. And I know how stubborn you are. I bet you haven’t even spoken to your physician—”
“Pip, I’m fine. They’re just headaches. I never got used to the sun and keep out of it as much as I can. I prefer to work at night now.”
“Oh.” She nipped down on her bottom lip, suddenly looking very much like the young girl who’d spent many nights pressed against his side to fight off nightmares. “Well, you should still be careful.”
“I will. You look good,” he whispered.
“Sam…” With a sigh, Piper frowned.
“You’re going to trip on that lip.”
She blinked twice before she stepped away. “Why are you here? The Guild Masters sent me to deal with you. They never send me to deal with anyone.”
He closed his eyes briefly, reaching out to wrap his mind around her feelings. She was a bit angry and confused, not unexpected considering the circumstances. Even if she couldn’t remember the events around the extraction, his presence would be enough to set her on edge.
Stepping closer, he lowered his voice. “You asked me for help.”
“I did?” She clenched her hands tightly together. “I can see me asking you to smuggle in some sweets—”
“After the extraction, before Ryerson hauled you away.”
“I very much doubt I let him haul me anywhere.”
“You said the killer was an archivist.”
“No.” She bit down on her bottom lip and cast a quick glance to the watch glass high above them. “That wouldn’t be possible.”
“Let me help.”
“I can’t, sergeant.”
There was something in her voice, the way her gaze darted from him to the watch glass and back that told him everything he needed to know. “They’re listening.”
“Sam, I can’t involve you in this beyond your role in the murder investigation.”
“Too late. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
Piper growled as she rolled her eyes. “Stubborn bastard.”
“Always. This is my duty as much as it is yours. Now, tell me how I can help before I’m forced to take matters into my own hands.”
Piper glared at him, but there was only worry in her emotions. “Fine. Come with me. But you’re not allowed to give me a hard time if things don’t go the way you want.”
He fell into step behind her. “Where are we going?”
“The examination room off the vaults. It’s unmonitored and Master Lowe will be taking his midday meal. We won’t have long, but it should be enough for me to tell you what little I know.”
She didn’t rush as they moved through the hallways, her easy gait more in line with a walk through Hyde Park or along the riverbanks. Samuel clasped his hands behind his back, shifting in close enough to feel her body heat.
She was too calm for his liking. “Pip?”
“The last thing we want is to draw attention. If people think you are supposed to be here, no one will question it.”
“You’ve grown bold in your age, Pipsqueak.” His heart soared when she slapped his chest with the back of her fist without looking.
“I hate it when you call me that.”
“I know.”
“It’s good to see you’re still an ass, Sam.”
The stale scent that clung to everyone who lived and worked in the Archives hadn’t dulled the fragrance of roses she favored, her one allowed vice. Her skin, white like porcelain, glowed in the faint light of the steam lamps lining the walls. If she spent any time outside, he knew the light dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose would darken. He would have loved to see her laughing, strolling across open fields in the countryside, dark hair spilling across her shoulders. Naked, stretched out beneath him.
Samuel cleared his throat, dragging a curious glance from her. “I meant to ask you how you were feeling. The machine didn’t exhaust you?”
She didn’t answer at first. They waited for the doors to the lift to open, stepped inside and jerked as they began their descent. Piper turned to look at him, frowning. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not convincing me.”
“I’m fine. Fine.” Reaching up, she pressed the heel of her hand to her temple. “Most of last evening’s events have been removed. I remember arriving, seeing you and then… I’m… I have… It really is the most maddening thing I’ve ever experienced. I hate this emptiness in my mind.”
Anger expanded to fill his chest, his throat and threatened to explode from every pore in his body. They thought nothing of stripping her thoughts, leaving a void in her mind that would grow with each consecutive extraction, leaving less and less of her behind. How could she let them do this to her?
Piper tried to step away, but Samuel caught her by the wrist, stilling her. “You can’t tell me you’re happy here.” By God, he would get her out if he had to tear the walls down himself.
“Sam, I learned to adapt. I have a position, shelter, people who care for me and who I care for.” She pressed her free hand to his cheek. “I know you had good reason to hate it here, but it wasn’t the same for me. My mum is long dead. This place is my home, and these people are all the family I have.”
Ho
lding her gaze, needing to show her that there was something beyond the walls of her prison, Samuel leaned closer. Then he smiled as her brown gaze grew impossibly wide and her breath caught. Anger mingled with a possessive lust he’d never experienced before. Piper was still very much the innocent, and he was more than bastard enough to take advantage of it.
Jerking her hand back, she fixed him with a glare. “We will need to switch lifts to get to the vaults.”
Samuel stopped short. Deeper? He couldn’t willingly walk into the depths of his personal hell, a smile on his face. “Isn’t there someplace closer? This seems a bit extreme.”
“There are one or two other locations, but they would take us closer to the Guild Masters.” Voices drifted from down the hall, yanking Piper’s attention. “If Master Ryerson doesn’t know you are here yet, he will soon. The moment he finds you, you’ll be tossed out. Plus, I know you’ve always wanted to see the vaults.”
Samuel had never killed another man before, but if anyone were to tempt him into that damnation, it would be Ryerson. If the fates were with him, he’d never be faced with the choice.
He was a bloody weakhearted fool. “Fine. But if Ryerson so much as lays a hand on me, he’ll regret it until the end of his days.”
Chapter Four
By the time the lift reached their destination, Samuel’s heart was beating as hard and fast as he could ever remember. The slide of the doors exposed them to a moist heat, one to rival the hottest summer’s day, despite their being deep beneath the ground. Lights ran along the top of the wall and weak bursts of illumination fanned down, creating pools of light as they walked.
Samuel had released his grip on Piper’s arm but stayed close as they strode down the corridor. Each step brought them farther into the heat and dark, farther than he’d ever ventured into the Archives. Sweat beaded on his forehead and along the inside of his collar, making his skin prickle and crawl. The urge to slip free of his greatcoat was only slightly less than his desire to keep his hands free so he could reach for his weapon.
The corridor stretched on, curving in such a way that he was unable to see the end around the bend. The steam-powered lamps hissed as they passed. They were spaced out so that the pools of darkness were equally bisected by those of light. Stepping between the shadows, Samuel’s apprehension grew.
Out. He needed to turn and leave, run as fast as he could. His chest grew tight, and he had to consciously think himself through the process of breathing in and out.
In. Out.
Again.
He replayed their journey in his mind, reassuring himself. They’d passed fourteen lamps—eight on the left, six on the right. There’d been a pattern in the floor stones, diagonally repeating. Only one door had lined the passage, wooden with an iron padlock barring entrance. Piper’s curls had slipped from their coils, wilting in the damp heat. The old familiar sensation of being watched was strangely absent.
In. Out.
“Shit, it’s hot in here.”
“I keep forgetting you haven’t been in this section. The cathode storage units themselves are kept cool, but the system generates the heat. You get used to it once you’re down here awhile.” She brushed his hand with the back of hers. “How many lamps?”
“Twenty now. How did you know?”
“I’ve recently taken on training the acolytes in some of the basic skills. I’ve seen that look more than you.”
“Why, because I ran away and dutiful Piper stayed behind to train the next generation of zombies?” That wasn’t fair. But he couldn’t fight past this rising darkness. It was going to swallow him whole, leaving only a shell behind.
“I haven’t been called a zombie in a long time. Thank you ever so much for that.” She crossed her arms, but kept walking at an even pace. “Things would have gotten better, have gotten better. Dennison, Jones, myself, we are doing everything in our power to make the changes we know need to happen to ensure the guild’s survival. The Guild Masters are listening to us. The beatings are nowhere as frequent. They are starting to expand our education to encompass more than how to pull the memories from a body. We did that, Sam.”
Of course she only saw the good in this place. She had no choice but to do so. “Have you ever considered the presence of the Archives might not be the best thing for the rest of the city? That the king should be looking for ways to shut it down?”
Piper’s eyes widened as she swallowed hard. “You can’t be serious?”
“Never more serious about anything in my life.”
He’d never felt this level of frustration from her before—not directed at him, at any rate. Stopping and relaxing against the wall, he crossed his arms and waited. Piper held his gaze, but he could see her fighting to hold back the tension in her stance rivaled only by the intensity in her eyes. He’d forgotten that she got this way when she didn’t know how to say something. In the end she would normally blurt it out, all pretense of finesse gone.
Piper stepped close, her skirts brushing against his greatcoat. Her gaze came to rest somewhere in the vicinity of the hollow of his throat. “If you don’t care about the Archives, then why are you here?”
“I’m here because you asked me.”
“I didn’t ask you to come here.” But she couldn’t quite hold his gaze. He knew she didn’t remember. “But I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.”
Their reunion was as painful as a thousand tiny cuts into his skin, but he’d endure it and so much more to help her. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’d do anything for you.”
“Not anything.” She didn’t look away to give him quarter against the guilt rising inside him. “You didn’t stay.”
“You know why I left.”
“No, I don’t.” It was her turn to feel guilty—the blast of her shame and regret cut off the remainder of his desire to argue. “You showed up panicked, pale. You just grabbed my arm and tried to pull me out of here.”
Had he? While certain aspects of that night were engrained on him in perfect, flawless detail, there were other parts he couldn’t recall. Voids in his mind that would rival the lethefication process.
The past couldn’t be changed and the present demanded his attention. “The room? I want out of here as quickly as I can manage.”
“Sam—”
“Please, Pip. The room.”
It was then he truly realized how far apart they’d drifted. It was as if he saw her for the first time, all those years ago. A beautiful stranger, someone not meant for him.
Clearing her throat, Piper held out her arm. “This way.” They continued, but this time she held a greater distance between them.
Light spilled through the crack beneath a door at the end of the corridor. The red flutter of radiance dancing against the black floor looked out of place. It reminded him too much of the memory cathodes and the secrets housed within them.
By the time he caught up to Piper she was pressing a numerical sequence into a small number pad buried in the wall next to the door. A soft click as the lock tumbler shifted into place put Samuel’s senses on high alert. He wasn’t meant to see this. For that matter, no one was. The entire Archives were unfit for people to know. It was unnatural, morbid, this endless cataloguing of former humanity in neat little rows.
“Speak softly once we enter. It’s a sign of respect and will keep unwanted attention away.” She grabbed the deadbolt and began to slide it free.
“Wait.”
She stopped and cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t explain this sudden rush of apprehension, the clawing rake of fear tearing at him from the inside out. This was worse than the night he’d fled the Archives. But instead of running away from the monster, he was willingly walking into its open maw.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Samuel fought to get himself under control. He wasn’t an angry nineteen-year-old anymore. No one was trying to twist his mind into a circuit for a machine, or turn him into yet another mindless drone.
/> These were little more than childish fears, not worth his time. He let out a huff and nodded at Piper. “Lead on.”
In the few seconds it took her to wrest the heavy iron bolt free and slide it over, Samuel’s heart raced and his palms grew damp. The doors were surprisingly silent as they swung wide to reveal a large cavern of a room.
The vaults were breathtakingly horrific.
Samuel’s gaze was immediately drawn up. And up, for what seemed like an eternity, before his eyes finally made out the dim ceiling far overhead. Row upon row of drawers lined the walls all the way up. The soft glow of multicolored light seeped out from the edges of the small storage units, blending together before being absorbed by the darkness in the dim reaches of the cavernous vault.
On the front of each drawer was a single iron handle and a small piece of parchment. When they drew close enough he could make out a series of numbers. Catalogue reference numbers, to assist the archivists with retrieval.
“There are thousands of them,” he muttered in wonder.
“Hundreds of thousands. They used to take the memories of every citizen, before the bombs destroyed the city.” Piper ran her hand along the front of the closest drawer. “When one of the Archives’ repositories was destroyed in thirty-two they pulled back. There isn’t enough storage. Only the rich, the important, or the murdered are recorded now. The rest will wink out of existence when they die. Gone forever to the bosom of their God.”
“You mock the existence of God?” He spun around, his eyes drawn up. “Even I’m not that bold.”
When he finally faced her again, Piper smiled. “There is nothing beyond the here and now. That’s why it’s so important that we preserve these memories and fight for their continued existence. If I could have found a way to get my mum’s memories brought here, I would have.”
“There is more to a person’s life than the sum of their memories.” He shook his head, the weight of his disappointment almost too much to bear.
“And yet, those memories are the very lifeblood of Britain. Whether I agree with how it all began or not, it’s my duty to keep them safe. And given that I have no idea how to bake bread or build machines with the clockwerkers, I’ll have to live with this.” Piper turned and walked away. “Come with me.”
Gilded Hearts (The Shadow Guild Series) Page 5
