Gilded Hearts (The Shadow Guild Series)

by Christine d'Abo

  Both Piper and Dennison had jumped, startled by the roar when they’d first pulled away from the platform. Even now Piper pressed her hands to her ear protectors in an attempt to dampen the noise as much as possible. He’d done much the same on his first journey in this beast. It hadn’t helped.

  William turned to Samuel, his mechanical eyes glowing in the barely existent light. “I’ll be turning the drill on shortly.” His shouts were barely heard. “We had a cave-in a few months ago. Debris to clear.”

  Samuel nodded, forcing himself to meet the conductor’s gaze directly. William had lost his vision in the last war, shrapnel from an air raid having torn his eyes apart. He’d been such a loyal public servant that the King’s Sentry had commissioned the Hudson’s Bay Company to build him new eyes. They’d received the train as a bonus.

  Turning around, Samuel waved to catch the rest of the group’s attention. He motioned to cover their heads, leaning forward so his forehead rested on his lap. Timmons followed suit immediately, but both Piper and Dennison looked confused. The moment William turned on the drill, they quickly moved to follow. Samuel counted to three in his head before they impacted against the dirt wall and the entire engine lurched violently.

  The train shook as dirt and rocks battered the sides. A barrage of dust, silt, and the occasional larger clod or pebble sprayed into the train’s cabin, assaulting the passengers like hailstones. The noise was enough to numb the body and drive a person mad. The temperature rose around them as the water-cooled engines inexorably heated under the strain of constant operation, until the atmosphere of hell was all but achieved.

  During the end of the last war, this had been the only way to travel safely, an underground railroad without rails that allowed the British and Canadian forces to move in stealth and launch surprise attacks against the French alliance. Few citizens of any of the fighting countries were aware of the tunnel network, which the King’s Sentry intended to keep secret. One never knew when a strategic advantage would be needed. As always, however, Samuel wondered if it was really worth all this trouble.

  Time slipped away from Samuel as the train tunneled toward their destination. He wasn’t sure how many hours had passed when William finally indicated that they were about to make their approach to the surface. One moment the noise was enough to make him sick; the next it was too quiet as limestone bedrock gave way to soft chalk around them. The drill sliced through the light mineral in one smooth, easy glide until the final crunch of topsoil and a sweet draft of cooler air announced their arrival aboveground.

  Piper gasped, sitting back in her seat. He could see that she was sweating, her face deathly pale. Ripping his ear protectors off, he dropped to his knees by her side. “Are you well?”

  “That was unexpected.” She blinked several times and had to give her head a hard shake. Slowly she took her own ear protectors off with shaking fingers. “I feel like I’ve been stoned by boulders.”

  “It will pass. Once we get out into the fresh air and get our legs back under us we’ll need to drink water.”

  “I never could get used to that.” Timmons stood and moved quickly to the back. The door hissed opened and Samuel heard him jump to the ground before throwing up.

  Dennison sat far too still, eyes wide and jaw clenched. Samuel slapped the side of his thigh in an attempt to snap him from his shock. “Dennison.”

  Turning, he looked at Samuel, nodding after a few more moments. “That was an interesting experience.”

  “This lot did well, sergeant.” William stood, completely unfazed. “I’ll take her back into the tunnel until I receive your signal. You’re only a mile from the city border. Head southeast and you should reach it in no time.”

  They weren’t able to leave immediately. They each took their fill of water and fresh air. Samuel had forgotten how light his body felt after his first train experience. The ground still felt as if it trembled beneath his feet. Knowing it would be better if they had more time to recover, but not willing to risk Constantine finding out about their arrival, Samuel finally made them grab their gear and head out.

  The countryside was sparsely populated with shrubs and the occasional young tree. Rocky outcroppings cut the horizon here and there, giving the rolling slopes a harsh edge. The air was fresher here, but the scent of sulfur was still present. The sun shone brighter here, unimpeded by the tall reach of buildings. Even his goggles were unable to block the brightness, and a headache began to beat around the sides of his brain.

  Timmons lead the way using a small handheld location device. David had made it for him years ago, and Samuel had always been impressed with how it could map out and extrapolate the terrain. He’d tried to incorporate the technology to his own wrist strap, but it had been too advanced, even for him. “The compound should be just over this hill.”

  He didn’t wait to draw his weapon, nor was there a need to tell Timmons or Dennison to follow suit. Even Piper unsheathed her knife and moved to stand closer to him. “How are we going to approach this?”

  “I’m thinking the front door.” The last thing he wanted was to put anyone’s life at risk, but they needed to move as quickly as possible. “They don’t know the purpose of our visit, so they shouldn’t be on the defensive.”

  As they approached Samuel could see movement from behind the curtains of the building. There was no need to knock, for Doctor Constantine stood in the doorway as they made their way up the walk.

  “Isn’t this an unexpected pleasure. Mr. Dennison, Miss Smith. I’m sorry I haven’t had the pleasure to make the acquaintance of your friends.”

  “Sergeant Hawkins and Constable Timmons of the King’s Sentry.” The doctor didn’t react to their titles. Samuel holstered his weapon, but kept it visible. “We have a few questions for you, sir.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  A group of five men stepped out from several hiding spots, each holding a large radiation blaster, though none were pointed directly at their group. Timmons raised his gun to level the sights on the nearest man, but they all knew firing would be suicide. Doctor Constantine’s smile didn’t slip as he sauntered down the walk toward Samuel.

  “I have a few questions of my own, sergeant. What business could the King’s Sentry possibly have with me and my clinic? For that matter, I’m surprised to see not one but two archivists here. The last time I was in New London, I was under the impression there was a certain animosity between your organizations.”

  “We are here to talk to you about the death of a number of prostitutes and a man who goes by the name Jack the Ripper.” Ignoring every instinct that told him the person standing before him was dangerous, Samuel closed the distance between them.

  “I can’t say that I’d be any help to your investigation, sergeant.” The doctor’s gaze was unwavering, practically unblinking. It was meant to unnerve Samuel. The good doctor would be sorely disappointed.

  “Who are these men, doctor?” Samuel didn’t look around, but he did widen his stance in case he needed to move quickly. “Patients?”

  “Former patients. They had nowhere else to go, and many don’t feel ready to return to society. They stay here and help me and other interested landowners rebuild in the area. We are slowly making our way back toward Dover.”

  Constantine pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose, the motion causing his unfastened shirt cuff to slip open. Samuel only had a second to register the action before he snatched Constantine’s arm and twisted it behind his back as he stepped behind him, putting the doctor in the path of the other men.

  “Sam!” Piper lifted her knife and stepped closer to Dennison.

  “What the hell are you doing, Hawkins?” Dennison pulled Piper closer, shifting his aim between two of the men.

  “He has the tattoo on his forearm. He’s a member of the cult.”

  Constantine’s men, surprised by Samuel’s attack, started to advance. Timmons’ shots wounded the closest two, which immediately stopped the remaining three in their t
racks.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Constantine twisted in his hold, to no avail. “You’ll never get away with this.”

  “Timmons, secure those three. Dennison, make sure the injured are going to live, then secure them as well. Piper, follow me.”

  It was a challenge to strong-arm Constantine into the compound. Samuel wasn’t able to check the building for other patients, former or otherwise. There was a small office off the side of the main hall that contained apothecary equipment, a grotesque display of removed organs, and a large examination table.

  Thick leather straps were secured to the side of the table by large cogs that allowed the restraints to be tightened or loosened as the need arose. It would be enough to hold even the wildest of men in place securely, allowing the doctor to perform whatever tests he needed.

  “This will do.” Using up what strength he had left, Samuel forced Constantine to the table and held him still. “Pip, secure the straps.”

  “You bastard! I’ll kill you for this.” Constantine lunged, biting down hard on Samuel’s forearm.

  Samuel gritted his teeth before bashing his head against Constantine’s. The doctor released his hold, falling back to the table with a loud groan. Piper moved quickly, securing the straps and pulling Sam away from the doctor’s side.

  “Let me see that.” She took his arm, pushed up his sleeve and ran her fingers around the bite mark. “It could have been a lot worse.”

  “It will keep. We don’t have the luxury of time.”

  “What do you plan to do to him? I doubt he’ll be very cooperative.”

  Samuel met the doctor’s gaze. “We’re going to talk and he’s going to tell me everything I want to know.”

  One moment Constantine looked angry, then the next he started laughing hysterically. “You think I’m going to tell you anything, Sammy-boy? You’re a fool.”

  “What did you call me?”

  But Constantine was laughing so hard he was either unable or unwilling to say anything. No, this wasn’t right. Samuel grabbed the handle sticking out of the side of one cog and cranked the straps tighter.

  Constantine let out a strangled yelp. “Do what you want to me, it won’t matter. I won’t tell you anything. You can’t stop what’s going to happen.”

  Piper moved around so she was on the other side. She continued to hold her knife, keeping it visible the entire time. “I think you will.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and for a moment Samuel forgot she’d reverted back to her mostly innocent state. Her jaw was clenched and her hand didn’t shake as she placed the knife to Constantine’s throat. She looked far from innocent, perhaps even dangerous.

  “Oh, that is rich.” Tears streaked down Constantine’s face as he laughed. “You honestly think you’re able to hurt me? Please. I know your kind, Miss Smith, know the archivists. You’re fools and freaks, but you’re not killers. You don’t like to get your hands messy. That’s why you have your merry band of Administrators.”

  “You seem to have forgotten something.” Samuel tightened the leather straps again, watching as the thick leather bit into the man’s wrists, chest, and ankles. “I’m not with the Archives.”

  “No, you’re better. You’re a lawman. You won’t do anything to make yourself look bad.”

  “You think so?” Samuel turned the cog again, yanking a groan from Constantine and a gasp from Piper. “You knew about the women. The prostitutes. What did you do? Send Jack out to get rid of them for you?”

  “Of course I knew.” Constantine spat the words with such venom, it was impossible to mistake him for anything other than what he was—a monster. “My men have needs, and I do what I must to keep them happy. But too many of them grew loose-lipped when they had a willing whore beneath them. The women learned too much and needed to be dealt with.”

  “Who are your men?” Piper’s voice shook as she spoke. “The secret society?”

  “We’re not a secret society. You fools think this is some sort of playacting? My boys, my men do what I need them to. They serve the cause, working to put an end to the king’s madness.”

  Piper stepped away and stared at Samuel. “What is he talking about?”

  “I’m not sure. What madness? The king never leaves Buckingham Palace anymore.”

  “You don’t see what’s in front of your face. He’s using the souls! Using their power. And you do nothing to stop him.” Constantine leaned up, straining against the straps. “You, Miss Smith, and your blind devotion. You’re dying with every extraction, all the while you’re stopping us from entering the afterlife. You’ll burn in Hades forever and ever.”

  Piper pulled back and slapped Constantine across the face. “You bastard. You’re responsible for the deaths of innocent women and you tell me I’m going to hell. If such a place even exists, it won’t be me who will end up there.”

  “Pip—”

  “No, Sam. He’s responsible for the deaths of those women.” There were tears in her eyes, though he was certain they were spurred by rage.

  “Oh, I didn’t kill those women. No, no, no, not me.” Constantine’s chuckle had taken on a less manic, yet darker tone. “That, my dear, was Jack’s handiwork.”

  At the sound of his name, dread began to spread through Samuel. “Where is he?”

  “What? Not ‘Who is he?’ You’re already to ‘where’? Well, wouldn’t you like to know, Sammy-boy.”

  He couldn’t move, couldn’t get any closer to vent his rage on the mad doctor. It was a distraction, a means to pull Samuel’s focus away from where it needed to be. “Are you working for the French?”

  “No.”

  “He’s an even worse liar than I am.” Dennison entered the room with Timmons close on his heels. “We checked the rest of the building. There were two others upstairs. We secured them in separate rooms.”

  Samuel looked to Timmons, who shrugged and nodded.

  “Then we are free to have our talk. You’re working with the French alliance. Who exactly are these men? And don’t tell me they’re the Children of Osiris.”

  “But they are. We are working to destroy the Archives, free the souls of the people you’ve trapped.” Constantine closed his eyes and rested his head back on the table. “If the French’s price for bankrolling us is the memories of a few of the more prominent residents of the Archives, then who am I to say no? It serves the greater good.”

  Dear God. Everything had been true.

  They weren’t simply stealing government secrets to sell; they wanted to shake the very foundation of England. Even a fraction of their memories would be able to cripple the governments of New London and England, not to mention jeopardizing trade routes with North America and disrupting innovations being passed from the Hudson’s Bay Company. “You’re an anarchist.”

  “This needs to come to an end.” Dennison pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where the hell is Jack?”

  Constantine laughed and closed his eyes. “I don’t know. Not anymore. You won’t be able to stop him, and I’ll still get to watch you all burn.”

  No, it wasn’t going to end like this. Without thinking, Samuel grabbed the knife from Piper and shoved her aside. It felt right to press the blade to Constantine’s throat, to lean in and let the steel pierce the skin until a trickle of blood rolled down his neck, an echo of the scabbed-over wound on Sam’s own neck. Constantine swallowed, nudging the blade, an assertion of life transmitting itself to Samuel’s palm like a strong pulse. The moment he felt that sensation, he understood what Jack had felt, the seductive pull of power, the temptation of such immediate, godlike importance. He controlled Constantine’s fate—life or death.

  “Where’s Jack?” He heard his whispered words as if detached from the scene. “I need to find him.”

  “Sam, no!”

  Constantine’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? You’re a traitor to this country, to every citizen of New London. Why shouldn’t I slit your throat, right
now, cut you up the way Jack cut up those girls?”

  “Do it, then.” Constantine swallowed hard. “You’re just like him, you know.”

  Samuel blinked, but he didn’t relent.

  “You strut about making people believe that you are a better man. You’re not. You’re nothing more than a killer playing at being a copper.” He began to laugh. “Blood will tell!”

  Samuel dropped the knife, letting it fall to the floor with a clang. In the next heartbeat he was beating Constantine. Knuckles against skin and bone. Pain, pain, and more pain, pulled from him like a parasite from a dying body.

  “Sam!”

  Arms wrapped around him, yanking him off Constantine. Blood covered the doctor’s face, but that goddammed smile still lingered.

  “See.” Constantine turned his head and spit blood. “You’re both the same. No better. Both killers.”

  “Enough of this shit.” Timmons pulled out his device and pressed a button. “I signaled Williams. He’ll drive the train here. We’ll take this bastard back to the Tower.”

  “You don’t know.” Constantine laughed once more. “I didn’t believe him when he told me.”

  “Told you what?”

  “Why should I tell you the truth? Do you think me a fool?”

  “Not in the least. But I suspect the members of your cult wouldn’t take too kindly to knowing their good leader sold them out to the French.” Samuel smiled as realization dawned on the doctor’s face.

  “You wouldn’t do that.” But he’d lost most of his earlier confidence, his words scaring him more than Samuel’s fists. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Of course he would.” Piper closed in on Constantine’s other side. “He’d make a few comments on our way out the door after we leave you tied up. I’m sure they’d make your death as painful as possible, leaving your body behind to rot. Then once the coast was clear, I’d return with my tools and extract your memories. I could take whatever I wanted to know.”

  What a beautiful, devious mind his Piper had. “The beauty of it all is that then we’d get to store you away in the bowels of the very place you sought to destroy.” Samuel reached out for her, letting his hand drop as she shifted to avoid him. “Well played, Pip.”