A destination she wasn’t ready to go to, but she didn’t have to go inside. She would make sure they made it to the house and would stay outside so her mother couldn’t see her.
She glanced at the cat trotting beside her, then over her shoulder at Ash. “You’re a lousy lookout. If not for Macak, we wouldn’t have known someone was in the house.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, grunting when Garrett stumbled into him.
It made her queasy to watch the injured man stagger along, so she faced front again.
“I’m not used to having to be on watch in my own house” Ash said. “Besides, you looked so good sleeping there…”
He trailed off and she shot another look over her shoulder at him. He was staring at her back, wide-eyed like a cornered cat. His face flushed.
“Comfortable, I mean. You looked comfortable,” he amended.
“You looked rather comfortable yourself, keeping watch so vigilantly.” She winked before turning away again. At least she’d distracted them both from the reality of Garret’s circumstances for a few moments. She didn’t know much about gunshot wounds, but she’d seen enough knife wounds on the streets to know it wasn’t good and the longer it went untreated, the higher the risk that he would die of blood loss or some other complication. They needed to keep him functioning a little longer.
“Captain Garrett, who, other than pirates, would gain the most from Mr. Folesworth’s death?”
“If they weren’t dead, I’d say his wife and child.” Garrett paused, breathing hard. “His business partner or his brother would come next, but…” Another long pause. “…Clockwork Enterprises was in negotiation for weapons development with Literati law enforcement.”
There came a scuffing of feet and a groan behind her. She turned in time to see Ash topple to his knees as he tried to catch his father, whose injured leg had given out. Jumping in, she caught Garrett’s shoulder and helped him get his balance on one knee before they all ended up face down in the street. Ash stood, wincing when he brushed dirt off the knees of his trousers. Maeko waited, chewing at her lip while she supported Garret who knelt there, head hanging, his breath coming in hard gasps like the sharp exhales of a steamcycle. When they went to help him to his feet, he staggered again, his face ghastly pale. Fresh blood seeped out, glistening wet on his trouser leg.
As soon as Ash had him up and leaning on his shoulders again, she scanned the area.
“He can’t walk much more,” she muttered to herself. Turning to Garret, she said, “If you can make it a little farther, we can find a hansom to take us the rest of the way. Do you have enough for fare?”
Garrett nodded, swaying on his feet so that Ash had to slip an arm around his waist to keep him upright. His breathing was heavy and strained. She hoped that was from pain and not the loss of too much blood. Either way, they needed to get him help fast.
She forced a positive tone. “Splendid! Why don’t you give it to Ash now so we don’t have to mess with it later?”
Garrett mumbled something and Ash dug into his father’s right pocket, pulling out a small wad of cash. To her surprise, he held it out to her. After a few seconds hesitation that Ash didn’t seem to notice, she accepted it, taking a few seconds to count it before stuffing it in a pocket.
“That should do. Try to hide the injury from the driver. We don’t need questions.”
Ash nodded and waved her on. His brow furrowed with worry and his eyes shimmered in the reaching light from a gas-lamp across the street with a deep desolation she couldn’t pretend to fathom. He’d become a fugitive, had watched his brother be taken into custody and his father shot, and was now rushing to get help from the pirate underground, all in less than a day. His family might not be rich, but she got the feeling Ash led a comfortable life before this. He was getting a rough indoctrination into true adversity.
Chumming with pirates would get them there eventually. The thought didn’t offer much comfort.
She marched on, keeping her pace slow and doing her best to ignore the nagging urge to run away from the whole mess. “Better weapons would give the Lits an advantage. That would make him even more unpopular with pirates,” she speculated, resuming the earlier conversation. It was a good time to ask him about the situation. The conversation kept him functioning and he was compromised enough to divulge things he might not share in a more lucid state.
“Except it fell through.” Garrett said, each word dragged out between labored breaths. “His partner initiated the deal, but Folesworth ultimately decided he didn’t want his company used for weapon manufacture.”
That information changed some things.
“That would make him a target for the Literati,” Ash suggested.
“Or a thwarted business partner,” Maeko added.
The landing area door had been ajar, suggesting a careless or hasty departure, but exiting that way would require an airship. Not many pirates, Ash’s family being an exception, had access to an airship. The small, sleek airships that had become popular with the wealthy were more common, which pointed to someone of privilege. It was a key bit of information the detective didn’t have. If only she were willing to talk to them without dropping them in JAHF or an orphanage.
She glanced over her shoulder. Garrett leaned on Ash, his head hanging low, his limping gate deteriorated to a dragging shuffle. Ash met her eyes, pleading, begging with a look for her to do something.
They had reached a busier street. She tucked Macak into the satchel, then hurried out ahead to flag down a hansom, telling the driver they needed to get her friend’s besotted father home. Ash struggled to get Garrett up into the seat and keep his injury hidden from the driver. The man shook his head in disgust and waited while she hurried to help. The off-hour fare would use up all of their money, but they couldn’t keep walking.
They sat silent for the start of the ride, Ash keeping diligent tabs on his father’s condition and holding pressure on the wound now that they were in a position to do so. While he was preoccupied with that, she chewed at her ragged fingernails.
Things had gotten too complicated. As a pickpocket and thief, she had an honorary, if anonymous, place on the list of Literati’s least favorite people. Breaking out of JAHF twice and getting involved with pirates wasn’t going to improve that. The pirate movement didn’t notice her kind any more than anyone else did. All they cared about was an end to the stranglehold the wealthy Literati had on London society that served to widen the gap between the upper classes and everyone below them. For anyone surviving on the sidelines of the criminal underworld, life would be hard regardless of who ran things.
She should have left Ash at JAHF. No matter how handsome he was or what he could offer in return. Now she was heading to the home of a mother who had wanted to get rid of her. She’d hoped to avoid this encounter until she could pay her mother’s debt and prove her worth. What kind of welcome would she get showing up now with a heap of trouble instead?
Ash put a hand on her arm, pushing it away from her mouth with surprising force. “You’re going to have to start gnawing on your fingers soon. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She spit a shred of nail out the side of the hansom then flushed at how crude she must appear to him. Then again, what did it matter? She would be invisible to him if circumstance hadn’t forced them together.
“It’s the pirate thing, isn’t it?”
She gave him a sideways glance. “Why do you say that?”
“Because the closer we get to Chelsea, the more you look like you’re going to heave.”
She resumed chewing at her nails and stared at the working haunches of the dappled gray horse pulling them along.
“I’d think you’d prefer them to the Lits.”
She tore off a piece of another fingernail and spit it out to the side, determined not to let his presence influence her behavior. Her skin still prickled with the knowledge that he was watching. With a heavy exhale, she looked at Garrett. Red was spreading through the dirty
white linen pressed to his wound. Walking had worsened the bleeding.
Schooling her expression to hide anxiety, she answered Ash. “I’d prefer neither. I’ve always been an anonymous nuisance to the Lits. They know my face now. This mess has made me popular with all the wrong blokes. I’m not chuffed about diving in deeper.”
It was the bleeding cat. If only she hadn’t come upon Macak, hadn’t picked him up and taken him with her. The cat licking her hand in the alley, as he was doing now, his head poked out of the top of the satchel, had started the whole bollocks. Still…he was only a cat. It wasn’t fair to judge him for that.
“You could always leave.”
She scowled at Ash, catching the slight movement of his jaw as he chewed at the inside of his lip. “Is that what you want? You want me to leave you to your fate, let you and your father figure this out? Let you try to find Sam on your own? I’m happy to accommodate. Just give me what you owe me.”
He narrowed his eyes, his hands half closing into fists. “Could you do that? Just abandon us and not look back?”
“Yes.” The sting of guilt when he turned away made a lie of her words, but she would let him believe it. Nothing good would come of liking him. Maybe, if she treated him bad enough, he would get tired of her attitude and tell her to go. No matter how she fancied him, he wasn’t her kind. When this was over, he would realize that or someone would point it out to him fast enough.
She went back to chewing her nails and watched the gears in the meter spin, like looking down from above on dancers in belled gowns. The Clockwork Enterprises brand gleamed in bright brass below the ticking numbers, a brand she saw on everything from the cycling liquor dispensers in some pubs to the engine compartments on luxury steamcoaches. All part of a world far removed from hers. A world enmeshed in political schemes and conspiracies she knew nothing about. She was a fool to think she could solve this bollocks.
“I wasn’t joking. You won’t have any fingernails left if you keep that up.”
A quick glower sent Ash back to tending his father. She turned to petting Macak with one hand and fidgeting with the small tear in her trousers with the other. By the time they arrived at the house, the tear had expanded by at least an inch and she had begun to wonder if she might not vomit after all. A glance at Garrett once they were out of the hansom—his face pale as death now and dark shadows under his eyes—compelled her to the door. She raised a shaking hand to knock and held it there, hovering inches away from the flaking white paint.
They were here now. She should leave and let them deal with the rest.
Ash put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, offering encouragement despite her cold words on the way there. A warm flush of shame rose into her cheeks. She knocked.
“We ain’t open.” The voice was female with a heavy cockney accent. “Yer launderin’ can wait ’til daylight.”
She lifted her hand to knock again. The door jerked open. A buxom woman with thick gold hair stood in the doorway. She scanned the trio, her eyes widening when they went to Garrett’s leg.
“I think ye have the wrong place. The docs over five blocks east.”
“The flags at half-mast,” Garrett rasped.
The woman pursed her lips and stared hard at him then shook her head. “Daft fools, comin’ to the front door in a ’ansom.” She snarled something crude sounding under her breath. “I should send ye packin’.”
“Please,” Maeko stuck a foot in the door to stop her shutting it. “Is Tomoe-san here?”
The woman looked hard at Maeko. Her eyes widened. “Oh my.” She caught Maeko’s arm and pulled her in as she turned toward the interior of the house. “Tomie, I think ye better have a peep at this ’un!”
Maeko stumbled through the door, Ash and his father crowding her further in when the woman urged them through and shut the door behind.
No. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
Simple wood furniture, piled high with clothing draped over or stacked upon every available surface, filled the cramped interior of the house. Shuttered front windows and a single flickering gas lamp made it darker than it needed to be inside. Fading aromas of a recent meal made Maeko’s stomach growl when she entered. Another woman stood in the shadows, outside the ring of light from the lamp. There was a twisting in Maeko’s chest and she strained her eyes to see into the dark while Ash helped his father inside and the painted woman shut the door behind them.
“Do I know you?” The woman spoke with the meticulous pronunciation of a foreigner, and her voice made Maeko’s skin go cold. She took a step into the light and stared at Maeko, then one hand went to her lips, tears springing to her eyes. “Maeko,” she breathed.
Chapter Nine
Everyone behind Maeko disappeared from her awareness. Her throat clenched. She stared at the woman with her long black hair wrapped up in an elegant bun, the beauty she had once been still visible despite numerous puckered scars that crisscrossed her pale face. This woman hadn’t wanted her, had intended to send her to an orphanage after the attack that ended their life in the brothel. The rejection still hurt. Anger welled in Maeko like a rising storm, leaving her at a loss for words.
Her mother, Tomoe, took several hesitant steps closer, staring at her with wide-eyed wonder. A few tears crept unimpeded down her cheeks. “Maeko, is it really you?”
She reached toward Maeko’s face and Maeko jerked back, bumping into the table behind her. A pile of clothes toppled, hitting the floor with a soft thud.
“Don’t,” Maeko warned, terrified of the contact that would make the encounter undeniably real. She wasn’t ready.
Tomoe drew her hand back. Her lower lip trembled and more tears spilled forth. She swallowed several times.
Maeko spun, intending to flee, but too many people blocked the exit. She met Ash’s eyes, full of confusion. Her gaze darted away, going to the blood-soaked leg of Garrett’s trousers, the soft rasp of his shallow breaths becoming too loud in her ears.
This was a mistake.
She forced herself to turn again, staring hard at a table to her mother’s left while she spoke. “That man needs your help.”
A crash made them both start. Behind her, the blond woman was helping Ash support his father back to his feet next to an overturned table. Tomoe rushed to them, skirting wide around Maeko so as not to come in contact with her estranged offspring. The obvious avoidance brought the sting of tears to Maeko’s eyes. She shrank from the pain, detaching from it, and stared at the group by the door as if watching strangers through a window.
Ash flinched when he noticed her mother’s scars but promptly turned his attention back to his father. Maeko stepped out of the way so Tomoe could guide them to a camp bed tucked against the wall in the back of the room. They sat Garrett down and Tomoe ordered him to lay back in a tone that would brook no argument. The blond woman lit two lanterns around the bed. Ash came to stand beside Maeko where he too would be out of the way. They watched in uncomfortable silence while her mother took a pair of fabric shears to Garrett’s trousers, cutting away blood-soaked material around the wound so she could inspect the damage. She worked with confidence born of much practice.
Now Ash looked like the one about to heave, his face turning as pale as fresh snow. She took his hand and squeezed it, as much to steady herself as to comfort him. He glanced at her, flashing a tremulous smile, then looked from her to Tomoe and back, his smile fading.
“She’s your mum?” he asked in a puzzled whisper.
Maeko gave a sharp nod, almost yanking her hand away, but he didn’t deserve her anger. The whole situation felt surreal. Any moment now, she would wake in a lurk somewhere amidst relative strangers she had never cared enough about to love or hate.
“I thought she was dead. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You assumed that. Besides, I wasn’t sure I was going to come in with you.” I shouldn’t have come.
“I’m glad you did.” Still holding her hand, he turned his attention ba
ck to his father.
Tomoe turned to the blond woman. “Lottie-san. Fetch Doctor Barker. Tell him I need him in a professional capacity.”
“I’m on my way.” The other woman shifted a pile of clothing to pull a shawl out.
“Now!” Tomoe snapped her fingers.
Lottie jumped into action, wrapping the shawl around her bare shoulders while she rushed out the door.
“You.” Tomoe pointed to Ash. “Bring that lamp over.”
Ash took his hand away to do as bid and Maeko met her mother’s eyes, seeing the pain of deep sorrow etched in her scarred features.
How dare she look hurt when she had been the one planning to abandon Maeko to an orphanage?
Sucking back anger, Maeko stormed out the back door to a tiny terrace. Cool night air struck her, lonely and desolate darkness greeting her with indifference. She fell back against the house, sinking down alongside an empty washtub and let Macak out. The cat climbed onto her lap, placed a paw on either side of her neck, one warm and alive, the other chilly brass, and pressed his head against her neck. Maeko wrapped her arms around him and the tears broke free. She placed one hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs. A thousand bands of iron twisted in her chest, constricting. Blades of pain cut at her throat and tears burned in her eyes like hot brands, forcing their way free.
How could it hurt so much after all this time? She always told herself that if she ran into her mother before she was ready, she would pretend not to recognize her and walk away. Had she been a fool to believe herself that strong?
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