The Girl and the Clockwork Cat (Entangled Teen)

by Nikki Mccormack

  Samuel was a slight boy, built lighter than his brother and father. His eyes, pale like Ash’s, but tending more toward blue, stared listless at the wall to the right of their hiding place. His thin face hung slack, the world-weary look of a defeated creature.

  She shifted forward, aching to help him and Chaff put a hand on her arm just as she had done to keep Ash from going to his rescue at the Blackwood’s house. Shifting back, she brought her other hand to her teeth and began to chew at the nails. Releasing the one arm, Chaff reached up and took her wrist, pulling her hand away from her mouth, the painful tightness of his grip a testament to his irritation. With one coping mechanism denied her, she started chewing at her already wounded lip, tasting the coppery tang of fresh blood, though she barely noticed the sting.

  “Here he is, Detective Wilkins, though I still think he would be better off remaining in our care. You don’t seem the nurturing type.” The woman held onto Samuel’s arm as if hoping the detective would change her mind.

  “No less so than you,” Em countered. She stared at Samuel, impervious to the other woman’s indignant huff. “Too many people involved in this case have gone missing, a few out of far more capable hands than yours. The warrant gives me the right to keep him in my custody until this investigation is resolved.”

  Em’s expression softened then. She smiled and held out a hand to the boy.

  With another huff, the woman pursed her lips and let go of Samuel. When he didn’t move, she prodded him and he nearly toppled, unable to compensate fast enough with his bad leg.

  The detective stepped forward, catching him and setting him right. She bent down to look him in the eye. “You all right?”

  Sam gave a tremulous nod. Em chucked him under the chin and took hold of his hand before rising to turn a frosty look on the other woman.

  I could almost not hate her right now. That was more than a little disturbing.

  “Will that be all,” the woman asked, wrinkling her pointed nose and turning away from the detective as if to avoid a foul stench.

  “I certainly hope so.” Em looked at Sam again. “Come on. Let’s see if we can draw out your dad and your brother.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re in danger and we want to help them.” Em turned on her heel and walked from the room as fast as she could without toppling her small prisoner. She didn’t bother with parting graces here anymore than she had at JAHF.

  Giving one last put upon huff, the woman went to lock the door behind them.

  Chaff tapped Maeko on the arm. When she looked at him, he gestured with a thumb over his shoulder back the way they had come. His tight jaw said there would be a scolding soon. She nodded and they made a silent retreat, slipping into their shoes and out the back door into the ongoing drizzle. Once they had crept a short distance away from the building into the cover of some bushes, his hand clamped tight on her arm, forcing her to stop.

  She met his eyes, not surprised to find them alight with anger. “What?”

  “You didn’t tell me the boy was a raspberry!”

  She stared at him for a second, watching a trickle of water run down the bridge of his nose while she worked his words through in her head.

  Raspberry = raspberry ripple = cripple.

  She hated it when he used less familiar rhyming slang, but then, she tossed bits of Japanese her mother had taught her his way on occasion, so it didn’t seem reasonable to complain overmuch.

  “Would it have mattered?” she asked the question knowing the answer because she would have felt the same in his shoes. Sam’s handicap presented an unnecessary risk, one she should have been honest about up front. Logically, she understood his irritation, but that didn’t mean it annoyed her any less.

  “Yes. I would have told you to bugger off from the start.” He pointed at the building. “We’d never have gotten him out of there without getting caught.”

  “We’re going to get caught now if you don’t keep your voice down.” When she went to move on he kept her arm, holding her there with enough strength that trying to fight her way free would certainly draw attention. She blew out a breath and stopped pulling.

  It stinks to be in the wrong. Sometimes, however, it was easier to own up to it, especially if she ever wanted to get out of these prickly bushes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

  “No. You didn’t. You better clean your cogs and start doing so. That detective isn’t playing a game and neither is whoever killed those people. Whatever bollocks you’re into, you’ve gone in well over your head and you’d best get out before you get hurt. I don’t care how much you fancy the bloke.”

  Her throat constricted and she looked away, peering toward where they had left Ash and Benny. He was right. She should get out while she still could, if that time hadn’t already passed. Would he understand if she told him the whole story? Would he understand why she felt somewhat responsible for how things had unraveled? Probably not. He’d say, “Past mistakes is past, Pigeon. You can only do better going forward”. He wouldn’t see this as doing better. If she confessed that she also wanted to protect Macak, a cat of all things, he’d really think she’d lost her mind.

  His hand loosened. After a few seconds, he took it away and mussed her cropped wet hair. “C’mon, Pigeon. The company’s brilliant, but this rain’s rubbish and the bushes are right prickly.”

  My thoughts exactly. She might have even smiled at that if she didn’t have to face Ash soon. At least Chaff always got over being angry with her after he’d had his say.

  Once they were back to the street, Ash stormed out of the shadows into the light of a gas-lamp, Benny trotting along behind looking cold and dejected. Ash’s regard was despairing, made worse by the water dripping from flattened wet hair. A tempest of misery and anger raged in his pale eyes. She found herself starting to drag her feet as they closed the last bit of distance.

  He pointed down the street. “I saw her coach leaving. She took Sam again, didn’t she? She’s always one step ahead of us.”

  Chaff stepped to one side and folded his arms across his chest, gazing at her with an expression that said this was her problem to deal with. Perhaps he was still annoyed with her about the fake leg after all.

  She stared at Ash, standing alone before his tormented gaze. Chaff was right, this was too dangerous and Ash was too emotionally involved in the mess. He was going to get hurt. If there was ever an opportunity to drive him away, this was it, when he was already uncomfortable because of his rivalry with Chaff and upset with losing his brother to the detective again.

  Even before she said the words, she felt the guilt and hurt inside. It was for his safety though. “If you hadn’t started a row with Chaff, we might have beaten her here. You’re not good on the streets. You’re holding me back.”

  The hurt in his eyes was a knife twisting in her gut.

  “I keep starting to really like you.” Sorrow made his voice crack. “But just when I feel like we’re becoming a great team, you say this. Since the moment I first saw you, bad things have happened to my family.” He schooled his expression and tone to cold neutrality. “Maybe I am better off on my own. I don’t need your help.”

  The ball of emotion knotted up inside her swelled to the verge of bursting. “Don’t need me?” The words rushed out before she realized what she was saying. “I got you out of JAHF. I helped get your dad to Chelsea even though it meant confronting my mum. I tried to help you get your brother twice.” She held two fingers up in front of his face for emphasis. “I even felt guilty about stealing from some wealthy toff for you.”

  Ash drew back, looking surprised, and then a hint smug at the admission.

  What was she saying? She was supposed to be driving him away. She steeled herself against the pain and barreled onward. “I’ve gotten exactly nothing for any of it despite what you promised. We’ll never be a great team. Not ever.”

  He stepped back, the hurt in his look attesting to her success. As she stared at him, th
e shield she’d put up between them crumbled, letting the disbelief and anguish in his eyes cut in.

  I didn’t really mean that. She started to shake her head.

  All at once, his back stiffened and his shoulders squared up. The hurt expression gave way to a disgusted sneer. “You know, for a little while I almost forgot you’re nothing but a money-grubbing street rat.” Spinning, he stalked away from them.

  Chapter Twelve

  Maeko watched Ash’s retreating form. His parting words were a dagger twisting in her chest.

  I should have told him why I wanted the money. I should have found another way to get him to leave. She moved to go after him and Chaff caught her arm. She yanked against him until he reached out and grabbed her other arm, pulling her back and caging her in his arms.

  “Ash!”

  The figure in the dark beyond the gas-lamp didn’t turn or even hesitate as far as she could tell. He saw her for what she was. A worthless street rat. No one wanted a rat in their life.

  “Ash!”

  She fought against Chaff’s hold, trying to turn around to kick her way free as she had done with Hatchet-face. Chaff, however, was too sound of mind to give her the opportunity. He kept her firmly in place.

  “Let him go, Mae.”

  She stopped struggling. It was the first time she could remember Chaff ever saying her name right. It sucked the will to fight out of her and she slumped against him, shivering with the chill of their damp shirts pressed between them. He supported her weight, his hold loosening to more of a gentle embrace now that she no longer fought to get away.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she objected.

  Chaff bent his head close to her ear, water dripping from his hair onto her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin. “Stubborn bird. You did too mean to hurt him. You’ve done it to me. Always driving others away to keep them safe. You can’t be his nursemaid. If you chase him down now, it’ll make things worse. Give him time to cool off.”

  Just because he was right didn’t mean she had to like it. She stared in the direction Ash had gone, though he had vanished in the heavy dark drizzle. At least Chaff hadn’t allowed her to twist around and kick him. Then she’d have both of them furious with her.

  “You want me to go after him?” Benny piped up, eager to be of use.

  Maeko shook her head and forced a smile for him. It was hard to be the new kid, especially when you were small enough to overlook. She knew. She’d been there.

  Now that she had given off struggling, Chaff took his arms away, leaving one hand poised on her shoulder. She shivered again as the chill swept in where the heat of him had only just started to warm her back.

  Everything really had gone wrong and it wasn’t going to improve so long as the detective continued hunting down Ash’s family for a murder they didn’t commit. Unfortunately, Chaff was right about that mess too. She was mixed up in something much bigger than her, something she wasn’t at all prepared to handle. She believed Ash’s family was innocent, perhaps mostly because Ash did, but also because it didn’t make sense for them to have killed those people. No one would take the word of a mere street rat as proof, but if she could find real, solid evidence, then maybe… Maybe…

  Heldie?

  The clatter of Heldie dropping her spoon when Em asked about Mr. Folesworth came unbidden to mind. Maybe there was more to the woman’s unease than guilt over turning Maeko in. It wasn’t Barman they needed to talk to, it was her. She had to know something. Her hands had trembled when she left the kitchen that night, nearly shaking the food off the plate.

  Heldie had exhibited all the signs of a guilty conscience and Em, like many successful women trying to distance themselves from their origins, made the same mistake most blokes made, dismissing the woman as unimportant because of her gender. That gender invisibility was why Chaff often put Maeko in a dress and handed nicked items off to her when they worked the streets together. If someone noticed and called attention to the crime, the Lits would search all the boys in the area, but a girl following behind some random woman never got a second glance so long as she kept her head down so they couldn’t see her Asian features. Perhaps, with her respect-worthy accomplishment of carving out a place in a man’s occupation, Em had also acquired a man’s shortsightedness.

  Chaff was watching her. When she met his eyes, he looked away. “C’mon, I’ll buy you two some grub.”

  “Given that I nicked the wallet, wouldn’t it be me buying you two some grub?”

  He returned a sly grin. “Last I checked, you were still working for me.”

  “Well, since you’ve already got the pinched dough, I guess we can call it even and skip the meal.”

  Chaff cocked his head to one side and narrowed his eyes at her, his grin fading. “What’re you thinking?”

  “I have an idea.” She held up her hands to fend off the argument brewing behind his eyes. “I know I shouldn’t stay involved in this, I know it’s risky, but I can’t walk away now. I can’t…I can’t let his family be destroyed.” Like mine. Like Macak’s.

  Chaff shook his head at her, though the threat of an affectionate smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “You are a sweet and stubborn bird. You know I can’t stand back and let you get yourself hurt.”

  “Why not?”

  The ever-present gleam of mischief in his eyes guttered out and he turned to stare off into the darkness. Rivulets of water ran from his damp darkened hair, tracking down the tightened muscles of his jaw, running over his cheeks like tears.

  He does care.

  It felt as if she caught a rare glimpse into his innermost soul and it left her reeling. His indomitable spirit was the one constant in her life. She started to reach out to him.

  He turned then, the hint of vulnerability gone so fast she snapped her hand back in surprise. “At least let me buy us a ride to Cheapside. We’ve been kipping in the old lurk over there. No sense walking all that way and maybe I can talk some smarts into you before we get there.”

  No sense turning him down. It was the direction she needed to go. “If you want. You might not bother with the chin wagging though. I can guarantee it won’t work.”

  He gave her shoulder a squeeze and smiled, some of the invincible good-humor returning to his eyes. “Have you ever known me to stop talking?”

  With effort, she dredged up a small, weary laugh despite the hollow that had formed in her chest. Would Ash forgive her for her harsh words? Could she forgive him for his? She didn’t suppose it mattered. They were from different worlds. If she could fix things, she would. Then, he could go back to his life and she could go back to the world Chaff had given her, the only world she’d ever known, though even that was changing now.

  By the time they arrived back at Cheapside, the rain let up and Chaff talked her into sticking around for a bite before the last of the evening vendors closed up shop. A full stomach, he insisted, would help her think things through and, perhaps, bring her to her senses. She conceded on the condition that he promise not to follow her or have her followed once they parted ways. He agreed after another solemn silence that left her hanging in that awkward space between wanting to comfort him and wanting to retreat from whatever truth skulked behind that silence.

  With a little of the coin she had nicked earlier, she purchased a sandwich from a street vendor while the two boys queued up at another cart to get meat puddings. She walked away from the cart, shook some of the remaining wet out of her hair, and raised her meal to her lips. A hand clamped on the back of her neck. The unexpected pressure propelled her forward and the sandwich flew from her hands, plopping into a puddle.

  “Look at you.” Em’s tone dripped venom and Maeko almost looked up to see if the detective had turned into the snake-faced creature she imagined when Wells talked about her. “Already back on the streets.”

  Maeko’s stomach clenched, her gut twisting in alarm as much as in remorse for the lost meal. She looked over at the other vendor cart and picked Chaff
out of the queue of people still waiting there. He glanced her direction and his eyes widened a fraction. She managed a slight shake of her head and he made his gaze slide past to focus with apparent interest on something beyond them.

  Em’s hand tightened, her thin fingertips pressing into the flesh of Maeko’s neck. “You and I need to talk.”

  Increasing the pressure, she forced Maeko to start walking down the street. A mournful glance at the sandwich soaking up grimy water in the puddle helped her turn fear and pain into anger. A boy in tattered rags darted out from somewhere and snatched up the meal, biting into the sludge-dampened bread with enthusiasm. At least it wouldn’t go to waste.

  “Perhaps if you stopped treating me like a criminal I’d be willing to talk.”

  Em’s hand squeezed hard for a few seconds then loosened again. She spoke in a low voice, tight with controlled frustration. “You’re a little too clever for your own good, rat, but you remind me a bit of myself when I was young, so I’ll give you a chance. I know you helped that boy get out of JAHF and helped his father get away, so I’m guessing you also know where they are. You owe me for the harnesses you destroyed. Tell me where they are and I won’t have a new set made out of your hide.”

  Maeko shrugged, wincing when Em tightened her grip again. She had very little time to find a way out of this. Several yards ahead of them, the familiar coach waited with the two soot-grayed horses sagging tired in their repaired harnesses. Sam sat in the seat by the driver, lured into compliance with lies and a bag of sweet cakes. It was a little tempting to give up and join him.

  “You’re after the wrong people. Ash’s parents didn’t kill anyone.”

  “You can prove that?”

  To her surprise, Em sounded interested, perhaps enough so to listen to her theory. Then again, she hadn’t proven anything yet. She didn’t have an alternate suspect to offer aside from speculation about the Lits and Folesworth’s partner in his nice coachman hat having a motive.