The Mystery of Emerald Flame (Verity Fitzroy and the Ministry Seven Book 2)

by Pip Ballantine

  The train slowed at the corners, and while Julia and Potts argued she experienced that right into her bones. Also this was the stop for the Queens way. Potts was gone but tossing the Scottish girl out in a similar fashion just didn't seem right.

  "You have to jump," she said gesturing into the void.

  Julia pulled her skirts around her, peering into the darkness. "Why though? We're in the tunnel and... "

  "Do you trust me?" Verity took hold of her hand. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you, and I will show you something even your uncle hasn't seen."

  Julia glanced out once more. They didn't have long until the train began to pick up speed again.

  "Just make sure to keep hold of me." Verity went to the edge of the carriage door, and Julia followed. When they both leapt into the darkness, the ground was not far below and crunched under their feet. The thick layer of gravel protected their legs from the impact. They crouched there, panting in the darkness for a moment until the train had trundled on without them.

  Looking over her shoulder, Verity spotted the green light of Potts' eyes, but it wouldn't be enough to really see by. She wasn't about to open up his chest to act as illumination either—not with where they were going.

  Instead from her belt she took out the small chemical torch and shook it until it cast an eerie blue-white beam on the ground. It was one of her little acquisitions from the Ministry. She was convinced Thorne looked the other way for the odd bit of pilfering. By its handy light, she and Julia made their way back to Potts.

  As anticipated he was not best pleased.

  "You can't just toss me around like that," he spluttered. "I am your elder and better. Have some respect pray."

  Staring down at him she thought now might be an excellent time to knock some dents into his sense of importance. "You are an automaton. We only have your word for it you are anything more than that. If I just left you lying around, you'd be cleaned up by the street sweeper and end up in some peddler's shop for parts."

  His eyes grew even brighter at that, and she felt instantly a bit of an arse saying such things. So she patted him awkwardly on the head. "I needed you to get off at the right place. This is the Underground Queen's stop."

  "There's a queen of the underground?" Julia asked, peering around.

  "Indeed there is." Verity looped her arm in her friend's and began to lead her a little bit up the tunnel. Potts after a moment's consideration popped his wheel up and came after them. "And since she owes me and my friends a favour, we can ask her to go and alert the rest of the group to the Illuminati at their door."

  Potts made a slight chuffing noise at that but offered no further comment. She could only hope that his deference lasted the rest of the way. The Queen could be capricious, but Verity understood why.

  London was not a kind city. It drew people from every part of the world, but what it did with them was a roll of the dice. It could be fame and wealth. It could be sickness and depravity. The Underground Queen took in those that would be nothing but hay under other people's feet.

  It had been Henry that gave her the royal introduction, but Verity had been the one to suggest that sometimes they did work for her.

  Only a few feet from where they landed lay the door to her country.

  The clockwork lock on the outside was simple, and she could have used the Sound on it easily, but that would have been rude. The Queen and her people believed in manners. Instead she stepped up to it, and with her knuckles and the tip of her foot, tapped out the rhythm Henry first taught her.

  A grill at the top of the door slid open, and a massive gleaming green eye peered out. It was much larger than anyone might have expected from a human, but then that was the type of world the Queen ruled over.

  The eye roved over Verity, until she felt as if her bones were exposed... maybe they were.

  "Verity Fitzroy," a voice ground out from the other side. "What do you bring?"

  Everyone had to pay a price to enter, but she and the Seven did enough favours for the Queen that she didn't need one. From her waistband, she withdrew the wooden bracelet, which had three vertical marks on it, and a place where two more were cut out.

  The clockwork spun and the door was opened. When they entered, Julia drew in a gasp. Naomi, or as she had been called in the carnival Giganta, did have that effect. At nearly eight feet tall, the woman was the oldest of the Queen's friends, however she looked far older than when Verity had last seen her, and that had only been months.

  She held out her hand, and Verity shook it. "How are you Naomi?"

  The giantess gave a little shrug and smiled. She had combed her hair into an elaborate style, but her clothes were cobbled together from at least three regular dresses. "Can't complain," she said. "Is Her Majesty expecting you?"

  "No, but I know the way."

  Naomi let out a relieved sigh and sank back onto her specially reinforced chair. "That's good. I don't think my knees could take another jaunt up there today."

  "Take a rest then," Verity said, patting her on the back. "We'll be back in a jiffy."

  The tunnel was just as she remembered it; well-constructed and surprisingly clean.

  “What is this place?” Julia asked, staring around at the dripping walls and flickering gaslight. She was a child of privilege, even if it was an eccentric one so this must be rather alarmingly.

  “A death-trap,” Potts muttered, but when Verity shot him a look, he ceased his beeping. Automaton or not he could be taught.

  “Another world, more like. The Underground Queen protects and guards those that cannot walk above without ridicule and danger. It is a very special place.”

  They didn’t have to go too far before Potts and Julia began to see the Queen’s subjects in the tunnel with them.

  “Don’t make comment,” Verity hissed out the side of her mouth. “If we want to make it out of here alive that is.”

  Audrey, appeared from a corridor, dressed immaculately in a pretty yellow dress, that stood out sharply against the dark brown fur that covered her face and arms. She was no older than Verity and was put in a freak show since she was two, until the Queen took her away from all that.

  She waved cheerily and bounced up to give Verity a hug. “How things in Kensington?” she asked patting her shoulder.

  “You should know, you live there too—just under it.” Verity turned and gestured to her companions. “This is Julia McTighe and Professor Alexander Potts. Julia, Potts, this is Miss Audrey.”

  Audrey didn’t make any gesture to show she was surprised about a professor in an automaton, instead tugging Verity further down the corridor. “The Queen will have seen your arrival, but the rest will be so happy you're here.”

  Verity wasn’t quite so sure of Audrey’s assertion, since not all of the Underground’s citizens liked children all that much. Before they formed their own show, which they controlled, many were taunted by rude little blighters, so she understood their dislike.

  Julia and Potts were mercifully silent as they went, but she knew that would wear off when they got to the throne room.

  “How is the show going?” Verity asked. The Underground was in a residency at the Egyptian Hall, in Piccadilly, one that they took a healthy cut from. No middle men, just cash in hand.

  Audrey shrugged. “They take good care of us. No one dares to even think about cages, and we run it all. Mostly the customers are polite—or are made to be.”

  Verity couldn’t imagine what the ‘mostly’ signified, and she didn’t dare ask. It wasn’t her place to tell the Undergrounders how to live their lives, no more than they would have told her how the Seven should live. They all did their best as they could.

  Audrey sleeked back the fur on her cheeks as they reached the final door. Eric stood to one side of this entrance. He was not as tall as Naomi, but his body was a mass of muscles and wall to wall tattoos. She was surprised when Audrey went up to him and nestled against his side. The adoring look on his face was one Verity wished someone h
ad for her.

  Eric kissed the top of Naomi's head, but still managed a little glare for Verity. She wasn't a danger, or she'd be feeling his fists, but she wasn't exactly welcome either.

  She dipped into a curtsy, and then gestured over her shoulder for Julia to do that same. She frowned but followed suit. Potts even tilted his half-spherical head into a passable bow. The gatekeeper here could have given him a few dents in his shell, and he obviously understood that.

  All this didn't make Eric's scowl go away, but he unlocked the door at least and pushed it open. Naomi kissed his cheek and led the way in. The throne room was ancient, more ancient than any place remaining above ground.

  Julia's indrawn breath reminded Verity of the first time she saw it. The carved space seemed far too massive and vaulted to be contained underground. Stone steps cut their way up from a smooth area that could have been a stage once. Pillars spoke of a Roman past that hadn't been touched by fire, or plague, or anything else that went on above. It was a little sealed bubble of the past, but with a few additions from this time. The ceiling was lined with pieces of glass, random findings by the citizens, in all sorts of shapes and sizes. Plastered above, with light aimed at them, they created a blinking, shiny reflection on those below. It was as if the stars themselves beamed down on the proceedings.

  Penny Dreadfuls, the kind Verity loved to consume, would have immediately set a ritual or sacrifice in this sunken place. She wondered if such a thing ever happened, but it never seemed polite to ask and it certainly didn't now.

  Not with so many faces looking down at her. The Underground citizens were such a multitude and so various, that at her side, Julia craned her head all around to take it in. While the stage was wrapped in shadows, those that sat on the benches were unashamed and bathed in light.

  People only the same height as Potts clustered together by the door, whispering to each other. The lobster children, Timothy and Rachel sat near the stage, their pincer shaped arms folded in evident distrust. Peter the worm—or so he'd been billed as—sat by himself, smoking a pipe and keeping his own counsel. Scattered further back were the rest of those the world above called freaks and put on display. Children like Audrey were sold by their parents to avarice filled carnival owners—even though slavery was long outlawed everywhere men of conscious lived.

  Verity understood their suspicious gazes, even if they were no danger to the Underground. Still she did not stare, and nudged Julia when she threatened to. As they got closer to the dais, Timothy turned a knob and gaslight flashed to life along the edge of the stone.

  It was appropriate that they installed footlights here. The Underground Queen started out on the stage, like most of her citizens did. It was only she had not had anyone to save her. She'd saved herself.

  The lights cast flickering, yellow illumination on the talk of London—or at least that was what she had been in her day.

  The Underground Queen sat on a specially carved chair, large enough to fit their conjoined form. Andrasta and Boudica were advertised on playbills since they had been four years old. Undoubtedly, they'd not been born with those names, but their first owner gave them to the sisters. It was his misfortune that they'd grown into them in ways he couldn't have anticipated. Apart from that, their history was veiled in mystery, but Verity was certain she caught the hint of a Devonshire accent the last time they'd spoken.

  They were older now, well into their forties, though the strain of their existence and their past drained them grey, and their hair was already pure white. Joined at the hip and shoulder, the Queen possessed two arms and four legs, but Andrasta's head tilted at a rather extreme angle.

  Boudica's eyes fixed on Verity with the intensity of a bird of prey. She could well have been that ancient leader who brought Rome low. "Verity Fitzroy," her voice cracked out, while Andrasta whispered something into her ear.

  "How rude," Potts said, as if this behaviour was the strangest thing to happen to him today. Verity responded with a nudge from her foot against his wheel. He was lucky it wasn't a kick.

  "The little brass professor," Andrasta said, her voice low and sweet, especially compared to her sister's sharpness.

  "How did you ken that?" Julia asked.

  Both of her companions pretty quickly forgotten Verity's admonishment to them.

  The Queen shared a glance between themselves. "The McTighe girl," they crooned, "so it is this reality."

  Verity experienced the power of the Queen's perception before but managed to explain it away to herself. The Underground Queen was not the strangest thing she'd experienced in her life, but she was up there. How exactly Boudica and Andrasta interacted with the world was still something of a mystery.

  Julia cleared her throat. "Why yes, thank you, I am. Have you heard of my uncle, down here?"

  Boudica and Andrasta turned to each other and bounced a small chuckle between them. They didn't talk, but it was certain some kind of other communication was going on.

  It was Andrasta that answered though. "Lord McTighe had visited our domain many times and become a true friend to us. As his niece you are welcome here."

  "That creature though," Boudica said, leaning forward to point toward Potts, "he is not. I cannot see his past or future, and that "—she paused, her sharp blue eyes narrowing—"unsettles us."

  "He unsettles everyone," Verity started to say, but was quickly interrupted.

  Potts head bobbled up and down. "I am Professor Alexander Potts of the Brunel Institute. Currently trapped in a poor metallic form, but quite able to talk from myself thank you very much."

  The citizens of the Underground were not treated well by humans, and machines were often used against them. It made them wary of the innovations in the London above their head. It was not surprising the Queen didn't like what she saw.

  Putting a hand against his head, Verity pushed him back on his behalf. "Very sorry, your Majesty, he's a bit of a work in progress."

  The two sisters tilted their heads in opposite directions as they focused on him. To have Boudica's and Andrasta's attention focused on one point was rather like being under two powerful spotlights. Verity found herself squirming, even as she stood between the automaton and the Queen.

  "The aether gathers around him, Verity Fitzroy," they finally said in unison, "so be very careful with that one."

  Clearing her throat, she tugged Julia forward to stand with her, acting as an effective wall in front of Potts. "We shall," the Scottish girl chirped with a wicked gleam in her eye, "he's a wee devil for sure."

  Andrasta reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a wrapped handkerchief. “Would you care for a teacake?”

  It was such an odd question, that Verity blurted out a, “Yes please,” before she could think about it. The Ministry Seven never turned down a chance to eat. Once the words were out of her mouth, she was committed to seeing it through.

  Together she and Julia climbed the few steps to the dais and took a small yellow teacake from the offered hand of the Queen. She did wonder briefly where they came from, and then felt bad about it.

  Andrasta smiled sweetly and claimed one herself, as did Boudica. Chewing nervously on the cake, Verity looked around. The citizens were watching them intently as if this were some kind of ritual.

  She was abruptly aware that while the Seven did plenty of business in the past for the Queen, and many among her subjects Verity would call friends, she didn’t know that much about their real lives or their beliefs.

  “I feel a wee bit odd,” Julia muttered at her side, and immediately after she said that Andrasta’s smile turned to ice. She grabbed hold of the Scottish girl, while Boudica’s hand clamped on Verity’s arm.

  Potts, even if he wanted to do, which was doubtful, couldn’t have down anything to stop it.

  “Now,” Boudica said, her eyes hooding like a hawk, “we shall find out the truth.”

  The cold in Verity's stomach grew suddenly hot as she stared into the eyes of the queen, right up until ever
ything become soft, dark, and dreadfully out of focus.

  Chapter Nine

  Twin Sight

  Just when Verity wondered if she led the others into a deadly trap, she felt her knees go out from under her. Boudica’s hand tight on her wrist was the only thing that kept her upright.

  "I came here for help," she gasped out, as the world spun all topsy turvey around her. The only thing that stayed still was the image of the two women, one Queen.

  "You'll get more than that," Andrasta said, not unkindly. "There is something about you, young Verity, something calling to you from the past."

  "Psuennes was just the beginning," Boudica went on, her face as blank as a doll's.

  The smear of light and dark at the back of the Queen solidified into a face, and one that she knew terribly well. Uncle Octavius Barnes, handsome and smiling—not as he had been last time she saw him for a split second outside the burning Delancy Academy—but as he'd been when he visited her parents at home.

  They didn't exile Verity from many conversations, usually Cora and Hugo Fitzroy wanted their daughter exposed to as many bright thinkers as possible, but that last visit, they sent her to her room.

  The memory wasn't one she recalled on her own, but somehow with Boudica's hand holding her tight, the recollection began to come into focus.

  "They were fighting," she muttered to herself as it all flooded back. Being a stubborn and wilful child, even back then, Verity didn't stay in her room. Instead she snuck down the stairs on bare feet, and eased her way up to the library door. The house was old, so the wood was thick and stout, but she knew the trick. Lying down, she pressed her ear to the crack between it and the chilly stone floor.

  "You cannot ask us for that, Octavius!" It was her mother's voice, but full of the kind of anger that Verity had never heard before. Cora was usually the quiet one, slow to express any emotion but love and joy.

  "You're not seeing it," her uncle replied, and Verity caught a glimpse of his feet as he paced in front of the fire. "This could be the invention that saves the world."