She watched the fog as it enveloped the ghost-white figure of Nellie heading off toward the Tower. Then . . . she was alone.
* * *
SO, SCALING A wall without her rope? Turned out that was a thing she could do. So long as the stone was rough enough and she didn’t think too hard about what it was she was actually doing or how high up she actually was. As Nellie found herself inside the wall staring out at the many different towers that made up the fortress called the Tower of London, she thought to herself, “If I’m going to keep doing stuff like this, I’m going to need the proper equipment.”
She’d decided to come at the Tower from the wharf so as to avoid the dry moat. Also because it was the side the Wakefield Tower was on. The fact that she knew where the jewels were held wouldn’t, she thought, be much of a surprise to anyone. The second she’d learned that it was possible for the paying public to view such precious and fabulous accessories, she’d insisted the Magician take her to see them. Not that she’d known the name of the jewels, or remembered with such precision as Cora what they looked like. She’d just remembered being dazzled by the sparkle.
She moved around the intimidating Wakefield Tower to its entrance, keeping her back flat to the wall in the hope that none of the guards would see her. She couldn’t tell if it was because she was so small in such plain sight that made her feel so vulnerable or because she was in her underwear.
It also didn’t help that she was standing in the shadow of the Bloody Tower at the moment. This tower, named for its history—one of murder and imprisonment and lots of other very unpleasant things—loomed over her to her left.
Don’t let me see any ghosts. They are free to walk the tower as they wish, but please, just don’t let me see them.
Nellie was at the entrance to Wakefield Tower and almost stumbled over the fallen guard on the ground before spotting him. She was able to contain her reaction and looked past the crime scene to the open door before her. Okay. So either the man had come and gone, or she was right on time. Whichever it was, Nellie bent down and picked up the guard’s rifle just in case.
She had a very basic understanding of how the thing worked, had shot one once when she’d performed at an estate in the countryside. Not with the Magician. This was before, when a baron of some kind had requested that the cast of the burlesque show give him a private performance at his home. He thought it utterly hilarious to have the girls try their hand at shooting at some targets out back. Nellie was the only one who’d hit her mark, which was dismissed as “beginner’s luck.”
At any rate . . .
She climbed the narrow stairs, rifle awkwardly held in her right hand, and changed her prayer from not wanting to see ghosts to not wanting to be attacked and killed. It made more practical sense.
Nellie arrived in the vaulted room that housed the jewels. She would have been dazzled once more by their sparkle had they not been obscured from view by a figure standing in a long black coat. As quietly as possible, she raised the rifle and then she gathered all her courage.
“Pretty things, aren’t they?” she asked. The figure shifted but didn’t turn around. “I can see how you might let your guard down in seein’ them. I myself get a wee bit distracted by things that sparkle like that.”
There was another shift and she saw the figure drop something into its pocket. “Now, don’t you be stealin’ the Crown Jewels. That’s just not right.” The figure finally turned. In the dark, it was hard to see the face, but she saw a thick beard and a strange leather cup contraption over the nose and mouth, complete with goggles over the eyes. “I didn’t arrive unprepared, as you can see,” she said, cocking the rifle.
But I did arrive in my undergarments.
She’d run out of things to say, and she was concerned about exactly how this confrontation would end. The figure took a step toward her. “I’m not afraid of firing this thing. I think you know that.” By which I mean, I’m terrified of firing this thing, and I hope you don’t know that.
Evidently the man did know that.
He charged her. Just barreled right for her, and before she had a moment to think, he’d pushed her hard onto the ground. The rifle went off after he’d passed, after he was down the steps, and the bullet careened around the stone room. Nellie covered her head with her hands to protect herself.
When the room fell silent, she was up on her feet, dashing out into the yard after the running figure, which was now far away. There was no way she was going to be able to catch up, not with him having such a good head start, and she slowed just in time to observe the attack from above.
It came as a black blur wearing a mask that glinted in the light. The blur landed directly on top of the figure with a scream, an otherworldly-sounding thing that made Nellie’s blood run cold. The two figures wrestled for a moment, and then, suddenly, they were hidden behind orange smoke, or (it felt more appropriate) fog. Nellie watched as the man rose and continued running on his original trajectory until he was out of sight, leaving the masked one lying still on the ground.
With no way to catch up, Nellie waited for the orange fog to dissipate and then approached the masked figure carefully. It didn’t move, and Nellie wasn’t sure what to do. Just as she’d decided she would kneel down and look behind the mask, there was a coughing sound. The figure raised a hand and pulled off the mask quickly. Michiko. Considering this was the third night in a row of chance encounters, Nellie thought, “Of course.”
They made eye contact, and then Nellie crouched and helped her to sit. She continued to cough for a good five minutes, finally spitting out orange goop.
“What . . . ?” asked Michiko finally, and Nellie shook her head.
“No idea. Come, let’s get out of here before the guards find us and accuse us of stealin’ the Crown Jewels.”
Michiko rose slowly and took a few careful steps. She nodded, and the two of them ran back to the wall and climbed up and over. Michiko had, of course, the most amazing technique for doing so, and made it look almost effortless. And it was nice for Nellie to have someone to help her get to the top before they jumped down together.
“Follow me,” said Nellie as they ran along the wharf and out onto the street. Michiko nodded.
They ran in silence along the opposite side of the Tower from where she and Cora had left the cab, and came to a screeching halt, arriving at the figure that was lying on the ground before them.
Nellie couldn’t be certain, but the way the boy was dressed and the fact that he was near the Tower in the first place suggested to her that this was the same delivery boy Cora had been after. He hadn’t been felled by the orange fog, though. He’d had his throat cut.
Her gut clenched.
Where was Cora?
She whipped around to Michiko. “We have to find Cora.” Michiko nodded and immediately was running up the street. Nellie took the opposite direction running back toward where she and Cora had parted ways earlier. She didn’t care about stealth. She didn’t feel clever or tough. All she wanted was to make sure Cora was okay.
“Cora!” she called out loudly. Damn it. “Cora!”
* * *
HOW LONG HAD she been wandering? Looking? No delivery boy. And certainly no man waiting for a package. She should probably go back to their meeting spot. See if Nellie was back yet.
She heard a sound in the distance, like someone was calling for her. Oh, god, something was wrong. Cora turned down an alley toward her name.
There were two figures in the dark some distance before her.
Nellie?
No.
A struggle.
It was him. It had to be him.
“Stop!” She pulled her pistol from her purse. The figures didn’t seem to hear her. “I said stop! You think I won’t shoot this? I will. And I’ve got terrific aim.”
One of the figures stopped and stared at her. Just stared at her. The other figure, a girl, ran away, but the first figure didn’t seem to notice. It just stared. Cora stared back.
“Is it you?” she asked.
The figure took a few steps closer.
“Why are you doing this? Why are you hurting them?”
The figure stopped walking.
Her hand was shaking, the pistol in it shaking, too. The figure turned and ran the other way.
The shadows did their job. And he disappeared.
* * *
“NELLIE!” CORA EMERGED from the shadows of a narrow alley. Her eyes were wide and she looked panic-stricken. Well, as much as Cora could look panic-stricken. “Are you okay?” She approached Nellie and grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Am I okay? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. What’s wrong?”
Nellie was suddenly aware of how fast her heart was beating, how shallow her breath had become. Adrenaline had kept her going, but now, seeing Cora in one piece, she felt like she might faint.
“Come, sit down.” Nellie let Cora help her to a bench and felt a great sense of relief at no longer having to support her body weight. “What happened? Did you see him? What about the diamond?”
“I saw him. He overpowered me and stole the diamond. Then Michiko, in that way of hers, appeared out of nowhere and fought him. But he had this strange orange fog substance and it made Michiko pass out, and he ran off. And then we saw the delivery boy, and he was dead. And . . . then I thought that maybe you . . .”
“I’m okay,” said Cora, sitting next to her. “The boy’s dead?”
“Yeah.”
“We should take him to Officer Murphy.”
Even in her current state, the name gave Nellie butterflies. “Why?”
“Because we should take him to the police. And, of all of them, Murphy’s the most tolerable.”
“Okay.” Another evening of hauling a dead body. Would it never end? Why was this happening to them? What did it mean? “Where were you? You scared us half to death.”
“You were right, Nellie, your man and mine. They’re the same person. I was searching for the delivery boy, and I saw him, the man, just now, just before coming to find you. He was attacking another flower girl. I yelled at him to stop. I held out my pistol. He stopped and just stared at me. It was . . . unnerving. Then . . . he ran away.”
“Is the girl okay?” Because I really can’t deal with another dead body tonight.
“She’s fine. She ran away the second I distracted him.”
Nellie nodded. She was flooded with relief, and also physically exhausted. It’d been a full day.
“What is he doing exactly? What does it all mean?” she asked quietly.
“I have no idea,” replied Cora.
From the darkness, Michiko emerged, her mask seeming to float toward them of its own accord. She removed it and assessed the situation. “You’re alive.” In that very straightforward Michiko way, the truth of the situation was confirmed. Cora smiled.
“That I am.”
“Good.” Michiko thought for a moment. “Boy dead. Fog escape.”
“Fog?”
“Man who make Michiko . . . un . . . conshus. Fog man.”
“It was the same man?” asked Cora slowly. “Same man from the night of the gala?”
“Yes. Beard. Hat. Yes.”
Cora looked at Nellie.
“So that’s it then,” said Nellie. “That proves it. The man who has somethin’ to do with Mr. Carter, who ordered your device, who’s attacking them flower girls. He’s also the same man who decapitated Dr. Welland.”
“Not a coincidence,” Cora said softly.
“No.”
They rested for a moment longer, each girl lost in her own thoughts. And then it was time to get to work. Nellie put her clothes back on and together they brought the delivery boy to Officer Murphy’s station. Though the rest of the officers were none too thrilled to have to deal with some small East End dead kid, Officer Murphy took charge and told them he’d personally make sure the boy found his way to the morgue.
“There’s a witness this time,” said Cora.
“A witness?” asked Officer Murphy.
“A flower girl who got away. I didn’t see much, but maybe she did. You going to ask around?”
Nellie felt that Cora didn’t need to take quite that tone with him, especially after he’d been so kind to them. But Officer Murphy nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
It didn’t appear to satisfy Cora, but Nellie thought it was awfully lovely of him.
He glanced at Nellie just as she was looking fondly at him. She felt her cheeks warm. Small things, like a glance, could make the rough patches a lot easier to bear.
Maybe the night hadn’t been a total loss after all.
34
A Surprisingly Normal Day
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON was extraordinary in that it was so ordinary. It passed in such an uneventful fashion that all three girls at various moments in the day looked up, took pause, and thought: “Really? Nothing?”
News of the robbery of the Tower and of Mr. Carter’s death had been printed in the morning paper. No mention of any of the girls—or the dead delivery boy whom Officer Murphy had carted off to the morgue in the wee hours. Of course, it made sense that they’d be ignored, as no one had seen any of them in the first place, but as usual, Cora felt a slight twinge of disappointment at the realization that, once again, her part in the drama had been completely ignored by the press.
And so it was that the day wore into early evening, the sun floating along waves of clouds toward its bedtime, and the girls did what the girls did.
Cora, now free of the device, had a minor victory in finishing her see-in-the-dark goggles.
Nellie had another show to perform and, of course, delighted the citizens of London.
And Michiko helped Callum pack; he was going to travel southeast with the newly widowed Mrs. Carter and her family.
He was so committed to his job, to protect the entire family like that. So noble. It was remarkable how he could fool himself into believing his own lie, Michiko thought as she piled a third topcoat into his trunk.
Everyone else, especially the gossips of the city, were very much aware of the truth. Which had something to do with Mrs. Carter’s voluptuous curves.
But thank goodness he was going. Michiko would have a few days to herself. There was no way Callum would bring her along for this trip. To be a witness. So she got the house to herself. As did Koukou and Shuu, both of whom seemed so much more relaxed than usual as they waved Callum off in the carriage just after dinner.
Hayao arrived shortly afterward and was allowed, for the first time, through the door and into the rest of the house. He practically ran through it, discovering the excitement of one room only to fly off to another, his attention span comparable to a sparrow’s. He did take pause on the second floor when Michiko showed him Callum’s therapy room.
“Weird,” he said as he ran his hand along one of the benches, the one with metal paddles attached by wires to a large generator at the back. “And . . . creepy.”
Michiko nodded. “Look at this.” She opened Callum’s armory. It was another test, though considering that the boy sold weapons for a living, she was pretty sure he’d pass.
“This stuff is all crap,” he said, rifling through the swords and canes, Irish fighting sticks and ninja stars. “And we sold most of them to him.” He grinned widely at Michiko. Okay. He had a fine eye. But there was still that sense of pride she’d have to deal with.
“Come, let’s train.”
She knelt in the center of the large room, and immediately Hayao knelt before her.
“Let us begin with breathing. After your frantic tour through the house, I think you need it. Now pay attention . . .”
She closed her eyes and felt herself sink. She was leaving the surface, far from the waves thrashing in the wind, and sinking into the deep dark blue of stillness. A cool deep breath in; her lungs expanded; she filled herself with air and then slowly exhaled through her nose. Slow, silent. Calm. In an
d out, in and out. It took a few moments before she could sense that Hayao was with her. He fell into her pattern more quickly now than he had just a few days ago. A quick study, this one. Very eager. A little too eager, maybe?
They sat for a quarter of an hour, and finally, Michiko opened her eyes, pleased to see that Hayao still had his firmly closed.
“Now open your eyes and rise,” she said quietly.
They stood at the same time, slowly, carefully, still facing each other.
“Let’s walk.”
Teaching Hayao how to float across a floor had been one of the trickier tasks she’d faced. He couldn’t seem to grasp the very simple concept of walking, heel toe, heel toe, very deliberately. Not bobbing up and down, not scampering about. Even, measured paces.
She knew she shouldn’t get frustrated. She should stay calm, but she sighed hard and walked across the room, grabbing one of Callum’s anatomy encyclopedias and placing it on Hayao’s head. “Smooth,” she ordered.
It sort of worked. He stopped bobbing up and down, but his body grew so tense that when Michiko gave him a little tap in the side with her stick, he tripped and stumbled.
“Not quite there yet, are we, little monkey?”
Hayao rolled his eyes and stood up.
“Walking is walking. But fighting is fighting,” he said.
“Wow. Deep.”
“You know what I mean. Come, fight me.” He ran to the armory and pulled out two wooden training swords. Another test passed. The real swords in Callum’s collection could hardly handle their sparring.
Michiko sighed and easily caught her sword as he threw it at her.
Then he ran at her, screaming loudly, his sword raised above his head. He was clearly attempting a typical samurai distraction technique. Except it really didn’t work well on the person who had taught it to him. She took a step to the side, and he fell past her into the space that she’d just occupied. He turned around and her sword was at his forehead.
“Try again.”
And he did. He tried again. And again. Sometimes coming from complete stillness, sometimes trying to attack her as she gave him a new direction. His technique had improved; his handling of the weapon was much more confident. But he still had a long way to go. She decided she needed to teach him a very basic concept just for his own self-preservation.
The Friday Society Page 20
