“Don’t know, really.”
“I have. Yes, Lord White is the best thing that ever happened to me, but I don’t think I owe him servitude for life just because he rescued me as a child.”
“Well, you kind of do; you are his servant.”
“What I mean is . . . surely what I’m capable of, my brain, my talent, surely that wasn’t meant to be just some assistant. Surely I was meant to be more, and to do more.”
“You goin’ to quit your job, then?”
“No . . . I . . . I just want to do this. And I want to do it with the two of you. We can help each other. We can protect each other. Like we’ve already been doing.” She pushed herself along the bed, leaned her back against the wall, and felt exhausted. “I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to. Together we’re unbeatable. Apart, we’re just . . . assistants to men in London society. In other words, nobodies.”
She had nothing else to say. Nothing more that she could think of to use in order to persuade Nellie and Michiko. She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
She opened her eyes.
“Yes?” She looked at Michiko carefully. It was hard to trust the Japanese girl’s responses.
“Yes,” Michiko said again. Well, she certainly did look confident.
“I don’t know if you understand what—”
“I understand,” said Michiko. She gave a small smile.
“You do?”
“I need help find Fog. You need help fight Fog. We help each other.”
Wow. She really did understand.
“So . . . yes?” said Cora, leaning forward.
Michiko’s smile grew and she gave a little bow with her head. “Yes.”
Cora glanced at Nellie, who still seemed unsure.
“Oh, come on,” said Cora, throwing up her hands. “Seriously? I don’t understand the hesitation. It’s not like you’re some shy, retiring violet, Nellie. You’ve already robbed a private residence and infiltrated the Tower. You escaped being buried alive. You did. No one else. You did it all by yourself.”
“But it was such a close call . . .”
“Says the girl who allows herself to practically suffocate onstage.”
Nellie turned so that she avoided direct eye contact with Cora.
“Come on, Nellie, I can tell you want to. Deep down. You wouldn’t be fighting this hard if you were sure of yourself. If you were sure, it would be ‘no’ and that’s it. No debate. No passion.”
Nellie said nothing, but concentrated hard on the world outside the window. Then she finally thought of something else to say. Speaking as if she’d never stopped, just continued from her previous thought, she said, “And then there’s Raheem’s reputation. If I got in trouble, if I got caught . . . well, it wouldn’t look good.”
“Who cares?” said Michiko, rolling her eyes.
“I do!” Nellie snapped at Michiko. “I do. I know your boss is a right bastard, but I care about mine, all right?”
She spat out the sentence so fast that it sounded almost like one word, even to Cora. It was doubtful that Michiko had understood what she’d said. Still, the girl did appear apologetic.
Cora knew the Magician’s mind on the subject. But for some reason, she didn’t think Nellie would like learning that Cora and Raheem had had a conversation behind her back. She could tell that Nellie’s defenses were weakening. That she was seriously considering joining up with her and Michiko again. But Cora was all out of arguments. She needed another tactic. Another approach.
“Don’t you care about Lord White’s reputation?” asked Nellie when Cora didn’t say anything.
“Of course I do, it’s just . . .” Then it hit her. The new tactic. “You make a good point, Nellie. I hadn’t thought of that before.”
“Yes, see?”
Cora nodded and did her best to look thoughtful. “We do have our bosses’ reputations to think of. And we’re pretty well known in society as it is. What we need are . . . disguises.”
Nellie, who was now sitting with her arms folded across her chest and a heavy frown on her face, glanced up at Cora. “Disguises?”
“Yes.”
Cora waited. It was best when trying to convince someone of something to let the person think. To figure things out for themselves and let them speak first.
Which is what happened a moment later: “As in . . . costumes?”
Cora worked hard to hold back her smile. “In a manner of speaking.”
“To protect Raheem’s reputation.”
“And ourselves, of course. Look at Michiko. She’s got the right idea. Impossible to tell who it is under that whole getup and that mask.”
Nellie’s arms unfolded and she dropped her hands into her lap. “And maybe . . .” She squinted her eyes in concentration. “We’d need new names? Exciting, heroic-sounding names?”
Cora nodded. Not a bad idea. “Well, yes, that does actually make sense. We can’t just call out to each other as we are now. How silly would that be? Us all carefully hiding our identities and then I just call out, ‘Oi, Nellie, give us a hand!’ That would be downright silly.”
Nellie had undergone a remarkable transformation in the past few moments. Her face brightened, her internal tempo lightened, and she bounced up onto her knees with a big smile on her face. “Our names should match our costumes. That would make the most sense.”
“It would.”
“Oh!” She clapped her hands together in excitement. “I’d like to be Lady Sparkle!”
Cora choked on nothing in particular. “Lady . . . Sparkle?”
“Yes. It’s definitely heroic, wouldn’t you say?”
“Uh, yes. Definitely . . . something. How quickly you came up with that name, Nellie.”
“Off the top of my head. Jus’ like that.” She was flat-out grinning now, almost giddy with excitement. “That’s the way my head works, things just pop up in there. And . . . oh!” She’d bounded off the bed before either Michiko or Cora could say anything further. They watched her open one of two very large traveling trunks in the corner of the room and tear through the items inside, throwing pieces of clothing over her shoulder as she searched for whatever it was. “Ah! Here we go!”
Nellie spun around and held up a dark blue corseted top with what seemed to be a black shiny pattern of clock gears over it. “And there’s a skirt to match!”
“Is there?”
“I liked the clock theme. That’s why I got it. Best of all, it ain’t ever been seen onstage. Raheem thought it was too dark, not enough color to catch the footlights. It’s what I wore when I broke into Mr. Carter’s.”
“Well,” said Cora, “as long as you have some practical footwear to go along with it, and you won’t get too cold at night . . .”
“I don’t mind a bit of the shivers if it means I’ll look good. Anyway, breakin’ into that house taught me I need my legs easily accessible, not hidden under anything. Now, Michiko has her outfit . . .” She turned to the Japanese girl. “What’s your name gonna be, then?”
Michiko looked terribly confused. Finally and with deep suspicion, she said, “Michiko.”
Nellie laughed brightly and skipped over to her, sitting down at her side. “No, not your real name,” she said slowly. “Your hero name. Your name for fightin’. For . . . ” She noticed Michiko’s sword and pointed at it. “For that.”
Michiko stared at the weapon on the bed. She didn’t seem to be following. Cora could understand. The idea of a secret identity, of this dual-personality thing . . . , it was quite a complicated concept. And now she was thinking of Andrew . . . Great, she so didn’t need to think of that jerk at the moment.
“Name Silver,” said Michiko quietly. “Silver . . .” And she laid a hand across the left side of her chest. “Here. This. Here.” She was frustrated. “Silver,” she insisted.
Nellie looked at Cora, who shook her head. No clue.
“Here, right here. This here.” Michiko grabbed Nellie’s hand and placed it where hers
had been.
There was a pause. “Heart?” asked Nellie.
Michiko smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes. Silver Heart.” She pointed to the sword. “For fighting.”
“That’s a great name!” said Nellie. “Ain’t that a great name, Cora?” Cora nodded, trying to match her friend’s enthusiasm. Nellie turned back to Michiko and, with deep seriousness, added, “It’s so noble.”
Michiko smiled, though Cora almost thought it was just to humor Nellie.
“And what about you, Cora?”
Cora had anticipated this moment, yet she wasn’t ready with an answer.
“I don’t . . . I haven’t really thought about it.”
Now Nellie was bounding over to her. Cora almost missed the sullen Nellie this wildly zealous version had replaced. “Neither of us did. Just the first thing that comes to the top of your head; trust your instincts.”
What was at the top of her head? Well, . . . Andrew really. Why was he there? Oh yes, the whole duality thing, right. His whole ridiculous obsession. Not so ridiculous after all, as things were turning out . . .
“Mr. Hyde.” She said it before she could even register that she’d thought it.
Nellie cocked her head to one side. “Really?”
This was ridiculous, Cora thought. Now Nellie was judging her choice? After choosing something as absurd as “Lady Sparkle” for herself? “Look, you said the top of my head. That’s what was there.”
“But . . . it’s a man’s name.”
“No kidding.”
“You can’t be a man.”
“I won’t be a man, I’ll just have a man’s name. It’s unique.”
Nellie rolled her eyes. “That it is.”
Hey now! “I didn’t make fun of you for your choice . . .”
“My choice is fantastic. Why would you?”
“Are you saying my choice isn’t?”
“I’m just sayin’ . . .”
“Fine I’ll be just Hyde then. No ‘Mr.’ Is that better?”
Nellie looked at her in a way that suggested she didn’t think it was.
“I want to be Hyde, and that’s my final word on the matter.” The funny thing was, of course, that Cora hadn’t been particularly married to the choice, but now she felt a need to defend her decision.
Nellie raised her hands. “Okay, fine!” And she was back at the trunk, standing over it, hands on hips, examining the contents. “Any idea of what you’d like to wear?”
Indulge her, after all, this was all your bright idea, and anyway, isn’t this better than her wanting to bow out of the whole thing? “Well . . . I know I’d prefer to wear trousers.”
“And it makes sense, what with bein’ a man and all.”
“I’m not being a man.”
“So you’ll still wear a corset?”
“Well, yes. It’s only decent. But look, don’t bother about trousers. I’ll have to have some custom-made or alter an old pair of Barker’s or something. No one has trousers my size.”
Nellie turned to face her . . . holding up a pair of trousers in Cora’s size.
“Where’d you get those?” Cora stood in shock.
“My old burlesque costume. Played boys so that the men in the audience could see the shape of my legs.”
“You played the breeches’ part?”
“You know the term?”
Cora nodded and walked over to Nellie. The trousers were indeed short breeches. They’d hit her midcalf. She could wear a pair of riding boots, though, to make up the difference. She reached out to touch them. They were thick, made from a tough brown tweed. Perfect. Just perfect.
“Thank you,” she said as she took them from Nellie.
“I’ve got a top I think you’d like, too . . .” Nellie said it kind of singsong, in the way a rider might coax a young horse out into the training ring. It was Cora’s turn to roll her eyes.
“Yeah?”
“It’s in the other trunk.”
There was such joy in the way Nellie opened the other trunk that Cora couldn’t help but start to find the playing dress-up game not completely intolerable. It was becoming . . . dare she think it? . . . fun. She glanced over her shoulder at Michiko, who had laid herself down across the bed on her left side looking . . . well, there was no other word for it . . . bemused.
“I wore this while playing a pirate wench. It’s real leather. The tanney had a wee bit of a crush on me. Only girl who got real leather. Buckles in the front, makes you look right tough.”
It was a full corset made of brown leather, a shade or two lighter than the trousers. There was no boning, but the leather was thick and the three straps that buckled around the waist with three solid brass buckles that looked like they’d cinch a person in well enough. It was something different, though, wearing one’s underwear on the outside.
It’s a costume, Cora. Like what Nellie wears onstage. Perfectly proper in that way.
“This is a good start,” said Cora, taking the corset.
“I’ve got some feathers if you’d like to glam it up a bit . . .”
“No,” said Cora quickly. “No, I think this will be good for now. I can figure out the rest. Thanks.”
Nellie nodded and seemed quite content. “We’ll have to make sure to hide our faces somehow. Don’t forget that bit. You know,” she said, closing the trunk, “maybe this isn’t a bad idea after all. Like you said, Cora, we’ve got the goods, and we’ve been practicin’ for this kind of thing for years. And I might have faced death, but as you say, I didn’t die. I saved myself. With your usual helpful distraction.” She gave Cora a wink. “Now, with these disguises, no one’s reputation will get hurt, and we can save the city while we’re at it.”
“I know we can do it,” said Cora.
“We can.” Michiko joined them, and Cora had to admit that it was nice to know the girl with the really sharp sword agreed with her assessment.
“Okay, the next step is to collect our gear and meet up at the old Tower Subway entrance. One hour from now. Everyone good?”
Nellie and Michiko nodded.
“Good. I’m . . . really happy we’re doing this. You know, getting to know both of you recently has been a real treat and I—”
“Cora?” said Nellie.
“Yes?”
“Save the speeches for when we win.”
45
Preparations
CORA SLIPPED INTO her bedroom without anyone in the house noticing her return. She rifled through her closet as quickly as possible and pulled out her plainest and most practical shirt, a very basic, thick, long-sleeved, off-white cotton. Then she went through her options for outerwear. She’d need something large enough to hide all the stuff that she was planning on bringing with her. She decided on the long leather jacket she’d made Barker give her last year. He’d bought it for himself, but it ended up being a few sizes too small. She knew it’d be a bit bulky for her, but there was something about having a leather jacket like that that had always appealed to her. She’d never, of course, worn it before. She tried it on. It was big. But it would do. For now.
She grabbed her riding boots and bundled everything all together in her arms, then she made her way as quietly as she could to the library and waited impatiently for the dome to open, hoping to remain undiscovered. She didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. She’d rather be yelled at upon her return than questioned right now about going out. Anyway, Lord White was quite probably still at Parliament, and she hoped that she would be able to avoid—
“Cora, love! Thank goodness. You’re okay!”
Damn. “Yes, Mrs. Philips, I’m fine,” she said as she was smothered by the housekeeper in a tight hug.
“I sent Barker to fetch you from Westminster hours ago, but he said you weren’t there. Oh pet, I’m so happy to see you all in one piece. What’s all that you’re carrying?”
My supersecret disguise that I’ll be wearing when I become my alter ego, Hyde, and take on the Fog.
&n
bsp; “Nothing.” She climbed up into the dome and started to make her way downstairs.
“Cora, love, what are you up to?”
She stopped so that her head was just peeking over the edge of the globe. “I can’t tell you, Mrs. Philips. But I’m going out tonight. And I really have to get ready.”
“Not tonight, Cora. Not tonight,” said Mrs. Philips, her voice shaking slightly. “Not when the world might end. Stay in with your Mrs. Philips and have a cup of tea. Don’t go out. It’s not safe.”
Cora knew deep down that as much as Mrs. Philips cared for her, she was also speaking out of fear for herself. She wished she could have stayed for the housekeeper, to keep her company, to tell her it would all be all right. But she’d have to bear hurting Mrs. Philips at the moment so that she could protect her in the long run.
“I . . . can’t.” She quickly ran down the steps into the lab without giving her a second look. She even closed the dome behind her, just for good measure.
Cora dropped the clothes on the floor and took a good look about the room.
First thing, she’d use her new invention for sure. She walked quickly to her cubby and pulled out the goggles. Not only would they be useful underground, in the dark, they’d serve as an excellent mask. Practical and fashionable. Excellent.
Next, she collected some small tools and a tool belt to put them on. But it just didn’t seem like enough. She placed her small pistol among the objects, and as she did so, she remembered her experience in the graveyard. Three against one and her little gun. It wasn’t going to be enough. Not nearly.
She needed something more, something . . . impressive.
Cora looked toward Lord White’s armory. Its doors seemed formidable all of a sudden. But she had to protect herself. She had to protect the girls. She’d promised.
She walked over with a confident stride, trying to convince herself that this was the right thing to do. She flung the doors open wide and stood, hands on hips, examining her choices. The problem with many of the weapons before her was that they were either not powerful enough, little better than the pistol she already had, or too unwieldy to carry. But there was one gun, one that would suit her purposes, if she dared.
The Friday Society Page 26
