by Sharon Sant
‘How?’ one small boy asked as the others shrank back.
Isaac bent down to him and tried to give an encouraging smile. ‘They open the cage door and we rush ‘em. That’s how.’
‘They’ll beat us back again, like they always do.’
‘Well, they might have always done before, but you didn’t have me in here before, did you?’
The boy nodded his head, but he stepped back to join the others and cast his gaze to the ground. Isaac roared in temper and kicked the cage bars. He looked up to see Polly staring at him. He could see that the children in with her were just as weak and underfed as the rest of them. There would be no mutiny today, not even to save their miserable lives.
A low chant began from the hooded figures, whose ranks had now seemed to have swelled from only a few moments before, although Isaac had not noticed the extras arrive. Georgina was carried to a small cage, like a birdcage, suspended from the ceiling, and bundled inside. A pulley system hoisted her up further, so that she dangled high above the room. Isaac had not realised it was there before, despite the fact that the polished bronze of its bars glinted in the torchlight. He watched as she gripped at it, wailing, and his heart ached for her. They were supposed to rescue her and they had failed. He was facing certain death and in an odd way he was not really afraid of that, but he wanted more than anything to stay alive, if only to keep the promise he had made to save her. As his gaze swept the room and was met with the eyes of all the other children, somehow looking to him now as their last hope, he realised that he wanted to stay alive to save them all too.
He turned back to the children in his cage. ‘I need you to all start yammering. I need you to shout and make a fuss and shake the cage. We got to break their concentration so they can’t do this spell.’
‘They’ll beat us,’ the boy replied.
‘They’re going to kill you!’ Isaac shouted. ‘Are you thick or something? What have you got to lose?’
The boy looked at the others and then nodded. Isaac shouted the instruction over to Polly, who nodded before turning to the children in her cage to encourage them with a pep talk of her own. And then he called to the other two cages in the room. None of the hooded figures interrupted him; it seemed they were now too far immersed in their ritual to notice.
‘NOW!’ Isaac yelled to the room. He started to holler and whoop and shout every swearword he knew as he pulled on the bars of his cage and set them rattling. Polly did the same. At first, the other children were tentative – some joining in quietly, some only watching in fear and wonder – but then the din started to grow with their collective confidence until the whole room echoed with desperate, almost gleeful shouts.
The sound of a gunshot sliced through the air and silence fell, profound for its contrast with the previous rabble. Isaac looked to see a figure at Finch’s side holding a pistol. In the same second, another hooded figure across the room crumpled to the floor.
‘Well, we had to get your attention somehow,’ Finch said smoothly with a grim smile at Isaac’s expression of absolute shock, ‘and we couldn’t very well fire at the walls for fear of a ricochet that might have killed someone important… like me.’
‘You killed one of your own?’ Isaac replied in a hoarse voice. He had met many ruthless people in his short life, but now he realised that he had never, would probably never, even if he escaped, meet one as downright evil as Mr Finch.
‘Necessary collateral. Alas, you are all, or rather, every drop of your blood, is needed to complete the ritual. But I also need some quiet. Mr Smith had always seemed rather lacking in conviction for our cause so we shan’t really miss him.’
‘You’re mad…’
‘I prefer the term visionary. But then many visionaries were considered mad until people came to realise they were right after all.’
‘You won’t get away with this….’ Polly cut in.
‘My dear,’ Mr Finch laughed, ‘what a delightful cliché! I didn’t realise Dr Black had been reading Penny Dreadful novels to you in the evenings.’
‘While there’s breath in my body I won’t let you in this cage to get any of these nippers out,’ Isaac growled, incensed by Finch’s insult of Polly.
‘There’s a simple solution to that problem,’ Finch replied, turning to Isaac again. ‘I shall kill you first.’
He gave a short nod and three hooded figures made their way towards Isaac’s cage. It was unlocked and even as Isaac threw the first punch, which landed with a satisfying smack on the side of a head, another figure had come to take the injured man’s place and Isaac was soon held fast. He swore and cursed and shouted at the other children to run but they simply watched in silence as he was dragged over to the stone table, pushed down onto it, his wrists tied with stout rope to manacles hanging from its sides. He kicked and twisted but in seconds his feet were tied too.
The chanting began again, Polly’s screams lost in the swell as it grew louder and louder. Isaac turned to his side and he could just make out her grief-stricken face, tears running down it.
‘See you on the other side, Poll,’ he whispered with a slight smile.
And then a flash of light caught his attention and he saw the glint of the blade held high above him by cloaked arms as the chants grew to enclose him in a wall of dull sound. He closed his eyes, and waited for death to take him.
Chapter twenty-three
Annie was sitting on the ground when Charlotte found her, staring into space as she leaned against the gatepost. The wolves were all back on their haunches, watching her carefully, as if waiting for orders. She hummed softly to herself, seemingly caught up in a world of her own, but Charlotte knew better than to believe that was true. It was more likely that she was concentrating hard on holding her enchantment the only way she knew how, with music.
‘We have to leave now,’ Charlotte cried breathlessly. Annie continued to stare and Charlotte leapt into her field of vision, shaking her by the shoulders. ‘We have to go; we have to get out of here before we’re caught too.’
Annie focused slowly on Charlotte. She gave a questioning look.
‘Isaac said so,’ Charlotte replied, as if reading Annie’s thoughts. ‘He told me that I was to get you away from here if they got caught… and I think they have.’
‘But we don’t have Georgina yet.’
‘And we don’t even know she’s here for certain. What if she’s not? If you get caught for nothing you’ll be no help to her at all.’
‘The wolves know she is here.’
‘They tracked her scent but that doesn’t mean she’s still here.’
‘She’s here.’
One of the wolves whined softly as if in agreement.
‘But Isaac said –’
‘Isaac would not leave without Georgina and neither will I,’ Annie replied calmly.
Charlotte opened her mouth to argue but then let out a sigh. In a way, she was relieved that Annie was so resolute. She had wanted to argue with Isaac but in a silly moment she had promised to get Annie away; she no more wanted to leave anyone behind than Annie did. Now her conscience was clear that she had tried to keep her promise to him, even if she had not been very convincing. ‘What shall we do?’ she asked.
Annie stared into the distance. The light was fading rapidly now and the air was chilled. Charlotte shivered slightly, almost as if only just remembering that she ought to be cold. Then Annie spoke.
‘We have our army. Let’s use it.’
Clutching the gatepost for support, Annie pulled herself to her feet. She swayed as she stood straight. Charlotte ran to her.
‘What’s wrong?’ Annie shook her head. ‘You’re weakening; the spell is taking too much from you.’
‘I’m fine,’ Annie replied, pushing Charlotte away and taking a deep breath. ‘I can do it.’ She summoned the wolves with a tilt of her head and every one of them stood to attention, slinking behind her as she began to walk towards the building.
‘Annie…’ Charlotte call
ed. Annie turned to her. ‘Annie, I’m scared,’ she whispered.
‘Me too. But I would rather die now than live with the guilt of doing nothing.’
‘I know that we must. But we are just two girls with no idea of what we are going to face.’
‘We are two girls with a pack of wolves,’ Annie said with a slight smile. ‘Whatever we face we can be sure our foe will be more afraid than we are when they see the company we keep.’
As Annie turned back to the orphanage, Charlotte wondered at her sudden courage. Was this really the same softly spoken, timid girl who had almost fainted at the idea of her sister being taken captive? She was still pale and weak looking, but she now had new air of purpose and a steely resolve. It was as if some of the courage and ferocity of the wolves had transferred to her through her connection to them. But as Charlotte followed her and their strange wolf allies into the waiting depths of the orphanage, she trembled. She tried to persuade herself it was the frost brought by the gathering gloom that was the cause, but in her heart, she knew that it was really fear, fear that this would be the last sunset she would ever see. Her mind went back to the parting from her mother. She had been terse and had spoken with a stern tone that her mother had not deserved. Now, she would give anything to see her one more time, to be able to tell her that she loved her. Knowing that after today, her mother may be all alone in the world made the tears Charlotte had been fighting squeeze out; she sniffed them back and straightened up, her eyes fixed firmly on the pack being led by Annie. There was a time for weakness, but this was not it.
The only sounds that accompanied them down the stairs were their own ragged breaths and the pants and low snarls and tapping of claws on stone of the wolves. They were still making too much noise, despite this, but Charlotte and Annie both realised that it probably didn’t matter now anyway. They had no idea what waited for them at the end of that staircase, but they had guessed that it would not be good. Isaac and Polly had surely been taken by the Brethren and they still didn’t know where Georgina was.
‘Can you hear that?’ Charlotte asked in a low voice as the sound of chanting reached them.
Annie nodded, unseen by Charlotte in the gloom. ‘It’s in the old language. It’s a ritual of great evil. I’ve never heard its like before but I know what some of the words mean.’ She paused. ‘They mean death and destruction. They mean an act of great violence is about to be committed.’
‘I hope that doesn’t mean we’re too late,’ Charlotte whispered back.
Annie didn’t reply, but her step quickened, and that of the wolves with her.
In no time at all they had reached the bottom of the stairs and found themselves in a stone-walled antechamber, torches lining the walls. It was empty, save for two cloaked figures guarding a doorway at the far end. As Charlotte and Annie approached, they turned as one and glared at them from beneath black hoods.
‘How dare you –’ the first figure began but then they stopped dead as they noticed the wolves now prowling into view to form a tight, protective circle around the girls.
‘They obey me and if you don’t let us pass they will attack,’ Annie said.
Instead of running away or trying to overpower them, as the girls might have expected, the two men turned for the vast wooden door they had been guarding and heaved it open. They disappeared through it, shouting warnings. At the same time, Charlotte reached for a torch from the wall, ripped it from its bracket, and ran towards the now closing door. As it was about to shut them out, she shoved the torch into the space, jamming it open, and narrowly dodging a sword that shot out towards her from the gap.
‘Annie!’ she squealed. ‘Bring the wolves! We must send them in!’
Annie had already darted across the room to join her and they now pushed at the door together. Behind it they could hear a great commotion: men shouting and children screaming, scuffling of feet on stone and the clanking of swords. The door was being held from the other side, but Charlotte and Annie still pushed with all their strength. Charlotte could see that Annie was pale and tired, but she couldn’t think about what that might mean now. One of the wolves managed to squeeze through and from the other side of the door there was snarling and screaming and then the weight behind the door gave. Charlotte pushed it open and stopped in her tracks, staring at the scene of carnage: of a man lying on the floor, his hand gripped in his cloak and a wolf standing sentry over him, of lines of hooded figures staring down at them as they waited, of dozens upon dozens of children trapped in cages, of a swinging golden birdcage containing a baby that looked in the gloom to be Georgina, of a figure tied to a stone table, blood dripping from wounds scored into his chest and arms, Charlotte realising with a gasp of horror that it was Isaac… and then at the pistol pointed straight at them.
‘Take one more step and I’ll shoot.’
Charlotte’s mouth fell open. ‘Mrs Brown?’ she said in a small voice, wondering if she was dreaming. It couldn’t be, and yet, Charlotte would never forget that voice and the warning issued when they had first taken Georgina to see if they could get her homed: She will come back to us one way or another.
Annie shot her a questioning look.
‘Mr Finch’s housekeeper,’ Charlotte said in reply.
‘The beadle?’ Annie squeaked. ‘But…’
Mrs Brown threw back her hood. ‘Afternoon, Miss Harding.’
‘Oh, this interruption is tiresome.’ This time it was a man’s voice. He threw back his own hood and Charlotte couldn’t help the reactive gasp that escaped her as Mr Finch was revealed. ‘Mrs Brown, kindly dispose of them.’
The housekeeper raised her gun and took aim. But then Annie shouted. ‘If you shoot me the spell will be broken and the wolves will have their own mind. I doubt any of you have the kind of magic it would need to regain their favour.’
‘Fair enough,’ Mrs Brown replied, turning the gun on Charlotte. ‘We need you for now, but we don’t need any of the others.’
‘Shoot her and it’s the same end,’ Annie said.
‘Shoot the blasted wolves, woman!’ Finch shouted.
‘How many of them do you think you can kill before one gets you?’ Annie fired back. ‘You have only one gun and there are a half a dozen beasts here.’
Charlotte’s gaze flitted along a line of figures brandishing swords. Eventually, Annie and the wolves would be beaten if their adversaries chose to take them on. The gamble was whether they would risk a potential loss of life or whether they would choose a more subtle route. As she glanced at Finch, she could see that he was weighing up the situation too.
‘You have come for the infant?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘We cannot give her up now, she is too important.’
‘We are not leaving without her,’ Annie replied.
‘What is she to you?’ he asked, narrowing his eyes. ‘Why risk your lives, why weaken yourself with such potent magic? You feel dizzy, do you not? It takes a great deal of concentration and power to control these beasts…’ he paused. ‘How much longer do you think you can maintain it?’
‘She’s my sister. I will not leave without her.’
‘Then we have reached an impasse. You will not leave without her and I will not relinquish ownership.’
‘Charlotte!’
Charlotte looked around to see Polly frantically trying to get her attention from one of the cages. ‘Isaac!’ she cried, waving her hand at the altar.
Charlotte looked again. Isaac was not dead, as she had at first feared. He let out a small groan and opened his eyes.
Finch’s gaze went to the table. ‘Ah… perhaps we can do a deal with this one? You can take him and his companion over there and leave us with our limbs intact.’
Charlotte knew that he had no intention of letting them go once they had agreed to call off the wolves. Within seconds of them reaching the outside they would be besieged and if not then, days, maybe even hours after they reached what they thought was safety, they would be round
ed up and killed. But if they could get Isaac and Polly free then that was two more on their side when it came to the fight and two more that they had at least a chance of saving, however slim that chance was.
‘Release him and Polly,’ Charlotte said. ‘Maybe we can come to some arrangement.’
Annie shot her a hate filled glare. ‘We’re not leaving without Georgina.’
Charlotte returned it with a pleading look. She hoped it would communicate her train of thought in the absence of any other way, but she had no idea whether Annie understood or not. She only hoped there would be time to explain it later.
‘Release Isaac and Polly,’ Charlotte repeated.
‘No,’ Annie said, her voice ice. ‘We don’t leave without my sister.’
‘It would be helpful if you two young ladies could agree on a strategy,’ Finch said with a sardonic smile. ‘Otherwise I will be forced to have Mrs Brown shoot you both now and deal with the wolves before they kill too many of my brothers.’
‘We don’t have a choice,’ Charlotte hissed at Annie. And then she noticed something from the corner of her eye. A key lay on the floor near to the wolves’ first victim of the day, who was now standing nursing his injured hand and viewing the perpetrator of the crime with the greatest suspicion. It had to fit at least one of the locks on the cages, didn’t it? If she could get it, could she get to the cage containing Polly fast enough to let her out? That was also assuming that it went with Polly’s cage at all.
In a flash her mind was made up and she darted down to retrieve it. Momentarily distracted by the movement, Annie lost concentration and lost one of the wolves, which now snarled as it made its way towards Finch. Mrs Brown fired her pistol and shot it dead. There was another cry from across the room and all turned to see that one of the Brethren now no longer wore his hood and Polly had hold of him by his hair through the bars of her cage, while two other children checked him for keys. He had obviously got a little too close to the wrong cage and had not bargained on Polly’s tenacity. He twisted, slashing at her with his sword but unable to reach behind far enough to get a clear shot. In a second she had that too and it was at his throat. Finch roared and they were rushed by three more Brethren.
