by P M Cole
He then turned to face us.
An eye patch and a scar, which ran down the full left side of his face, momentarily confused me, but as he stared at me with his remaining vision and then smirked revealing his teeth, a flash of memory came back, and I knew I was looking upon the same face I had seen sixteen years earlier.
Finlay nodded to Thorton, and she glided away. He then waved at the two sofas that were opposite each other. “Sit. Ask your newspaper questions.”
Colin and the others moved forward but stopped when they saw Finlay staring at them. They remained standing.
I walked slowly, being thankful for the chance to sit and redoubled my effort to control my breathing. I also needed a chance to find out what laid inside his villainous brain. Some explanation, and if he couldn’t remember, I would make him do so. I looked around the room to where the woman was, but she was nowhere to be seen. As I went to talk, I realised he looked no older now than he did from my dream. Ignoring that and a host of other strange things that were nibbling in the dark corners of my mind, I looked at him directly. “Some say you are the most important man in all of London. Is that true?”
Soften him up.
He smirked again, raising his hand to scratch his stubbly chin. A key-shaped burn was clearly visible. In fact, seeing it again, it looked more like a brand than a scar.
I gripped the side of the sofa, my nails biting into its fabric.
Be strong. I can do this. He has to pay.
Sixteen years of suffering was threatening to overwhelm me. I briefly looked around again to make sure it was just us and Finlay. It was, but the recesses of the large room were rich in shadows. Despite the barrage of flames eating through the logs, I was sure I could see my breath as it left my lungs.
He licked his lips. “That depends. I provide a good service in my workhouses. Make sure the paupers are looked after properly. Feed ’em, clothe ’em, make sure they don’t pass on any illness to the others. I would say that’s important. Yes.”
My hand slipped to the inside of my coat. “And how did you get into this line of work? What were you doing before? Say, sixteen years ago?”
Despite being some yards from me, I felt Colin look at me.
“Don’t you need to be writing this down?” said Finlay.
I looked directly into his eyes. “I have a good memory… so sixteen years ago? I have heard rumours that you were once a highwayman?”
I heard Colin’s and the others heavy breathing from across the room.
Finlay’s eyes grew wide, his mouth tightened to a grimace. “Who said that?”
I smiled. “Like I say. Rumours. It is often a good idea to put your own—”
He took a few steps towards me and my hand clutched my weapon.
Stopping, he looked down at me. “Stupid girl. You think I won’t tell you who I am? What I do? And who I do it to? I can have your newspaper shut down by sunrise, and that will be the least of your troubles!”
His physical presence a mere yard away was too much and tears rolled down my cheeks. He was the man that took my parents from me. The only justice I would see tonight would be my own. I ripped the crossbow from my coat and aimed it at his chest.
“What are you doing?” shouted Colin, trying to comprehend my action.
Finlay’s eyes grew wide then narrowed to a single channel of hate. Then he smiled.
“I knew you weren’t no newspaper person. Who are you really, girl?”
My hand shook, so I placed the other on it to steady it.
Colin ran forward until he was by my side. “We need to leave!” He looked anxiously at the way we came in.
“Why did you do it! Sixteen years ago, you attacked a family coming home from the theatre! You killed them, and—”
His eyes suddenly widened again, but this time his mouth fell open. “You…”
I went to release the cross bolt when a guttural scream burst across the room. I looked to my right for the cause. Young Fisher whirled around as if the shadows themselves held danger for him.
Then I noticed the statue.
“She… she…” were the only words that came from young Fisher’s mouth as he staggered backwards towards us.
Finlay laughed. “I knew our paths would cross again! Finally, I can be free and given a position worthy of my status!” He then grimaced, pointing to his eyepatch. “This was your fault!”
Nothing made any sense, so I fired my weapon. The bolt sailed true until another projectile smashed into it, a few inches from Finlay’s chest.
I went to fire again when a hand grabbed my arm. I whipped around. It was Colin, he pointed to the shadows.
“There’s something there, a monster! Its turned Kappie into a…”
Fisher ran from Colin’s side, slipping from his grasp and sprinted towards the exit. But as he moved back into shadow, he briefly turned to his side, his face becoming the very picture of terror, then stopped. Not merely in momentum, but also in pose. His limbs freezing as if his essence had been captured by a photographer.
“A witch has got him!” shouted Colin. In his hand, a knife glinted.
I watched the young boy grow paler and paler until his eyes became a solid dead grey, and with that his skin too. It was like watching ice form across a winter lake. The stone he was becoming creaked until another statue stood just yards from us.
My mind wrestled with what I had just witnessed. Magic was not real. Clocks and watches were real. But a boy had just become stone in front of me.
Colin dragged me towards the exit.
“Kill the man, but do not harm her!” shouted Finlay as we ran forward.
I looked back at Finlay, he stood smiling, his eyes never leaving me. I raised my arm to fire off a volley of shots when I heard a hissing noise close by.
“Don’t look!” shouted Colin.
Not knowing why, I adhered to his advice, but instinctively raised my arm in the direction of the animalistic sound and twitched my finger four times, releasing the remaining bolts. A shriek rang out and we staggered into the hallway, as Colin pulled the doors closed.
“Melt the locks!” he cried out, holding the curved brass handles.
“What?”
The door shuddered and he almost lost his grip.
“I can’t hold this door closed for much longer! You got the gift, you can melt this metal to keep the door closed! Try!”
His words were insane, but I grabbed the handle regardless. On the other side, the sound of hissing grew louder, and I suddenly knew what the sound was.
“Snakes…” I said under my breath.
“Quickly! You can do this!” said Colin.
Maybe magic was real…
The door shook again, momentarily pushing both of us from it, but we jumped back as it opened a few inches, closing it once more.
I grabbed the handles on both doors and thought of my parents. Not as they were on that frightful night, but as they were during the performance at the theatre… laughing… smiling…
An intense glow came from my fingers and the brass handle became slippery.
“Yes, like that!”
The metal softened in my hand and I pushed the soft mass together forming a bar and let go, out of breath.
As Colin pulled me away and we ran towards the front door, I couldn’t help but see the faces of the statues being used to decorate Finlay’s home.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Olivia’s fire burned bright, but I could not feel its warmth. I sat with my back up against a wall and my knees against my chest. The room around me was vacant of people.
The journey back had been mostly in silence, both of us not being able to vocalise what we had witnessed. Instead, we ploughed on through the muck and grime, moving past the Fray Street sewer and continuing on to Colin’s underground lair. After a hurried conversation with Olivia, she took me to her own personal space, and I had been on this bed ever since. I wasn’t sure how long ago that had been.
I looked at the clump o
f coins on the floor near the hearth then looked away. It just served to amplify the virus of thoughts threatening my sanity.
The sheet, which served as a door, pulled back and Olivia appeared with a bowl.
“I’ve made this for you.”
She smiled as I took it from her. It smelt earthy but good. I took a sip with the ladle.
“Umm… Colin has told me of what happened…” She sighed, shaking her head slightly. She then pulled one of the few chairs closer to the bed and sat. “We need to talk. Can you do that?”
I nodded while drinking more soup.
“You went there to kill Finlay?”
I looked down, emotion threatened to overwhelm me again. I nodded.
“Sixteen years ago, he did something to you? To your parents?”
I nodded again.
“You must have been very young.”
“I was four… I don’t remember much, just passing memories of what happened. But I remembered him.”
Talking was helping. Or maybe it was the broth.
“And you did not know what you are?”
A shiver ran through me, making my skin crawl.
What I am? I’m just a girl who repairs clocks.
“I… don’t understand any of this.”
Olivia took in a deep breath. The fire reflected in her eyes.
“I know you don’t… or didn’t believe any of this, but you must pay attention to what I’m about to tell you.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I nodded anyway.
She leaned back. “There are forces in this world that are natural and as old as the seas or the sky…”
I looked at her in earnest. “Magic?”
She nodded while smiling. “That’s as good a word as any.”
I looked down at my hand, remembering how it was glowing. “There’s magic in me? How did it get there?”
She sighed again. “Some are born that way, others acquire the gift through ritual and doing evil deeds.”
My eyes widened. “I’m evil?”
Her hand rested on my knee. “No… magic is neither good or bad, it just is like the air you breathe.”
I looked down. “Colin said I’m a witch.”
She shook her head. “He’s young. He talks of what he does not know. A witch is just a term for someone who is able to do magical deeds… someone who has the ability within them. But magic can come from a variety of sources, even objects can possess magic.”
“But how did I… the metal melted when I touched it?”
“I don’t know how you did what you did…” Her brow tightened as she spoke to herself. “Colin told me that Finlay appeared to recognise you, he seemed pleased…”
“Yes…”
Finlay’s reaction was strange. His words and joy started to come back to me, and ideas fell in place in my mind like cogs in a clock.
We both arrived at the same conclusion.
“All those years ago, it was me he wanted… my parents were killed because of me… because I’m different…” Tears started to run down my cheeks. Olivia sat next to me, bringing me into her embrace.
“Your parents died protecting you. They were brave people.”
I sobbed.
“None of what happened is your fault. There are evil forces, and they wanted you for their own plans. It was lucky that they never got their hands on you.”
I knew what she was saying was true. I was four, what could I have done? I did the best thing I could have done. I escaped. That is what my parents would have wanted. My mind returned to that infernal room, to Finlay smiling, and to what happened to…
I pulled away from her arms. “Fisher and Kappie… they…”
Her face grew grave again. “They did not deserve that fate. Good lads them both.”
Emotion welled up in me again. “I did not know what laid in wait for us… if I’d have known…” My words were weighted with guilt.
“There is no way you could have known… none of us knew the kind of evil Finlay was involved with. Most in London had heard that he was a murderous man, and he was feared because of that, but this…” She looked directly at me. “That is the other thing we must talk about… there are creatures… not fully human, that lurk in the shadows of this city. I think you met one tonight.”
I felt light-headed and pulled the blanket around me. The numbness was returning. “What was she?” The question sounded absurd and completely logical to me at the same time.
“I used to work for a gentleman, he was an expert in antiquity. Worked at the British Museum. Sometimes when we were alone, he would tell me stories of creatures, hateful beings that most believed were long dead… one that he described sounded like the thing that did for Kappie and Fisher.”
“What was its name?”
She thought for a moment. “I cannot remember, but she was of female form. A creature cursed by the gods, but that’s all I can remember.”
Magic. Gods. Monsters. And that was after what I had learned about the man that put me on the path of my life… oh, and I’m a witch. My head started to ache.
Colin appeared under the sheet at the door. He smiled and walked in. “How is she?” he said to Olivia, seemingly forgetting I was there.
“I’m fine.”
His eyes tried to indicate something to Olivia.
“Yes, I’ve told her about magic,” she said.
He blew his cheeks out. “Good. Have you asked her the other thing?”
“What other thing?” I said.
Olivia frowned and looked back at me. “Does Finlay know your name and where you currently reside? The location of the shop?”
“No, he doesn’t know anything about me.”
Colin looked confused. “You gave the woman your name?”
“That wasn’t my real name.”
“Hmm… I kind of liked Agatha.”
“Are you sure he does not know of your true identity? You have to be sure, Cog,” said Olivia.
“I’m sure.”
“He’s not going to stop looking for you, and he has spies everywhere,” said Colin.
I hadn’t had a chance to think about what might happen next. But he was right.
“I think we should go and see that man I told you about,” said Olivia.
Colin frowned. “Does it have to be him?”
“If anyone will know about this kind of thing it will be him.”
“What’s his name?” I said.
“Bernard Hayward.”
The name jolted through my brain. “Hayward? Who lives in Pimlico?”
“You know him?” said Olivia.
“Not… exactly…” I told both of them of the newspaper article and my meeting with the Haywards a few days earlier. They both sat in silence.
“This cannot be by chance,” said Olivia. “Finlay and another attacked him?”
“That is what the report said. They stole some of their jewellery.”
“There must be more to this. Tomorrow we go to see Bernard.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Despite the time being just after 10 p.m., I was relieved Mr Gladwell smiled at me on my arrival back at the shop. I could not have taken anything more scornful. After a few exchanged words, I made my way back downstairs, and turned my lamp on, then collapsed onto my bed. Sleep came fast.
I awoke with a start, memories of scars, monsters from legend, and dark tunnels starting to fade as I blinked at my surroundings.
I was home, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was no longer safe. Nowhere was now safe. What would magic allow Finlay to do? Could he find me with a snap of a finger or a spell?
I looked at my hands again. Normal fingers, slim, a few cuts and grazes but nothing looked out of the ordinary.
I threw my arm out, extending it towards the wall opposite, then tensed… and waited. The pencil-thin hand on the clock opposite, clicked, pivoting on its central axel completely ignoring me. Functioning as it always did. I sighed and pushed my back up agains
t the hard brick behind my head. I could just about feel a cool breeze coming from the sewer behind the wall, but it was enough for me to pull my blanket around my shoulders. I looked across the room to my thermometer. Still fog.
The face of Mr Hayward came to me. I tried to remember the exact words he uttered on the day I visited him, looking for a trace of how he was connected to all of this, but nothing seemed out of place with our conversation. He was just a man who wanted his items back. But he wasn’t. He worked at the British Museum. Someone who knew about the world that I had fallen into, but was also always part of. He would know of why Finlay wanted me. Maybe he would even know why I was different.
Different…
I still had no idea what that actually meant. I was just me. I had always been me. Now I just knew more about me.
But magic? A mysterious force that existed outside the usual four forces of nature? My logical brain, the same one that loved how the myriad of internal parts of a clock or pocket watch fitted together, baulked at even the possibility. But every other part of me knew it was real.
I got up, walked to my wall of sketches and pulled the largest, with the stand-in figure for Finlay, down, and instead drew what I recalled of his appearance. I also sketched the woman’s face nearby with the exotic eyeglasses. Did she turn those poor boys to stone? Was that ‘her’ magic?
She also had the key scar… a brand. Finlay and the woman were connected somehow.
I suddenly realised I was in the midst of a puzzle, and that was fine. I liked puzzles.
But Colin was right, now Finlay knew I was in London, he would be looking. His network would be searching every public house, talking to every thief and cab driver that he had under his employ. I quietly laughed. My years spent keeping to myself and not riding on coaches had become an advantage in this insane game.
A wave of fatigue ran through me. I was deluding myself. A man of his influence and power? He would find me eventually. And that would mean he would find this shop and Mr Gladwell. I would not accept harm coming to either. My whole life I had been running from the shadow of my past. It was time that ended.
In front of me sat Mr Bellweather’s faulty clock. I pulled it towards me and started to unscrew the case.
