Noir (26 page)

Fo
rty-Six

Eyelet

“I can’t believe you’re trying to break back into the very place we’ve just broken you out of!” Urlick paces, a jumpy bundle of nerves. Not that I blame him, Madhouse Brink is as intimidating from the outside as it is from within. And we barely made it out the last time. He strides along the stone pebble driveway—so lanky and so lissome—wringing his shaky gloved hands.

“Can
you
think of any better way to have an audience with the keeper?” I place my hands on my hips and stare at him. “It’s not like we can just ring her up.”

He turns, crinkling his eyes at me, pink burning irises flickering through the heavy wisps of fog. Sweaty curls cling to his troubled forehead. He’s as annoyed with me as he has ever been. I know I shouldn’t, but I grin at him, just slightly. I can’t help it. Every time I look at him now I fall more and more in love.

“Seriously, you’ve gone mad!” He flips angry hands into the air, cancelling me out. “You’ve utterly lost your mind.”

“And you haven’t, Prince . . . what was that again?” I cock my head.

“Fine. We’ll break back in through the chimney.” Urlick juts out his chin, scraping his top teeth over his lower lip. “But if you lose your mind on the way out, I’m not retrieving it this time.”

“Nor I for you.” I cross my arms.

Urlick reaches out, forgetting himself, and leans against the smooth stone surface of the Brink’s outer wall, setting off the alarm.

“Or we could do that!” I flash my eyes at him.

He strikes the starfish pose, arms out, legs out, hands clawed in the air, his eyes darting.

“It’s too late for panic now!”

Lucky for us, the walls have remained stationary since our little heist. The authorities haven’t managed to figure out how to repair the damage to the program, though they have constructed some sort of archaic warning system, looping wires over the premises, which Urlick has also managed to trip.

Like a steamzapper that’s just caught a bug inside it, the wires go off, crackling and sizzling, slowly frying, igniting a fuse that travels down another wire to a makeshift hammer made of a stick and a rock that repeatedly strikes a bell.

“Good Lord.” Urlick looks to me. “Where are they, for God’s sake? We could have gotten away eight times by now.”

I laugh at him amid the bonging siren’s pathetic wail. A searchlight at last leaps into motion, and Urlick and I dash about, trying to get caught up in its stream. “Bloody hell,” Urlick shouts, sliding in the muck. “When we didn’t want to be caught we were nearly caught, and now that we want to, we can’t. This is madness!”

I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. I fling myself at the searchlight and miss.

Urlick dives for the light and slips in the muck. “Oh, for the sake of Pete!” he cusses, his hard shoes skirting ahead. He’s rendered tail over teakettle, falling hard on his arse on the ground, his backside now as generously painted with mud as his face.

“Perhaps if we just stand still,” I say.

“Stop!” a voice shouts through the darkness.

“At last,” Urlick sighs as the guard’s light finds him—blinding him momentarily with its aggressive beam. He raises a hand to his eyes.

I pull him up to his feet beside me, and the beam spots us both.

“Hands up!” the startled guard shouts, his voice trembling. The wagging nose of a weapon comes into view as we comply. The guard steps from the shadows. He’s a shaking mess, steam arrow stuck out in front of him in his white-knuckled hands.

“We come in peace,” Urlick jests, and I elbow his ribs. “What? We do.”

I frown. “Not exactly.”

“Shut up!” the guard shouts, trying to sound tough despite his lisp.

“Thuttup?” Urlick mocks him, and I elbow his ribs again.

“Move out of the way, you idiot.” Parthena overtakes the guard. She emerges from the darkness, steamrifle in hand. She’s the picture of sorrowful authority in her sheer black veil and mourning attire. A peacock-plumed pillbox hat sits askew atop her head as if hastily plopped there. “Well, well, well, what have we caught here?” She tsks. “It’s not often we get returns.” She grins and raises her brows. Her gaze rakes over my frame. “And you’ve brought me an extra. How nice of you.” She narrows her almond eyes at Urlick. “What
is
that you have on?” She scowls back at me. “Don’t tell me. You’re letting your little inmate girlfriend dress you now?” Her eyes shift back to Urlick. “And I suppose she’s doing your makeup.”

He stutters.

“Save it.” She steps toward us, circling, her heels squelching in the muck. “Half of Brethren is out looking for you, and yet you return to the very place you worked so hard to break out of. Why?”

“Do you see how absurd that sounds now?” Urlick says to me.

“Quiet!” Parthena snaps.

Two more guards totter in, gasping and panting, slipping in the muck, flanking Parthena’s sides. They gulp and stare at me in amazement. “It’s about bloody time,” she seethes their way, then returns her venomous look to me. “I’ve asked you a question.”

I gulp and sway. “I know what your sister’s done to you. I know why you’re here,” I spit, holding my hands together to keep them from trembling.

“
This
is the big news you’ve come to share?” Parthena wobbles her head. “A revelation—you think I don’t
already
know?”

“No, of course not, it’s just that—”

“Guards, take her away.” Parthena picks up her skirts and struts off.

“No, wait!” I shout as the guardsmen move in. “I know about the child! I know where she is!”

My final words catch Parthena’s step. She whirls around and stares at me. Panic dances in her eyes. She charges back toward us, lips quivering. The side of her cheek twitches uncomfortably. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen her. She lives.”

“She was my tutor,” Urlick says with a flick of his head.

Parthena’s eyes dart between us. Confusion threads her brows. “That’s not possible. My child is dead. She died shortly after birth—”

“It’s not true,” I say. “That’s just what they wanted you to believe.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, either of you.”

“I think we do. And I think you know it.”

Parthena rocks unsteadily back on her heels.

“Your sister told your father about you and Smrt and the baby, didn’t she?” I say bravely. “Highlighting your shame so that she could steal your appointment at the Academy from you.”

“How do you know all this? Where have you been?”

“Like I told you, your daughter, Flossie, was my tutor.” Urlick steps forward.

“Flossie? Her name was
Florence
—Flo. She was to be
Flo
. . . not Flossie . . .” Parthena falls back, clutching her heart. Her eyes look far away. “It’s not possible. They took her from me. They told me she was dead.”

“They lied to you.” I take a step closer. “Smrt and Penelope. They took your child, and they raised her as their own.”

“No. The night the child was born, they came to take her from me. But then she was born deformed, not expected to live the night, so they left us here alone. But she did live, and then one day Penelope returned, and she stole the child away from me. Tore her right from my arms. She said she had to do it . . .” Her voice slows and her eyes drift away. “In order to save Smrt’s position in society.” Suddenly she returns from her dream. “I’d agreed to be hidden here until such time as I gave birth, but I never agreed to become prisoner of this place. He was a married man, you see.” Her gaze blurs. “Smrt’s wife lives within the walls of this institution. A victim of an illness that robbed her of her mind.” Parthena gazes away to nothing in particular again. “My sister, she double-crossed me and arranged to have me locked up in here for good, citing my interest in absinthe as a habitual problem. I had no
habitual
problem—I drank a little absinthe, that was it! But my sister had other aspirations.” Parthena purses her lips. “In return for her silence regarding Smrt and my delicate little matter, my dear sister was awarded the position Smrt had promised me at the Academy, while I was left forgotten and rotting here in a cell. Eventually, I’m not sure why, my father took pity on me and forced my sister to arrange for me to become warden of this place. I’ve held the post ever since.” Her eyes narrow. “So tell me, why should I believe you? How do I know what you’re telling me is true? Why should I trust you, when my own flesh and blood has betrayed me?”

“Because,” Urlick speaks up, “it is the truth. Flossie and I sometimes shared personal stories, including the stories of our births. She told me of her rudimentary entry into this world. Of how she was born the illegitimate love child of two prominent professors at the Academy—and that it had to be kept a secret.”

Parthena claps a hand to her heart. “But that’s not possible.” She breathes. “You have no proof that this Flossie is my child!”

“She bears the same mark as you,” I say. “A mole on the side of her face that matches the one on your wrist.” Parthena’s eyes shoot downward. “I noticed it as you tightened the straps on my arms in the theatre chair. It was then I was certain she must be yours. Along with your eyes. She has your exact eyes—”

“Stop!”
Parthena’s chin wobbles.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to her. “But it’s the truth.”

Parthena looks away and twists her hands tightly together. In a strange way, my heart breaks for her—a victim of circumstance just like all the rest of us.

“You mean to tell me, not only did my sister take away my freedom, my dignity, my position, and the affections of the only man I ever loved, but she stole my only child away from me, too?”

“I’m afraid so,” I say weakly.

Parthena turns. “Until his death I held out hope that one day Smrt would come back for me. That one day, this nightmare would be over.”

“What if I were to tell you that it is?” Urlick bolts forward. “That I have the power to exonerate you from this hellhole once and for all.” Parthena scowls. “What if I were to promise we could get your life back?”

“Urlick—” I say.

“What if I were to tell you, we’ve come here for the sole purpose of helping you effect revenge on your sister for all she’s done to you, in return for a little help?”

Parthena’s eyes dart over the two of us, confused. “How on earth could the likes of you do that?”

Urlick pulls another page of the church register from his breast pocket and holds it out for Parthena to read. “What if I were to tell you your sister threatened your lover and extorted money from him in order to further her position and pay off your father’s business debts?”

“My father?”

“His business was failing, then suddenly it wasn’t; isn’t that true?” Parthena’s eyes widen to twice their size. “It’s all in there. All the paperwork needed to prove the crimes she committed against you. Every detail of her dirty dealings, including the one that pegs Penelope as the rightful guardian of your daughter, Flossie.”

“Let me see that.” With shaky fingers, Parthena snatches the page from his hand. She slowly reads.
“Born, one twenty-ninth of December in the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and eighty-four . . . a baby girl six pounds, five ounces, to Parthena Pearl Rapture, a known local whore . . . Father, unknown. Markings: Child was born with a harelip, deemed grotesquely disfigured and not expected to live the night . . . died January two in the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and eighty-six . . .”

“But then you see here”—Urlick leans in, pointing to the paper—“there’s been an amendment . . .”

“In my sister’s hand.” Parthena eyes fill with tears. “Where did you find this?”

“In a locked box in the manse of the church, where Penelope was hiding it.”

“Those are my father’s initials, as witness,” Parthena says. “He was in on it?”

“We can’t be sure. According to the ledger, he did stand to profit, some two hundred thousand and fifty jewelets to keep the birth a secret—put up by Smrt.”

Parthena reroutes a tear from her cheek. “I’ve spent a lifetime mourning a child who’s still alive.” She looks up. “And the loss of a man who never really loved me.”

“It’s not too late to make things right,” Urlick says. “That’s why we’ve come, to ask for your help in dethroning your sister. In return, I promise you, you will see her punished to the fullest degree.”

Parthena’s teary eyes reduce to angry slits. “What is the plan?” she says, handing back the pages of the register.

Fo
rty-Seven

Urlick

“Parthena’s guards will meet us here . . .” I draw a map with a stick in the dirt. “We’ll enter the city from the east.” I draw a semicircle. “While C.L., Livinea, Masheck, and the rest of you enter from the west. Hopefully creating a big-enough distraction to give us time to ambush Penelope at the castle and meet you back over here . . .” I stroke an X in the middle of the dirt map where we last saw poor Iris, tied to a stake.

“What if we’re stopped?” C.L. asks, wide-eyed and trembling.

“You can’t be.”

“Does that mean . . . ?”

“That’s right.” I turn to Masheck. “You have my permission to do anything necessary to get there.” C.L. lowers his head. “We only have one chance to get this right. It must go off as seamless and painless as possible—but if need be, we
will
destroy whoever gets in our way.” I add, matter-of-factly, “We have no other choice. I’m not prepared to lose any of you.” I glance at each in succession around the circle. “And not Iris either.”

All nod.

“We’ll take the city tonight, under cover of darkness. And if all goes well . . . I’ll be Ruler by morn.”
That sounds so foreign still, coming from my lips. Though it sounds wonderful, just the same.

“Everybody ready?” I pull back my shoulders.

“Ready, sir.” C.L. springs up. Martin, Reeke, Sadar, and Masheck follow with equal enthusiasm.

I turn, grab Eyelet by the hand, and tug her forward. “We’ll see you all in the city centre, then.” I toss a hand in the air behind me. “Godspeed, everyone.”

“Wait!” Parthena claps a hand on my shoulder and pulls me back. “How do you and Eyelet propose to get into the city unnoticed?” Her eyes flick nervously between us. “My sister will have a Brigsman at every post. You’ll never make it anywhere
near
the outskirts without being arrested—if she hasn’t already sent troops up here to find you.”

“She’s right.” A shaky Eyelet turns to me. “We can’t possibly just expect to storm our way into the centre of town, after all that’s happened. They know every trick we’ve played.”

“Maybe not.” Parthena’s lips pull up into a wry smile. She shifts her eyes in the direction of the driveway. Parked on the gravel lane next to the entrance to the Brink is the Loony Bin wagon, hooked to four strong horses. “There is one way into the city they’d never think to check.”

Eyelet swallows. “You can’t be serious.”

Eyelet sucks air sharply into her lungs and moves her feet jerkily forward. Her hand trembles in my own. I climb up into the cage. It smells of foul breath, dried blood, and urine. My knees wobble beneath me. I turn and face the outside quickly and hold out a hand to Eyelet. “You all right?” I say, giving her a hand up.

“I will be, as long as you’re with me.”

But I know it’s a lie, despite the faltering smile. Eyelet has never shaken like this before, no matter the situation. She is truly terrified, looking around. I can’t blame her.

We crawl to the back and take a seat on the bench. Parthena closes the door. The iron bars squawk, falling shut with a clang behind us, and both of us are elevated from our seats, every nerve in my body sparking as Parthena’s fingers work to secure the lock.

“Stay quiet until we get there, no matter what happens,” Parthena cautions, pulling the drawstring on the carpets in back. They fall, encapsulating the cage in darkness. My heart clenches into a tight, hurtling ball in my chest.

Eyelet squeezes my hand and whimpers. I pull her closer as Parthena fastens the last of the locks on the Loony Bin wagon door.

A sharp
shwing
of a knife blade exiting its sheath. Parthena gasps, as whoever’s holding it places it to her neck. “I’d better see them both at the palace when we meet up again,” Masheck says, in a low voice. “Yuh wouldn’t want to lose that pretty head of yours, would yuh now?”

“You have my word, sir,” Parthena mutters.

“Make sure it’s better than your sister’s.”

We’re barely away, and Eyelet begins to cough again. Another hard cough she cannot seem to stop. She leans forward, coughing something into her hand she will not let me see. Not that I could through this infernal darkness. I pitch forward, about to move the carpets up, and Eyelet stops me.

“It’s nothing, really!” She hides her hand behind her back. “It’s just because we’re in this cage.”

“Boulders.” I swing around. “You were coughing earlier, even when we weren’t in this cage—”

“Can we please just keep focused on the mission at hand?” Eyelet averts her eyes. There’s something she’s not telling me. I know there is. Why else would her chin be wobbling?

I take her face in my hands and pull it to me, cart rattling beneath us as we bounce over the road. “You are not fooling me, Miss Elsworth. I know something is wrong. If you don’t want to tell me this moment, that’s fine. But as soon as we have Iris completely secured, I’m going to locate that necklace, and when I do, you’ll drink the contents of that vial—no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Do you hear me?”

Eyelet slowly nods her head.

I turn her around, intending to roll her into my arms, but she reaches back and takes my face in her hands, kissing me slowly. “How did I ever get lucky enough as to find someone like you?” she whispers into my mouth.

“How did I ever get lucky enough for you to pay attention?”