The 7th of London (15 page)

“Mm. I wasn’t expectin’ so. Well, I’m off. Ye take care of yerself, Monty.” Monty agreed, and they bid one another farewell as Sev peeled a few bills from the wad in his pocket, paying his friend for the lightning gun and his trouble. Monty accepted the money gratefully and Sev marched off to his new flat.

H
IS
breath came easier as it gathered in misty clouds in the cold air, while he trudged through the filthy, greasy gray snow. The building on Kirkwall Lane looked like all the other ramshackle row houses lining the street. A puzzled look drifted over Sev’s face. He hadn’t expected a palace, but this was a rat hole. As if in answer to Sev’s thought, a figure sitting on the front steps stood and greeted him. “Oy, Sev!”

“Rat. What’re ye doin’ here? Makin’ sure I found my way?”

“His Nibs thought y’might need a runner until things cool off. Here I am.” Rat took a deep drag on his cigar, stamped it out, and lit another.

“I suppose I might at that,” Sev agreed. “Anybody else live here?”

Rat shrugged. “Sometimes. Jack’s people. No worries. His Nibs has put th’word out. Nobody knows ye’re here, no matter who’s askin’.”

“Reckon I’ll have a look-see.” Sev pulled out the brass key and opened the burgundy door. The air inside was stale, musty. Wallpaper drooped like dead skin from the stairwell walls. Bottles and other debris littered the rickety stairs. Each floor had two doors on either side of the stairway. Sev had to step over a urine-soaked drunk on the second landing. None of the flats were numbered.

As he ascended the last of the stairs, a smile crept across his lips. A large, red door lay at the top of the stairwell, a shiny brass seven emblazoned on the wood. Sev sighed in light of the villain’s unabashed theatrics. He unlocked the flamboyant door and stepped into what looked like another world. As shabby as the building looked on the outside, the flat was just the opposite—clean, freshly painted, and in no need of repair. It wasn’t nearly as lavishly decorated as Midnight’s home, but it wasn’t far off. Polished wood floors, lush oriental carpets, and a few fine pieces of elaborate furniture dotted the flat, which occupied the entire top floor. Elaborately embroidered drapes covered the windows, but soft, golden light from gas lamps suffused the space.

Sev walked through the sitting area and ran his hand over the red velvet of the couch. A small dining area sat between a fireplace and the kitchen. Sev sniffed with disbelief when he saw the cold box near the sink. He opened the door and found it fully stocked with meats, cheeses, and fresh juice.
Amazing
, Sev thought. How did Midnight manage this kind of thing? A large four-poster bed, similar to the one he’d slept in at the Black Chapel, sat in the far corner near a wardrobe Sev suspected contained a complete complement of brand-new clothes. He opened a door to find an elaborate water closet with steam-powered shower. He wondered where the water came from. He continued his circuit and found a desk by the wall opposite the fireplace. He rolled open the top to find it fully equipped.

An idea occurred to him, and he sat down, choosing a pen and a sheaf of parchment. He scribbled a hasty letter to Waverly, letting his dearest friend know he was safe, careful not to reveal any information as to his whereabouts. He signed it with the number seven and folded it, placing it into an envelope. He scrawled a
W
on the outside and dashed down the steps, where he gave the letter to Rat with instructions to deliver it to the Bacchus and Tun. Rat tipped his hat, shoved the envelope into his coat, and sauntered off down the street. Satisfied, Sev returned to his flat and fixed himself a small meal of bread, cheese, and cold roast beef. When he’d finished eating, the enormity of his situation finally caught up with him, and he dropped onto his new bed, unable to keep his eyes open.

S
EV
’
S
father looked up from the pair of shoes he’d been resoling, his face breaking into a splendid, beaming smile. Sev dashed into the man’s strong arms, and his father swept him up and twirled him. They were laughing together suddenly in the tiny yard behind their row house. The sun glinted in his father’s strawberry hair. His father placed him back on the ground, and Sev dashed off giggling. His father called to him, and Sev turned just in time to see his father’s forehead explode.

Sev screamed, not with a young boy’s voice, the voice that had just finished laughing, but with a man’s voice. His father’s body slipped sideways, an expression of surprise in his remaining eye as it fell. Fervis stood behind, a smoking gun in his hand. Fervis’s laughter echoed too loudly in the factory as the villain grabbed Sev’s mother. She screamed, but no sound came out of her mouth. Sev felt sick when he noticed the wedding dress she wore. He tried to reach her, to save her, but his feet didn’t want to move. The wedding dress turned black, and instead of his mother, the queen leaned into Fervis’s embrace, but it wasn’t Fervis anymore. It was Fairgate, his eyes flashing red. He no longer held a smoking gun. It had turned into the stolen journal. Fairgate cast some sort of spell, and the journal melted into a flaming lantern. The queen tittered discordantly, and Sev noticed her eyes were black like the void. She smiled too widely with too many teeth chiseled to violent points. Fairgate tossed the lantern at Sev. He tried to catch it, but he was afraid he’d burn. He juggled the object for a moment before it dropped to the ground. A trail of fire burst forth, and Sev’s gaze followed it as it crawled across the floor to where his brother and sisters stood.

“No!” Sev screamed, but his feet still wouldn’t cooperate, and now it wasn’t just his siblings engulfed in flame. Midnight, Annie, Waverly, and Monty all wailed within the conflagration. Sutherland and Kettlebent tried to extinguish the flames but were enveloped as well. Sev reached for Waverly. They’d never had a chance together, but he reached for the young man he loved anyway. Guilt stabbed his chest. Why would he try to save Waverly over his own flesh and blood? He didn’t have time to ponder. The floor beneath Sev opened up, and he plummeted into a dank darkness. It was wet and cool compared to the inferno raging above. Sev knelt, tears streaming, mingling with the fetid water below the factory. A desiccated hand reached out, followed by another and another, until Sev was surrounded by corpses. He knew they were his friends and family, the people he’d killed. They whispered in unison with one multifaceted voice, “It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.” They reached for him, and when the first rotted hand connected with the bare skin of his face, a vile finger curling into his mouth, Sev screamed.

He was still screaming when Rat shook him awake. “Wake up, mate! Wake up,” he shouted. Sev gasped for breath as he sat up, swinging his arms to free himself from the grip of the corpses. He knocked Rat to the floor before he realized what had happened. “Gah!” Rat groaned. “What in bloody blazes is yer problem, mate?”

“I’m sorry, Rat.” Sev decided he was waking up this way much too often, before he offered the young boy his hand and helped him up. “I was havin’ a nightmare.”

“No shite,” Rat commented sarcastically. “I was tryin’ t’deliver this when y’attacked me.” Rat held up a folded bit of paper. Sev took it, unfolded it, and read:

7-

Glad you ar safe. Take care, my frend.

-W.

Sev read the short missive twice. Direct, not overly emotional, just like Waverly. Sev smiled sadly. His friend’s note warmed his heart while simultaneously breaking it just a little. “Everythin’ aces?” Rat inquired.

“Fine,” Sev answered.

“Grand. I’ve things t’attend to, but I’ll be back. Make yerself at home.” Rat tipped his hat and left Sev alone in his new flat. Sev didn’t feel much like making himself at home, but he figured he should get used to the space since he’d be here for a while until Fairgate’s desire to find him subsided.

He walked over to the wardrobe and opened the double doors. Sure enough, it was filled with clothes, all in similar shades of black and gray. A few pairs of shoes and a pair of boots sat in the bottom. Sev’s heart jumped when he saw his old rucksack. He pulled the bag out and went through his possessions.

Everything was there. Crossbow, goggles, and even the bundle of cloth with the bits of the lightning gun within. Elated, Sev laid the parts out on his new table, trying to piece the weapon together like a puzzle. The mystery held his attention for a few hours, but without access to parts or information, there wasn’t anything more he could do.

D
AYS
passed like weeks. Sev was going mad with inaction. He felt like he should be out doing something. Surely someone had learned something from Fairgate’s journal by now, something that would give them some insight on how to stop the madman. Rat was his only visitor. The dirty urchin brought food and newspapers, letters from Midnight, and most importantly, Henry in his fancy cage. Sev promptly released his feathered friend from his gilded jail. Henry hooted happily and flapped about the room. The little owl’s presence helped, but Sev still itched to do something.

At the end of Sev’s second week, he and Rat sat at the dining table playing cards. Sev pressed Rat for information about the world outside his flat. “No word on Annie?” Sev asked for the hundredth time. Rat grunted and shook his head in response. “What’s Fairgate doin’?”

“Don’t know, do we? Nobody’s seen ’im. His men’re still lookin’ fer ye, though. Not as many, but still.” Rat slapped down a card.

“How about Sutherland? Kettlebent?”

“Same old, mate. Not sure what y’want t’hear.”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m missin’ somethin’. Bein’ stuck here doesn’t help.” Sev laid three cards on the table. Henry hooted from the back of Sev’s chair. “See? Even Henry can tell I’m not doin’ anybody any good stayin’ here.”

“Don’t matter,” Rat growled. “It’s the safest place for ye.”

“To hell with ‘safe’. I’m goin’ t’get some air.” Sev threw all his cards down and rose from the table.

“Ye can’t!” Rat barked.

“Too late,” Sev called, already on his way downstairs. Rat jumped up, scattering cards on the floor as he dashed after Sev.

S
EV
stretched and took a deep breath of Blackside’s filthy air. He’d once again grown accustomed to it. “I need a drink.” Looking up and down the block, he noticed a pub on the far corner, so he walked that way. Rat emerged from the building a moment later, cigar in his mouth, his breath coming in great ragged heaves. The streetlights were just being lit as Rat dashed off after Sev. Lights in Blackside weren’t lit as regularly as they were in Fairside. Midnight must be responsible for these.

Sev entered the pub—The Bell and Brass—sidled up to the bar, and ordered a shot and a pint of ale. Rat burst through the doors behind him. “Make that two.” Sev held up two fingers. The barkeep poured two shots and two pints. After several tries to hoist himself onto the stool next to Sev, Rat finally managed to get himself up. “Cheers,” Sev said and toasted Rat. The two young men downed their shots, and Sev sipped his ale.

“If ye wanted a drink, I could o’fetched ye a bottle,” Rat explained.

“I wanted open space, people who aren’t just you,” Sev responded. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Rat gulped his ale. The crowd within the pub paid the pair no attention as they went about their business, drinking, carousing, and arguing. Sev needed this, real human interaction, even if he wasn’t a direct participant. He ordered a second round, and Rat didn’t object. The two young men drank in silence, listening to the general ruckus surrounding them.

Sev had just called for a third round of drinks when a commotion erupted on the street. It wasn’t unusual. On the contrary, altercations were commonplace here. What caught Sev’s attention was the sound of a girl’s startled voice. Sev could hear the sobs punctuating her pleading tone. Sev couldn’t make out specific words, but he could tell she was distressed. He heard male voices chuckling, and the girl screamed. Sev was too familiar with situations like that. He slammed his empty glass on the bar and slipped off his stool.

“What’re ye doin’?” Rat asked, making sure to drain not only his drink but Sev’s as well.

“I’m just goin’ t’get some air,” Sev growled.

On the street, Sev saw a group of lowlifes surrounding a small young woman. She was obviously frightened, and they obviously didn’t care. They had the look of wolves about them. Sev couldn’t abide their harassing the girl. He strode across the street to the group, stepping into the circle and attempting to shield the young girl. “What’s the problem?” he asked, hoping they could see the challenge in his emerald eyes.

“Nuffink t’do wiv you, boy,” the largest of the hooligans answered.

“I disagree,” Sev stated. “How ’bout ye fellas turn round and leave this girl be?” The men surrounding the girl regarded one another for a long confused moment before they all started laughing.

“And wot’re you goin’ t’do about it, friend?” The leader injected every ounce of sarcasm he could in his last word.

“Whatever it takes, friend.” Sev spit the last word back in the man’s face. The group hooted and chuckled at Sev’s defiance. “Get yerself safe,” Sev told the young girl. To her credit, she didn’t question him, just dashed off without a word.

“Now ye’ve done it. That little morsel was tonight’s entertainment. Whatever will we do now?” The hooligan flexed a hand, knuckles popping. His mates murmured responses, moving to outflank Sev. The next moment seemed to stretch interminably as Rat watched the group of degenerates with Sev at the center until two of the hooligans could wait no longer. They dove at Sev, but he dropped to the street, kicking out with his feet and bashing two of the gang members’ ankles. The men instantly dropped to the cobbled ground as their comrades smashed into each other above Sev’s head. Sev flipped to his back and punched upward with both hands, knocking the two men who had lunged at him unconscious. The leader bellowed in anger with four of his mates out of the fight. The last two stood dumbfounded on either side of their leader. Sev kicked out with both feet, sending the ruffian in charge flying. Sev rose, ready to fight. The two remaining hooligans exchanged a worried glance before turning tail and running.