The 7th of London (30 page)

“Oh aye. I doubt any o’this would be happenin’ without him.” Sev rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and tipped his head onto his hand. “That’s it, then. Come on, Rat. Let’s be off.”

“What? But…,” Rat sputtered, still crouched behind the chair.

Sev held up a hand to stop him. “If Jack doesn’t want to attend the gatherin’, that’s his right.” Sev stood and waved Rat along. “If ye’ll allow it, we’ll get this finished up as quickly as possible. Then we can get back t’working for ye.”

“Don’t be so hasty, Sev.” Warm honey crept back into Midnight’s tone. “This actually sounds like it might be a laugh. An entire city of children beneath London? It’s ever-so-charming, like some enchanted wonderland. I wonder if that makes me Alice?” Midnight smiled, a Cheshire grin filled with teeth.

“I couldn’t say,” Sev commented, shrugging. His heartbeat was finally returning to normal.

“No matter,” Midnight stated lightly. “Outside Rabbit, outside Dormouse. I need to freshen up and call my brougham. I’ll meet you outside in twelve minutes.” He waved them off, and they obeyed.

O
UTSIDE
,
Rat finally breathed a sigh of relief. “Blimey, Sev. Ye’ve got balls the size o’church bells t’talk t’Midnight like that.”

“I just know how t’speak t’Midnight in his own language,” Sev said.
Which worries me no small amount
, Sev didn’t say. “It doesn’t matter. He’s going t’come with us. That’s what’s important.”

“I thought it was all over fer a minute,” Rat confessed. “Midnight truly is mad.”

“As a hatter,” Sev agreed. He envied Kettlebent. Surely he’d have a much easier time with the duke.

K
ETTLEBENT
had decided to walk to Stafford House instead of hailing a hansom or sending for Sutherland’s driver. He needed time to think about things. The feelings he was having for Seven were perplexing. He respected the scrappy youth. Sev was a fighter and despite some shaky morals, lived by an enviable code of honor.

There was something else, something more. When Sev was around, Silas’s heart beat a little faster. He was a little quicker to blush. Kettlebent was more than slightly attracted to his newest friend, and Silas didn’t know exactly how to handle it. Sev had been responsive when Silas had lost his head once or twice and tried to show affection. They’d held hands, and it had felt right, real and wonderful.

So many things screamed out how wrong it should feel. Their age for one thing. Silas didn’t want to feel like he was taking advantage of the younger boy. True, they weren’t that far apart in years, but shouldn’t Silas be the responsible one? Then there was the fact that they were both young men. Society didn’t only frown upon that; it spit on it, ground it under its heel, and chuckled as it walked away whistling.

He consoled himself with the relationship that seemed to exist between Sutherland and Midnight. They were obviously more than friends, but he wondered if he should look to a villain like Midnight for an example of a proper relationship.
Who does it hurt?
he asked himself. If the duke and the villain were happy, who did it hurt? Sev was obviously receptive to his affection. Why was he second-guessing himself?

He approached Stafford House and decided that he’d confide in Sutherland. He would finally reveal to his patron that he was not a grown man but a young man in a clockwork over-skeleton. He’d ask the older man how he dealt with his feelings for Midnight and what advice he might have. Kettlebent pressed the button that sounded the chime within. The young man felt his heartbeat escalate as he waited for what felt like interminable moments to drag past. Kettlebent wiped his moist brow with the back of his extended mechanical appendage. He squinted against the tension in his forehead. He felt like his heart would finally burst when the heavy, elaborate doors to the entrance swept inward.

Jeffries stood in the void. The old butler looked tired, pale, and drawn. When his gaze focused on the visitor, his eyebrows shot up, and he smiled broadly. “Mr. Kettlebent. So good to see you. Please, come in.”

Kettlebent obliged him and stepped in. “Thank you, Jeffries. Any luck with that journal?”

“I’m shocked at Fairgate’s innate grasp of the ancient tongue,” Jeffries answered. “With few exceptions, he writes flawlessly. Still, I have faith that we can stop him. Luck, indeed.”

“Good,” Kettlebent replied. “That’s good news.”

“Indeed. Any good news from the front lines?” Jeffries asked.

“We’re assembling some great minds to help us.” Kettlebent felt very comfortable talking to the servant. He supposed he owed it to his British temperament: the help weren’t people, just items to help the household run efficiently. He cursed himself for the thought, the very thing they were fighting to eradicate. Before he had a chance to reconsider, he continued, “We’ve recruited Faraday and Tesla.”

“My God,” Jeffries gasped as he said the words. “That’s amazing. Two of the greatest minds of our age? Faraday’s work with electromagnetics is legendary, and the innovations that Tesla is contributing under Munsen’s tutelage is beyond extraordinary.”

“I wasn’t aware you had an eye to science, Jeffries.” Kettlebent was genuinely impressed.

“I’ve found it fascinating since I was a child, in fact.” The old man paused outside the duke’s study. “What are you here to ask of His Grace?”

“The rebellion has reached a turning point. We’re ready to unveil our secret weapon and our leader has sent us to fetch the major players in this grand farce.”

“I say,” Jeffries whispered with awe. “Where will you meet?”

Kettlebent hesitated for only a moment before he answered. “We’re taking them to Kildeggan in the undercity. Is the duke at home?”

“He is. You may wait in the study. I’ll send him along,” Jeffries offered.

“Thank you, Jeffries.” Kettlebent squeezed the butler’s shoulder before the older man dashed off. Kettlebent continued to Sutherland’s study.

A
LONE
in the study, Kettlebent paced the floor, waiting for the duke to appear. He ran through the things he’d planned to say in his mind, the questions he wanted to ask. He tried to decide when would be the best time for him to remove his beard and disguise. He removed the goggles, hat, and beard as he waited. He paced some more and when he glanced to the side and caught his reflection in the mirror, he was appalled. He looked so awkward in his outer-skeleton and naked face that he returned his disguise.

Moments later, Sutherland strode into the room. “Good afternoon, Mr. Kettlebent. What brings you to my home?”

Kettlebent studied the duke’s rumpled clothing, unshaven face and mussed hair. “Are you all right?” Kettlebent asked.

“I’m fine. Fairgate has convinced the queen to keep a closer eye on the people of Fairside. We have to be extremely careful in our day-to-day lives.”

“Ah. I see,” Kettlebent stated, realizing the problem: Sutherland hadn’t had the freedom to visit Midnight. “Well, I’m here to ask you to join a summit with Kildeggan.”

“He’s made some progress, then?”

Kettlebent nodded. “He’s ready to bring everyone together and reveal the master plan. He needs you there.”

“Of course I’ll be there.” Sutherland poured himself and Kettlebent a tumbler of scotch. “This is what we’ve all been working toward.” He handed Kettlebent a glass.

“Can I ask you something?” Kettlebent accepted the scotch. He sipped the stinging, spicy liquid.

“You can ask me anything, Mr. Kettlebent.” Sutherland drank as well, though he drained his glass in one gulp, wincing at the fiery liquid’s descent.

“I’ve been struggling with something for a while.” Kettlebent’s gaze focused on his feet.

“Go on, then,” Sutherland urged.

“Well….” Kettlebent wasn’t sure he should go through with his plan. The duke regarded Kettlebent expectantly. “Right,” the younger man began. “I’m not sure how to expl—” The study doors were flung open, and Jeffries strode into the study garbed in a costume even more outlandish than Kettlebent's own. There were goggles with an array of lenses perched atop the old man’s head. He wore a multicolored scarf around his neck and an entire suit of leather and brass. Rivets, plates, and buttons adorned the many-pouched garment. It seemed to Kettlebent that Jeffries had an impossible amount of weapons and gadgets strapped to an absurd array of belts. Kettlebent wondered how the man even managed to maneuver in his ridiculously armored gloves and boots, not to mention the bizarre pack strapped to his back.

“Jeffries, what the devil is the meaning of this?” Sutherland demanded.

“If we’re traveling to Undertown, we must be prepared, Your Grace.”

“We?” Kettlebent asked.

“My question exactly,” Sutherland agreed.

“I say… ah, well… I just assumed since I’m somewhat of a specialist on Carrington’s research…,” Jeffries began but trailed off. No one spoke until Jeffries apologized. “I’m sorry, sirs. I should never have presumed.”

“No, no.” Sutherland smirked. “You make a good point. You should come with us, Jeffries.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Not at all,” Sutherland answered. “Your knowledge will be invaluable, and I’m ashamed that I dismissed that contribution based on your status as a butler. If anyone should look beyond such things, it is me.”

“A noble sentiment,” Kettlebent observed, proud of his patron. “We should be on our way.”

“Give me a few moments to prepare,” Sutherland requested.

“By all means,” Kettlebent agreed. Sutherland left the study and an awkward silence descended.

“What were you going to ask the duke?” Jeffries wanted to know.

“It’s personal,” Kettlebent answered, shifting uncomfortably.

“Ah. Very well, sir. My apologies for prying.” Jeffries made a show of checking his pouches and weapons.

Before long, Sutherland returned in his lower-class disguise. It was really starting to look slightly more authentic to Kettlebent. The trio exited the study and headed for the unmarked auto-carriage.

S
EV
leaned against the wall of Kildeggan’s tower office. He was surprised by the variety of people scattered about the room: a duke, a duchess, a master tinkerer, a madam, a criminal mastermind, a pub clerk, a street urchin, a former whore, a butler, a nurse, a street vendor, two experimental scientists, a handful of orphans and street children, and Sev. England’s last line of defense was a motley crew of misfits and malcontents. It seemed appropriate to Sev. The salvation of the great achieved on the backs of the small.

One person drew Sev’s attention over the others. Jeffries seemed to be hiding in a dark corner away from the other attendees. It was strange. Based on what Kettlebent told him when he and Sutherland had arrived with Jeffries, the old man had almost fought to be a part of this gathering, and now he sequestered himself as the rest of the revolutionaries took seats on the couches and chairs that had been moved in for the meeting. Once everyone was settled, Kildeggan finally stopped pacing. His intense gaze drifted over the room. When he looked in Jeffries’ direction, the man turned away.
Bizarre
, Sev thought.

“Thank you all. I know there’s a certain amount of risk in joining me here today, but it’s time we bring all the threads of our various endeavors together. Some of you are aware of the great lengths we’ve been going to these last few years in an effort to not only find out what Fairgate’s game is but to stop it as well, all the while working tirelessly to free as many of Blackside’s children from the grindstones of the vile factories as we can.” Heph leaned on his desk. “We know Fairgate’s controlling the queen, but we don’t know how, and we’re not sure how to stop him.”

“We may be able to help with that, Mr. Kildeggan,” the duke offered as he stood.

“William Wrathsbury, the Duke of Sutherland,” Heph introduced the man. “Please continue.”

“Thank you.” Sutherland clasped his hands behind his back. “As some of you may or may not know, this entire underground city was discovered by the famed master tinkerer Carrington.”

“His loss was a blow to all of Britain,” Faraday commented.

“Indeed,” Heph agreed. “I was his apprentice at the time of his disappearance.” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing his clockwork arm. A few of the group gasped at the sight. “Our refusal to help Fairgate resulted not only in my mentor’s death but in my own dismemberment.”

“However,” Sutherland picked up where he’d left off, “Carrington left Mr. Kildeggan with the means to find this city.”

“Unfortunately,” Heph added, “much of Carrington’s writings were encoded with no clue how to decipher them. All I managed to figure out was how to get here, not why or exactly who built it. No real information, but it’s the perfect place to organize a revolution.”

“And here we are no wiser than the day Carrington disappeared,” Sutherland concluded for Kildeggan. “Until a bit of Providence shed some light on our decades-old mystery.”

“And what, pray tell, was that, William?” the duchess asked.

“My man, Jeffries,” Sutherland said proudly, indicating his butler huddled in the corner.

“Your butler?” Heph asked, clearly confused. “What does a butler know about glyphs and decoding journals?”

“Jeffries has an advantage,” the duke answered. “He was friends with your Carrington, and the tinkerer entrusted him with his personal writings and journals.”

“Jeffries?” Heph asked. “I don’t remember Carrington mentioning a Jeffries.”

“Come, Jeffries. Step forward and tell our friends what you’ve been able to discern from the journals.”

“Yes,
Jeffries
. Do tell. What have you found?” Midnight was smirking like the cat who swallowed the canary. Sev wondered why he spoke Jeffries’s name like a schoolyard taunt. Some of the other guests were giving Midnight distasteful looks. They obviously didn’t approve of the notorious criminal.

“Why are you even here, sir?” the duchess asked Midnight. “I find it slightly more than disturbing that this… this unscrupulous villain is part of this endeavor.”