The 7th of London (39 page)

“Everyone know what they’re doing?” Silas asked. He was answered with nods and sounds of agreement. “Good. Move out.” They all filed out of the apartment. Carson and Withers paused, checking each dwelling for survivors.

“Fifteen minutes,” Fervis shouted after them.

S
ILAS
and Heph ran straight for the warehouse. “We need to set up a barricade,” Heph said as they sprinted.

“I think we should all just escape from the docks.” Silas couldn’t see any reason to fight. Sev wasn’t there, wouldn’t be there for some time, and there was no way Fervis could get into the ruins. He wondered if Timson was still alive at his post by the door.

“He knows where we are now. It will never be safe to come back. We can’t just give up our home,” Heph pointed out.

“Damn. Yes. Of course. You’re right.” For better or worse, they would have to kill every last man who’d come here today or die trying.

When they reached the warehouse, Heph explained the situation to Tesla and Faraday. Children were arriving to escape while others showed up with guns and blades. There was a flurry of motion as barrels, crates, and anything else they could utilize were piled up between the dwellings that bordered the dockyard. Faraday fled, but Tesla refused, apparently excited by the prospect of battle. All the while Carrington’s voice echoed through the city, calling for Seven to report to the warehouse. Hephaestus checked his pocket watch again and again. After all the children who were fleeing had gone, they were left with a company of fifteen. With himself, Heph, and Tesla that made eighteen. It was up to Carrington and Banwall to even the odds.

“All right. This is it,” Heph said. He pulled out a small mirror and signaled Carrington in the tower.

“Lord Fervis,” Carrington’s amplified voice spoke. “We have Seven at our warehouse. Please follow the main thoroughfare.” Tesla looked into the city with a pair of binoculars.

“Let’s hope his hatred for Seven makes him reckless,” Heph said. “Or this will go very badly for us.”

“See anything?” Silas asked.

“Not yet,” Tesla answered. The first crack of a rifle rang out. It was answered with a volley of gunfire. The louder shots of Carrington’s altered rifles were distinguishable in the din. The random gunfire from Fervis’s Footmen tapered off.

“He’s getting them,” Heph said with a satisfied grin. An explosion shook the city in response. Silence followed for many moments. No one wanted to speak. The rifle crack sounded again. More gunfire. Another explosion. Carrington was thinning them out. “The clever old bugger is shooting those pipe-rifles.”

“I see them,” Tesla stated.

“How many are there?” Silas asked eagerly, hoping the answer was less than ten.

“I’d say there are at least twenty, maybe thirty.”

“Damn,” Silas growled. How many men were
in
the tunnel? The Undertown citizens may not have been outmanned before, but they were now. They were facing their last stand.

Tesla dropped the binoculars. “They’re here.” Silas watched as Fervis’s men dashed from one bit of cover to another. The remaining Underfolk dug in, ducking behind the barricades. Silas wished Prometheus were fully functional, but the construct still didn’t have its independent power source. No one moved for many moments, neither side wishing to tip their hands or reveal their locations.

“Well played, Kildeggan,” Fervis shouted. “Lured me right in.” A bullet whistled and ricocheted. Silas assumed it was Carrington aiming at Fervis’s voice. “Call off your man, and let’s talk.”

“I think the time for talk is long past.” Heph scowled with his response.

“I agree,” Fervis shouted. Silas heard the now familiar sound of a grenade launching. He stood up. Bullets whistled through the air, narrowly missing him. A rifle cracked, and the grenade man dropped like a stone. Silas tracked the smoke trail, catching the grenade. He hauled back and tossed it at his attackers. The incendiary exploded before it reached them, but the explosion still injured more than a few of the Footmen.

Shots rang out as both sides traded fire. Intermittently, a shot from the tower disarmed one of the invaders. Carrington was wisely removing the bastards’ weapons, unfortunately not before they were able to shoot a few of the citizens. Both sides were steadily dwindling. Silas spotted Fervis. The industrialist was aiming for the window of the tower. Silas leveled his weapon. Before he could shoot Fervis, the man shot whoever had been in that window, and the body tumbled end over end out of the tower.
Damn, I thought Sev said he was a crap shot with that thing
, Silas thought. Grinding his teeth, he pulled the trigger. The force of his shot dropped Fervis.

Instead of deterring the villain’s men, the attack seemed to fortify them, and they fired all too accurately into the Undertown camp. Withers caught a bullet in the shoulder, and Carson lay bleeding on the stone. “Son of a bitch!” Silas grumbled. “We’re fish in a barrel!” Most of his party took cover as the invaders advanced on them. They hadn’t yet breached the barricade, but Silas was sweating. The gunfire from the tower had stopped. Luckily no one else with those awful pipe launchers remained among Fervis’s men. Still, they were closing in, and they seemed to have considerably more ammunition. Silas was running low on bullets, and judging by the looks on the faces of his comrades, they were running out of bullets as well.

Silas didn’t want to believe it would all end here. He eased above the cover, aimed carefully, and slowly pulled the trigger. Three men dropped with three shots until Silas’s hammer fell on an empty chamber. “Damn, I’m out.”

Tesla fired his lightning gun at Fervis’s men. “I’m running out of juice as well.”

“We need to fall back. Hold your fire. Conserve your bullets,” Heph called. “Get to the warehouse. Maybe we can wait them out. They’re bound to use all their ammunition at some point.”

“That’s our plan?” Tesla asked.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“I might.”

“I’m listening.”

“Let’s fire Prometheus up and smash the bastards,” Tesla suggested.

“We can’t. I sent the pilots to safety,” Heph explained. “We’ll work it out once we’re in the warehouse.”

“Get the wounded to the warehouse. Heph and I will cover you.” Silas grabbed a gun from one of their fallen allies, checked its chambers, and snapped it shut. “Go!” Heph and Silas fired into the Footmen as the surviving members of their own army, now only ten, retreated to the warehouse. The Footmen returned fire. Silas dropped back into cover, his gun again empty.

“Get yourself to the warehouse, Silas,” Heph ordered. “I’ll hold them here as long as I can.”

“We both go or neither goes,” Silas stated, inviting no argument.

“Stubborn bastard. Start running. I’m right behind you,” Heph surrendered. Silas did and Heph followed, firing behind him all the while. Bullets whistled past them as they ran. Silas dove into the warehouse, then turned just in time to see a bullet explode through one of Heph’s mechanical legs. The man crumpled to the stone.

“No!” Silas shouted and dashed out to drag Heph into the warehouse. Heph managed to get up on his good leg, and they stumbled through the door. A bullet smacked into Silas’s arm, and he screamed at the sudden shock of pain, rolling with the force of the shot. He tumbled to the ground. Tesla and Withers closed the doors. Before they were completely sealed, Silas saw the Footmen breaking through the barricade. To his great dismay, Fervis limped through the gap.

“Stop firing. Stop firing!” he shouted at his men. “You’re just wasting your bullets.” The doors closed, and Tesla secured them with a chain and lock. “Kildeggan! It’s over. You’ve lost. You’re surrounded, outnumbered, and trapped. Just give us Seven, and this can all be finished.”

“What are we going to do?” Withers asked.

“I don’t know.” Heph sat on Prometheus’s foot. “Maybe we
should
activate Prometheus, try to pilot him the best we can.”

“There’re loads of raw materials in here,” Tesla stated, looking around, his brilliant mind obviously working overtime. “We should be able to come up with something.”

“No response?” Fervis shouted. “Fine. Men, bust up those crates and roll the barrels over. Burn that building to the ground.” The small group of Undertowners huddled in the warehouse looked at one another with wide, frightened gazes. No time for a plan. No time for Tesla to build something to help them. Probably not even enough time to power up Prometheus, even if they could pilot it.

“We’re dead,” Tesla spoke what they all thought.

“A
LL
things considered, that didn’t take as long as we had assumed,” Midnight stated, his tone more suited to tea than a bizarre underground tunnel with two of their members dead.

“How much longer?” Rat asked. It was the first thing he’d said since their encounter with Annie.

“Not too much longer, I should think. A bit less than an hour?” Midnight guessed. A vibration trembled the stone beneath their feet.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Sev wondered.

“Earthquake?” Midnight responded, unsure.

“Ever had an earthquake down here?” Sev directed his question at Muriel.

She shook her head. “Not that I can remember.”

“Explosion,” Midnight suggested.

“Explosion?” Sev thought that unlikely.

“Ye never know with Tesla,” Rat stated with a shrug. Sev thought that
did
seem likely. Tesla was probably testing something as Rat spoke. That was a good sign.

“I knew there was something about that young man that I liked,” Midnight added with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll offer him a position in my organization once this is all over.”

“Heh, I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were ye, Jack,” Sev told him. “He’s not one t’take orders.” With Rat emerging from his shell, they started to talk among themselves again.

Pleasantly distracted, the next twenty minutes flowed easily by until once again the ground trembled. This time they heard the muffled explosion from the city. “Christ,” Sev exclaimed. “What’s going on out there?” Several more explosions followed.

“That doesn’t sound good at all,” Muriel mumbled. “I’d wager it’s nothing to do with Tesla’s experiments either.”

“Dear lord,” Midnight hissed. “Do you think Fairgate’s found the city?”

“Bloody hell, must be. Who else could know?” Sev suddenly felt sick. He’d already lost one friend. Kettlebent wasn’t a pushover, but Fairgate had magic. Could they hope to combat that, especially if they weren’t ready for it? At least Waverly would be safe at the tavern.

“We need to move,” Midnight stated. “Now.” No one argued. They just started running as fast as they could.

More explosions rocked the earth beneath their pounding feet. The door finally came into view. “Jack,” Sev huffed. “What if the boy isn’t still outside the door? What if we’re locked in?”

“We’ll just have to start digging,” Midnight quipped.

“This isn’t funny,” Rat called from the end of the line.

“No. It certainly isn’t,” Midnight agreed. The man seemed barely winded, and they’d been running for ten minutes or more. Sev was pushing past the stitch in his side, fighting to keep up with Midnight.

When they reached the door, Midnight raised his fist to knock.

“Wait.” Sev held out a hand, catching his breath. “There might be enemies out there.” Midnight nodded once and knocked very softly. Everyone waited, the only sound their rapid breathing. Midnight knocked once more, louder. Sev thought he could hear muffled gunshots beyond the door, but no one turned the latch to release them. Midnight’s shoulders slumped.

“Oh no,” Muriel whimpered. Julia hugged her. Sev rubbed his neck and turned away from the door. Maybe his luck had finally run out. He could hear the other girl, the one whose name he didn’t know, crying softly.

He walked over and put an arm around her to comfort her. “What’s yer name, luv?”

“Madeline,” she said with a hint of a French accent.
Not like Monty’s
, Sev thought.

“Don’t cry, Maddy. We’ll figure somethin’ out. I promise ye that.”

“What?” Rat asked. “What are we goin’ t’figure out?” he screamed. “We’re goin’ t’die down here! Just like Clive! Just like Annie!” He lunged at Sev. Sev released Maddy and caught Rat as the smaller boy pounded at Sev’s chest, tears streaming down his cheeks. Sev wrapped his arms around Rat, trying to calm him, and the boy collapsed, weeping against Sev.

“This little expedition has just been one kick to the bollocks after another,” Midnight lamented. As if on cue, the gears in the doors ratcheted to life. “Bloody ’ell.” Jack’s knives were in his hands as he faced the door. Sev kept one arm around Rat and aimed his wrist-bow with the other.

“Mr. Midnight? Mr. Seven?” a tiny voice called from the crack in the door.

“Timson?” Sev called. The door opened just a bit farther, and a slight boy slipped through.

“Yes, sir,” he answered. His eyes were filled with terror. “We’ve quite the ballyrumpus going on out there, sir.”

“What’s happening, boy?” Midnight asked. His knives remained in his hands.

“Fervis, sir,” Timson squeaked.

“Fervis?” Sev blurted, causing Timson to flinch. “What the hell is he doin’ here?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how silly the question was. “Me,” he answered his own question. “How did he find us?”

“Someone led him here. Not sure of the details, sir. I hid when the mob of men went by.”

“That was quick thinkin’, Timson,” Sev said. Rat had pushed off and was standing to his right.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Midnight asked.

“Near as I can tell, sir, most of the children fled the city by way of the canal. Mr. Kettlebent and Mr. Kildeggan led a group of fighters to hole up near the warehouse. That’s where the mob was headed, sir.”

“Damn, that’s where we have t’go, then,” Sev announced as he marched past them.

“Patience, Seven.” Midnight stopped him with a touch. “We need to approach this with clear and level heads. I know you’re angry, but use it, don’t let it use you.”