Clocks and Daggers (The Thief's Apprentice Book 2) Page 3

  He offered the woman his goodbyes, then turned to leave, but stopped. There was someone watching him through the shop’s front window. The boy looked about thirteen, with ratty clothes and an oversized cap on his head. He blinked back at Arhyen for a handful of seconds, then turned on his heel and fled.

  With a final wave to the shopkeeper, Arhyen rushed out the door. He’d rather avoid anyone reporting his presence at the costume shop to the LN, and he had a feeling that’s exactly what the boy was on his way to do. Spotting his target sprinting across the street, Arhyen gave chase. What he would do with the boy once he caught him, he did not know, but he at least had to try.

  The boy darted past a vacant shop, disappearing into the alleyway beyond before Arhyen had even finished crossing the street. He knew he was likely drawing unwanted attention running full out in pursuit of the boy, but it was a risk he was willing to take. At the very least, he could find out to whom the boy was reporting. Perhaps it wasn’t the LN, but some other nefarious organization keeping tabs on him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  The night he and Liliana had used the brewery roof to evade their pursuers flashed through his mind. The men had followed them through the building, into the cellar, and down a ladder into the drainage canals. It seemed a little extreme for LN lackeys only intending to keep an eye on them, and the event unnerved him still. Whether the boy worked for the LN, or someone else, it was in his best interest to find out.

  He hurried down the alleyway after the boy, cursing the young man’s timing. He really should have been boarding a carriage by now. Movement caught his eye near a row of waste bins further ahead. Slowing his pace, he crept forward, ready to reach for the dagger hidden up his sleeve. He wouldn’t use the weapon on the boy, but there was no saying what the actual source of movement was.

  He took another step forward, barely breathing, then jumped as something touched his shoulder. He quickly withdrew his dagger and spun around, careful to put his back to the brick wall of the nearest building instead of the waste bins. He slowly lowered the dagger as he recognized the white mask, though he did consider lifting it again. He hadn’t seen Hamlet since the night at Viola’s lab, and had a feeling whatever the automaton wanted, it wasn’t good.

  Above Hamlet’s mask rested a short black top hat, blending with the raised collar of his black overcoat, over more black clothing. How he traveled about London in such a getup without drawing attention was beyond Arhyen, yet here he was.

  “Hello, Mr. Croft,” Hamlet greeted, his speech cultured, yet oddly disjointed.

  Arhyen took a step back, gripping the dagger tightly in his hand, not that it would do him any good. He’d seen Hamlet kill men in the blink of an eye. “What do you want?” he asked cooly.

  Hamlet tilted his head. “We need to have a meeting. This location seemed fitting.”

  Arhyen resisted glancing to his left toward the waste bins. The boy had led him here on purpose. He should have known. None of their other watchers had run upon being spotted. He stared at Hamlet, waiting for him to continue.

  “There have been a series of grave robberies,” Hamlet explained, surprising him. Not only had Ephraim only mentioned one incident, but why would a member of the LN want to draw attention to their own activities? “In addition to multiple murders and disappearances,” Hamlet finished.

  Arhyen studied the eyes peeking out from his mask, carefully gauging his face for a reaction. Did Hamlet know he was in that area of town looking into Ms. Conway’s grave-robbing? He didn’t see how the information could have slipped through, and he hadn’t noticed anyone watching him at the cemetery, but at this point, he’d believe anything. “And why are you telling me this?” he questioned, feigning total ignorance.

  Hamlet tilted his head to the other side. “The LN would like to enlist your aid, and that of the detective. We were quite impressed with your past work.”

  Past work? Did he mean their fruitless hunt for Victor Ashdown? Or was it when they all nearly ended up dead due to Viola’s machinations? “Somehow I find that hard to believe,” he muttered.

  He could almost sense Hamlet smiling behind his white mask. “Let me rephrase. I found the entire debacle amusing, and I would like to see what you’ll do with this one.”

  “You?” Arhyen questioned. “Are you in charge then?” As an automaton, Hamlet’s purpose would be to blindly obey his masters . . . though Hamlet was no normal automaton, and didn’t seem the type to obey anyone. Arhyen’s mind flashed back to the mask store. He wanted to question the mask’s maker now, more than ever.

  “In letting you live,” Hamlet explained, not seeming to sense Arhyen’s wandering thoughts, “I claimed responsibility for your associations with the LN. You are my case, to put it quite simply.”

  Arhyen frowned. Deciding that it was a bit silly to still be clinging to his dagger, he re-sheathed it. “And you want to use your power to force us into investigating murders and grave-robberies?”

  Hamlet chuckled. “Ah, but you are already investigating them, or at least, you are heading in that direction. Does it not make sense to do something you were already going to do, while also reaping the benefits of pleasing the LN?”

  The wind picked up, ruffling Hamlet’s overcoat. Arhyen thought he heard a scuffing noise in the direction of the waste bins. The boy shifting positions?

  “I don’t know if you’ve realized this,” Arhyen began, his jaw clenched in annoyance, “but I have no interest in pleasing the London Network.”

  “But you have interest in protecting Liliana,” he countered. “Or am I mistaken?”

  He bit back his next snide remark. He didn’t want his actions to draw attention back to Liliana. No one had come to question her, or worse, experiment on her, and that was the way he wanted to keep it.

  Hamlet nodded. “As I suspected. You will investigate this case, with the added advantage of the information I’ve gathered, and Liliana will remain in her current position, unharmed.”

  His shoulders slumped in defeat. He could not argue with such a bargain, but he still had one more question. “Why?” he asked quietly.

  “Why?” Hamlet replied, obviously perplexed.

  “Yes, why?” Arhyen confirmed. “Why are you willing to help Liliana? You and I both know I’m no detective, and though Ephraim is talented, he’s only one man. So why are you willing to help her in exchange for having us look into this case?”

  Hamlet was still and silent for several seconds. When he finally spoke, his words were most certainly not what Arhyen had expected.

  “I was created a long time ago,” he explained distantly. “Though I have acquired knowledge, and something resembling instincts, I truly do not feel a thing. Now you would have the audacity to question why I,” he held a gloved hand to his chest, “a soulless construct forced into human form, to live in a human world, would have interest in protecting an automaton who can truly feel emotions, who can truly be human?”

  Arhyen rarely found himself without words, yet in that moment, none volunteered to grace his tongue.

  Hamlet nodded, seemingly satisfied. “The information will be delivered to your apartment.” He began to turn away, then stopped halfway. “But just to make myself quite clear, though I would not relish the thought of turning Liliana over to the LN’s surgeons and scientists, if you cross me, that is precisely what I will do.”

  With that, he moved fluidly down the alleyway to disappear into the nearest intersection.

  Arhyen stared at the empty intersection for several seconds. The entire meeting now seemed like a dream. Here he was, thinking he was finding clues on some nefarious scheme of the LN’s, when the LN was allegedly already investigating the same case. Could it be another group like Viola’s, branching away from the LN to meet their own ends? He shook his head. He needed to talk to Ephraim.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he considered checking the waste bins for the child, but decided against it. He’d already learned far more on his expedition than he’d b
argained for. He’d return to the main street, catch a carriage, and return home. Fortunately, Ephraim and Liliana would both already be there. They had much to discuss.

  Chapter 3

  It was nearly seven by the time Arhyen made it back across town. Standing in front of his apartment, he sensed something and froze with his key in the final lock. A loud boom sounded, rattling the door beneath his touch. That had sounded like an explosion, coming from within the apartment. He hastily turned the key in the lock, opened the door, and barged in, almost forgetting about the ever-present tripwire a few feet from the interior threshold.

  His heart thudded in his throat like a caged animal trying to escape. Had someone tripped one of his traps, or was it some other sort of explosive? His eyes quickly scanned the apartment, finding the culprits. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved, perplexed, or furious. Liliana and Ephraim both blinked at him from their positions near the stove. Their slightly dazed expressions were accented with black soot. Thick, amber goo coated a pot on the burner, the wooden spoon in Liliana’s hand, the entire stove, countertop, and kitchen floor. Liliana’s dark blue dress was covered in goo, and her face in soot.

  “What-” he began.

  Liliana’s expression crumbled.

  Silently cursing himself, he schooled his face to hide his irritation. As someone programmed to obey orders, Liliana was exceedingly sensitive to criticism and he’d just been glaring at them both like he might strangle them.

  He took a deep breath, shut the door behind him, and calmly questioned, “Doing some cooking, are we?”

  Liliana extended her arm and dropped the spoon into the gooey metal pot. “We were, um . . . ” she trailed off.

  Ephraim stepped forward, wiping at the goo on his waistcoat to little avail. “Liliana claimed she could perhaps create useful items with alchemy,” he explained. “Apparently there is some trail and error in such affairs, and you’ve returned to us just in time to witness the error.” He cast a playful glare back at Liliana.

  Arhyen found himself smiling at the ridiculousness of it all, even though his kitchen was destroyed. “What sort of useful items?” he asked with a laugh, looking past Ephraim to Liliana. He removed his satchel and hat, then journeyed toward the sofa. Fortunately the goo had not reached that far.

  Liliana followed him while Ephraim used her discarded spoon to begin scooping the goo off the countertop and into the sink. “We were trying to make your smoke bombs,” she explained, “I’d hoped to create a compound that would allow us to forgo the need for the segmented glass capsules, since I’m unsure of where to obtain them . . . but we may need them after all. We also acquired supplies to make some minor explosives. Creating those should be much more straightforward.”

  Slumping down onto the cushions, he looked up at her. He had enough knowledge to rig minor mechanical explosives, but alchemical explosives would likely be much more volatile, and less prone to misfires. They could be quite useful . . . if they didn’t blow up the apartment.

  “Perhaps we should wait on concocting explosives until we acquire some proper appliances for you,” he decided.

  She turned her gaze to the floor, thoroughly abashed.

  “Though I am grateful for the effort,” he was quick to add.

  She nodded and met his eyes with a small smile, seemingly unaware of the soot covering her face. Her dress was likely ruined. She fortunately had one other, but they could not at the moment afford a third if she ruined that one too. Not that he cared much about dresses, but he figured Liliana might.

  Finished sopping up as much goo as he could, Ephraim made his way around the sofa to stand next to Liliana. “Well unless you have anything to report,” he began, looking down at Arhyen, “I’ll take the file and be on my way.”

  Arhyen sighed, then glanced at the bathroom where he’d hidden the file. He’d get it for Ephraim later. “You might want to make yourself comfortable,” he advised. “We have much to discuss, starting with this.” He leaned to the side to reach into his pocket for the coin, which he then offered to Ephraim.

  Taking the coin in hand, Ephraim plopped down onto the sofa, mindless of his messy clothes. At least it was only the front side of his body covered in goo. Arhyen’s sofa may have seen better days, but he preferred to at least keep it clean, especially seeing as it had become his bed since Liliana moved in.

  Ephraim held the coin between two fingers in front of his face, observing the designs on either side. “One symbol is the Caduceus,” he explained, still peering at the coin. “It represents the staff of the god Hermes, and is sometimes used in both medical and alchemical terminology.” He handed the coin up to Liliana.

  Taking it, she flipped the coin over and observed it for a moment. “Yes, I recognize it. I believe this side depicts a dogwood blossom, often used to symbolize resurrection. The words beneath, Vita et Morte, translate simply to life and death.”

  Ephraim nodded, as if he’d known these things all along. Arhyen sure as hell hadn’t, though the Caduceus, a staff with two snakes woven around it, was a vaguely familiar symbol.

  “I found it near the graveside of young Ms. Conway,” he explained.

  Ephraim gave him a sharp look. They rarely expressed their plans or findings out loud, just in case LN operatives were pressing their ears against the door.

  “Which leads me to my next discoveries,” he sighed. “I had an encounter with Codename Hamlet.”

  Liliana yipped in surprise. Ephraim’s face was a stony mask.

  “He’s well aware of our investigation,” he continued, “and in fact would like to give us more information on the subject. He claims many have either gone missing, or been found dead, and other graves have been robbed.”

  Ephraim snorted. “Well if they have, it’s news to the Watch.”

  “We’ll know soon enough if his claims are true,” he explained. “He intends to deliver the information he’s gathered thus far.”

  Liliana gasped.

  Arhyen understood why she’d be nervous about encountering Hamlet. He had, after all, informed her that she would be questioned, and perhaps experimented upon. He considered telling her that Hamlet would protect her from the LN as long as Arhyen cooperated with them, but decided against it. If she knew he was only obeying Hamlet’s commands because of her, she would try to stop him, and he didn’t want that. If he could help keep her safe simply by continuing his investigation, he would gladly cooperate. Even if it meant he would be working for the LN, instead of against it.

  “There’s something else,” he began, lowering his voice. He took a deep breath to tell them about the mask he’d seen in the storefront window, but a knock on the door interrupted him.

  “Is it him?” Liliana rasped, her eyes widening in fear.

  “Likely,” Arhyen sighed, rising from the sofa to answer the door.

  Leaving Liliana and Ephraim behind, he made his way around the sofa and over the tripwire in the threshold. His hand on the doorknob, he leaned forward to peek through the peephole at their visitor. A woman, dressed in a black mourning dress and veil, stood outside with a large leather book clasped against her chest. In the darkness he could make out little of her features beneath the veil. Was she an informant sent by Hamlet? He wasn’t sure why he’d assumed the automaton would come himself, especially when it had already been made clear what Arhyen was to do.

  He glanced over his shoulder to give Liliana a reassuring smile, then opened the door. The woman jumped in surprise, then silently extended the leather book to him, which he now realized was a folder of loose papers.

  He took it, considered speaking with the woman, then dismissed the idea. Hamlet would not have sent someone that would accidentally divulge hidden information, and Arhyen didn’t want to risk him thinking he was going back on his word by questioning his messenger.

  He opened his mouth to at least say thank you, but she turned away and hurried down the narrow street, and out of sight. He rolled his eyes, then gripping the folder in
his left hand, shut and locked the door.

  As he returned to his seat on the sofa, Liliana looked down at the folder curiously. He patted the cushion between him and Ephraim, inviting her to sit, which she did after a moment’s hesitation.

  Arhyen opened the folder and peered down at the first sheet of parchment. It was a list of names with dates scribbled next to them. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a list of the dead or missing. There was a small notation explaining the dates they’d each disappeared. Most had secondary dates, noting when the corpses were found. Marabella Conway was last on the list.

  “I recognize some of the names as missing persons,” Ephraim observed, leaning across Liliana to see the list. “Yet none of the bodies have been reported to the Watch, except for Ms. Conway.”

  Liliana had pressed her back firmly against the sofa cushion, creating a small space between her and Ephraim.

  “Because the LN found them first,” Arhyen muttered, landing his hand on Ephraim’s shoulder, pushing him away from Liliana’s lap. As Liliana relaxed, he turned to the next page, another list. This one detailed possible suspects, most former members of the LN, at least according to the small notations beside each name.

  “It seems your suppositions were correct,” Ephraim muttered to Liliana, once again invading her space to look at the paper.

  “Suppositions?” Arhyen inquired, pushing Ephraim away once more.

  “We were skeptical that our contact had actually been hired by the LN,” Ephraim explained. “We thought perhaps another group had branched off, just like Viola’s.” He gestured to the paper. “It seems we were correct.”

  “Yes, it seems that way,” Arhyen sighed. “They might even be remaining members of Viola’s group. Hamlet implied that others were involved who were not in the building that night.”