The 7th of London (4 page)

“Come in,” a quiet voice spoke from within. Sev stepped into the small bedroom. The space was just as well kept as below and dominated by a large, four-poster bed with a canopy draped overtop with all manner of silks, as were the two lamps, giving the room a hazy, dreamy atmosphere. A finely constructed wardrobe stood between the two heavily curtained windows. Anne-Marie sat in an overstuffed chair on the far wall. She looked very small, her long black hair falling in waves around her face in stark relief against her porcelain skin and white, gauzy nightdress. Her big dark eyes sparkled when she saw Sev, and when he held up the shiny apple, her lips split into a beaming smile. “Seven!” she squealed. He tossed her the fruit, and she caught it easily, biting into its crisp flesh.

“Thought y’might be hungry after a long night’s work.” Sev walked over and sat on the bed. He sank into the feather mattress, wondering at how the madam managed to get this stuff into Blackside.

“It’s delicious, Sev,” Anne-Marie said between bites.

“I’m glad y’like it, Annie.” Sev loosened his scarf and the first few buttons on his coat. Annie’s room was small and held warmth well. “What’s up? Gills got word t’me that y’were lookin’ t’talk.” Gills, a tiny, rat-faced man who was quick with a knife but slow with his wit, worked security for the madam from time to time and knew how to keep his mouth shut, if he didn’t know much else.

Anne-Marie nodded. “There’s a man been comin’ round that was givin’ me the creeps.” She took another bite of the apple.

“How so?” Sev asked.

“Crazy eyes. They change color sometimes.”

“Aye, that’s creepy, sure enough. Where do I come in?”

“I’m gettin’ there.” She pulled one of the scarves off the lamp next to her chair and wrapped the portion of apple she hadn’t finished. “’E tries t’dress like a foreman or a floor boss.”

“Tries?” Sev asked, noting Annie’s accent reemerging. Beauchamps had worked with the girl to erase her lower class accent, but when Annie grew agitated, it resurfaced, dropping her Hs.

“Yeah.” Annie nodded. “Tries, but the clothes’re too clean. And made too good. Y’know, they fit ’im properly.”

“Aye?” Sev wondered, rubbing his chin. He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Annie wasn’t book smart, but she was sharp as a tack. “I’ll grant ye, that is odd. Maybe a noble slummin’ it? They do it often enough, but I still don’t see the connection.”

Annie leaned in as though she were afraid someone might be listening. “He came in with Fervis th’other night,” she whispered. Sev’s blood felt like ice despite the warmth of the room. His mind reeled at the thought of that weaselly bastard. No one had seen Fervis for weeks after the accident at his factory, and Sev had prayed the monster had died in that fire along with the rest of Sev’s life. Too soon he’d been seen back in Blackside, albeit sporting an eyepatch, and Sev could at least take pleasure from being responsible for that. The industrialist and noble organized daily searches for the orphan who had taken his eye. His factory had been rebuilt, this time using more metal than wood, Fervis having learned his lesson. Those were sketchy days for Sev, barely remaining a step ahead of Fervis’s Footmen. After a month of nearly constant searches, Fervis’s interest began to slack off, though whenever Sev saw any of Fervis’s men, the youth gave them a wide berth. “Sev,” Annie said tentatively, laying a hand on his. Sev realized he’d balled his hands into tight fists, and his fingernails dug into his palms. He relaxed at her touch.

“I’m all right, Annie,” he reassured her. “Bad memories is all.” She nodded and retrieved a cup of water from her nightstand, handing it to Sev. He looked at it with a raised eyebrow. In Blackside you couldn’t be too careful.

“We boil it all first,” Annie confirmed.

Sev sipped at the water. “So this fella’s a noble that likes t’get dirty like Fervis.” Most of the factory-owning, industrialist nobles lived in Fairside and allowed their underlings to run their businesses on this side of the Line. Not Fervis. Fervis lived in a mansion attached to his factory, preferring to remain away from the prying eyes of proper society. Fervis had a number of questionable tastes that even the corrupt aristocracy would frown upon if they found him out. “Ye’ve a good eye, Annie. Steer clear of him.”

“I do, Sev. I ain’t no fool.”

“I know it, Annie.” Sev set the water down. “If it was me, I’d warn the madam as well.”

Annie smiled proudly. “Did it already. Didn’t need to, though. She already knew. Gave Mikey a heads-up t’keep an eye and an ear out when he’s in here.” Sev nodded, satisfied. “Bernie’s no fool either.”

“No, I wouldn’t expect Bernadette Beauchamps t’be fooled by the likes o’Fervis or anybody he’d associate with. I’ll keep an eye out as well.” Sev’s brows furrowed as he considered all the odd occurrences of the last few weeks.

“Thanks, Seven.” The small girl squeezed her friend’s hand. She reached under her pillow and pulled out a few bills. Sev shook his head. “Y’gotta, Sev.”

“Annie, I got a question. Keep yer money, and we’ll call it even.”

“Ask.”

“Y’seen a man in a stovepipe hat and goggles around here?” Sev studied her face as she thought.

“Not fer what ye’re thinkin’,” she answered, shaking her head. “But I seen him. Black beard? Moves peculiar?” Sev nodded. “Yeah, I seen him once with Bernie. She was givin’ him money.”

“What?” Sev blurted. He’d seen Kettlebent and Beauchamps together, but he’d never seen money change hands.

“I don’t hardly ever see her givin’ anybody but us girls money. But she was givin’ that odd duck money, sure enough.”

“Damn,” Sev breathed as he considered this new bit of information. Annie used his distraction to slip the bills she’d been holding into his pocket. He cast her a sideways glance but didn’t protest. He was almost out of coal, after all. “Thanks,” he said and plopped a quick peck on the girl’s forehead. They’d been friends since Fervis’s. She’d been one of the few survivors of that night, and Sev felt a responsibility to watch out for her. They’d argued heatedly when she’d first been taken in by Beauchamps, but he quickly changed his tune. She was clean, healthy, and well fed. The madam kept her girls safe. Sev couldn’t say the same about most employers and ultimately decided it wasn’t for him to judge. “Keep in touch, Dove.” Sev used the nickname his oldest sister had given Annie.

“I know I’ve said it before,” Annie offered. “But it wasn’t yer fault.”

“Most weren’t as lucky as us, Dove.”

“Death is better than what Fervis did t’us.”

“Maybe.” Sev sighed. “I got things t’do. I’ll check back soon.”

“Be safe, Sev.” Anne-Marie hugged him as he stood. He returned the embrace. Nothing romantic lurked in their affection, but Sev took reassurance from his friend’s touch nonetheless.

“Always.” He smirked down at the pale girl. “Promise.” Sev exited the Invitation House, his mind on the other people he needed to see today, wondering if any of them would have information on the man in the stovepipe hat. He raised a hand to Mikey at the desk as he crossed the parlor but stopped when he reached the door. “Oy, Mikey,” Sev inquired, turning. “Y’know that fella that’s been in with Fervis lately?”

“Yar.” The big man nodded.

“What’s he look like?”

“Eh.” Mikey shrugged, shoulders like mountains, an earthquake in a waistcoat. “Nuffin’ special. Av’rage face, I s’pose. Light hair. Pointy beard.”

“Pointy?”

“Yar.” Mikey traced a circle around his mouth to illustrate. “Moustache trimmed real neat, ends in a pointy beard.”

Sev nodded. He’d seen a few of the Fairsiders with the fashionable cut. “He’s not one of Fervis’s men?”

“Never.” Mikey shook his head. “Dresses the part, sure. But a crisp new set o’clothes ev’ry time. He’s a Fairsider slummin’. I’d lay money on it.”

“Thanks, Mikey,” Sev acknowledged and tipped his hat. “Watch out fer Annie, will ye?”

“Always do, mate. All the girls. It’s me job.” Sev smiled in response and turned. “Mr. Sev?” The young man turned back, curious what else Mikey could want. Sev’d never truly spoken to Mikey and had certainly never expected anything that resembled respect from the big bruiser.

“Aye?” Sev responded.

“Annie gave me a little bit o’the story of you an’ Fervis.” The large man’s face was so serious, so determined, Sev wasn’t sure what to make of it, so he remained silent. “If it were up t’me… ye’d get a medal. That weasel is no good.”

“Thank ye, Mikey,” Sev returned. “That means a lot.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Mr. Sev. This in’t only a safe place for th’girls, if y’catch my meanin’.”

“I think I do,” Sev answered. They nodded to each other, and a satisfied smile slid across Sev’s face as he stepped onto the street.

M
R
. K
ETTLEBENT
gazed out the window of his auto-carriage as Sutherland fidgeted by his side. The duke scratched and pulled at the lower-class clothing tailored for his sojourns into Blackside. Kettlebent assumed the duke had asked Jeffries, his manservant, to “break them in” after Jonathan Middlenight had laughed at the sight of Sutherland’s perfectly tailored, clean costume, because the clothes were only superficially unclean and slightly shabbier than the last time Kettlebent had seen them.

“Problem?” Kettlebent asked from the side of his mouth as Sutherland scratched at his false moustache and pointy beard.

“These damn things itch like the devil,” he huffed in response. “Jeffries fashioned this beard from horsehair and rubber-tack.”

“It looks natural,” Kettlebent observed as he absently scratched at his own bushy facial hair. “You should stop fiddling with it.”

“I know. I just can’t get used to it.”

“Your clothes look a bit more authentic.”

“Thank you, Kettlebent. The credit once again falls to Jeffries. He’s a wizard with this type of thing. He had a background in the theater before he joined the household. He has some experience as a tinkerer as well. He’s quite handy all around.”

“Invaluable,” Kettlebent smirked as the carriage pulled up to the curb. “We’re here.”

Sutherland leaned across Kettlebent to look out the window. “Let’s see what Madame Beauchamps has in store for us today,” the duke stated.

“Yes, let’s,” Kettlebent agreed as the tiny driver jumped down to open the carriage door.

S
EV
was thinking about his visit to Annie a week ago when he turned the corner and stopped in his tracks, shocked at the sight before him. The man in the stovepipe hat escorted the disguised noble into Madame Beauchamps’s. Sev slipped back to watch the pair enter the Invitation House. The man with the pointy beard had blond hair peeking out from beneath the too-new bowler hat he wore. Anne-Marie had only ever seen this man with Fervis. Sev made the connection too easily. Pointy Beard was in league with Fervis. Stovepipe Hat was in league with Pointy Beard. It wasn’t a leap to connect Kettlebent with Fervis, confirming Sev’s suspicions about the odd-shaped stranger.
Trouble
, Sev thought.

The young man waited for the pair to disappear before he emerged from his spot of observation. The driver pulled the auto-carriage off the main street and fired up a pipe. The carriage whistled a distinctive tune with a cloud of steam as Sev sidled up to the machine.

“Oy, mate,” he addressed the driver. “How’re ye, then?”

“Fair enough,” the little man squeaked in a voice that seemed too high-pitched. “What’s it to ye?”

“Just passin’ time,” Sev answered. “Ye’re passenger? That’s Mr. Kettlebent, is it?”

“I’m not paid t’take names. I’m just paid t’drive.”

“No offense, mate.” Sev raised his hands. “Just curious is all.”

“Oh aye,” the man answered in his odd falsetto. “Kills cats, don’t it?”

“What’s that?”

“Curiosity,” the little man clarified. “Y’best be on ye’re way now.” The man drew a deep pull on his pipe and let the smoke drift out his nose. “
Mate
.” He spoke the word with contempt.

“Sound advice.” Sev pulled his hat down and wandered off, taking the hint. He ducked into an alley and kept an eye on the carriage. The driver sat hunched on top of the vehicle. Sev’s mind reeled at the oddity of the entire exchange.

After a quarter hour, Pointy Beard emerged alone and entered the carriage. Sev sniffed at the man’s short visit with Beauchamps’s girls. The carriage disappeared around the corner, and Sev considered following it but was more curious to discover why Kettlebent hadn’t left as well. Sev was just about to enter the Invitation House when he heard a familiar whistle of steam around the corner. Sev abandoned the front door and stole a glance around the side of the building. Kettlebent led a small group of children into the carriage, which had circled the block. This contradicted everything Sev believed of Madame Beauchamps. The woman seemed to him a champion of the downtrodden, and now it appeared as though she was selling children to shady nobles. Sev would deal with Annie’s boss later. Right now he needed to save those children. This kind of back-alley transaction didn’t bode well for the children’s well-being.