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Authors: Beau Schemery

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BOOK: The 7th of London
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“I have.”

“Grand, let’s get y’back t’meet with His Nibs at the church.” Rat turned and stalked away. Sev followed, wondering if the little urchin would ever call Midnight “His Nibs” to his face. Rat spat in the street, and it occurred to Sev the little blighter just might.

 

 

T
HE
pair bounded up the steps to the ebony entrance of Midnight’s church. Rat pulled out a massive key ring, shuffling through the metal implements until he singled an elaborately cast key that resembled the number twelve in filigree. The urchin turned the key in the lock, and a strange chiming of bells sounded within the building. Rat stood patiently.

“Is it unlocked?” Sev asked.

“Never,” Rat answered. “It wouldn’t be real smart fer folks t’be runnin’ around wif keys to His Nibs’s front door. That’s just the doorbells.” Rat continued to stand facing the doors. Sev waited as well, his eyes wandering to inspect the intricate architecture. His gaze snapped back when the sound of locks grinding open drew his attention. The door swung slightly inward. “That’s you, mate,” Rat stated, motioning toward the door.

“Ye’re not takin’ me in?” Sev asked. Rat shook his head and meandered off into the night. The urchin disappeared, and Sev pushed into the building.

Midnight was nowhere to be seen. Sev pulled the ebony door closed, and the numerous locks ground shut, securing the door automatically. Sev hadn’t noticed that the first time he visited. The foyer doors opened on their own. Sev guessed these measures must have been the inventor Carrington’s designs. The young man stepped cautiously into the main hall. Midnight stood with a pool cue next to a finely crafted billiard table. The villain motioned Sev over.

“Midnight,” Sev greeted his host, tipping his hat.

“Mr. Seven.” Jack smirked, the gas lights making his skin radiant. “I’m glad you’ve decided to assist me.”

“How d’ye know I have?”

“You’re here, Mr. Seven.”

“Aye. That I am, Mr. Midnight.”

“Please, call me Jack.” The dark-suited man arranged the balls on the table, two white and a red. “We’re going to be working closely this next week.” Midnight offered Sev a cue stick.

“All right, Jack,” Sev agreed, accepting the cue. He took aim at one of the cue balls, stabbed the stick forward, and ricocheted the ball back toward the opposite bumper, just as Midnight did the same from the other side of the table. The balls sailed across the surface almost simultaneously, but Sev’s came to rest just a little closer to the baulk bumper than Midnight’s. The villain’s face flushed momentarily with anger, and Sev tightened his grip on the cue stick, preparing for an assault. The emotion passed as quickly as it had surfaced, and an easy grin spread across Midnight’s thin, expressive lips.

He barked a laugh and laid his hand on Sev’s shoulder. “You’re full of surprises, my young friend. I’ve rarely met a man who was willing to play billiards, let alone one with the stones to actually try to beat me.” Midnight laid his cue on the brushed wool of the table. “This is going to be an entertaining partnership indeed. Come.” Jack motioned, strolling to a door opposite the parlor Sev had visited last time. Sev laid his stick next to Jack’s and followed. Midnight led his guest up a short flight of stairs. Dark wood paneling and rich tapestries lined the stairs and hallway. “I keep guest quarters in this wing of the building. I’m sure you’ll find them quite comfortable.”

“I… um… I didn’t realize,” Sev stammered, “that I’d be stayin’ here.”

“We have a great deal of work ahead of us if you’re to be ready in time.” Midnight leaned against the wall. “You’ll need to work each day. It will be much easier if you’re here. And let’s not forget Fervis’s current vendetta.”

“Oh aye. That makes sense, sure.”

“Is there a problem, Seven? We can’t afford complications.”

“No, sir. There’s no complications. It’s just, well, Henry.”

A lascivious smile stretched Midnight’s lips. “Ah, I see. Henry, is it? A good
friend
of yours, is he?” Jack elbowed Sev, knowingly.

“Aye. And if I’m stayin’ here, who’ll feed ’im?”

Jack’s eyes snapped wide. “Wait, what?”

“Henry. He’s back in my room. If I’m stayin’ here, what’ll happen to him? I mean, there’s the mice, sure, but they won’t last forever.”

“What the bloody hell are you on about, Seven?” Jack asked, shocked.

“My owl, Henry,” Sev explained. “Hank, I call ’im sometimes. What’s goin’ t’happen t’him ’til I’m done here?”

Jack laughed, relieved. “Good lord, Seven. You gave me a fright. I thought you were even more depraved than me.” Jack straightened. “I can send Rat around to collect your owl.”

Sev hesitated. He rubbed his neck, reluctant to reveal the whereabouts of his only safe hideout. “I’d rather not, um, reveal the location o’my place.”

Jack raised a thin brow. “I understand your hesitation, Seven. But I’ve allowed you into my home, and I give you my word that Rat is completely trustworthy, or he’d be dead already.” Jack’s voice grew quiet and dangerous as he finished his declaration. “You don’t even have to tell me,” Jack stated, his tone returning to normal. “Satisfied?”

“I…,” Sev began and stopped, feeling slightly rude. “I’m sorry, Jack. O’course if anybody can keep a secret, it’s you.” Jack shrugged in answer. Sev continued, “I have a place in the attic above the British Museum. He’ll need a grapple t’get up t’me window.”

Jack patted Sev on the shoulder. “There’s a lad. I’ll let Rat know. Henry’ll be here by the time you awake.” Jack tipped Sev a little salute. “Make yourself at home. There’s a bathing room at the end of the hall, if you’d like to clean up. But get some sleep. You’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” Sev watched Jack descend the stairs before he turned his attention to the door at the end of the hallway. “There are fresh clothes in there as well.” Jack’s voice drifted up the stairwell. “They should fit nicely.”

Sev walked down the hall and turned the fancy brass knob on the door of Midnight’s guest bath. A gas lamp dangled from the ceiling, illuminating a room the likes of which Sev had never seen. He barely remembered the bath in the house he’d lived in with his parents. The wooden tub the family sometimes bathed in had also served as the washtub for the laundry. This room was a far cry from that worn, gray half barrel. The room was covered from floor to ceiling in black and white tiles in a chessboard pattern. Copper pipes and fittings snaked and twisted from the walls to the various accommodations.

A giant, porcelain-coated iron tub dominated the center of the room. To the left stood an elaborate sink, shaped like an oyster with a gilded mirror above it on the wall. The right side of the room held a brass rack draped with clothes next to a full-length mirror. On the side of the tub opposite the door sat a stand festooned with jewel-like bottles filled with liquids of various colors. Sev assumed they were soaps or perfumes. He wondered how and why Midnight had acquired the items.

Sev approached the bathtub apprehensively. He had no experience with such things and honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper bath. Sev regarded the knobs and faucets that led into the basin. He turned the knob emblazoned with an
H
. The pipes banged and groaned before a jet of water emerged from the spout below. Sev passed his hand beneath, feeling cold water at first. As he allowed the water to pass over his hand, it warmed and grew piping hot. Even when they’d bathed in his parents’ home, they had to heat the water on a stove before dumping it into the tub. This was a marvel. Sev couldn’t control the temperature, so he slowly turned the knob with the
C
on it. Cold water mingled with the hot and steam rose, curling above the surface of the water. He dropped a plug into the drain and tested the gathering liquid for its temperature. He fiddled with the knobs until he had the right proportions to draw a good hot bath.

Satisfied, Sev stripped slowly out of his clothing, peeling off layer after layer until he stood bare in the strange room. He walked to the stand and inspected the perfumed liquids. He chose a bottle and drizzled a pink, rose-scented concoction into the water. Bubbles formed on the surface. He stepped back and inhaled the scent wafting from the tub. When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of his exposed body in the large mirror. Sev fingered the puckered skin over his ribs just below his right pectoral muscle, the brand Fervis had burned into his skin. A pink, angry 7 constantly reminded him of the hell he’d faced at Fervis’s hands. Each of his six siblings had been branded as well, all Sev’s fault. He pushed the memories away as tears rose in his eyes. He tried not to think about that night. He’d had the noblest intentions, wanting to free all the children who had been enslaved by Fervis.

The door to the bathroom clicked, then creaked as it opened. Jack Midnight popped his head in, averting his eyes. “I brought you a towel,” Jack offered, holding out the soft cloth. Sev cried out in surprise, his hands dropping to shield his nudity. Jack tossed the fabric. Sev caught it instinctively and wrapped it around his waist, noticing Jack’s eyes.

“Thank ye,” Sev said, flushing.

“You might want to turn that water off. Your first dip will foul the water. You’ll want to rinse off, then bathe.” Sev considered Jack’s words, using one hand to hold the towel and the other to cut off the flow of water. The two young men regarded one another for a silent moment.

“Thanks. I wouldn’t o’thought o’that,” Sev acknowledged.

Jack nodded. “That’s a nasty scar.” Sev didn’t say anything but touched his brand. “I’d heard the stories.” Midnight dropped his gaze. Sev wondered if the criminal could feel ashamed. “It’s worse than the rumors,” Jack breathed.

“Every time I look at it, every time I feel it pull at my good skin,” Sev explained, “it’s a reminder. The bastards can’t stop me. They can take my whole life away, but they can’t stop me.”

“You’re one tough bugger, Seven.” Jack looked his guest in the eyes. “I picked the right man for the job.” Jack exited before Sev could answer. Standing alone once again, Sev dropped the towel and eased into the hot water he’d drawn. His muscles relaxed as he submerged himself in the bath, which turned almost instantly gray.
Damn
, Sev thought.
Jack was right.
Sev scrubbed the surface dirt from his skin before emptying the filthy water and drawing another, proper bath.

Sev stayed in the tub until the water started to cool. He reached for the towel, the skin on his hands wrinkled from the bath, and dried his body and hair. Satisfied, he plucked a sleeping gown from a peg on the back of the door and slipped it over his head. The flannel garment was soft and clean. Sev couldn’t remember the last time something felt so good against his skin.

He slipped from the bathing room into the bedroom to his left. An elaborate gas lamp burned invitingly on the nightstand by the bed. The furnishings were just as fine as the rest of the building, if a little simpler. The oriental carpet that covered the hardwood floor was lush and intricately woven. Sev used his bare feet to grip the fabric as he paused on his way to the large, four-poster bed. He tested the resistance on the mattress and gasped, surprised.
This is even finer than Annie’s
, he thought while he tentatively reached for the covers as if he were afraid they would burn him. They didn’t, quite the opposite. The silk of the sheets was cool to Sev’s touch, and he peeled them back. The bedclothes had an oriental pattern echoing the carpet, and Sev slid in between them, pulling the blankets around his body.
Heaven must feel like this,
he thought, his head sinking onto silk-sheathed down pillows. His eyelids dropped like bricks as he relaxed into the bed’s divine embrace. He retained his senses long enough to extinguish the lamp before he slipped into the deepest, most comfortable sleep since he’d been a child who had never heard of Sir Langdon Fervis.

 

 

S
EV
awoke from a dreamless sleep to the rap of knuckles on his forehead. He shielded his face with his hands, his sleep interrupted too soon. “Aah! What’s the bloody problem?”

“Time t’get up, mate,” Rat answered, arms folded impatiently.

“What time is it?” Sev rolled over, folding the pillow over his head.

“Too early fer me t’be up, so you’d best get yer sorry arse out o’that fancy bed before I put the boot in.”

“Bugger off, Rat,” Sev’s muffled voice ordered from beneath the pillow.

“His Nibs wants y’out. And so does this fella.” Rat’s words were followed by a contented hoot.

“Henry?” Sev asked as he flipped the pillow and threw back the covers. “Henry!” he exclaimed, landing on the carpet. Rat stood with an elaborate filigreed birdcage. Henry flapped his wings happily within. Sev unlatched the door and the little owl swooped out, flew around the room once, and landed on Sev’s forearm. “Hey, friend. It’s good t’see ye.” Sev scratched the bird beneath his beak as Henry cooed happily.

“All right,” Rat interjected. “Reunion’s over. Get dressed. Jack’s in the dinin’ hall. Get yer arse down there.”

“Fine.” Sev rolled his eyes at the filthy urchin, but he reached up, urging Henry onto one of the bed’s posts. “I’ll be right there.” Rat grunted in response and exited the room. Sev looked around, realizing his clothes were still in the bathroom. A mahogany bureau stood against one wall, and Sev opened the drawers, wondering if Jack had left clothes as he’d claimed. Sure enough, he found everything he needed and pulled off the nightshirt.

A few moments later, wearing pressed wool pants, a crisp white shirt, and blissfully holeless boots, Sev descended the stairway and entered the common area of Midnight’s home. Jack sat at the end of his dining table nearest the dais and Sev. The villain reclined amidst an elaborate breakfast, more food than Sev had eaten in more than three months combined. Midnight was hidden behind a newspaper. The bottom stair creaked under Sev’s foot, and Midnight lowered the paper, a smile breaking easily across his mouth. “Seven! I trust you slept well?”

“Aye, mighty well. My thanks,” Sev answered.

“Bah,” Jack dismissed, waving a hand. “I hope Rat wasn’t too abrupt waking you.” Sev shrugged. “Yes, well, I’ve tried to refine our young friend, but he’s so delightfully coarse I just don’t have the heart.” Jack flashed Sev a mischievous smile. “He retrieved your owl, though.”

BOOK: The 7th of London
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