Authors: Sharon Sant
The hooded figure threw back his
head and laughed. It was a laugh of weirdly genuine humour. Isaac raised his
eyebrows, taken by surprise at the reaction. ‘Spoken well,’ the man said. ‘It
is a pity I will have to kill you.’
Polly’s voice came from the other
side of the room. Isaac turned to see that she had now taken her own gag from
her mouth and seemed more herself.
‘Mr Finch…’ she said slowly.
And then Isaac knew where he
recognised the voice from. It was indeed Mr Finch, the beadle, the man who made
sure that orphans found their way to the orphanage. Of course it was. Isaac
almost slapped himself for his stupidity. It was only by luck that he himself
had escaped the clutches of Mr Finch as a child when he had chosen to hide and
eke a living on the streets rather than receive his charity. And now Isaac saw
exactly what sort of charity Mr Finch was handing out. How many black haired
children had he sent to their deaths over the years? Had he known which
ones had magic or had he sent them all regardless of whether they did or
didn’t? And the rest of the world had simply turned a blind eye, choosing
not to notice as long as they didn’t have to worry about the increasing number
of orphans thrown to the mercy of any adult who chose to exploit them, harm
them, even kill them, in any way they saw fit.
The man threw back his hood and
Isaac saw at once that Polly was right. Mr Finch turned to her and bowed
his head in acknowledgment. ‘At your service.’
‘What are you going to do with
us?’ Polly asked.
‘My dear,’ Mr Finch replied
amiably, ‘I’d have thought that was obvious. I’m going to kill you all.’
‘Not if I kill you first,’ Isaac
growled.
Mr Finch laughed again. ‘It
really is a pity about you, young man. You’d have made such an excellent and
useful thug in my service.’
‘I would never serve you! I don’t
serve no one.’
‘What about Dr Black… oh yes, I
quite forgot that he’s not likely to need house staff any longer.’
‘You killed him…’ Isaac hissed.
There was no love in his heart for Ernesto Black, but he did owe him a strange kind
of loyalty for all the years the doctor had kept him from freezing to death on
the streets, and he felt it keenly now.
Mr Finch simply inclined his
head.
‘You admit it?’ Polly asked.
‘Why ever would I need to deny
it? Who amongst you will live to tell the authorities?’
‘Isaac!’ Polly shouted. He
followed the direction of her gaze to see that a new figure had emerged from
the doorway, carrying a crying Georgina.
‘She
ain’t
the babe you’re looking for,’ Isaac shouted, thinking quickly. He needed to
stall for time. He wasn’t sure what he would do with that time, but it seemed
that any delay in the seemingly inevitable fate that now awaited them was
better than nothing. When it came to life and death situations, he knew from
experience that a second could change everything.
‘It doesn’t matter. She has magic
and she will do just as well. Once we perform this one last ritual the rise to
power will be complete and The Dark Lord will have a hold on the world, now and
forever. No prophecy and no child, however powerful, will be able to stop him.’
‘But surely it won’t work if you
got the wrong baby?’
‘Silence!’
‘It won’t work!’ Isaac
turned to the other children in his cage. They looked thin and weak, wide-eyed
with terror and unable to meet even Isaac’s challenging gaze. ‘
Ain’t
you going to fight back? We could take them if we
work together!’
‘How?’ one small boy asked as the
others shrank back.
Isaac bent down to him and tried
to give an encouraging smile. ‘They open the cage door and we rush ‘
em
. That’s how.’
‘They’ll beat us back again, like
they always do.’
‘Well, they might have always
done before, but you didn’t have me in here before, did you?’
The boy nodded his head, but he
stepped back to join the others and cast his gaze to the ground. Isaac roared
in temper and kicked the cage bars. He looked up to see Polly staring at
him. He could see that the children in with her were just as weak and
underfed as the rest of them. There would be no mutiny today, not even to save
their miserable lives.
A low chant began from the hooded
figures, whose ranks had now seemed to have swelled from only a few moments
before, although Isaac had not noticed the extras arrive. Georgina was
carried to a small cage, like a birdcage, suspended from the ceiling, and
bundled inside. A pulley system hoisted her up further, so that she dangled
high above the room. Isaac had not realised it was there before, despite the
fact that the polished bronze of its bars glinted in the torchlight. He
watched as she gripped at it, wailing, and his heart ached for her. They were
supposed to rescue her and they had failed. He was facing certain death
and in an odd way he was not really afraid of that, but he wanted more than
anything to stay alive, if only to keep the promise he had made to save
her. As his gaze swept the room and was met with the eyes of all the
other children, somehow looking to him now as their last hope, he realised that
he wanted to stay alive to save them all too.
He turned back to the children in
his cage. ‘I need you to all start yammering. I need you to shout and make a
fuss and shake the cage. We got to break their concentration so they can’t do
this spell.’
‘They’ll beat us,’ the boy
replied.
‘They’re going to kill you!’
Isaac shouted. ‘Are you thick or something? What have you got to lose?’
The boy looked at the others and
then nodded. Isaac shouted the instruction over to Polly, who nodded before
turning to the children in her cage to encourage them with a pep talk of her
own. And then he called to the other two cages in the room. None of the
hooded figures interrupted him; it seemed they were now too far immersed in
their ritual to notice.
‘NOW!’ Isaac yelled to the
room. He started to holler and whoop and shout every swearword he knew as
he pulled on the bars of his cage and set them rattling. Polly did the same. At
first, the other children were tentative – some joining in quietly,
some only watching in fear and wonder – but then the din started to grow with
their collective confidence until the whole room echoed with desperate, almost
gleeful shouts.
The sound of a gunshot sliced
through the air and silence fell, profound for its contrast with the previous
rabble. Isaac looked to see a figure at Finch’s side holding a pistol. In
the same second, another hooded figure across the room crumpled to the floor.
‘Well, we had to get your
attention somehow,’ Finch said smoothly with a grim smile at Isaac’s expression
of absolute shock, ‘and we couldn’t very well fire at the walls for fear of a
ricochet that might have killed someone important… like me.’
‘You killed one of your own?’
Isaac replied in a hoarse voice. He had met many ruthless people in his
short life, but now he realised that he had never, would probably never, even
if he escaped, meet one as downright evil as Mr Finch.
‘Necessary collateral. Alas, you
are all, or rather, every drop of your blood, is needed to complete the ritual.
But I also need some quiet. Mr Smith had always seemed rather lacking in
conviction for our cause so we shan’t really miss him.’
‘You’re mad…’
‘I prefer the term visionary. But
then many visionaries were considered mad until people came to realise they
were right after all.’
‘You won’t get away with this….’
Polly cut in.
‘My dear,’ Mr Finch laughed,
‘what a delightful cliché! I didn’t realise Dr Black had been reading Penny
Dreadful novels to you in the evenings.’
‘While there’s breath in my body
I won’t let you in this cage to get any of these nippers out,’ Isaac growled, incensed
by Finch’s insult of Polly.
‘There’s a simple solution to
that problem,’ Finch replied, turning to Isaac again. ‘I shall kill you first.’
He gave a short nod and three
hooded figures made their way towards Isaac’s cage. It was unlocked and even as
Isaac threw the first punch, which landed with a satisfying smack on the side
of a head, another figure had come to take the injured man’s place and Isaac
was soon held fast. He swore and cursed and shouted at the other children to
run but they simply watched in silence as he was dragged over to the stone
table, pushed down onto it, his wrists tied with stout rope to manacles hanging
from its sides. He kicked and twisted but in seconds his feet were tied
too.
The chanting began again, Polly’s
screams lost in the swell as it grew louder and louder. Isaac turned to
his side and he could just make out her grief-stricken face, tears running down
it.
‘See you on the other side,
Poll,’ he whispered with a slight smile.
And then a flash of light caught
his attention and he saw the glint of the blade held high above him by cloaked
arms as the chants grew to enclose him in a wall of dull sound. He closed his
eyes, and waited for death to take him.
Chapter
twenty-three
Annie was sitting on the ground when Charlotte found her,
staring into space as she leaned against the gatepost. The wolves were all back
on their haunches, watching her carefully, as if waiting for orders. She
hummed softly to herself, seemingly caught up in a world of her own, but Charlotte
knew better than to believe that was true. It was more likely that she was
concentrating hard on holding her enchantment the only way she knew how, with
music.
‘We have to leave now,’ Charlotte
cried breathlessly. Annie continued to stare and Charlotte leapt into her field
of vision, shaking her by the shoulders. ‘We have to go; we have to get
out of here before we’re caught too.’
Annie focused slowly on
Charlotte. She gave a questioning look.
‘Isaac said so,’ Charlotte
replied, as if reading Annie’s thoughts. ‘He told me that I was to get you away
from here if they got caught… and I think they have.’
‘But we don’t have Georgina yet.’
‘And we don’t even know she’s
here for certain. What if she’s not? If you get caught for nothing you’ll be no
help to her at all.’
‘The wolves know she is here.’
‘They tracked her scent but that
doesn’t mean she’s still here.’
‘She’s here.’
One of the wolves whined softly
as if in agreement.
‘But Isaac said –’
‘Isaac would not leave without
Georgina and neither will I,’ Annie replied calmly.
Charlotte opened her mouth to
argue but then let out a sigh. In a way, she was relieved that Annie was so
resolute. She had wanted to argue with Isaac but in a silly moment she had
promised to get Annie away; she no more wanted to leave anyone behind than
Annie did. Now her conscience was clear that she had tried to keep her
promise to him, even if she had not been very convincing. ‘What shall we do?’
she asked.
Annie stared into the
distance. The light was fading rapidly now and the air was chilled.
Charlotte shivered slightly, almost as if only just remembering that she ought
to be cold. Then Annie spoke.
‘We have our army. Let’s use it.’
Clutching the gatepost for
support, Annie pulled herself to her feet. She swayed as she stood straight.
Charlotte ran to her.
‘What’s wrong?’ Annie shook her
head. ‘You’re weakening; the spell is taking too much from you.’
‘I’m fine,’ Annie replied,
pushing Charlotte away and taking a deep breath. ‘I can do it.’ She
summoned the wolves with a tilt of her head and every one of them stood to
attention, slinking behind her as she began to walk towards the building.
‘Annie…’ Charlotte called. Annie
turned to her. ‘Annie, I’m scared,’ she whispered.
‘Me too. But I would rather
die now than live with the guilt of doing nothing.’
‘I know that we must. But we are
just two girls with no idea of what we are going to face.’
‘We are two girls with a pack of
wolves,’ Annie said with a slight smile. ‘Whatever we face we can be sure our
foe will be more afraid than we are when they see the company we keep.’
As Annie turned back to the
orphanage, Charlotte wondered at her sudden courage. Was this really the same
softly spoken, timid girl who had almost fainted at the idea of her sister
being taken captive? She was still pale and weak looking, but she now had new
air of purpose and a steely resolve. It was as if some of the courage and
ferocity of the wolves had transferred to her through her connection to them.
But as Charlotte followed her and their strange wolf allies into the
waiting depths of the orphanage, she trembled. She tried to persuade
herself it was the frost brought by the gathering gloom that was the cause, but
in her heart, she knew that it was really fear, fear that this would be the
last sunset she would ever see. Her mind went back to the parting from
her mother. She had been terse and had spoken with a stern tone that her mother
had not deserved. Now, she would give anything to see her one more time, to be
able to tell her that she loved her. Knowing that after today, her mother
may be all alone in the world made the tears Charlotte had been fighting
squeeze out; she sniffed them back and straightened up, her eyes fixed firmly
on the pack being led by Annie. There was a time for weakness, but this was not
it.
The only sounds that accompanied
them down the stairs were their own ragged breaths and the pants and low snarls
and tapping of claws on stone of the wolves. They were still making too
much noise, despite this, but Charlotte and Annie both realised that it
probably didn’t matter now anyway. They had no idea what waited for them at the
end of that staircase, but they had guessed that it would not be good.
Isaac and Polly had surely been taken by the Brethren and they still didn’t
know where Georgina was.
‘Can you hear that?’ Charlotte
asked in a low voice as the sound of chanting reached them.
Annie nodded, unseen by Charlotte
in the gloom. ‘It’s in the old language. It’s a ritual of great evil. I’ve
never heard
its
like before but I know what some of
the words mean.’ She paused. ‘They mean death and destruction. They mean an act
of great violence is about to be committed.’
‘I hope that doesn’t mean we’re
too late,’ Charlotte whispered back.
Annie didn’t reply, but her step
quickened, and that of the wolves with her.
In no time at all they had
reached the bottom of the stairs and found themselves in a stone-walled
antechamber, torches lining the walls. It was empty, save for two cloaked
figures guarding a doorway at the far end. As Charlotte and Annie
approached, they turned as one and glared at them from beneath black hoods.
‘How dare you –’ the first figure
began but then they stopped dead as they noticed the wolves now prowling into
view to form a tight, protective circle around the girls.
‘They obey me and if you don’t
let us pass they will attack,’ Annie said.
Instead of running away or trying
to overpower them, as the girls might have expected, the two men turned for the
vast wooden door they had been guarding and heaved it open. They
disappeared through it, shouting warnings. At the same time, Charlotte
reached for a torch from the wall, ripped it from its bracket, and ran towards
the now closing door. As it was about to shut them out, she shoved the torch
into the space, jamming it open, and narrowly dodging a sword that shot out
towards her from the gap.
‘Annie!’ she squealed. ‘Bring the
wolves! We must send them in!’
Annie had already darted across
the room to join her and they now pushed at the door together. Behind it they
could hear a great commotion: men shouting and children screaming, scuffling of
feet on stone and the clanking of swords. The door was being held from
the other side, but Charlotte and Annie still pushed with all their strength.
Charlotte could see that Annie was pale and tired, but she couldn’t think about
what that might mean now. One of the wolves managed to squeeze through and from
the other side of the door there was snarling and screaming and then the weight
behind the door gave. Charlotte pushed it open and stopped in her tracks,
staring at the scene of carnage: of a man lying on the floor, his hand gripped
in his cloak and a wolf standing sentry over him, of lines of hooded figures
staring down at them as they waited, of dozens upon dozens of children trapped
in cages, of a swinging golden birdcage containing a baby that looked in the
gloom to be Georgina, of a figure tied to a stone table, blood dripping from
wounds scored into his chest and arms, Charlotte realising with a gasp of
horror that it was Isaac… and then at the pistol pointed straight at them.
‘Take one more step and I’ll
shoot.’
Charlotte’s mouth fell open. ‘Mrs
Brown?’ she said in a small voice, wondering if she was dreaming. It couldn’t
be, and yet, Charlotte would never forget that voice and the warning issued
when they had first taken Georgina to see if they could get her homed:
She
will come back to us one way or another
.
Annie shot her a questioning
look.
‘Mr Finch’s housekeeper,’
Charlotte said in reply.
‘The beadle?’ Annie squeaked.
‘But…’
Mrs Brown threw back her hood.
‘Afternoon, Miss Harding.’
‘Oh, this interruption is
tiresome.’ This time it was a man’s voice. He threw back his own hood and
Charlotte couldn’t help the reactive gasp that escaped her as Mr Finch was
revealed. ‘Mrs Brown, kindly dispose of them.’
The housekeeper raised her gun
and took aim. But then Annie shouted. ‘If you shoot me the spell will be broken
and the wolves will have their own mind. I doubt any of you have the kind of
magic it would need to regain their favour.’
‘Fair enough,’ Mrs Brown replied,
turning the gun on Charlotte. ‘We need you for now, but we don’t need any of
the others.’
‘Shoot her and it’s the same
end,’ Annie said.
‘Shoot the blasted wolves, woman!’
Finch shouted.
‘How many of them do you think
you can kill before one gets you?’ Annie fired back. ‘You have only one gun and
there are a half a dozen beasts here.’
Charlotte’s gaze flitted along a
line of figures brandishing swords. Eventually, Annie and the wolves would be
beaten if their adversaries chose to take them on. The gamble was whether they
would risk a potential loss of life or whether they would choose a more subtle
route. As she glanced at Finch, she could see that he was weighing up the
situation too.
‘You have come for the infant?’
he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘We cannot give her up now, she
is too important.’
‘We are not leaving without her,’
Annie replied.
‘What is she to you?’ he asked,
narrowing his eyes. ‘Why risk your lives, why weaken yourself with such potent
magic? You feel dizzy, do you not? It takes a great deal of concentration and
power to control these beasts…’ he paused. ‘How much longer do you think you
can maintain it?’
‘She’s my sister. I will not leave
without her.’
‘Then we have reached an impasse.
You will not leave without her and I will not relinquish ownership.’
‘Charlotte!’
Charlotte looked around to see
Polly frantically trying to get her attention from one of the cages. ‘Isaac!’
she cried, waving her hand at the altar.
Charlotte looked again. Isaac was
not dead, as she had at first feared. He let out a small groan and opened his
eyes.
Finch’s gaze went to the table.
‘Ah… perhaps we can do a deal with this one? You can take him and his companion
over there and leave us with our limbs intact.’
Charlotte knew that he had no
intention of letting them go once they had agreed to call off the wolves.
Within seconds of them reaching the outside they would be besieged and if not
then, days, maybe even hours after they reached what they thought was safety,
they would be rounded up and killed. But if they could get Isaac and
Polly free then that was two more on their side when it came to the fight and
two more that they had at least a chance of saving, however slim that chance
was.
‘Release him and Polly,’
Charlotte said. ‘Maybe we can come to some arrangement.’
Annie shot her a hate filled
glare. ‘We’re not leaving without Georgina.’
Charlotte returned it with
a pleading look. She hoped it would communicate her train of thought in the
absence of any other way, but she had no idea whether Annie understood or not.
She only hoped there would be time to explain it later.
‘Release Isaac and Polly,’
Charlotte repeated.
‘No,’ Annie said, her voice ice.
‘We don’t leave without my sister.’
‘It would be helpful if you two
young ladies could agree on a strategy,’ Finch said with a sardonic smile.
‘Otherwise I will be forced to have Mrs Brown shoot you both now and deal with
the wolves before they kill too many of my brothers.’
‘We don’t have a choice,’
Charlotte hissed at Annie. And then she noticed something from the corner
of her eye. A key lay on the floor near to the wolves’ first victim of the day,
who was now standing nursing his injured hand and viewing the perpetrator of
the crime with the greatest suspicion. It had to fit at least one of the
locks on the cages, didn’t it? If she could get it, could she get to the cage
containing Polly fast enough to let her out? That was also assuming that it
went with Polly’s cage at all.
In a flash her mind was made up
and she darted down to retrieve it. Momentarily distracted by the
movement, Annie lost concentration and lost one of the wolves, which now
snarled as it made its way towards Finch. Mrs Brown fired her pistol and
shot it dead. There was another cry from across the room and all turned
to see that one of the Brethren now no longer wore his hood and Polly had hold
of him by his hair through the bars of her cage, while two other children
checked him for keys. He had obviously got a little too close to the
wrong cage and had not bargained on Polly’s tenacity. He twisted, slashing at
her with his sword but unable to reach behind far enough to get a clear
shot. In a second she had that too and it was at his throat. Finch roared
and they were rushed by three more Brethren.
‘Got it!’ one of the children
squeaked, handing the key to her. Polly now shoved her captive into the
oncoming ambush, giving her just enough time to plunge the key in the lock and
spring it. The door swung open just as Mrs Brown turned her gun towards Polly.
Charlotte launched herself at the housekeeper, knocking her to the ground and
the pistol from her grip. It skittered across the stone floor and landed at
Polly’s feet, who caught it up with a manic grin. She swung her sword in one
hand and brandished the gun in the other as she swaggered towards Finch, his
Brethren hovering uncertainly as they watched. She was armed to the teeth and
full of fire and it would take a strong man to take her down now.