Nero's Fiddle (4 page)

“What’s the situation with the lights?” Nate asked as they walked down the corridor.

“We’ve set up turbines along the ridge to power the electrics, but the supply is dodgy. We’re dragging the cables further than anyone’s done before. Got some bloke workin’ on it,” Jackson said. “But the tech is still experimental and we’re trying to figure it out as we go.”

The floor angled downward as they headed deeper into the ground.

Nate thrust his hands into the pockets of his heavy blue frock coat. “It’s like Siberia down here. What about heating?”

“We’ve fired up the boilers to heat the house. You should have warm air wafting up your arse by the time you return top side. We looked at riggin’ the pipes down here, but dollface said some of the objects were better in the cold. She thinks that’s why her old man kept them in basements and banks with underground vaults. She said the cold would keep them asleep.” He paused for a moment and flicked a glance to his boss. “She’s joking, right?”

A smile rippled through Nate’s body, but his lips stayed straight. “The theory could hold true, like a reptile in the cold becomes sluggish and hibernates. Personally, I’d rather not heat the place to find out what happens if they all became hyperactive.”

Jackson gave a shake of his head and blew into his hands to warm his flesh. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered. “This new lark is like stuffin’ the basement with gun powder and then playing with matches.”

The tunnel stopped at another set of doors identical to the first. Nate entered the second code and Jackson swung the wheel in the middle, disengaging the lock. The doors opened to reveal the large catacomb that used to be the centre of the Lyons smuggling operation. Now, the cave housed a secret department of Victoria’s regime.

Shelves lined the walls and held metal containers of various sizes. Within one lay Hatshepsut’s Collar, the artifact that pushed Victoria to the brink of madness and stole the life of her consort, Prince Albert. Other boxes were larger, some the size of dog crates capable of holding a Great Dane. These were bolted to the floor, waiting for their occupants.

From Cara’s research, they knew some objects were small, like Boudicca’s Cuff; others were far larger, needing their own rooms. Each container or room was triple lined with copper and steel with a space between the layers. They hoped in the future to circulate a cold liquid between the layers to suspend the artifacts in a type of stasis, similar to the arrangement used in the city morgue to keep the bodies chilled. Once they figured out what would work. Nate put out the word, searching for a scientist to bring into their little group, but he had yet to find one who had the necessary background and who they could trust.

A large L-shaped work table sprawled across the centre of the room. The surface crowded with rows of test tubes in pristine racks and clear glass bottles held over shiny Bunsen burners. Everything gleaming and brand new. The equipment waited for the person who would labour to unlock the secrets of the artifacts, to learn how they functioned and how to keep them silent.

Nate contemplated the work done on the cave, now turned into a cross between a bank vault, morgue, and laboratory. “It looks close to completion.”

“This room is done.” He waved a hand at two other doors set in the stone walls. “There’s a route out to the cove if needed. Plus we can kit out one of the other sub caves if you need the extra space.” He leaned back against a tall set of shelves. “Any idea how many toys you’re planning to store down here?”

Nate shook his head. “I have no idea. This line of business is new to all of us.”

“And more lucrative. The queen has deep pockets. We’ll have made a tidy profit while upgrading the house; that’s if these things don’t get us all killed.”

A smile tugged at Nate’s lips. “We’ve come a long way, you and I.”

Jackson laughed. “When I met you, you were a wet behind the ears whelp of a noble on his first trip from home.”

“And you were a boxer with a bad attitude and no future.” Nate remembered those early days, when he set off determined to earn his fortune. One hand drifted to his stomach. “I took a knife to the gut saving your arse in Barcelona.”

Jackson’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “Never said you weren’t handy in a fight.”

“We hauled ourselves out of a riot and onto an airship and never looked back.” Nate grabbed a wall shelf and gave a tug, testing how securely it was attached to the rock behind. “Our lives are no longer what they once were, Jackson. Times and circumstances change.”

The large bodyguard gave a snort of air. “Like all this lovey dovey stuff with you and dollface. It turns a man’s stomach after a while. Never thought I’d see you go soft.”

Nate leaned against the shelving, crossed his arms over his chest and met his second’s gaze. “It’s time you moved on with your life too. We all miss Angelique and Sarah. We didn’t just avenge them, we stamped our message so deep no one will ever hurt what is yours again.”

The bodyguard walked toward a stairway made of metal drawers that curved up the arch of the cavern. He laid his palms against the cool and took a deep breath. “It ain’t that easy. They were my world.”

Both men fell silent, neither accustomed to discussing the emotional turmoil that raged deep inside. They had worked alongside each other for over ten years, faced enemies back to back and dug bullets out of one another. But their courage faltered and baulked at talking about their feelings.

Nate ran a hand through his black hair and skirted around the topic. “I have a proposition for you. I need you to take an active role in acquiring and protecting these cursed objects. I am being spread thin these days, and you and Loki have access to different realms. You can do on the ground what he can do amongst the air leagues.”

Jackson’s head shot up and his eyes narrowed. “You don’t want me as muscle anymore?”

“You have more skills than that, let’s use them. Miguel has great potential, but he needs time. Loki has taken him on as crew. Give the lad five years, a couple of tattoos, and some hardening off, and we’ll bring him back in. In the meantime, I need you to take a greater role than just watching my back, and I would prefer if Cara had a dedicated watcher.”

A grin broke over Jackson’s face at the mention of the woman who lived to torment him. “Would get me out from having to hold her handbag while she shops for underwear. There’s one lad I would trust to watch dollface, let me check with him before I hand her over.”

Nate slapped the man on the back. “You’ll consider my offer?”

“I’m always open to more money.” A grin broke over his scarred face. “The new job does come with a pay rise?”

Nate gave a rare laugh. “Let’s talk details upstairs over a brandy.”

They left the slumbering artifacts and headed back up the tunnel, toward the warmth of the new steam-heated house.

Cara stretched her arms over her head and relished the summer-like temperature that washed over her body. Jackson’s contacts and Victoria’s money worked a miracle and breathed heat throughout the old mansion. Piping ran behind the walls and under the floor, connected to two enormous steaming behemoths in the basement. Fed on a diet of coal, they puffed heated air and steam back through the pipes, which wafted through ornate brass grates set in the floor of all the rooms. From the outside, the house might look like a mausoleum, but inside was now as toasty as the kitchens or Nate’s conservatory back in Mayfair.

Amy fanned herself with a wallpaper sample but refused to remove her jacket in the presence of the men. Although Cara didn’t know if it was the steam vents or Loki that made her friend run hot and bothered.

Nate was buried in papers and aethergram tape at the desk, while Cara read one of her father’s diaries. Amy’s plans to redecorate were in full swing and she poured over sample books she brought up from London. Loki assisted by holding up the book to the wall, while Amy stepped backward. She flicked her wrist to signal the pirate to turn the pages to a different sample.

Cara wondered how long Loki would last as a decorator. He looked ready to chew his arm off to escape. “Loki, when Amy is done with you for today, could you jump in the Hellcat, head over to Leicester and bring back Nan and Nessy please.”

Loki tried to keep his face impassive, but she saw relief flare before he regained his bored look. “I’m not a hansom cab, you know, ferrying people back and forth.”

She gave him a wide smile. “No, but I would trust no one else with those most precious to me.”

Questions swirled in his dark eyes. “All right, but before I go, what is the deal with your grandmother and her companion?”

She looked up from her book, a frown lining her forehead. “What do you mean?”

His brows knitted as his mind sought the required words. “They seem awfully… close.”

Cara snorted. “You have no idea.” She tossed the diary onto the end table. “Nessy’s mother was Nan’s wet nurse, so they two have been inseparable since they were born. Men have come and gone but their friendship has endured. The two of them have always been there for each other.” Cara watched Amy as she said the words, wishing she had been there for her friend, and vowed to make up for the deficiency.

Amy gave a wave and dismissed her assistant.

Loki closed the sample book and dropped it back into the large chest from Liberty’s. “But your grandmother was married for years to the Earl of Morton.”

Cara could see Loki’s mind working hard. “Yes, quite happily. What’s your point?”

“My point, my luscious peach, is was it a ménage a trois?”

Amy turned. “What do you mean ménage a trois?”

Loki licked his lips. “Three a bed, did they share the lucky earl?”

Amy gave a startled yelp and dropped the sample swatches.

“Ewww,” Cara said. “You are talking about my grandparents. But I dare you to ask Nessy that yourself. Now get off your arse and go collect them before they scamper off on their own in search of adventure.”

London, Friday 20
^th
December, 1861.

amish Fraser reached a hand into a paper stack clinging to the edge of his desk and grabbed a file. He gently eased the target away from the unbalanced tower and dragged it to the middle of his blotter. Then he stared at his mug of tea. Once again he had ignored the refreshment for too long and it now contained a lukewarm mix of fluids. As the internal temperature of the drink dropped, the milk grew a skin and attempted to expand large enough to touch the edges and possibly plot its escape.