Authors: Sharon Joss
Steam Dogs (21 page)
Roman raced blindly up Ferry Road toward Cubitt Town, his heart pounding
to the rhythm of his feet beating against the tarmac. The crickets had gone
silent. All was quiet except for the relentless sound of the river and his own
ragged breath. The dark night seemed to close in, as if watching him with a
malevolent patience.
He could not shake the image of Hamm Foine’s corroded face and
grey fleshy hands reaching for him; grabbing at his throat. The fetid stench of
the creature’s breath clung to his wet clothes.
Roman stumbled, as long-forgotten memories of the war returned. He
had seen faces like Hamm’s before. Smelled that ghastly breath. Remembered the
shame of hot urine running down his leg.
At Balaclava.
I must be losing my mind. How
could I have forgotten all that? Or was it a nightmare?
No. It had not been a dream. Of that he was certain. Until this
moment, he hadn’t realized how much he’d forgotten about the war and how on
that dreadful night, his best mate Archie had looked just like Hamm Foine
looked tonight.
The night
after
Balaclava.
What he saw. All those dead soldiers rising, their eyes clouded,
their ghastly wounds untreated. Bloodstained and grey-skinned; some with broken
bones showing through their flesh. And Welsie’s brother, Archie Tompkins had
been one of them.
How could I have forgotten
that?
Shame and fear flooded through him like a river tide. He sobbed, but kept
running. Strange sounds, warped and distorted by the fog, threatened to unhinge
him. Behind him, footsteps echoed. He looked, but saw only the rolling swirls
of black mist. Only Henry’s calm presence, keeping apace beside him, gave him
comfort.
Got to tell Wickes. Get the men out hunting for that thing.
His breath
sounded shallow and ragged.
Got to hunt
it down and kill it.
He stopped suddenly, panting in the middle of the road.
How to kill such a thing?
Atters had told him he’d stabbed it, but that hadn’t stopped it;
hadn’t even slowed it down. On the Causeway Heights, neither bullets nor cannon
had stopped them.
He rubbed the sweat from his face.
What about bullets? Or fire? If it’s not
alive—how do you stop the dead?
With a wizard.
His heart skipped a beat.
Sir Magnus Vetch.
He lived right here on the
island. Thank God. He’d know how to deal with this. Something tugged at his
memory and slipped away again. What was it about Sir Magnus?
Something
.
Nausea clawed at his gut and throat.
Don’t think about it. It’s not good to think about it.
Roman forced himself to start walking again. This time, with more
determination. It was late, but Superintendent Wickes had to be informed. The
men would be mustered.
Wickes lived six blocks north of the station, in a newer townhouse
along Pier Street West. Like many of the buildings here, the façade was of good
local brick, with ornamental columns flanking the narrow porch. Roman was
gratified to see the glow of gaslights through the downstairs windows.
He rapped loudly, and the Superintendent answered the door almost
immediately. Roman was relieved to see that Wickes was still dressed, in spite
of the hour.
“Greenslade!” Wickes gave him an unhappy look. “What brings you
here at this hour?”
Suddenly aware of his disheveled state, Roman snapped to
attention. “I’ve got to speak with you, Sir. It’s important.”
Wickes stepped out onto the landing, closing the door behind him. “As
it happens, I’m entertaining this evening. Can’t this wait until morning
muster?”
“I’m afraid not.” Roman told him about the attack on Welsie. “It
was her husband. Only it wasn’t. It was this huge, giant of a man, a monster.” As
he described the details, Wickes’ expression grew stony.
“What have you been drinking, man?”
Roman raked his fingers though his wet hair. His shirt was
unbuttoned, and he wasn’t even wearing a coat. “I am perfectly sober, sir. I am
telling you,
Hamm Foine tried to drown me!
”
Wickes shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Greenslade. Did you
really come here to tell me you walked in on a row between the ferryman and his
wife and he got the better of you?”
With a sinking sensation in his stomach, Roman realized the Superintendent
would never believe him. The man did not have the capacity to accept anything
outside his narrow belief system.
What
did you expect? He’s not an islander.
Roman bit back his disappointment.
There would be no help forthcoming form this quarter. “Ah, yes Sir.”
“Where is he now?”
“He ran off. Driven off --.” It didn’t matter.
“What about the wife, then? Is she all right”
The image of Welsie clinging to that wastrel Atters was a bitter
knife in Roman’s heart. “Yes Sir. A bit shaken up.”
“Very well. Report back to the station. We’ll alert the men at
muster tomorrow. Get this ferryman locked up.”
Roman wavered, his need to act overruling his caution. “No, Sir. You’ve
got
to listen to me. He’s a danger to
the community. We’ve got to get the men searching for him immediately. He’s
still out there. I saw--.” Roman drew a deep breath as he debated how hard he
could push the Superintendent. His conviction wavered.
“What is it, Inspector? What did you see?”
In spite of the exasperation creeping into Wicke’s voice,
something else kept tugging at Roman’s memory. Something that tied Hamm Foine
to….
Images of the shoes on
the empty deck of the
Valkyrie
flashed through his mind. Stackpoole’s wraith. The blood spatter on the docks. The
wild things that were most definitely not dogs. The tainted tooth and the
invisible stain of magick cloying at his neck where the Hamm thing had held him
down.
Hamm’s bare feet.
“I, I’ve seen this
sort of thing before, Sir. I believe he may have been acting under some sort
compulsion. He didn’t appear to be…himself.” Roman’s jaw tightened. He panted
as he fought down his rising gorge.
Wickes checked his pocket watch. “Get on with it, man. I’m running
short of patience.”
In a flash of sudden understanding, the pieces fell into place and
the words tumbled out. “He was in the grip of…” He cleared his throat. “Some.
Dark. Magick.” Roman clenched his hands to fists to keep himself from shaking. He
fought the rising nausea, desperate to make his case. “We both know there is
only one wizard on this Island. Only one man who could do such a thing.”
Wickes took a step back. “What? What possible evidence do you have
to support such a serious accusation? Sir Magnus is the finest man I’ve ever
known.
I doubt he’s even aware of Hamm
Foine or that pitiful horse ferry’s existence. Stand down, Inspector.”
With a sinking feeling, Roman nodded and stepped off the porch.
I know I’m right.
And yet, there was
still something that didn’t feel right. He felt as if he was forgetting
something… Something important.
And that was the thing of it. He had nothing to offer Wickes,
other than the his own conviction that the taint from the tooth in Stackpoole’s
cudgel and the lingering trace of Hamm Foine’s fingers at this neck were one
and the same. And that was the one thing Wickes would never accept.
The front door opened and Sir Magnus Vetch stepped onto the porch
to stand beside Wickes.
Roman reeled as the enormity of his blunder hit him like a runaway
coach. He had no idea the Superintendent and Sir Magnus were friendly.
“Is there a problem?”
said a voice from behind Sir Magnus. Even in the gaslight, Roman recognized
Alderman Fitzhugh and the tall, austere figure of Commander Lloyd, the Division
Superintendent of the London Metropolitan Police. Good God, all three of them.
“Ah, Inspector Greenslade, is it?” Sir Magnus’s eyes glittered in
the gaslight. “Would you care to join us?” He beckoned Roman closer.
Roman’s mouth went dry, even as he moved helplessly toward the
porch to accept the wizard’s invitation.
Beside him, Henry gave a low growl.
Gradually, the darkness in her bedroom faded into the watery light
of pre-dawn. Welsie lay awake on top of the coverlet with Simon beside her. His
hand gripped the gaffe between them—ready in case Hamm returned. They’d lain
side-by-side, fully clothed, all night. Neither had slept for even a minute.
After Roman left, Welsie had been so very upset and terrified of
being alone. So Simon stayed, sharing her wide-eyed vigil, listening for the
slightest sound. Barely a whispered word had passed between them.
Every time she closed her eyes, Hamm’s ghastly visage reappeared,
his eyes a cloudy blue, his skin--. She shuddered. Her arm throbbed painfully
where he’d grabbed her and tried to drag her into the black river. The
remembered smell of blood and his rotting flesh made her gag. By all rights she
and Roman would both be dead, if not for Simon.
She turned her head and saw her naked desire reflected in Simon’s
steady gaze.
Embarrassed, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the
bed.
“Where are you going,” he called softly, but she slipped
downstairs without answering.
A moment later, she heard his tread on the stair and he helped her
load firewood into the stove. Hamm had ripped the hinges off the back door. The
fire had gone out during the night; the room was cold and damp.
She struck a match to the kindling. “You’ve got to go.”
“Why?”
“It’s getting light. I’m--.”
A married woman.
“I don’t want anyone to see you leaving.” The Ainsleys
lived right next door. Old Mr. Crowley would stop by, as he did every morning,
before he went fishing. Even the sharp-eyed mudlarks would be up soon.
“You’re not safe here. That door needs to be fixed. What if he
comes back?”
She fought to keep her voice steady. “I don’t think he’s coming
back. I think you must’ve killed him.”
He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “No, love. I
didn’t kill him.”
“You must have. I saw
him.
He was on fire
!” Her heart
hammered in her throat.
An expression of sadness, or perhaps regret crossed his handsome
features. He stepped closer. “My little green flames can do nothing, and that
cutlass didn’t even slow him down. Whatever that was,
that thing
wasn’t Hamm, and it wasn’t human any more. It was a
creature of magick, and nothing I could’ve done would have killed it.”
She clutched at the twisted apron in her hands. “Don’t say that! There
must be something we can do. We’ve got to go to the police.” She began to
tremble.
“Your friend Roman
is
the police. I’m sure he’s already reported it. Probably why he left in such a
hurry.”
She frowned. “Don’t say it like that. He was upset. He thought you
and I—.” She hadn’t the words to say it. “Come to the police station with
me. They won’t believe me if I go alone. You can tell them…”
But he was already shaking his head. “Sorry, love. That I cannot
do.”
He reached for her, but she backed away. “Why not?”
“Your Inspector friend thinks little enough of me already. He’ll
use any excuse to keep me from my purpose.”
Oh my god. Roman was right. He’s
some kind of criminal.
“And what purpose is that?”
“Help Arvel in any way I can win the Queen’s contract to build
airships for Britain.” He took her hand. “Please; you’re not safe here. Stay
with us on the
Il Colibri
. Arvel
won’t mind. We’ll be leaving in a couple of days. You could come with us.”
Why won’t he go to the
police with me? What is he hiding?
His blue eyes held no deceit she could see,
but his excuse didn’t ring true. “I can’t. I’ve got the pub to run. The
ferry--.”
“After last night, you know the ferry is out of business. And I’m
sorry to say, probably the tavern, too.” He kissed her fingers. “Come with me.
We can make a new life together. Let me show you Capri by moonlight. It’s
beautiful there. And at night, the moonlight is so bright, you don’t even need
a lamp to see by—or we could go anywhere you like. Paris? Venice?”
“This is not the time--.”
It
would be easy to say yes to this man.
She daren’t think about it. She
closed her eyes and the memory of Hamm’s bloated face and Roman’s near-dead
body came back to her. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand back.
“You’ve got to go. Cully will be here soon. I’ll have him take
care of the door.” She could read both the pain and want in his expression.
He really is worried about me. He doesn’t
want to leave.
His eyes went to the heavy door, now smashed and hanging by a
single hinge. “What are you going to tell Cully?”
“I’ll think of something. Please go. Before the neighbors see you.
I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be back as soon as the show is over. Before dark,” he
promised.
She practically had to shove him out the door. She watched him
through the window until he was out of sight.
Then she went into the kitchen and slipped a boning knife into the
pocket of her apron.
Just in case.