The Conquering Dark: Crown (18 page)

The coach driver leaned over with the practiced calm of a long-standing Anstruther retainer. “I heard noises inside, sir. Is all well?”

“Quarrel with the help. Take us to Limehouse.”

Malcolm and Penny exited the carriage onto a fog-bound Limehouse street across from the Hanged Mermaid. The waterfront smelled of haddock and brine. He signaled the two girls to wait. Imogen nodded, leaning back in the seat while Charlotte peeked through the window shade at the press of strange people shuffling past.

Penny glanced behind them at the coach. “She's not going to stay there. You know that.”

“She will if she knows what's best.”

Penny patted his arm. “You just keep thinking that.”

Malcolm marched into the tavern, already focused on things besides the minding of children. Penny came in behind him but sidled off to the side to watch his flank. She really was quite good at gauging a situation to her best advantage. He never felt ill at ease with her at his back.

Unwashed faces turned toward him suspiciously, their porters and meals forgotten for a moment. Most went back to their lives, but a few continued to stare at Malcolm's dark form. They marked him as a stranger.

He ordered a pint and leaned against the bar, filling a narrow space between cramped shoulders. He debated how to broach the subject of a missing woman and a maniacal demigod. He decided just to listen. Conversations picked up again, creating a low buzz. He sipped his warm beer and tried to listen in on various dialogues. Unfortunately, the whispers were too soft or the discussion too benign.

Malcolm glanced behind him to check on Penny. To his surprise, she sat at a table with a bunch of fellows, grinning broadly. They leaned close, eager to listen to her. They all burst out into laughter. Malcolm scowled. It shouldn't bother him, but it did. She was in her element. Despite her brilliance, she was one of the working class and they recognized their kin. He took his pint and headed over to her. The men around her quieted at his approach.

“Nothing here for you, mate,” snarled one of them who looked older than his father.

“There you'd be wrong,” was Malcolm's dark reply, his eyes darting toward Penny.

Her head tilted with exasperation and her mouth quirked. “Stand easy, lads. He's with me.”

Disappointment swept through the small contingent and they all sat back. She waved a jaunty farewell and slipped her arm through Malcolm's, leading him back toward the bar.

He asked, “Why didn't you tell me you'd been here before?”

“Because I haven't.”

“They seemed awful friendly toward you,” he muttered.

“It's because I don't glower.”

“What are you implying?”

“That you glower.” Penny laughed.

He changed his expression even though he knew it was too late. “It's gotten me what I needed before.”

“Maybe, but there's no need of it here. Those blokes are happy enough to talk. Besides that, I'm a woman, not some dark Scottish ghost off the moors. Far less threatening.”

“What did you find out?”

“There's a new island.”

“What do you mean?”

“A new island. It just appeared a few months ago. Off the coast of Allhallows. None of the sailors or rivermen remember it being there before.”

“Bloody hell. Only one person I know can make an island.” Malcolm spotted a man with a dark tattoo on his neck seated near the front of the bar. A frown emerged when he thought another eager bloke was eyeing Penny. Then he realized the man was watching him. When the man noticed Malcolm's attention, he turned back to his drink.

Penny swigged down the last of Malcolm's beer. “What do we do now?”

“We go check it out.”

“Without the others?”

“They're in India. No idea when they'll be back.”

“Just us two against Gaios? Four, if you count the girls. I'm not sure I like those odds.”

“I don't plan to fight Gaios. Just find Jane and get her away.”

“That's a poor bet.”

“If we don't find her, we head back and wait for Simon.”

“Sure this isn't your guilt talking?”

“We're running out of time.” That was all he said. There was no point in explaining or discussing. They had one choice.

The tattooed man rose and slipped out the front. Malcolm stood and pulled Penny with him.

“Where we going?” she asked.

“That man was a bit too interested.”

“What man?”

“He's already out the door. Tall man with a tattoo on his neck.” They stepped outside in the fog-shrouded daylight. People bustled eerily around them.

“I don't see him.”

“There.” Malcolm pointed out the fellow shoving into the crowd.

Across the street, Charlotte leaned halfway out of the coach window and waved. Malcolm glared at her, indicating that she should stay out of sight. She made a face and retreated inside, almost.

Penny had eyes on their quarry and Malcolm raced to catch up to her as she weaved quickly through the throngs of people. The tattooed man led them toward the docks where two other men joined him. They spoke with brief agitation before continuing on.

“You know,” Penny pointed out, “he could have just disliked your choice of beer. People are peculiar in this part of London.”

Malcolm grunted. “He didn't look at us until we started talking about this island of yours. That's enough for me.”

Penny shrugged. “Any lead is a good lead.”

Malcolm pulled her behind some crates at the wharf as the trio of men paused in front of a ramp. A sixty-foot steam launch was moored below them. On either side were affixed massive paddle wheels. Malcolm brought his spyglass up. He spotted about fifteen men on board. Crates were being loaded in the hold. “That's the same boat I saw at Westminster that spirited the Baroness and Ferghus away.”

Penny took the glass and stiffened in concentration. “I bet she does ten knots on the Thames. Woe to anyone she passes. They're about to cast off.”

“Blast it all.” Malcolm got ready to move.

“What about the girls?”

“They're safer where they are. The driver will take them home in the carriage.”

Penny glanced over her shoulder and grinned broadly. “Then again maybe not. They're right behind you.”

Malcolm spun about and, sure enough, Imogen and Charlotte were slinking toward them in their affluent attire, causing one or two rivermen to regard them curiously. He stalked back and pulled them down to the crates. “I told you to stay in the coach.”

“That was hours ago,” Charlotte pointed out. “Are those pirates? They look like pirates.”

Penny shoved Charlotte's head down below the line of crates. “Yes. We're going to board that vessel.”

Charlotte's eyes grew wide with anticipation and her voice rose an octave. “We're going to plunder her!”

Malcolm rolled his eyes. “What books have you been reading?”

“They're pulling up the gangplank.” Penny whisked the bone-and-steel fan into her hand. Charlotte cooed over how lovely it was.

Green smoke billowed from a singular stovepipe. Two crewmen were using long gaffs to push off. Malcolm raced down the jetty and leapt across the widening gap, legs tight together and lifted to clear the rail of the boat. His black coat flew out behind him. He landed between the crewmen, crashing a fist into the face of one and slamming the butt of his Lancaster into the other. They both went down. Malcolm grabbed one of the poles and hooked the wharf as Charlotte vaulted aboard. A group of sailors paused in surprise when they saw a girl coming at them. They grinned with mad assured glee, until she began to change in front of them under the awning of the wheelhouse. They drew back in horror at the bone-cracking transformation.

Penny helped the awkward Imogen cross the gap, then she turned into the melee, whipping up her fan in almost coy defense. The first man to reach for her received an electric shock with a single tap. He dropped in a wild flail. Penny spun to the next man, striking a glancing blow across his back with the bladed fins of the dainty fan. He dropped as well. When the next sailor came at her with a short axe raised, she bent under the blow like an exotic dancer and thrust out her arm. The fan collapsed with the momentum and its end tapped against the man's chest with a crack of voltage. He stiffened and flew backward. A crewman thrust at her with a long knife; she straightened, snapping open the fan again, holding it in front of her. The fan caught the blade and closed around it. With a twist of her wrist she sent another electrical charge out along the steel fins to course down the blade and envelop the sailor.

Imogen pulled up her sleeve and the filaments on her arm quivered. With a single flex of a muscle, three needles flew in a wide arc toward three men rushing at Malcolm. Each quill found a mark. The men bore Malcolm to the deck with weapons flashing, but suddenly their raised arms shook. Their eyes held terror as palsied muscles betrayed them. Malcolm slammed his fists into their unprotected chins and laid out all three men on the deck.

Charlotte was in full form now and towered over four cowering men. Her deafening roar sent them scattering. She grabbed one pirate and hurled the screaming man at the backs of those fleeing, bowling them over the rail and into the water. Malcolm swore he heard her laugh.

He launched himself up a ladder to the wheelhouse. No doubt the girls could handle a few remaining roughnecks. He heard more bodies make a splash over the side as proof. Warily, he lifted his head over the last step and the whine of a pistol ball careened near his ear.

Malcolm's Lancaster boomed over the lip of the stairs, forcing the captain to leap for cover. Malcolm sprang up and kicked into the wheelhouse.

The captain, a square-faced man with dark sharp eyes, twisted and aimed a second pistol. He didn't have time to fire. The roof above him exploded and a hairy hand reached in. Long clawed fingers encaged the man's head, lifting him off the deck. Malcolm knocked the pistol from the man's hand. He grinned up at Charlotte, who clung to the rocking roof, peering in through the hole she had made. The captain gasped and struggled as Charlotte's grip tightened, sharp claws digging into the soft tissue of his neck.

Malcolm blocked his kicking legs. “Stop squirming or she'll rip your bloody head clean off. You've lost.”

The man went limp. He gurgled something unintelligible. Charlotte released him and he dropped to the wooden deck. Malcolm laid the cold steel of the Lancaster against the back of the captain's skull. “You're taking us to Gaios's new island. Don't bother pretending you don't understand. Yes?”

Trembling, the captain stared up at Charlotte. “Yes.”

The paddles chunked in the muddy water as the steamer slipped out of the long mouth of the Thames into the sea. Allhallows lay hazy off to starboard. A crowded parade of ships came and went around them, some on short sail slipping in for London town and others letting canvas out making for the North Sea or the Channel. The steamer veered south of the most crowded section of the route. It wasn't a surprise to Malcolm that Gaios wanted to remain undisturbed. What was surprising was that more people hadn't seen the island. A new landmass of any size off the coast was both a curiosity and a hazard. Or perhaps it had been visited, and those that had dared never returned.

After steaming for an hour, the captain signaled to slow. From out of the dark waters jutted a cruel stone. Then more around it, each of them capable of tearing a ship apart with but a gentle tap. The slowly revolving paddles were just keeping headway as the boat steamed into the forest of dragon's teeth.

Malcolm nudged his pistol barrel against the man's spine. “If we go down, you won't live to die a watery death.”

The captain continued to watch nervously ahead. “I've no mind to die for the likes of him.”

At the bow, Penny stood guard over the mate who peered into the hazy sea and signaled directions back to the helm. The motions were practiced from many passages through these hazards, but hardly routine. The mate kept a long pole handy to shove off from rocks that drew too close. Perspiration covered his face as the huge obsidian knives inched past the rail with the sound of water lapping on the glassy black stones.

After a long silent journey, the deadly stones dropped astern and a small island loomed ahead. Malcolm estimated it was five miles across. There was a narrow strip of stony black shore, then the entire island was lush and green. Even more peculiar, it appeared to be covered in tropical jungle. The air was remarkably warm and dense with moisture. Malcolm removed his heavy coat and laid it aside. He eyed the landscape for sentries as the steamer churned toward a wooden dock. When the boat came alongside the jetty, the mate tied off the spring line with one wary eye on Penny. Once the boat was made fast, Malcolm sent the captain and the mate below with Penny to be secured with the survivors.

Penny and the girls returned on deck. Charlotte was up on her toes in her excitement, peering into the dark foliage, probably seeing far more than he could. Imogen stood beside her, quiet and seemingly serene. The quills on her bare arm whipped back and forth in the wind. Her pale, featureless face waited patiently.

Malcolm laid a hand on Charlotte's shoulder. She looked up at him, full of eagerness. But her face fell before he could say, “Charlotte, I need you and Imogen to stay with the boat.”

“But they're tied up. They won't be going anywhere.” Her voice held only frustration. “Please let me come with you! I'll be good. I swear. I'll only do what you tell me to do!”

“I know you will. That's why I'm leaving this in your hands.” He knelt beside her. “This boat is our only way home. Do you understand? Without it, we will be trapped here with Gaios. I am leaving it in both your hands.” He took in Imogen with his stern gaze.

Imogen straightened, realizing what he was asking was no small matter. “You can count on us.”

Charlotte huffed a resigned sigh and nodded. “You just better come back for us.”

Malcolm rose to his feet and motioned to Penny. They left the boat with the eyes of the two girls following them as they crossed the stony shore into a narrow gap in the foreboding thicket. The sky darkened when they entered. Everything smelled of dank earth and rotting vegetation. Cut off from the sea breeze, the air warmed quickly and soon both of them were perspiring.

“Holy God,” Penny hissed, a hand over her damp brow. “Did we cross the Equator?”

Malcolm knelt and put his hand down on the ground. “It feels hot. How is that even possible?”

“Here's how.”

Penny found herself at the edge of a small fissure deep into the crust of the island. Red lava glowed in the dark below.

“A bloody volcano.” Malcolm came up next to her.

“Cor.” Penny was silent a moment, but then admitted, “I'm glad Simon has his powers back.”

“I'm not sure even he could stop a volcano if Gaios chooses to make London the new Pompeii.”

“He'll try though.”

“Yes, he will.”

They silently moved into the steamy jungle. Even though the going was rougher, they stayed off the main path but kept it on their left and in sight. A few minutes later the jungle opened up improbably onto English farmland. There were vast acres of crops. And what crops. Wheat heads the size of American maize. Vegetables were twice normal size and perfectly shaped, with hardly a blemish. They hung heavy on their stalks, ready to be picked. The air blew clean and moist.

Beyond the verdant fields, they saw a building. It held a glimmer of pomp, luxury, and ostentation in its structure. It was grand, with numerous bow windows to allow generous light of day. The front was a tad showy, even palatial, with unneeded Corinthian columns. It exuded the strange confidence of the normal here on this abnormal island.

Penny seized one of the bursting heads of grain and whistled in admiration. “I don't get it. Does he want to kill us or feed us?”

“I don't care which. Let's keep going.” Malcolm hurried along a path between high stalks of corn and glistening apple trees.

The stalks far ahead rustled like dry bones and there was a strange grunting. Malcolm motioned Penny quickly to the left, keeping whatever it was upwind from them. Down a long narrow row, a hulking shape of flesh and metal appeared. A gorilla thrust its broad frame into view, walking heavy on its steel knuckles. Its large head swept the area. When it turned toward them, they could see that its jaws and ragged teeth were made of dark iron, like a cruel hunter's trap. A guttural snort sounded as it paused, its nostrils flaring wide. The breeze swept the smell of oil and animal musk toward them. It moved on, with the whir of grinding gears and rapidly shifting pistons. Sunlight glinted off the metal lining its spine.

When they finally emerged from the field, Penny spat. “That woman is sick. What she does to those poor creatures isn't right. That's not what the Maddy Boys were about. They would be horrified at what she's done here.”

“Write a letter to the dean later.” Malcolm reached the manicured lawn at the rear of the expansive building; the first door they tried was unlocked.

“Trusting fellow,” Penny commented dryly. “Or maybe it really is a spa. Looks like one. Bit off the beaten track though.”

Malcolm and Penny found themselves in something of a coffee room, empty but complete with orderly chairs and tables, all clean and set. The interior was dim and comforting. The hearth was unlit though that might have been due to the warm air of the island rather than disuse. They cautiously moved to the door and went into the vacant hallway. The radiant sitting rooms of the main floor were empty so they climbed upstairs to where they assumed the patient wings and any residents were located.

Crouching on the top step, Penny spied a man in a white coat. They watched him walk to the end of the hall and enter a room. They padded quickly down the corridor, noting numerous private rooms lining both sides. All were empty. They crept to the last room where voices spoke softly. When footsteps came toward the door, Malcolm and Penny darted out of sight.

The man in the white coat walked past and as soon as he went downstairs, they peeked into the last room. Jane's father lay in a clean bed, partially covered with a stark white sheet. At their entrance, he turned his head to regard them.

His brow creased in confusion, but then recognition lit his face. “Captain Perry!”

Malcolm smiled gently at the elderly man, recalling that the addled Mr. Somerset had once confused him with Jane's fiancé, who had died while in service to the navy. “Mr. Somerset, I'm Malcolm MacFarlane.”

“MacFarlane?” Panic started to settle in Mr. Somerset's eyes. Then it passed like a sudden storm. “Oh yes, the man who enjoys poetry. Jane's acquaintance from church.”

“Well, that's right, sir. You have remarkable recall.”

Penny raised a bemused eyebrow at Malcolm but remained quiet. She pushed the door nearly shut and stayed there as a lookout.

Mr. Somerset regarded Malcolm in a beseeching manner. “Have you seen Jane?”

Malcolm's eyes narrowed. “She's not here with you? On the island?”

“Island?” The old man seemed more disoriented than before. Though for someone in his condition, anyplace other than his home would be befuddling. “She comes to see me every day even though she is very busy here.”

“She is all right?”

Mr. Somerset attempted to rise from his bed. “Has something happened to her?”

“No, Mr. Somerset,” Malcolm hurriedly assured the confused man. “I want to see her. Is she about?”

“She should be at prayer.” Mr. Somerset leaned forward so he could see out the window next to his bed. He gestured toward a simple rectangular stone building just off the side of the manor house. It was about twenty feet square with a single door and no windows. “In the chapel. She prays a great deal. For me, I know. She worries so.”

The old man's flash of clarity about his daughter touched Malcolm. He looked into the troubled eyes, which were struggling against vacancy. “She cares for you, sir.”

“She should pray for herself, Captain Perry.”

Malcolm felt compelled to pat the man's gnarled hand. Then he glanced at Penny. “Can we get down from here?”

She brightened and pulled a coil of rope from her backpack. “Simple. Only two floors. We could shimmy down a pipe if need be.”

“I'll use the rope.”

“Are we taking him with us?” Penny indicated Mr. Somerset, who had closed his eyes and appeared to be dozing.

“Let's find Jane first.”

Penny flung open the window and tied off the rope to an overhang outside. Without further pretense, she slid over the sill and scampered down as if she did such things every day.

Shaking his head in amazement, Malcolm turned back to Mr. Somerset. “I'll find Jane and come back.”

Mr. Somerset opened his eyes wearily and nodded, trusting Malcolm at his word. He didn't bat an eye at their odd behavior. “Close the window after you leave, if you would please, Captain Perry. It's a bit drafty otherwise.”

“Of course, sir.” Malcolm followed after Penny.

The grounds surrounding the house were adequately tended, with green grass a bit higher than proper and numerous marble benches. They could have been strolling the institutional landscape of any health spa south of London. They made their way to the chapel and cautiously pushed open the door. The inside had a familiar Presbyterian plainness except that at the far end was a large ornate altar that didn't belong to any denomination. A woman knelt in prayer before it. If she heard them enter, she did not give any sign.

Malcolm hesitated a moment, not sure why. Seeing the small form kneeling in supplication, he again fought back shame and guilt for not protecting her. There was no telling what she had endured at the hands of Gaios. He took a step forward and called softly, “Miss Somerset.”

The woman didn't react at first and he wondered if she had heard him. He called out again and finally she rose to her feet and took several breaths as if recovering from exertion. When she turned, she uttered a gasp of astonishment. “Mr. MacFarlane!”

Malcolm nodded with awkward formality. Relief flooded him that she appeared well. She looked tired, her eyes a trifle dark behind her glasses. Her porcelain skin was dotted with beads of perspiration although it wasn't hot inside the chapel. Still dressed the same, modest to the point of prudish, complete with a white bonnet tied over her honey hair. She was as thin and drawn as ever but seemed stronger and strangely vigorous rather than frail as she had before.

“Why are you here?” Jane's mouth was round with surprise, particularly when she stared at the heavy guns he wore. Then her eyes strayed up to the grey scarf looped around his neck, the very scarf she had given him, and her pleased smile assured Malcolm he had reached her in time. “
How
are you here? I didn't think visitors were encouraged yet.”

“I'm here for you.”

Jane pressed a hand to her breast. “Oh, Mr. MacFarlane, you astound me.” She glanced at Penny with a quizzical expression.

Malcolm waved hurriedly back at Penny. “That's my partner, Miss Carter.”

“Miss Carter. A pleasure.” Jane nodded a polite greeting to the engineer, who was heading for the altar, then turned a confused but eager face back to Malcolm. Her petite mouth lifted into a genuine smile. “I can't believe you came all this way for me, with Miss Carter. How did you know? You must have spoken with Mrs. Cummings.”

“Yes. She wasn't quite herself.”

The slump of Jane's shoulders was penitent. “I fear my sudden departure may have upset her. She was quite beside herself.”

Penny snorted from behind the altar. “Well, she is now.”

Malcolm took Jane's hands in a strong grip. “We don't have time to waste. I've come to rescue you.”

The petite woman started. “Rescue? I miss your meaning.”

“You're a prisoner.”

Jane gave a confounded turn of her head as if trying to diagnose some mental failing in him. “Mr. MacFarlane, are you well?”

“Yes, I'm bloody well fine. I just want to know why you are here.”

She chided him with raised eyebrows. “Now, you are being overly forceful, sir. I would ask you to remember you are in God's house.”

“God's house?” Malcolm huffed with disdain. “Jane, you have no idea what you are in the middle of. I hope.”

“Well, despite your lack of confidence, I am fully aware.” Her tone was disapproving. “Wasn't it you who told me that I should value my …” Jane glanced suspiciously toward the altar where Penny had disappeared and was busy making the grunts and toolish bangings of fascinated investigation. She leaned closer to Malcolm and whispered, “… my abilities. That is what I am doing here, along with Gaios.”