Heart of Iron (27 page)

On the way to Aldgate.

Lena. Heat roared through him, blanking his mind. He was moving before he thought about it, snatching the bladed half gloves off the bench and his hunting knife.

“Who is it?” Rip asked, his voice sounding as though it were distorted through glass.

Esme grabbed Will’s arm. “It’s Lena, isn’t it?”

The next thing he knew, he was hauling himself up onto the gutters of the warren. The rookery stretched out in front of him, a maze of decrepit buildings and lean-tos. Taking a running leap, he headed for the wall that encircled Whitechapel.

Built fifty years ago, during the time of trouble when Blade had first come to the rookery, it stood nearly twenty feet high. More a symbol than a solid edifice, it had been constructed with whatever lay at hand, in order to keep the Echelon out.

Vaulting over the top of it, he dropped down onto a roof far below. Another jump and he was in the street.

People took one look at him and scattered. As he made his way to Old Castle Street, he saw a crowd hovered around something in the street. A glint of gilt caught his eye and his heart leaped into his throat. Shoving through the crowd, ignoring the cries, he staggered to a halt in front of the Caine carriage. It was tipped on its side, glass sprayed across the cobbles. Some enterprising sorts had already started trying to work the gilt free and the curtains were long gone.

Turning, he raked his gaze across the crowd, looking for someone he recognized. Bill the Tanner met his eyes and flinched. Will grabbed him by the collar.

“What happened here?”

“Dunno,” Bill muttered, his breath stinking of gin and his mismatched eyes darting independently. “Weren’t ’ere, guv. Didn’t see nuthin’.”

Will drew him up until they were face to face, letting the heat—the Beast—wash through his eyes. “Did you know I can smell it when a man lies? Think carefully, Bill, about whether you saw anythin’ here.”

“I can’t,” Bill sobbed. “They’ll kill me. Said they’d do it if I breathed a word.”

Will’s fist tightened until Bill could barely breathe. “What makes you think I won’t?”

Clawing at his collar, Bill’s eyes boggled. “They got…a monster with ’em… A fire-breathin’ monster! I can’t. He’ll roast me…like a leg o’ lamb! Better you than them!”

“They took a young woman with them, didn’t they? She’s mine, Bill. My woman. And they took her.” He forced his fist to open and dropped the man onto the cobbles before he killed him.

The urge to do so was almost overwhelming. The vein in his temple throbbed, his vision blanking at moments. Time and space became odd vignettes of sound and movement. Bill scrambled back across the cobbles and then the world blurred again.

Someone caught his wrist. He barely felt it. Looking down with a snarl, he stopped when he saw the young lad staring up at him with a face as white as a ghost.

“Don’t hurt me da,” he pleaded. “They went that way.” Then he pointed toward the nearest alley, one that ended in a brick wall and a boarded tunnel into the old, abandoned ELU line.

The world came back, narrowing in with crystal precision on the boarded up tunnel. Of course.

“Undertown.”

Eighteen

“Where are you taking me?” Lena demanded, as someone tore the blindfold from her eyes.

Blinking against the phosphorescent glare of the smuggler’s lanterns they carried, she looked around. Despite the chill to the air, perspiration dampened her hair. Her head felt like it was packed full of cotton stuffing, especially her sinuses.

The tunnels stank of mold and stale air. The men were quiet and moved with confidence; they’d come this way often, she imagined.

A little quiver of fear ticked in her chest. The old abandoned tunnels of the Eastern Line were said to contain the ghosts of all those workers who had died when the tunnels collapsed. Some men had been crushed to death and others trapped in the darkness to slowly suffocate or starve. The ELU had given up on the scheme after it drove them into dun territory and nobody had ever bothered to see it finished. Slowly, year after year, the tunnels had been taken over by those enterprising enough to carve out a living below ground when the rookeries began spilling over.

People trying to hide from the Echelon or the Nighthawks for whatever reason, or those who were simply too poor to be able to rent one of the hovels above ground. She could only imagine how terrified they’d been to live here, with the whisper of ghosts and the very real presence of the Slasher gangs—those who strapped a man down on a gurney and drained him of his blood to sell to the draining factories.

Then three years ago the vampire had taken up residence here, glutting itself on everyone’s blood until the tunnels were quiet again and there were even more ghosts to whisper. The vampire was gone, killed by Blade himself it was said, but the grim tunnels terrified her.

“Who are you?”

The man they’d called Mendici waved a hand in her direction. “Shut her up.” He struck a flare stick against his leg and the burning phosphorescent glow lit up the pressing darkness. Holding it high, he took a cautious step forward, edging over the rail tracks. The tunnel opened into an enormous cavern, the rail tracks shearing off into nothing. Mendici kicked a rock over the edge and she listened quietly, barely breathing, waiting for it to hit the bottom.

A distant plop echoed up. Water. There was water down there.

Then something thrashed far below. Lena felt the blood run out of her face. “What is that?” A bead of perspiration raced down her throat into her bodice and she shivered.

“The Gatekeeper,” the young boy muttered at her side. “Here, you be quiet now. There’s other things in the darkness. You don’t want to wake ’em now, do you?”

Lena stared at his pale, ghostly face and shook her head.

A steel cable stretched into the darkness. Mendici handed the flare stick to one of his men and pulled something out of his pocket. It looked like a metal rod with a hook on it. Snapping it open, he revealed a pair of handles, then he hung the hook over the cable and latched it tight.

Her gaze went straight to that yawning, gaping pit as she realized his intentions. No way. There was no way she was going over whatever hid in the depths of the waters.

Mendici snapped his fingers at her.

Lena shook her head but two of his men grabbed her by the arm and dragged her forward. Without ceremony, she was shoved against the burly giant’s side and his arm slid around her hips.

“Rollins,” Mendici called. “You’d best go back. Can’t bring Percy over this. Take him home and grease him up. Or whatever you do with that bloody thing.”

The gaslit eye of the automaton flared to life. Then it turned, clanking steps echoing back down the hollow tunnel.

“Ready for the ride of your life, luv?” Mendici grinned at her.

“No. I’m not. I won’t.”

He snatched a handful of her skirts and shoved her toward the chasm. Lena screamed, grabbing for his wrist. Her slippers danced on the edge of the cliff, pebbles crumbling beneath her feet as her horrified gaze met his.

“Choice is yours. You can either swim, or you can go over on this.”

Her gaze darted to the tenuous handgrip. “Fine.” She licked dry lips. “I’ll go over.”

Mendici hauled her back against his side. “You hold on tight then. Wouldn’t want me to slip.” With a nasty chuckle, he dragged her hard against him. Through her corset, she could feel the hard muscle of the man and reluctantly put her arms around his neck. He took back his flare stick and held it between his teeth, then put both hands on the handles. “Rearry?”

“No.”

With another laugh, he leaped out into nothingness.

Lena screamed, burying her face in his shoulder as they hurtled toward the far side of the cavern. Air rushed past her ears, cooling her flushed cheeks, and her skirts whipped around her legs. It felt like forever, but within moments he was curling his feet up underneath him and landing with a jolt on a rocky ledge.

“Righto, boys. We’re landed,” he called.

Lena collapsed onto her hands and knees, her body shaking. She felt like she was going to cast up her accounts, the world still whirling around her.

“Buck up, luv. You’re safe. For now.” Mendici unsnapped his hanger and tucked it away again. He hauled her to her feet, then peered closer. “Here, you don’t look so good.”

“I’m not feeling quite myself.”

He clutched her chin, then felt her cheeks with the back of his hand. “Christ, you’re burnin’ up.”

“My head’s been pounding all afternoon,” she admitted. “I believe I’m coming down with a chill.”

The flare stick lit his face with an eerie green, highlighting the dark gleam of his good eye and the steel eye patch. Thought flickered behind his eye. “Aye, well don’t come near me men. None of us need to be sick right now.”

The young boy, Jeremy, came flying out of the darkness, his face alight with glee. He landed and staggered to a halt, then unsnapped his handle. “I’m done, boys!”

One after the other they came sailing through the darkness until only two remained on the far ledge. Mendici dragged a pocket watch out and checked the time, pacing restlessly on the edge of the ledge. Lena leaned against the cavern wall, too exhausted to do anything. There was no point in trying to escape. They’d run her down in seconds, and the idea of getting lost in these tunnels terrified her. Who knew what else lurked in the darkness, like the Gatekeeper?

A massive roar echoed through the tunnels. Mendici spun on his heel and squinted up into the dark.

“What was that?” the young boy asked. “Mendici?”

Mendici held up a hand to quiet him. Another roar shattered the stillness of the tunnels. The two men on the ledge above raced to hook their hangers onto the cable, glancing over their shoulders. In the tunnel, flares of orange light flickered and died.

“Rollins,” Mendici grunted. He cast her a dark look. “Looks like them friends of yours decided to come play in our world. Hope you weren’t too fond of ’em?”

Lena drew herself to her feet, leaning hard against the wall.
Will
. The source of that enraged sound was suddenly apparent. “Don’t be so sure,” she said, staring up.
Please
be
all
right. Please don’t be hurt
.

Silence fell. The two men on the ledge glanced over their shoulders, their movements slowing. A relieved smile flickered over one of their faces.

Then one of the men stiffened. He shouted something and jumped for the cable. His body arced out into the air erratically. Barely a second later, the second man made his leap, dropping his flare stick on the ledge behind him.

Lena found herself holding her breath. Could Will truly take on the monstrous Percy and survive? The Greek fire that the Spitfires used could burn through anything, and she’d seen the barrel of the flamethrower attached to Percy’s mechanical arm.

A shadow detached itself from the mouth of the tunnel, becoming a man with familiar broad shoulders. Lena let out a shuddering breath. He was alive.

Will stepped up to the ledge, the phosphorescent gleam highlighting his singed shirt. The light cast a play of shadows over the stark bones of his face. There was something in his hand. He held it up; Percy’s square head.

Mendici sucked in a breath. “Bring me the girl.”

Someone shoved her toward him. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed her forward, her slippers teetering on the edge of the ledge. Lena froze, staring up into the darkness. Will had stepped forward too, fury and frustration playing over his features. Only fifty feet separated them, but it might as well be a mile.

“You want ’er?” Mendici roared. “Then come and get ’er.”

Lena glanced up at the nasty little smile on his face. “No! Don’t, Will! I’ll be fine—”

A hand wrapped around her mouth, cutting off her words.

Will wrapped a meaty fist around the cable and swung out, a grim look of determination on his face. Lena’s heart leaped into her throat. Damn him. Why wouldn’t he listen to her? Her heart hammered against her ribs. If he was hurt trying to save her, she’d never forgive herself.

“Ready, Lowerston?” Mendici asked, watching Will swing hand after hand across the cable.

“Got him,” someone muttered behind her.

A thin, tubular shape lifted out of the corner of her eye. Lena turned her head, Mendici’s hand sliding from her mouth loosely. Five feet behind her, a man peered through the sight on a rifle.

She didn’t think. She’d never reach him in time. Instead, watching his finger caress the trigger, she stepped in front of the rifle.

With a muttered curse he jerked the weapon up, an explosion of sound shooting into the darkened gloom of the cavern’s roof. As soon as the bullet hit, it exploded, sparks cascading above like fireworks. A dozen screeching bats flew out of the shadows and a heavy silence fell, marred only by the sinuous stir of water far below.

Lena stared at the man with the rifle, her breath freezing in her chest. What the hell had she just done? If that had hit her, she’d be little more than pieces of flesh and viscera, scattered across the ledge.

“Are you insane?” Mendici roared, ripping her out of the way and shaking her.

Icy dread slithered through her veins. “No,” she heard herself say, the words clear and distinct. Her knees gave out and Mendici let her drop to the ground.

“Reload!” he snapped at the rifleman, glancing sharply at Will as if to gauge his distance. “Bloody hell.”

Lowerston fumbled for bullets, his fingers shaking. Mendici’s nostrils flared. “Looks like I’ll have to do this meself.”

Dragging something out of his pocket, he held up a small metal cylinder. As his thumb pressed the button on top, she waited for the explosion.

Nothing came.

But Will lost his grip on the cable with one hand, his body jerking almost in pain. He clapped his arm over his ears and face, his body tucking up on itself. The other fist curled around the cable in an iron grip, his knuckles whitening.

“Come on, you bastard.” Mendici muttered, staring at him with a glittering eye.

“He can’t hold out for long,” the young lad piped up. “Nobody’s held up against a screamer before.”