The Torn Wing (22 page)

After they placed the old garments in a bag, they told Mrs. B. they were going shopping and hurried out the back door. Geoffrey was gone and they changed in one of the empty stalls in the coach house.

Tiki braided her long hair and tucked it inside her jacket. The worn boots she pulled on over her socks were more comfortable than the prim heels that hugged her feet, and she wiggled her toes in delight. She pulled a cap low on her forehead, the brim shadowing her face.

She faced Fiona. “How do I look?”

“Cor, Teek,” Fiona smiled. “It’s like findin’ an old friend.”

Tiki laughed. “I know exactly what you mean.”

They scooted out the back door and ran toward Grosvenor Street. From there they walked the distance to Regent Street, busy with omnibuses and carriages, wagons pulled by tired horses. Pedestrians filled the sidewalks and no one paid any attention to two more scruffy boys scrambling through traffic.

“That one’s big enough for both of us,” Tiki said, pointing to a large carriage headed in their direction. “Ready, one, two, three…” They jumped on the boot as the carriage went by. Once they were settled on the small luggage platform Tiki leaned over and whispered to Fiona. “Here’s to being invisible.”

THE CARRIAGE TOOK them through Piccadilly Circus where it pulled to a stop. Tiki and Fiona hopped off before the driver knew they’d hitched a ride. Piccadilly was bustling with people. Wheels clacked across the cobblestones in time with the cadence of the horse’s hooves. Costermongers pushed their carts down the street, crying out goods for sale. A man playing a hurdy-gurdy stood on a nearby corner, his rumpled stove-pipe hat upside down on the street, collecting coins. Children shouted, offering to sweep the street, carry packages, or fetch a cab for the upper class, some doing cartwheels in the hopes of earning a ha’penny or two.

“Where should we look?” Fiona asked, wiping her nose on her sleeve without a second thought.

“Let’s walk up Shaftsbury to the Dials,” Tiki said. “Rieker mentioned he’d spent time there. Maybe someone there will know something.” The walk to Seven Dials, a small circular junction of seven streets, took less than fifteen minutes. As they left the hustle and bustle of Piccadilly, the buildings and atmosphere changed to worn and dark buildings where the down-on-their-luck, scrabbled to survive.

Tiki recognized the look on the faces of the children who ran in the street before them. It was a look of constant hunger. The same look had been on her and Fiona’s faces just a few months ago. It didn’t take long for the bits of bread and fruit she’d shoved in her pockets to give away were gone.

Though many of the children they spoke to had heard of Rieker, none had seen him lately nor knew of his whereabouts. There was no one who looked like they might know something of the Otherworld.

Tiki and Fiona wandered through the Dials, parts of St. Giles and then walked over to Covent Garden, where the fruit and vegetable traders set up their stands. Tiki tried to imagine what the place would look like at midnight, with a host of goblins hawking their magical fruit. She shuddered. It was sight she didn’t care to ever see.

Fiona was chattering on about hollow columns the street children climbed to reach the top of the arcade and hide when Tiki jerked to a stop. Fi walked on a few more paces before she realized she’d left Tiki behind. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “What is it?”

“There might be one way to find Rieker.” Quickly she told Fiona about the gates to the Otherworld. Much as she didn’t want to find herself in the dark of night with a bunch of goblins, it might be their only option. “Sean said Covent Garden was one of the gates. If we come back here after midnight we might be able to get through to the Otherworld.”

Fiona put her hands on her hips. “And then what? Are we going to storm the castle and rescue Rieker?” She snorted. “That sounds like one of the faerie tales you read to Clara.”

“But what else can we do? At least it’s
something
.”

“Be reasonable, Teek.” Fi slipped her arm through Tiki’s and pulled her along. “Even if it is possible—I’m not going to come back at midnight and tangle with a bunch of goblins.” She made a face. “It gives me shivers to even think about it.”

“I know,” Tiki said. “But—”

“We’re not equipped to deal with faeries in their own world. Better to just see if we can find word from someone here, like Rieker did.”

Tiki’s shoulders sagged. Fiona was right. Even if they could get through the gate, they had no means to battle magical creatures. She didn’t even know where Rieker was for sure, but she had to do something.

AFTER SEVERAL HOURS of walking the streets, they didn’t know anything more than when they’d started.

“We’re this close,” Fiona said, a hint of color in her cheeks, “we might as well check Charing Cross.”

Tiki forced a smile, though there was no part of her that felt happy. They weren’t one inch closer to helping Rieker and on top of that, she couldn’t seem to shake Sean from her thoughts. “What will Johnny say if he sees you dressed like this?”

Fiona gasped and looked down. “I forgot.”

“Has he been about lately?”

“No. Not since we took the stew to him.” Fiona wiped her nose on her sleeve again, smearing dirt across her face.

“That’s probably for the best,” Tiki said. They waited while a horse-drawn double-decker omnibus pulled to a stop in front of them; the crowd shifted as passengers got on and off. Fiona nudged Tiki, her mouth twisted in a small grin. Bus stops, packed with people standing tightly together, were a perfect place to pick pockets. Tiki shook her head. “Don’t even think of it, Fi,” she whispered.

Once the omnibus had moved on, they crossed the street, avoiding the piles of manure left behind by the myriad horses going up and down the street. “You don’t have to let Johnny see you,” Tiki said, “but I want to check the old clockmaker’s shop, just in case. Larkin was hiding there once. I doubt she’ll be there again but I have to check.” Tiki veered around the small stand of a shoeshine man.

It only took a few minutes to walk the familiar path from Covent Garden to Charing Cross. As they walked Tiki had the eerie sense that nothing had really changed, that they still had to pick pockets to survive, that she and Fiona were heading home after another day of searching for a way to feed themselves and the others.

“It’s almost like we never left,” Fiona said as Charing Cross came into view.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Tiki admitted.

“But we’re better off now, aren’t we, Teek? Living with Rieker, eating every day.” Fi peeked at her from the corners of her eyes. “Even though Larkin pesters you still?”

Were they better off? Or would she trade this constant fear to return to an old familiar fear of starving to death?

Tiki shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, Fi. All I know is we can’t go backwards. We can only look forward and try to do better.” She cut to the far side of the station. “I’ll go in the back way, through the maintenance tunnels. Are you coming with me?”

Fiona hesitated. “Would Johnny think less of me if he saw me like this?”

Tiki sighed. “He’s a pickpocket, Fi. He’s only worried about filling his belly.”

Fiona made a face. “No different than what we were a few months ago.”

“I’m sure he’ll like you just fine, whatever way you’re dressed,” Tiki said over her shoulder, as she entered the alley that ran along-side the station. “He’ll probably have more respect for you, knowing you can hold your own with the best of the lot in London.”

They pushed their way through the narrow tunnel that led to the back of the little room where they’d lived. It was dark but Tiki knew the way blindfolded—she’d come this way so many times before. She reached the little panel of wood that marked the back entrance to the old clockmaker’s shop and stopped to swing it to the side. Fiona was right behind her.

They slipped into the long, rectangular room. Tiki shivered. “It’s so cold in here. The stove must not have been lit for days.” Then the smell hit her. An odor she would never forget permeated the room: the smell of sickness.

Chapter Thirty-One

T
iki froze, her senses on high-alert. The watery light that spilled into the room from the three large windows on the far wall was dim and the area was full of shadows.

“What’s wrong?” Fiona whispered.

A groan sounded from a pile of blankets near the cold stove.

“Johnny?” Fiona clutched Tiki’s hand. They crept closer to the pile of blankets, ready to run, if necessary. “Johnny?”

Another groan. This time the blankets shifted slightly.

“Are you hurt?” Tiki asked as they took another few steps, wary of moving too close.

“Fiona?” The voice was hoarse and weak.

“Yes, it’s me.” Fi let go of Tiki’s hand and hurried over to the huddled mass. Johnny threw back a blanket and tried to push himself into a sitting position, his face grimacing with the effort.

He froze as his gaze fell on Fiona. “Y..you don’ look like Fi….” Johnny said, trying to push away, but too weak to move.

Fiona caught her breath in a gasp. “Is that
blood
?”

Convinced Johnny was alone and it wasn’t a trap, Tiki hurried over and squatted down next to Fiona. She pulled the mess of dirty blankets away so she could see him. He was sweating so much his hair was stuck to his forehead, yet he shivered. Several piles of rags were heaped nearby and appeared to be soaked with blood. “What happened?”

“M..my leg.” He sank back onto the floor again, his eyes fluttering closed, as though the effort to sit up was more than he could manage.

Tiki pulled the last blanket off him. The right leg of his trousers hung in shreds. Below the torn fabric, his leg was swollen and covered in blood, with deep gashes across the leg. The outer portions of the wound were black and congealing.

“Oh no,” Tiki whispered, drawing a deep breath.

Fiona scooted away, covering her face in her hands.

“Stop it, Fi,” Tiki said in a firm voice. “I’m going to need your help.” She sat back on her heels and looked around the room. “I don’t suppose there are any candles left.” She leaned close to Johnny’s leg again, delicately pulling away the torn fabric of his trousers to look at the wound. “I need some light.”

“W..what happened?” Fiona gulped, trying to catch her breath, still huddled several feet away.

When Johnny didn’t answer, Tiki leaned over and peered into his face. “He’s unconscious.” She put the back of her hand to his sweat-drenched cheek. “And he’s got a raging fever.”

Fiona crept closer. She sounded on the verge of tears. “What do we do, Tiki?”

Tiki thought fast. They couldn’t leave him here or he would surely die. It was obvious he’d been alone for days.

“Does Mr. Lloyd have something that will help him?” Fiona asked, mentioning the apothecary up in Leicester Square who had provided Tiki with medicine for Clara’s cough last winter.

“He doesn’t need an apothecary, Fi,” Tiki said, her voice tense. “He needs a surgeon. And he needs one right now.” She bent forward and gently ran her hands along Johnny’s leg, grimacing as her fingers became slippery and covered with blood. Johnny groaned again, but didn’t open his eyes. “I don’t think the leg’s broken,” Tiki said as she sat back. “But those are deep cuts.” A terrible dread filled her. The skin on the edges of the gashes was torn and uneven, as though a claw had ripped through his leg. First Leo, now Johnny—who was next?

She wiped her hands on a nearby blanket, blood sticking between her fingers, as her mind raced to figure out how they could help the boy. “I know,” she whispered. “Shamus is working today. You need to run to Binder’s Bakery and pray that he’s not gone on deliveries. Tell him we need him and the wagon.
Now.”

WHILE FIONA WAS gone Tiki rummaged up every scrap of cloth she could find. Those that she could, she tore into long strips. Johnny writhed in pain and tried to stop her as she wrapped the strips tightly around his leg, but he was so weak, he couldn’t put up much of a fight.

“Shhh,” Tiki said, smoothing his damp hair off his forehead. Her fingers left a streak of blood across his pale skin. “I’m trying to help you feel better.”

Blood soaked through the first few layers of cloth almost immediately, but Tiki kept wrapping the fabric as tight as she could. She was just finishing putting the last row of strips around his leg when Shamus and Fiona burst back through the door.

“Fi said it was an emergency. What’s going on, Teek?” Shamus said breathlessly as he hurried across the room. He stopped when he saw Johnny, his gaze lingering on the boy’s swollen and bandaged leg. “What happened?”

“We don’t know.” Tiki knotted the last strip. “He hasn’t really said much since we’ve been here.” Johnny looked much younger with his eyes closed and his face relaxed. Tiki wondered how long ago his parents had been sentenced to Debtor’s Prison, how long he’d been living on his own. “Shamus, did you bring the wagon?” she asked.

He nodded. “But we can’t get a drop of blood in there or Binder will have my backside.”

Tiki nodded. “I know. I have an idea.” She pointed to the three ragged blankets that she’d stretched out on the floor next to Johnny. “If we slide him onto the blankets, we can carry him like a stretcher out to the wagon and lay him on the floor. If he bleeds, he’ll bleed on the blankets.”