Little Red Shadow (A Talented Fairy Tale Book 2), page 7
“As much as our most recent escapades might have ended in trouble, we are also making steps to solving our shared problem it seems,” Scarlett commented as she took it from him. She lifted the cup to her lips and let the steam warm her face, combating the chill from where her damp clothes clung to her skin.
“I was too busy trying not to breathe so as not to draw attention to hear what was being said below,” Benedict admitted sheepishly.
“They mentioned the viscount’s ball. Something about hunting down bigger purses there. It appears that they’re targeting more socialites than just the Wards.”
“Well then it would seem to me that our next stop should be the viscount’s ball. I can’t say I’m disappointed that our next expedition should not involve a swim in the Thames. And it can serve a dual purpose if you attend as Georgette. I can put on an excellent show of wooing you on the dance floor.” Benedict sipped his own tea.
“Just make sure you aren’t so busy waltzing me into a stupor that we don’t keep our eyes peeled for a stray Wolf.”
“So you admit I could waltz you into a stupor? Don’t worry, I shall be prepared to catch you if you swoon,” Benedict teased.
Scarlett hid her smile in her teacup. As much as she dreaded the heat of a wig and the stress of pretending to be Georgette, spying on the Wolves at a ball didn’t seem to be the worst turn this investigation had taken.
6
Amos was in the type of dark mood that made Scarlett itch to wrap herself in shadows until she could disappear, slipping from the Roost and the violent atmosphere brewing within. Instead, she planted her feet and crossed her arms as she stood before where Amos sprawled across his wooden bar stool as if it were a throne.
“Tonight is going to be a good haul for the Raptors,” Amos declared with his signature oily grin. Scarlett ground her heels into the rough wooden floorboards to avoid shifting her weight in discomfort. Still, she longed for another night of slipping threatening notes onto people’s pillows. After all, she preferred delivering threats to actual violence.
“In fact, tonight, we will be paying a house call to Mr. Davies.”
Scarlett’s stomach twisted into a knot at the name. She had slid a note onto Mr. Davies’ pillow, between him and his sleeping wife, not three nights prior. A repeat visit could only mean the debt remained unpaid. From the bruisers surrounding Scarlett, it appeared that Amos planned to extract his payment in other ways.
Scarlett furrowed her brow.
“Mr. Davies has the ear of the king. Are you sure roughing him up wouldn’t cause more trouble than it’s worth? I could always tack on some interest in the valuables I steal, to drive home our message.” Scarlett added the last bit on with a shrug.
“Oh, he won’t call the Royal Police on the Raptors if he knows what’s good for him.” Amos waved a dismissive hand. “After all, he would have to tell them why we were paying him a visit in the first place.”
Scarlett nodded, keeping her face blank. A warning bell rang in the back of her mind though. After all, Mr. Davies likely owed the Raptors money after a few unlucky hands of cards. While gambling was generally the purview of the gangs, it wasn’t technically illegal. The worst the Royal Police would do to Mr. Davies for gambling would be to give him a disapproving look.
“Timothy and Thomas will be coming with for security. The three of us will pay a visit to the upstairs bedroom while Scarlett combs the downstairs for appropriate offerings to resolve his debts,” Amos ordered, drawing Scarlett from her thoughts.
“How much does this man owe? If it’s not that much, I could always slip in and relieve Mrs. Davies of her jewelry without risking the Raptors being implicated.” Scarlett aimed for nonchalance.
“I’m starting to think you don’t want the Raptors to get their due. Are you saying we should let our marks just skip out on their payment?”
Scarlett shrugged one shoulder, resisting the urge to squirm under Amos’s stare. He contemplated her with one eyebrow raised, head cocked to the side like a predator. Shadows coalesced at Scarlett’s fingertips, just bare traces of smoke that took significant willpower to disperse.
“You spend a few days running around the upper city and you think you’re one of them now? That you’re better than us?”
The blood froze in Scarlett’s veins. Did the Wolves mention her and Benedict’s deal with them to Amos? He would not be pleased with her making promises to other gangs behind his back—especially ones she didn’t intend to keep.
“Oh yes, we’ve seen you leaving Granny’s in those fancy dresses, probably trying to charm some man out of their purse, thinking you could pass as a lady.”
Scarlett’s heart stuttered to a hesitant start in her chest again. Amos didn’t seem to know about her arrangement with the Benedict. Still, he pressed on.
“You know, you’ve always acted like you’re better than the rest of us—renting a room at Granny’s instead of living at the Roost. But putting on a fancy dress doesn’t change anything. You’re a killer like the rest of us. Your neck would have been stretched with the rest of the Talented in the Inquiries if you weren’t under the protection of the Raptors.”
Scarlett reared back as if she had been slapped in the face. She only managed to avoid sneering at Amos by gritting her teeth so hard they creaked in her skull. His words burrowed under her skin like knives heading straight for her heart, because she knew they were true.
Her room at Granny’s was the one shred of separation Scarlett had left between herself and her life with the Raptors. Going home to her own space, no matter how tiny, allowed her to compartmentalize her nocturnal crimes. It didn’t change the facts though. She had too much blood on her hands to ever be anything other than what she was now. It didn’t make a difference how many strolls through the park she took or balls she attended with Benedict.
Amos seemed to sense his victory in her silence, offering a slimy smirk. “Now be a good shadow and help us take our due.”
Scarlett nodded, mentally tallying the weight of her knives strapped against her skin and offering up a silent prayer that they wouldn’t be spilling blood tonight.
Scarlett’s lungs screamed for air as she held her breath, waiting for the night watch to pass her hiding spot where she crouched under a hedge. Her shadows coalesced around her in a cool mist, dense enough in the dark of night that they wouldn’t see if they happened to glance this way. Still, Scarlett had learned the hard way that her ability to avoid being seen didn’t help if her enemies could hear her panicked breathing.
The polished standard boots of the Royal Police tromped by before disappearing around the corner. Scarlett inched out from beneath the brambles, thoroughly dusty and covered in tiny scratches. She waited a moment for the officers to get far enough away that they wouldn’t hear her boots scrape along the cast iron before launching herself at the fence surrounding the Davies’ garden. She made quick work of the climb, her wiry muscles long since having developed the strength to lift her slight frame.
Dropping lightly to her feet inside the fence, she unlocked the gate from the inside so the rest of the Raptors could follow her without having to replicate the climb. Thomas and Timothy might be strong, but their muscles were more useful for punching than climbing. Darting past the sterile hedges towards the house, she fell into a crouch just in front of the main door and pulled her shadows tight to her back. Even if Scarlett wasn’t the quickest lock pick in the Raptors, she had the advantage of being able to avoid detection while she worked, making her a valuable advance guard for the gang.
Several attempts later, and a bitten tongue to avoid cursing audibly, the pins clicked into place under her picks and the knob turned. In place of an exclamation of victory, Scarlett let out a low trill like that of a nightingale to signal the Raptors that the way was clear. Even as she glanced back towards the gate to shield the bruiser’s passage, she winced at her own birdcall. It felt on the nose for the Raptors to imitate the calls of birds to signal each other, and Scarlett struggled to master the sounds.
As the thugs and Amos did their best to sneak across the lawn, Scarlett slipped inside, finding herself in a marble entrance hall. Although the impressive chandelier wasn’t lit, the moonlight streaming in through the tall windows reflected off the marble, bouncing of the crystals in the light fixture, casting a strangely ethereal glow considering that she was breaking and entering.
Amos and the thugs ruined the stillness of the house as they pushed in the door, tramping where Scarlett had tiptoed. Now that they were away from the potentially prying eyes on the street, Scarlett let the shadows drip away from all of them, the darkness slipping away back into hidden corners.
With a jerk of his chin, Amos indicated that Scarlett should begin raiding the ground floor.
“We’re going to greet our unknowing host and his lovely wife,” Amos growled. The violent grins Timothy and Thomas gave in response sent shivers down Scarlett’s spine. She turned away to focus on her task as the men headed up the stairs.
The first room off the hall was a parlor. An enameled clock shimmering with inlaid crystals glimmered on an end table, and Scarlett snatched it up to shove in the satchel slung across her back. She picked her way through the richly appointed room, stepping past silk upholstered chairs and velvet curtains in her search. She nabbed an engraved silver plate off the mantle and a snuffbox inlaid with what appeared to be jade.
She was about to search for an office, hoping for a safe she could crack, when movement at the window caught her eye. Scarlett ducked behind the heavy velvet drape. She poked her head around just in time to see five men walk through the still-open gate, the shape of their helmets giving them away as Royal Policemen. Scarlett stood frozen for half a second before turning and bolting. Forgoing any illusions of secrecy, the soles of her boots slapped the ground as she crossed back through the marble foyer and bounded up the stairs. Seeing light at the end of the upstairs hall, she sprinted towards it.
“Police!” she shouted as she rounded the corner.
The sight that met her in the bedroom was a grim one, Mr. Davies sprawled on the ground, pitiful groans escaping from behind his hands where he clutched his nose. Timothy held Mrs. Davies by the hair, keeping her pinned and unable to help her husband.
Amos froze, his foot already pulled back as if to kick Mr. Davies in the spleen.
“You’re sure?”
“They’re here! We need to make ourselves scarce,” Scarlett panted. She thought she could hear the front door slamming open downstairs.
Instead of running, Amos snarled, focus turning back to the man cowering at his feet. “You thought you could get the Royal Police to protect you? As if you’re innocent yourself?”
“Had to stop you…” Mr. Davies mumbled, voice clogged as if he were speaking through a broken nose.
“Nobody crosses the Raptors,” Amos declared, voice as sharp as the blade that sprang into his hand. A wet shink filled the room as Amos dragged the blade across Mr. Davies’ throat before his wife’s ear-piercing scream split the air.
Scarlett stood frozen in horror as his body slumped to the floor, the floral design of the rug darkening as it was soaked with blood. Then time picked up again double speed as a battalion of police officers crashed through the door.
The leader shouted, but Scarlett couldn’t make out his words through Mrs. Davies’ screaming. Timothy lost hold of her as she thrashed, throwing herself to the ground on top of her dying husband as she wrenched herself free.
As the police officers charged forward into the mayhem, Amos grabbed Timothy and Thomas by their collars, shoving them towards the officers like human shields. Scarlett’s shadows sprung up around her without a thought, instinctually shielding her from the violent scene. The police grappled with the bruisers, struggling to subdue them with their clubs. One officer pulled out a pistol and waved it around helplessly, seemingly hesitant to fire in such close quarters. Another threw himself down next to Mr. Davies, using his hands to try and staunch the blood streaming from his neck. His efforts were hindered by Mrs. Davies clinging to him desperately, leaving crimson handprints on his crisp uniform.
Scarlett shoved herself back into a corner, seemingly unnoticed in her thick patch of shadows that the two lit oil lamps were unable to disperse. In the mayhem, she almost missed the flutter of Amos’s coat as he launched himself from the window to escape the scene, unsurprisingly indifferent to the fate of Timothy and Thomas.
Scarlett looked around for her own escape route, desperate to get away before she was noticed. Thomas grappled with the officers between her and the windows, fists and clubs flying in a violent whirlwind. Scarlett fingered the blades at her wrists but knew joining the fight would mean getting arrested. She couldn’t go to prison—not when Georgette was still counting on her.
Her gaze snagged on the empty fireplace on the wall next to her. Only ashes lay in the grate, no fire necessary in the warm spring weather. Scarlett glanced towards the chaos of the room one final time, the sight of Mr. Davies limp on the carpet searing into her mind before she ducked below the mantle and crouched in the fireplace.
Reaching up, rough bricks scraped her fingertips as she traced the edges of the chimney. It would be a tight fit, and she would have to leave the bag of stolen trinkets behind, but she could make it. She dropped the satchel and braced her palms on opposite walls. Levering herself up, she wedged the back of her shoulders against one wall, arms bent tightly against herself to brace her palms on the brick in front of her. She squirmed determinedly, worming her way up until she could find purchase with the toes of her boots on the edge of the chimney.
The passage was too tight for her to climb properly. Instead, she had to shimmy, pushing herself up with her hands and feet as the majority of her weight was supported by her back pressed flush against the wall behind her.
Scarlett bit her lip to suppress a yelp as a sharp brick raked across her shoulder blade, not wanting to ruin her escape by making too much noise. Still, her shirt loosened around her indicating that it had ripped, and a warm trickle down her back told her she was bleeding. Still, she wriggled onward, gaining ground by inches. Her movement knocked loose soot and ash, making it fall onto her face and into her eyes. She desperately tried to blink it from her burning eyes even as the smokey air and compression on her ribs made it hard to breath.
Scarlett looked up, the hint of stars in the hazy sky peeking through the top of the chimney seeming impossibly far away. Even as she tried to calm herself and get her muscles to cooperate, panic rose in the back of her throat. Shoving it down, Scarlett clawed at the brick before her, ignoring broken nails and scraped skin as she gained another foot.
Long moments passed, and Scarlett had the hysterical thought that she would die in here, her body only to be found when the smell attracted crows or somebody lit a fire and noticed the smoke wasn’t escaping properly. Just before she burst into a horrible combination of laughter and tears, fresh air brushed Scarlett’s face. The top of the chimney was just inches away.
Redoubling her efforts, Scarlett managed to reach up and grab the lip of the chimney, levering herself up and out. Her arms trembled with the effort as she slumped over the edge, shoulders hanging out as she gulped down fresh air, legs still dangling in the chimney. She rested there a moment, the hysterical sobs of Mrs. Davies still filtering up from the room below. Scarlett needed to get away—as far away as possible from the corpse below.
She kicked her legs to get herself the rest of the way out of the tight passage, only to find her arms too unsteady to hold her weight after the climb. With a yelp, she tumbled from the chimney stack to the slate tiled roof below. Scarlett twisted in the air, and bright pain flashed behind her eyes as her left ankle landed under her, wrenching at an unnatural angle.
She lay on her back for a moment, panting through the sharp sensation until it faded to a manageable throbbing. Gingerly she sat up before using the chimney to haul herself up, keeping her weight on her uninjured side. She slowly tested her left foot and let out a sigh of relief as she found that it held her weight. Still, it throbbed angrily enough that it would keep her from running or jumping.
Weighing her options, Scarlett searched around from her vantage point on the roof. There was no trace of Amos, indicating he had fled the scene while leaving the rest of the Raptors to fend for themselves—not that she expected anything more from him. However she did spot figures moving on the street, the gleam of moonlight off helmets indicating that more Royal Police were coming. Her chances of getting out of the upper city unnoticed dwindled before her eyes. Shadows could conceal her somewhat, but injured as she was, Scarlett would move too slowly to go completely unnoticed. She wasn’t in good shape for a fight either.
She cast about the roof frantically. It wouldn’t be ideal to hide here until the police left the area, but she might be able to wait them out. As she searched for a place to hunker down, her gaze caught on familiar gables a few houses over—the duke’s house.
Scarlett chewed her lips as she considered and then immediately stopped as she choked on a mouthful of ash that still dusted her face. Benedict had seemed sure that his family and servants wouldn’t be home last night, so it was likely the same was true tonight. If Benedict was the only one in the house, she could sneak in the window and hide out there until morning without him even noticing. And if he did notice her—well then she would solve one problem at a time.
Hobbling across the tiled roof, Scarlett searched for an easy climb down and was lucky enough to find a trellis facing away from the street. With some hopping and slipping, she managed to climb down mostly using one foot. The pain when she did step on her left side nearly scattered her shadows, leaving her completely exposed, but she managed to keep herself cloaked enough to avoid notice from anybody not staring directly at the house.
