His Lordship Possessed

“Stay down—” He drew his pistol and leapt out of the carri, crouching down low.

Someone had shot at us. I heard another bullet ping off the radiator grill before Doyle fired in return and men began shouting.

I lifted my head just enough to see over the dash, and watched as Dredmore advanced on a red-cloaked figure taking cover behind a tree. He ignored the shots being fired at him as he brought up both hands and made a strange slashing gesture.

The tree fell over, its trunk sliced apart. A moment later a wide spray of red splashed the snowy ground, and the head of the snuffmage rolled through the gruesome puddle.

Doyle jumped in and started up the motor. “Hold on, Kit.”

He drove off toward the street at a reckless speed.

I stared back at Dredmore, who was standing over the dead assassin, and then focused on my hands, mainly to avoid seeing the drivers frantically diverting their horses and carris out of our path. “That was meant for me.”

“Maybe so.” Doyle gave me a quick glance. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Seeing Dredmore kill with just a gesture, however, was making my heart pound in my ears.

A few minutes later Doyle stopped the carri in front of my goldstone, but when I tried to climb out he caught my arm.

“Wait here,” he said.

“And freeze? Why?” My eyelashes and hair were already icy, but then I saw the front entry to my flat standing open. “No.”

Doyle snatched at me but I was too fast for him. I nearly fell as my boots slid on the icy slush covering the floorboards of my front hall, and I grabbed a wall hook as I spotted the broken glass and wilted flowers on the threshold of my front room.

“They might still be in here,” Doyle told me as he caught up. “Go outside and wait like a good gel.”

“Leave off, Tommy.” I picked my way round the slush and went into my flat.

Whoever had broken into my home had not been instructed to take anything; every possession in the room had been systematically smashed, slashed or shredded. A plaster-dusted, twenty-pound hammer lay on the floor under the holes it had knocked through my paintings and walls. Cold wind washed my face as it blew in through the shattered windows, and had begun to freeze all the food that had been emptied out of my icebox and pantry.

More ice was forming from the puddle coming out of my bath; I looked in to see three small fountains of water gushing from the pipes that had been torn out of the walls. My sink and old bathtub had also made the acquaintance of the hammer, judging by the pieces they lay in.

At first I couldn’t understand the torn, twisted mound of material heaped atop my commode, until I made out the pattern of my favorite red bodice. Every garment I owned had been emptied out of my armoire and dressers, torn apart, and shoved into the loo.

To my surprise, seeing the destruction of my wardrobe hurt most. I’d never been much of a fancy dresser, but because I’d left Middy with only the clothes on my back, it had taken me years to put together a decent, serviceable supply of skirts, bodices, and cloaks. Some I’d taken in trade for my services; others I had saved for months to afford. And there, dangling from beneath the pile, a torn strip of pink from the gown Rina had lent me, the gown I’d not had the chance to return.

My friends had dressed me in their finery; my foolishness had now cost two gowns, my virtue, my office, and my home. What did I have left?

“Kit?”

“The main shutoff valve for the pipes is out by the boiler,” I told Doyle. My voice sounded flat and hollow, echoing in my own ears. “Or whatever is left of it.”

“Kit.” He put a hand under my elbow. “Come away now.”

I pulled my arm away. “Go and shut off the water before the place floods out. Please, Inspector.”

As soon as he left I went to my cashsafe to see if I did have anything left. The door had been badly dented, but it had not been opened; the locks had held. Quickly I used the combination to release them and clean out the safe, putting all the cash I had to my name in my reticule. Happily I’d never trusted banks, and kept only a small amount of funds in my business account, to which Walsh had likely already helped himself. Then I went upstairs to see what more he’d done.

Doyle stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs when I came back down. “Did they get at the rest?”

I nodded. “He must have sent in a whole gang. By the look of things they were well paid, too.”

“I’ll have my men question the neighbors,” he assured me. “We’ll find them, Kit.”

“Don’t bother.” My heart felt like a stone in my chest. “If you would post a beater outside to watch the place, I’ll have someone over before nightfall to board up the windows and doors.” I walked out.

“Where are you going?” Before I could answer, he said, “Wherever it is, he’ll find you.”

I didn’t look back at him. “Not this time, he won’t.”

* * *

Wrecker met me on the street halfway to the Eagle’s Nest; he removed his cap and held it between his hands but couldn’t seem to get any words out.

“I’ve seen it,” I told him. “I need someone to board up the place.”

“Already on his way.” He scuffled his heels round the snow a bit. “I’m real sorry, Miss Kit. No call to be doing such things to a lady like you. Carri’s over here.”

Wrecker drove me the rest of the way to Rina’s house, where I found her wrapped in furs and pacing back and forth in the alley. As soon as she spotted us she ran to the carri and practically dragged me out of it.

“Bugger all, Kit. Someone said you’d nearly been shot outside court. I nearly worried myself into the vapors.” She smothered me with her furry collar before holding me at arm’s length. “Inside. Now.”

I followed her inside, up the stairs and into her chambers, where she divested me of my cloak and used her fingers to loosen the icy tresses round my face.

“I’ve put a tray upstairs, madam,” Almira said as she came out of the kitchen. “Miss Kit.” She folded me into her arms and gave me a tight hug. “Go on with you.”

Rina guided me upstairs to her chambers and forced me to drink a cup of tea so hot it scalded me into silence. Which was handy, as she had a great deal to get off her chest.

“Bleeding Walsh’s going to pay for this, I swear on the cross.” She threw her furs over a chair and kicked a tuffet across the room. “Having you tossed out your office, then taken into court like some two-pence alley-tart— and then, while you’re ducking bullets, razing your place? It’s too much, even for a nobheaded, tightassed son of a poxbox like him.”

“No, it wasn’t.” For some reason I couldn’t stop thinking about Dredmore, and how quickly he had killed the snuffmage outside court. Why had he come there? To see me convicted, and applaud as I was sent off to prison? Or to bribe someone to place me in his custody? Why had he bothered to defend me?

“Wrecker’ll do him in a minute,” Rina was still ranting. “No, I think he’ll do him in hours and hours, while we have a bottle of wine and watch and make useful suggestions.”

“Rina.” I waited until she looked at me. “Wrecker will do no such thing.”

“But after what old blueballs did to you—”

“No killing, no torture,” I told her flatly. “The same goes for Dredmore. He saved my life.” I set down the cup before rising and reaching for my cloak.

She positioned herself in front of the door. “You’re not going back out there.”

“I have to.” Even if I had nowhere else to go. “If Walsh learns that I’m here, he’ll come after you and your gels.”

“Oh, please, God.” Her smile was a dreadful thing to behold. “Let him.”

“Let him do things to you that make my misfortunes look like a spring stroll down the prommy?” I shook my head.

“Then we’ll call on Bridget’s Charles. He’ll squash Walsh like a gnat.” She went to her desk. “I’ll have him come round and you can tell him—”

“Carina. Stop.” I joined her at the desk and took the pen and foolscap out of her hands. “Just stop now. It’s done. It can’t be undone, none of it.”