age. Most from upper-class families, some from wealthier trade families. Each one of them vibrated with excitement. No one seemed to notice or care that we had joined them.
The windowed chamber was empty except for a grand staircase that led down into darkness. Dirty gold paint peeled from ornate molding around a high octagonal ceiling. There were other signs of neglect: a ragged chandelier and a few dusty, broken benches.
“The Thames Tunnel,” Miss Holmes informed me as we began to shuffle with the rest of the group toward the stairs. “The first underwater tunnel ever constructed. The engineer, Marc Brunel, first proposed his excavation plan to Czar Nicolas of Russia—”
“It goes beneath the river?” I interrupted as the lantern began to descend in the hand of its carrier, leaving the room to darken by degrees.
She nodded. By now, the other young women were following the lantern down the staircase, but my companion seemed more interested in giving me a history lecture. She held back.
“It’s part of the Underground now,” she told me, speaking rapidly near my ear. “But in the fifties, it was open to the public. People could walk through to the other side of the river, and there were vendors and shops down there and entertainers—”
“Let’s go,” I said, but her fingers curled around my arm, holding me back.
“I don’t think I can. I don’t like . . . close, dark places. Deep places.”
“Brilliant,” I said, peeling her fingers away. “You stay here and keep watch. I’m going down there to see what’s happening.”
Without a backward glance, I moved toward the grand staircase. I justified abandoning her because she hadn’t waited for me at Cosgrove Terrace. Miss Holmes would have left without me if I hadn’t shown up. Besides, I was used to working alone. I didn’t want anyone hampering me. And it was prudent to have someone keeping watch in case the worst happened.
Not that I thought she’d be all that much help if it did.
I pushed away my gnawing conscience as I hurried down the steps. Some people were meant for adventure, and others—as she’d pointed out to me—were meant to merely observe. Miss Holmes could observe all she wanted.
I was going to do something.
My pulse picked up. There could be vampires lurking below, living underground safe from the sunlight. This could be my chance!
The rest of the group had reached a spacious landing, and the glowing yellow lantern led the way down another set of stairs. We were probably a hundred feet below the ground (I was sure Miss Holmes would know exactly how deep the Thames Tunnel was) and for the first time, the handmaker in me wondered why there wasn’t a lift or some other mechanized way to descend. The walls yawned around us, and I pushed away a niggle of guilt for leaving her alone. Bloody beans, I wasn’t the girl’s governess!
Just as I began to start down the second flight, I glanced up and saw a clear white light, very small, bobbing ever so slowly down the stairs.
It had to be Miss Holmes. Blast. Closing my eyes briefly, I let my conscience take over. I waited . . . for a minute. But she was moving so slowly I lost my patience and started back up the steps to meet her.
“Hurry.” I tugged on her arm.
She gave a whimper, and then I saw her eyes were closed. I wanted to laugh. Wasn’t it darker behind closed eyelids than in here with her light?
“Come on,” I said, towing her down the stairs. I think she kept her eyes closed all the way to the bottom. But she kept going, even though her fingers felt like they were digging through my skin and muscle clear to bone. My impatience ebbed when I remembered the way she’d stepped in and helped me last night. She never said a word about my reaction to Miss Hodgeworth’s body.
At the bottom of the steps, we found ourselves inside the train station. However, we were on the rear side of the two parallel rows of tracks. Each track disappeared into its own dark tunnel, and I could see light glowing down one of them. A single lantern hung on the far side of the space, casting a weak circle.
“Miss Holmes. You can open your eyes now. It’s not dark. Let’s go,” I said, starting off down the tunnel to the right, where I could see illumination in the distance as well as the lamps glowing at intervals along the tunnel.
As we hurried along the walkway beside the train track, I noticed large, dark archways connecting the two tunnels. Each time we approached one, I peered into the darkness to see if danger lurked. I also carried my knife.
“When the Thames Tunnel was open to the public, the vendors set up shops inside those arches,” Miss Holmes informed me. “It was a very busy shopping district for some time. There were a variety of shops, most of which carried imported items and all of which were expensive.”
She droned on, and I noticed that the moving lantern ahead of us had disappeared. Our quarry had made a turn, and I had no idea where.
“Hurry,” I said.
We had taken a few more steps when two dark shapes emerged from the shadows and stood blocking our way. One of them held something that gleamed silver in the light of his accomplice’s lantern.
“An’ wha’ ’ave we ’ere now, Billy,” said the one with the lantern. Grinning, he lifted it high to examine us. And, mackerel’s eyes, I could see the bloody sot needed at least three teeth pulled. “Looks’a like we got a coupla nice, prime peaches ’ere.”
“A pritty pair, they is,” agreed a voice.
From behind us.
I kept the knife hidden in the folds of my skirt. Though my heart was pounding, I made my movements slow and easy as I turned to see what mischief had sneaked up on us. Meanwhile, Miss Holmes dug frantically among her skirts. What good is being armed if you can’t get the blasted weapon out when you need it?
Behind us were two more men. One had a wooden truncheon, and the other was flexing his hands. No red eyes, no uncomfortable, prickly chill over my neck . . . these were mortal men. I relaxed. This would be amusing.
“I assume,” I muttered, “you don’t have that bloody Steam-Stream gun in your skirts.”
“No,” she murmured back from the side of her mouth. “But I have—”
“Never mind.” I turned back just as the man with the knife swiped a hand toward me.
I dodged and then, to his surprise, lunged toward him. My cloak flapping, I caught him in the midriff with my head, sending him tumbling to the ground. Before he even hit the dirt, however, I spun toward the lantern man, whipping my cloak off and into his face as I did so. Kicking out with a well-placed foot, I felt a rush of satisfaction when my shoe connected with a soft area on his person. He squealed like a dry wheel cog and dropped the lantern as he collapsed.
Exhilarated, I turned to meet the man with the truncheon as he rushed up behind me. His club whistled through the air, and with a cry of delight, I ducked beneath it, then leapt behind him as the force of his would-be blow sent him pivoting around to face me.
I glanced over as I surged upright and saw Miss Holmes staring at me, her eyes wide. She held something in her hand, and a dark figure was crumpled on the ground at her feet.
My assailant must also have noticed his companions had been disabled, for he began to back away into the shadows. “Don’ mean n’arm t’ye, loydies. Jus’ tryin’ t’be fren’ly.”
I stepped toward him, brandishing my knife, showing him a tight, feral grin. He stumbled backward, then spun and dashed into the darkness.
Knowing my job wasn’t done, I turned back to the first two. One of them had dragged himself off, and the other was still a sobbing bundle of skin and bones. He was hardly worth the effort, but I walked over to him and placed my foot on the hem of his coat anyway. “I took it easy on you tonight.” I gave him a good look at my knife. “Next time we meet, I won’t be so friendly.”
His eyes goggled, and he managed to nod.
“Get out of here,” I said, and watched with satisfaction as he crawled off into the darkness. When I turned back to Miss Holmes, she was looking at me as if I’d grown another head. I gestured to the last attacker, who still lay unmoving on the ground. “What did you do to him?”
