Cogling (33 page)

“Halt in the name of the King!” The officer’s deep voice nipped at her heels. Her toe caught on a step and she fell, smashing her shins against the stairs. Tears stung her eyes. Grabbing the railing, she heaved herself up and kept going. Her heartbeat roared in her ears.

He ran after her, his long legs catching up fast. Edna grabbed a toy train, left outside a door, and threw it down the stairs at the officer. It caught him in the face with a crunch, and he staggered against the wall. Edna didn’t wait to see how badly she’d hurt him; she kept running, telling herself not to feel bad for causing pain.

She reached the door leading to the roof and kicked it open. The skirt of her dress tore on a nail jutting from the doorframe.

Apart from discarded garbage, the rooftop lay empty. She ran toward the side, and tripped over a dark lump. The lump shouted, and she screamed, crawling backwards on her bottom. Her long skirt tore further up her leg.

The lump shifted and a stained blanket slid away from a man with a long, bristled beard. “Whatchu doin’, wretch? Get away. Scat.”

She rolled to her knees, jumped to her feet, and made it to the edge of the roof before she heard footsteps thumping the stairs. Edna glanced across the roof, but didn’t see anything to prop the door shut with, so she stood on the edge. She spotted the metal fire escape, but counted missing rungs on the ladder.

“Odds bobs.” She’d fall off the ladder if she tried to climb down.

She glanced at the next building.
I can make the jump, it’s not too far away.

“Halt!” The police officer burst onto the rooftop. The light from the lamps below and the moon above flickered on the blood covering his face and staining his uniform shirt.

Edna drew a deep breath and leapt.

Rachel gazed up at the brick apartment building on Quinn Street with a tightening in her belly. She had rarely seen her spinster aunt since her mother’s death. Aunt Kate, her mother’s sister, was frowned upon by the rest of the family, including Rachel’s father. He viewed her as a disgrace, but Rachel had honored her mother’s memory by sending Aunt Kate gifts on her natal day.

“This is the place, then?” Ike asked.

“It is.” Rachel straightened her shoulders and strode to the door. Each apartment followed the next, with three floors and a door with a stone stoop of five steps and a wrought iron railing. The ornate brass knocker, shaped like a cherub, chilled her hand when she lifted it. The thud echoed through the door when she dropped the knocker.

She glanced over her shoulder, but Ike was gone. A little boy chimney sweep wandered across the street. Her heart thudded harder. He’d left without saying goodbye, like what Edna and Harrison had done. “Fine. I don’t need to talk with servants and half-bloods.”

Gritting her teeth, she knocked again.

The sound of footsteps echoed from within. A second later, the door opened a crack. Candlelight danced across the features of a pudgy, middle-aged woman.

“Can I help you?” The maid’s eyes raked Rachel’s disheveled ensemble.

“Please.” Rachel grabbed the edge of the door. “Is Aunt Kate here? Miss Kate James? I’m Rachel Waxman, her niece.”

“I highly doubt that. Be gone. I’ve no likes for you. There’s a poorhouse down the way. Try there.” The woman pushed to shut the door, but Rachel shoved her boot against the jam.

“You must recognize me.” Rachel hoped this was the same maid her aunt had kept years before, when Rachel and her mother visited.

“Street filth,” the maid spat.

“It really is me. Lady Rachel Waxman.” She searched her mind for something she could say to prove her worth.

“Wait,” a female called from down the hallway. “Who is there?”

“Just a beggar, ma’am. I’m—”

“Lady Rachel Waxman,” Rachel called. “Come to see her Aunt Kate.”

“Rachel?” Heeled footsteps quickened across a hardwood floor. “Hurry, Mary, open the door for her.”

The maid narrowed her eyes, but she stepped back to open the front door fully. Aunt Kate stood behind her wearing a brocade robe over a white nightgown with a high lace collar. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

In the candlelight, Rachel recognized her aunt’s thin face, the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, the silver streaks around her forehead in her dark brown hair. She ran through the doorway into her aunt’s arms. “Oh, Aunt Kate! I’m so glad.”

“Come, my child. You look awful.” Aunt Kate’s voice wavered. “I’ll get you something to eat and somewhere to bathe. Then you must tell me your troubles.”

“Has my father told you anything?” Rachel leaned back.

Aunt Kate averted her eyes to the floor. “No, I don’t hear from him.”

Rachel’s breath whooshed from her lungs in relief.

The maid coughed. “What would you have me do, Miss Kate?”

“Do what you should.” Aunt Kate pressed her hand to Rachel’s shoulder and led her to the kitchen. A minute later, the front door shut.

Edna’s shoes slid across the slick roof. The tenements were close enough together that she could jump from one to the next, but now she’d reached the offices, which had slanted roofs.

“Odds bobs.”

She fell to her side, bumping her hip, and grabbed the top of the roof. Shingles bit through her clothes. Below the building, fog ate the street. Gas lamps glowed in yellow circles. A motorcar rumbled by and a dog barked from the alley below.

“Stop!” The officer still pursued, jumping the rooftops after her.

Edna grabbed a metal pipe to regain her balance. She got to her feet and shuffled across the slant while her breath emerged in frantic huffs. At the end, she jumped to the next roof.

Her leather soles slid on the sleek shingles. Her feet spun out from beneath her and she crashed onto her back. Breath whooshed from her lungs. Shingles slashed against her as she slid downwards. Edna tried to roll to her front, but she slid faster. She grabbed at the roof, but the roughness cut her palms and bent her fingernails back. She knew she should feel pain, but her dulled nerves barely registered the sensation.

The roof disappeared as she plummeted toward the street, her legs kicking. “No!”

Arms caught her around the waist and she thumped against something hard, yet soft. Twisting around, she looked up into the face of a female officer. They rode on the back of a sleek green dragon.

“You don’t understand,” Edna pleaded. “It’s the hags. They’re—”

“Hags are protected under the king, and when nobility is kidnapped, it’s a kingdom issue.”

The animal lifted into the sky, and the officer clamped a pair of iron cuffs around Edna’s wrists. “Got her,” the officer called.

Edna shoved her elbow backwards toward the officer’s neck, but the woman caught her arm and laughed.

How can it be so dark and yet so light?

ke picked the lock on Hilda’s door.

The hinges would squeal—a citizen’s precaution against intruders. He encased the metal in magic so it wouldn’t make a sound and stepped inside, willing the floorboards not to moan.

The enchanted air, scented with lavender and rose, coiled around his legs to tell Hilda who was there. A feeling of apprehension settled over his nerves. How would she react to his news?

In the dim light coming through the kitchen window, nothing was out of place. The table was cleared, with only a vase on it filled with violets, and the high-backed chairs were pushed in. Nothing cooked in the cauldron on the stove.

He ventured into the sitting room and settled on the sofa against a tasseled pillow. While he waited for the air to waken Hilda, lest he tap her and she attack, he called fire to light the gas lamp on the desk. The yellow glow revealed newspaper clippings spread across the mahogany wood.

Frowning, he crossed the room and picked up the first. A vein leapt in his forehead. His hand balled into a fist as he read about the kidnapping of Lady Rachel Waxman—by a certain maid named Edna Mather and her younger brother, Harrison.

“I’ve been worried enough to take chamomile for my head pains.” Hilda clutched the doorframe.

He jumped at her sudden presence and dropped the crumpled newspaper clipping. “We found her brother. The hags started up factories again in the bog and pretended to make medicines. They were stealing children and replacing them with coglings.”

“You use the past tense.” She sank onto the sofa and her patched robe spread across her long legs.

“While Edna was there, she found the noblewoman she worked for. Lady Rachel Waxman.”

“How lucky for Edna.” Her monotone chilled him.

Ike explained what happened at the factories and how they had returned to the city. “I need your help. I’m going to confront the King.”

Hilda tipped her head forward until her chin almost touched her chest. “My sister-in-law, Polly, sent news of you. My older brother took you to the hags.”

“He’s your stepbrother.” Ike ground his teeth.

“After Father died, Mother just had to marry a human.” Hilda sighed. “Where is Charles?”

Ike rubbed his hand across his mouth. “I’m sorry, Hilda. He’s gone.”

Hilda narrowed her eyes at the floor, her head lowered to her chest.

“I’ll make us tea. I need some chamomile, but there’s mint and pekoe if you desire.”

Ike winced. She lived on her own. She should understand the sufferings he’d endured, not scorn him for them. He stomped after her into the kitchen. “I’m not just a cracksman, you know.”