Deadly Violet - 04 (20 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Sergeant Jackson James Devries slipped his billy club from the belt of his coat and started twirling it as he progressed along O’Connell Street. Cabs and wagons went by on the cobblestones, their wheels rumbling and the horses’ shod hooves clopping. People on the street who knew him greeted him politely as they passed by, and he nodded briskly back.

He was a ferocious giant of a man, six foot five and deeply muscular. Before he’d joined the police force, he had made his living as a bare-knuckled boxer. There were two scars on his face, a horseshoe-shaped one on his chin, and a much wider one down his left cheek His hair was dark blond, and he sported – in the fashion of the day – a neatly trimmed moustache.

He was clad in the uniform of the age. A dark, knee-length topcoat with a row of silver buttons down the front. And a tall, pointed helmet with a chinstrap, like a British bobby’s.

A badge shone on his chest, there were three chevrons on his sleeve, and he wore those symbols of authority with open pride.

His steely gray eyes flickered everywhere. This wasn’t the worst neighborhood he’d ever had to pound a beat. The houses north of here were mostly grand ones. And the majority of O’Connell was given over to reputable stores. But the alleyways to the south of here were narrow and complex, and had a tendency to fill up with the local scum. And there were a few watering holes along this very byway that attracted customers you might call ‘dubious’ if you were being kind.

His gaze fell on the owner of one such establishment. Hamilton Tye, the proprietor of the Three Oaks Tavern. Business was apparently slow today, because the snub-nosed man was stood outside his place, puffing on a corncob pipe.  He wore a leather apron, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up.

They knew each other very well. Hamilton kept his ear to the ground and picked up on the local gossip. And the sergeant had found such information useful on occasion. So he marched across, capturing the man’s attention.

“G’day, Sergeant Jack,” came the greeting.

“G’day, Ham. And how goes the scuttlebutt on O’Connell Street?”

Hamilton respected the big man. Most coppers in town took bribes, but not this one. He wasn’t the sort to the bought or sold. Nor crossed either – Sergeant Devries had an infamous temper.

So the barkeep looked about and took another puff before replying.

“Word’s going round about this feller called Soaper who has gotten his hands on an enchanted ‘iron.’ When fired – or so it’s said – it never misses. And the bullet always strikes the heart.”

An enchanted pistol, eh? That was a new one. The sergeant’s free hand went to the revolver on his belt. When he was forced to draw it, he rarely missed either. So, one way or another, he would settle this Soaper’s hash.

“Anything else?”

Hamilton pursed his lips.

“The usual dips, fences, and Bunko men, most of whom you know by sight. But there’s a couple of new paperhangers in the area, who you’ll become acquainted with soon enough.”

Pickpockets and con artists were common in this district. But there’d been no one writing bad checks for a while. And now, apparently, there were two of them. Jackson leaned in closer.

“Describe them,” he growled.

And Hamilton was about to do precisely that, when something happened that astonished him.

The sergeant’s back went very straight. The pupils of his gray eyes glittered for a second. Then he staggered slightly, peering around as though he’d become unfamiliar with his surroundings.

And before another word could pass between them, he had turned around on the heels of his big boots. And he began running, as fast as he could, in the direction of Union Square.

There were no obvious disturbances off there.

So what on earth
– the barkeep wondered puzzledly – had made the man do that?

“Why, you hapless, helpless, hopeless
lummox
!”

Cookie Bullingham brought a meaty hand down with a whack against the side of Daisy Fairchild’s head. No one even knew it yet, but in four years’ time Daisy would get married and become a Mallory.

The girl shrieked with pain, then cringed and whimpered. But that wasn’t good enough for Cookie.

“Call this a clean floor? I’ve seen unwashed dinner plates cleaner than this! You’re being paid a living wage, and this is the best that you can manage?”

Her real name wasn’t Cookie, it was Cynthia. But everyone in the Bretten household – north of O’Connell – called her that. She was in charge of the kitchen, the scullery and pantries. And ruled over her staff with a rod of iron. Her tongue was fiery, her fuse so short as to be non-existent, and even Pearce – the family butler – was afraid of her.

“Can’t you even use a mop? Can’t you even scrub? You’re about as much use to me as a month-old piece of cod! I ought to fire you on the spot!”

Her hand came down a second time, and Daisy howled with agony. Cookie was a massive woman, with huge reddened fists and meaty arms. And Daisy – fifteen years old, tall for her age but gawky – was totally unused to violence. This was her first job.

All that she could do was shrink down, cover up her head, and wait for the beating to stop.

But it showed no signs of doing so. Cookie’s face had turned bright scarlet.

“I don’t know why I hired you in the first place! Clumsy, wretched, stupid brat! If it’s the last thing that I do, I’ll pound some sense into your head! And what are you going to do to stop me?”

Her hand came swinging down again. But this time, it did not connect. Because the cook’s thick wrist was suddenly enfolded in a vise like grip.

Daisy had stopped crying, and was peering at her coldly.

A tremor of alarm ran through Cookie. She wasn’t used to being manhandled like this. But then her fury swelled up to a far greater intensity.

“What d’you think you’re
doing
, girl?” she roared. “Of all the nerve! Of all the insolence! Let me go this
instant
!”

She tried to yank her wrist free, which ought to have been easy given their disparity in size. But for some reason, she couldn’t manage it.

Daisy’s upper lip curled back.

And then something happened that was so unexpected it stunned Cookie to the core. She was being whirled around, so that her arm was twisted up behind her back.

Daisy reached around and pinned her forearm across Cookie’s throat.

The woman felt the girl’s breath up against her ear. And when Daisy’s voice came hissing out, it was lower pitched and considerably more fierce than she had ever previously heard it.

“Like throwing your weight around, huh, bitch?” it asked her. “Well, not this time.”

The girl’s arm pushed in harder against Cookie’s windpipe, so that she began to gurgle.

“You and me?” the voice behind her snarled. “We’re going to have a little talk.”

She had retained some of Daisy’s thoughts and memories. That appeared to be the way that this thing worked.

Less than a minute later, Cass was running up the stairs at the back of the house. It hadn’t taken much to put the fear of God into Cookie Bullingham. The woman had been too confused to put up any real resistance. A few choice phrases, a few threats about gouging this and snapping that, and Cookie had sworn never to lay a finger on Daisy again. Had actually crossed her heart and sworn it on the Bible.

God, but these Victorians were such dopes.

She reached the top of the stairs, gathered up her heavy skirts
– she was already missing her jeans badly.

And began running for Union Square as well.

Lauren had wanted to see how things were panning out in town. So Raine had conjured her onto the mansion’s roof. She clung onto one of the wooden spires, gazing bleakly out.

Events were progressing as badly as you could possibly imagine. The edges of the Landing were still crumbling, the houses in the outer suburbs turning purple and then vanishing from sight. She thought that she could make out large numbers of people trying to get away. And her heart went out to them. But it wouldn’t be too much longer, she reckoned, until she was next.

Closer in, dozens of new purple holes were coming into being, some of them enormous. Shapes were slipping out from them, and not only grinders. There were other creatures that were harder to identify.

She noticed a nearby movement. Jumped slightly and looked around, to see Woody’s projected image standing next to her.

“There must be
something
more that we can do?” she asked him, her voice trembling slightly.

“Everyone has limits, even me,” the man replied, his tone subdued. “It’s up to Ross and Cassie now.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

We’d already established which alleyway this Violet Tiswell was hiding in. It was a couple of blocks down from Union Square, off Minster Street. It had no name, but we both knew it.

I reached it, skidding to a halt. The peculiarity of my surroundings was still pounding at me
– the clattering horses, the noisy carts, the way that people were dressed and the smell of coal-smoke on the air. But I wasn’t here on any sightseeing trip. And so I peered into the alley.

It made a dogleg halfway down, and I could not see Violet Tiswell.

Somebody came running up to me, then slid to a halt as well. It was a teenaged girl, as skinny as a beanpole. The black clothes she was wearing reached right down to the sidewalk, and her hair was tucked under a mobcap. But the shape of her face was vaguely familiar. And I thought I recognized those dark, expressive eyes.

“Cass?” I asked her. “Is that you?”

“Of
course
it’s me!” she snapped back, looking faintly embarrassed. And then she peered at the get up I was wearing. “And who are you supposed to be, a close personal friend of Sherlock Holmes?”

Yup, this was definitely her. I went into the alley, Cassie following me closely.

I was armed, she wasn’t. But that didn’t count for a whole lot. We were going to be dealing with a child, no older than our missing kids. And she might have gotten her hands on a very powerful device. But violence was not the answer here.

We had both been parents. And we understood precisely how unreasonable a little kid could be. Something in me wished that I was back fighting a creature like the Dralleg. Confrontations like that were a lot more simple. No hard questions, and no moral choices.

We rounded the alley’s bend. It was considerably gloomier further back, filled with the vague shapes of discarded refuse. And at first I could see very little. Then a tiny face resolved itself out of the dimness.

It was the same young girl that I had looked at in the bright glow of the Eye of Hermaneus.

Her eyes were closed, her chin tucked slightly down. And in her small grasp, pressed to her chest, was the purple stone that we were after.

She didn’t notice we were there at first. Not even when we started to approach her quietly. It almost looked like she had fallen fast asleep while she’d been standing up.

Maybe we could simply reach across and pluck the device from her grip? Finish this whole business that simply and quickly.

But most powerful artifacts … they seem to have a life of their own. A kind of bloodless consciousness. I’d encountered that before. And the second those thoughts crossed my mind, Morgana’s Amethyst reacted.

It gave a vivid flash, in spite of the fact that there was no light touching it. The brightness flared up from inside the stone.

Violet’s lashes fluttered. Then her lids came open a small crack. Her head lifted a little, and she peered out at us drowsily.

Jesus Christ, her irises were glowing faintly purple. How much power did she have? And, if she put her mind to it, how much damage would she be able to do us?

Cassie was apparently thinking the same thing. She slowed down, and so did I. I took a guess that Violet didn’t like policemen, so I removed my helmet, then my badge, setting them behind me on the ground.

“Violet?”

Her face still looked muzzy, and her eyes hadn’t opened properly as yet. Like she’d been asleep for ages, and could not come awake fully. But she found the strength to make her lips move.

“What are you here for?” she hissed at us. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I know that,” I told her, bending from the knees a little. “We’re not here to hurt you, Violet. Not in any way. But it’s that stone you’ve gotten hold of.“

“It’s mine,” she snarled back at me, in a manner that was pretty damned emphatic.

“But it’s a magic stone. It’s making trouble,” I explained to her. “And you need to listen to us now. You have to let it go.”

There was barely any sign that she had even heard what I’d just said. Her lower lip came jutting out, but otherwise she stayed immobile.

Those purple irises of hers had become a lot more watchful and suspicious. And she looked like she was really waking up.

Holy hell, but she was a mess. It was one thing seeing her condition through the Eye of Hermaneus. But another thing entirely, seeing it for real. Her face was gaunt, which a child’s of her age shouldn’t be. Her clothes were little more than rags. Her hair was matted and had flecks of grime in it. And she was filthy dirty, seemingly from head to toe.

The father in me boiled with anger at the sight. How could anyone, in
any
day and age, allow a little kid to go around like that? When had she last bathed, or had a decent meal? Little wonder she was stealing.

Then my gaze returned to the stone in her grasp.

It was still shining with an unnatural purple light. And it was pulsing, like the beating of a heart. The thing began to mesmerize me slightly.

Violet noticed the direction that my eyes were going, and she fastened her grip on the gemstone, pulling it back till it was half-smothered in rags.

“It’s
mine
,” she hissed again, so softly I could barely hear it.

But the word reverberated in my head.
Mine … mine.
The stone had to be causing that, since I could see no other explanation.

Maybe Cass was hearing the same thing.

“Be careful, Ross,” she muttered, by my shoulder.

She had a point. This wasn’t shaping up the way we’d planned.

I forced what I hoped was a convincing smile, and edged in a bit closer.

“Violet? I know I’m dressed like a policeman, but I’m not one.”

But she was wholly alert by this stage, and wasn’t ready to believe me.

“I know who you are!” she spat. “You’re that man from up ahead in time, who came in through the window of that bedroom. And you …” she stared at Cassie, “came in after him. You’re thieves.”

I took another gentle step in her direction.

“No we’re not. We’re only trying to help.”

She stood there like a piece of metal, looking unconvinced.

“Violet, that stone you’re holding,” I tried to reason with her. “It’s a very powerful magical device, and you’re doing serious harm with it.”

“I ain’t hurting no one,” she came back at me. “I’m only talking with that other little girl.”

And that was when the truth became clear to me. That was all she thought that she’d been doing. Standing there, her mind had to have gone absolutely blank. She had no notion of the kind of things the Amethyst had brought into existence.

“Look what’s happening
around
that little girl,” I insisted. “Reach out with your senses. Look into the town she lives. It’s falling apart, Violet, and you’re causing it. You have to stop.”

The beggar girl went very still, her gaze meeting mine without the slightest sign of blinking. And I remembered the most important thing I knew about her. This child could read minds.

I tried to make my thoughts blank, but it was too late. Her fists tightened savagely around the Amethyst, her whole face screwing up with rage.

“You want to take this from me, don’tcha? But it’s mine. I got it fair and square, and I
won’t
give it up.”

I struggled to think of some way of convincing her. Maybe I could get some mileage from how poor she was. So I rummaged through the pockets of the uniform that I was wearing. My great-granddad turned out to have some money in a clip. And I counted seven dollars, holding the bills out.

“I’ll pay you.”

Violet stared at the large banknotes, probably more money than she’d seen in her entire life. And her expression untensed for a few seconds. But then it crumpled up again, severely.

“Trying to hoodwink me, right? Everybody knows a jewel like this is worth more than a lousy fin and couple of bucks.”

“I can get you more,” I told her.

Big mistake. She looked into my eyes again, and saw that I was not being one hundred percent honest.

“It’s a very pretty thing, this jewel,” she answered, her voice grating, “and it belongs to
me
.”

At which point, I lost my patience with her. The Landing’s time was running out. And so I strode across to her, intent on making a grab at the Amethyst.

Which turned out to be my second mistake.

Her irises flared a brilliant mauve.

And searing pain exploded through my head.

I doubled over, but kept trying to press on for a while. The agony grew worse with every step I took, until it almost blinded me. Till I was nearly passing out.

Brute strength wasn’t going to solve this, so I stumbled back. Managed to get my eyes open enough to see that Cass was doing the same. She’d almost certainly been trying to follow me.

What the hell was this, though? My mind struggled with it. This was not what I’d expected. Violet didn’t have the kind of magic that the adepts had.

But then I thought I saw it. She was striking at our minds with her full telepathic force, the Amethyst enhancing that.

And it wasn’t enough that we had dropped back a few feet. The girl wanted us right out of her presence. Her gaze flared a second time. The pain redoubled, washing through me like a tide of molten flame. The top of my skull felt like it was going to rupture, my brain trying to swell and burst.

I clamped my palms to the sides of my head. And Cass was doing likewise. And we had no choice but to keep on pulling back.

I hit the corner of a wall, bouncing off it. Practically overbalanced.

And then, as we went past the bend, the pain abruptly stopped. The memory of it lingered, but at least my head was clearing.

Most of the strength had been sapped from my body, all the same. I blinked groggily, trying to get a handle on the situation.

Cassie had her shoulders slumped against the brickwork and was halfway sitting down. Her gaze was damp. She looked as confounded by this as I was.

And it didn’t look like Violet would be changing her mind any time real soon. So how were we going to get near her?

I shook my head to clear it, and then stared back in the girl’s direction. And got yet another nasty shock.

She was now holding the jewel out. And it was shining even brighter that it had been, its glow pulsing rhythmically. It should have lit the girl’s surroundings up, but instead, it was having quite the opposite effect.

The gloom around her had grown deeper. Shadows had surrounded her like blackened veils. Her ragged clothes were lost in them. And I could only see her hands and the portion of her face around her eyes, which were still mauve.

I’d seen this happen before, magic drawing people away from the real, sane world. But I had never seen it happen to a small child, and the sight downright horrified me.

So I stretched a hand out.

“Violet, listen to me. That thing’s starting to change you. And is that what you want?”

But that turned out be to be the wrong question, and she looked extremely smug.

“Oh yes. Oh, very much.” Her mauve gaze glittered. “I’d do almost anything to be different from what I was.”

That hadn’t occurred to me. Her life, before she’d stolen the jewel, must have been a grim ordeal from dawn to dusk. She had no wish to go back to that, and I could understand things from her point of view. But there had to be some other way I could appeal to her. And I struggled to get my thoughts in order.

“Violet, a lot of folks are hurting, where I come from. Don’t you want to help them?”

“Who’s ever helped me?” came her response. “Asides from my Ma, no one, ever. All my life, no one has ever given two cents for me.”

That was at the core of this, and I could see that. I wasn’t dealing with the kind of child that I was used to. She’d been fending for herself from the earliest age. And now that she had power at her fingertips, she wasn’t going to give it up.

Violet appeared to forget about me, after that. Her gaze dropped, returning to the jewel again. She beamed with unsuppressed delight. Turned slightly away, ignoring me. Raised the thing to her face, turning it around and studying it raptly.

Her tiny mouth slipped open. And her eyes sparkled. What was she seeing in there?

The Amethyst was taking a much stronger hold on her, and I’d not the faintest notion what to do about it.

Someone else had formed a plan, though.

There was a sudden tug at my uniform belt.

Cass had reached across, was fumbling with my holster. A second later, she’d pulled my revolver out.

And
– before I could stop her – she took rapid aim, then fired.