Lifeblood (14 page)

 

 

M
arianne leaned lazily against the doorframe, her face creased with arch amusement. Her hair was dyed a startling shade of neon green and tied back in a ponytail. She was dressed in a full undertaker's suit, right down to the long black ribbons hanging down from her top hat. A large crossbow was cradled easily in her arms. Behind her, Humble and Skeet stood in solemn attendance.

“Leave the boy alone.”

The Phoenix cocked its head with surprise, and let out one of its unholy screeches. Marianne stepped away from the doorway and raised her crossbow.

“I mean it, Lucien. Get away from the boy and change back into your normal form.”

Jonathan felt the pressure ease on his chest, and lifted his head to see the Phoenix advance threateningly on the bounty hunter. Marianne smiled faintly.

“I think Lucien wants to play, boys. Shall we oblige?”

The mute nodded and raised a heavy axe in the air. Jabbering and bounding on the spot, Skeet drew a sword. With practised ease, the three slipped into fighting formation.

“You may have bested Carnegie and a couple of children,” Marianne called out. “But you'll find that Humble, Skeet and I are a slightly tougher proposition. I wonder just how long you can maintain that form for. . .”

Even as she spoke, there was a shimmering where the Black Phoenix was standing. To the sound of tearing and cracking, it began to fold in on itself, writhing wings shrinking back into the damaged shell that was Lucien Fox's body. The shrieks died away, to be replaced by human cries of pain. Then there was only the shape of a small, thin man sprawled on the floor, coughing.

Marianne cast a critical eye over his dishevelled form.

“So – you would be my brother. I have to say, I'd rather hoped for more.”

On the other side of the room, the final jigsaw pieces fitted together in Jonathan's mind. Marianne was a Ripper. She had been the recipient of the other blackmail letter from Nicholas. That was why she had shown such an interest in their investigation! They had done her dirty work for her, and led her straight to the very man she wanted.

Lucien glared up at her.

“It's you?” he spat. “What are you doing here?”

Marianne smiled sweetly.

“I wanted to see what the inside of the Cain Club looked like. The members get so nervous about the thought of a lady passing through the doors.” She looked around, and wrinkled her nose. “Although, now I'm here, I'm not sure it was worth it. It's a bit gothic for my tastes.”

Jonathan started as a bloodied hand touched his shoulder. He looked around to see Carnegie's face, a mass of purple bruises and matted hair. One of the wereman's eyes was swollen shut, and he was clutching his right arm.

“Bleeding hell!”

“S'all right, boy,” he slurred. “Had worse. Come on.”

Slipping an arm over the wereman's shoulder, Jonathan pulled himself to his feet, biting back a cry of pain. Harry lay immobile on the floor nearby, his ribcage shifting slightly with each shallow breath. The boy and the wereman made their way slowly over to the entrance of the hall, where Lucien had been forced into an upright position. He winced as Skeet prodded him with his sword.

Marianne grinned as she saw Jonathan and Carnegie near. “Hello there. Lovely day for it, isn't it?”

A low rumbling noise emanated from the wereman's throat. “Stop playing around, Marianne.”

The bounty hunter gave him a cold, appraising stare.

“I'll do exactly what I want. If you'd rather, I could leave and you could continue your disagreement with my brother. The way you two look right now, I'm not entirely sure who would win.”

She turned to Lucien, her icy composure the polar opposite to his furious seething.

“On second thoughts, little brother, get out of my sight. You disgust me. I know you now, and will be watching out for you. Our father's time is short, and we
will
meet afterwards.”

“I look forward to it,” Lucien replied. “I wonder if you'll beg for mercy like James did.”

Marianne flinched, and her brother laughed. He was hobbling out of the hall when a thick, hairy arm blocked his progress.

“I hate to interrupt this game of happy families,” said Carnegie gruffly, “but could someone explain to me why I'm going to let this man walk free? You might be squeamish about polishing him off, Marianne, but I'd positively relish it.”

The bounty hunter shook her head. “This is between myself and my brother – it is no business of yours, wereman. If you try to intervene, I'll stop you.”

“But, Marianne,” Jonathan protested, “Lucien's pure evil. If you let him go now, he'll try and kill you!”

“I know
exactly
what he'll do. That's how I'll be able to stop him.” Marianne gave Lucien one final glance. “Your day of reckoning will come. But it won't be here, or in some dingy backstreet. It will be at the Blood Succession, as it was for all the Rippers that came before us. Then you'll pay for James's murder with your life.”

“We'll see, sister,” Lucien replied. With one final venomous glance, he hobbled slowly out of the hall.

 

As Carnegie clambered up to the platform to untie William, Marianne attached the crossbow to her belt and fixed Jonathan with a brilliant smile.

“It seems you've lived to fight another day, little one.”

“Just about. Are you disappointed?” he challenged.

She chuckled with delight. “Maybe a little. Still, I
did
save your life.”

“Yeah. . .” Jonathan paused, unsure of what to say. “Um . . . thanks, I guess.”

“You're welcome. And get those ribs strapped up as soon as you can.”

The bounty hunter turned to leave.

“Oh, Marianne? Could you do me a favour?”

“A favour? Perhaps.”

“I've just survived a fight with a Black Phoenix. Do you think you could stop calling me ‘little one'?”

She smiled enigmatically and, with a flick of her undertaker's coat, was gone.

It was a battered and bruised party that stumbled back through the corridors of the Cain Club, their faces streaked with ash and blood. Jonathan walked bent over slightly, holding his ribs. Arthur walked alongside him, bleary-eyed, but unhurt save for a sizeable bump on his forehead. Behind them Carnegie leaned on Harry as he limped along, his right arm dangling by his side. It was William Joubert who led the way, his clothes torn and his body covered in cuts and bruises, but striding with dignity out through the main hall and into the early-morning sunshine.

After the horror they had witnessed indoors, it was a blessed relief to stumble out on to the steps and inhale the dubious delights of the Darkside air. The carriage was waiting for them where Carnegie had abandoned it. Arthur hauled himself up into the driver's seat.

“Well, as fun as this has been, gentlemen, I have to go back to
The Informer
. I've got an article to write.” Arthur's eyes twinkled. “I think it might just make the front page.”

“Need a hand?” Harry called out.

“You?!”

“Well, you've lost an editor, and I'm at a loose end for now. I was kind of enjoying the whole journalism thing.”

Arthur sighed. “Get in. Anyone else?”

“You can take me,” William replied. “I need to see my family.” He clasped Carnegie's hand. “Thank you, Elias,” he said simply.

The wereman wiped his nose on his sleeve, and looked away. “Gave you my word, didn't I?”

Harry helped William into the carriage, and followed him inside. He pulled down the window and smiled at Jonathan.

“We did all right in the end, didn't we?”

“Not bad for a couple of kids.”

“You not coming with us?”

Jonathan glanced at Carnegie. “I think we'll walk.”

Arthur gee'd up the horses and the carriage moved away down the street. And then it was just of the pair of them again, standing on the steps. The wereman noticed the downcast expression on Jonathan's face.

“What's up, boy?”

Jonathan looked down at his feet. “Look, I know we survived and everything . . . but Lucien's gone and I didn't find out anything more about my mum. I've never going to learn what happened, am I?”

Carnegie barked with amusement, then winced with the pain the laughter caused him.

“You're something else, boy. We luck out of a certain death situation, and you're complaining that you didn't get enough answers. What were you going to do – ask the Black Phoenix a few searching questions?”

Jonathan chuckled humourlessly, and shrugged.

“Listen to me,” the wereman continued matter-of-factly. “Not only are we going to have to deal with Vendetta when he's recovered, but now we've crossed a Ripper as well. To be honest, I think our chances of surviving to the end of the week are fairly slim. You're not going to be short of contact with bad guys. I'm sure you'll get the opportunity to ask them a question or two.”

“That's true,” came the glum reply. “But if things are so dangerous, why do you sound so cheery?”

Carnegie shrugged. “Must be my sunny disposition. Come on.”

He turned and limped down the steps of the Cain Club. Jonathan trotted after him.

“Hey, wait! Where are we going? I need to bandage my ribs!”

“No time. We have an appointment with a certain lady with a special ring, remember?”

Jonathan scratched his head. Then it came to him suddenly, though it felt like an age ago.

“Felicity Haverwell? After all we've been through, you want to go chasing after
her
?”

Carnegie tugged the lapels on his suit jacket, and pushed the stovepipe hat back on his forehead.

“Matter of pride, boy. After all, I have got a business to think of. Can't let word get round that I'm going soft.”

“I somehow doubt that's going to happen,” Jonathan replied, and the pair of them headed out into the grimy Darkside morning.

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First published in the UK by Scholastic Ltd., 2007

This electronic edition published by Scholastic Ltd., 2012

 

Text copyright © CPI Publishing Solutions, 2007

The right of Tom Becker to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him.

Cover illustration @ Studio Spooky, 2007

 

eISBN 978 1407 13223 5

 

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