Twincy Quinn and the Eye of Horus Part One (33 page)

Several
seconds passed, then I heard Carolyn’s soft footfall, and a grating
noise as she dragged something across the floorboards.

I felt the
softest, smallest of hands clutch onto my good arm, and I heard her
sobbing in my ear. ‘Twincy, it will be okay,’ she assured me, and
she leaned in, hooked her hair behind her ear, and pecked a light
kiss onto my cheek.

Then I felt
something being clasped over my nose and mouth. A rag, with some
heady scent ingrained into the fabric.

I didn't try
to fight it.

Carolyn knew
her chemicals and drugs quite well.

I succumbed to
unconsciousness.

Dark and
quick, it embraced me with unstoppable force.

Michael F.
Stanford

I knew I was
in the right place. Not only was Barney barking and scratching at
the door, but I could see a stain on the wood before me. Peering
closely, I recognised a handprint: one red, barely crusted, bloody
handprint.

I reached out
to grasp the door handle. Yet as I did, I stopped.

There was a
wire. I could see it glinting in the bare light.

It ran to the
door handle.

I stopped.

I had to be
careful, didn't I?

Though
admittedly I did not understand the full story of Twincy, I knew it
had something to do with devices, and it made sense to believe if
she lived here, than the place was peppered with modern
machines.

Leaning down,
I grabbed at a handy stick, then brought it before me and poked at
the door handle.

A zap
travelled up the stick and bit frightfully into my skin before I
dropped the wood and stood back with a gasp.

Dear God. What
was that?

Barney took a
yelp, and jerked towards me, banging into my leg.

I couldn't let
myself be put off, but nor can I go barging in only to find some
rather lethal device to greet me. I was here to save Twincy, not to
get killed.

I quickly cast
my glance around, angling my head back to stare at the flat wall of
the old factory before me. I had to find some way in, some way
safe.

Or did I?

With the noise
Barney was making, I knew Twincy would hear him. So I simply sucked
in a breath, puffed up my chest, and opened my mouth: ‘Twincy, I
know you're in there. You're injured; you need to go to hospital.
I'm here to help you,’ my brogue became deeper at that moment,
every lilt of the English accent that had infiltrated my own being
lost for those precious seconds. ‘I am here to help you,’ I
repeated, a touch desperately as my eyes glanced down at that
bloodied handprint again. ‘Please,’ I added, voice hesitant and
wavering.

I waited. I
needed a response, anything. Yet I did not quite imagine the
response I would get.

The door was
thrust open.

I expected to
see Twincy. So I brought up my arms, in case I had to catch
her.

Yet it was not
Twincy, and I would not be catching anything, or at least nothing
that ought to be caught.

There was a
child standing in front of me, and he had a gun. A large one. One
with two barrels, and one that was deceptively smooth and unlike
any musket I had ever carried.

It was a
strange moment. Unexpected.

I went from
having my arms out wide to slowly and carefully dropping them to my
sides.

‘
You can't have her,’ the child said. He was about 10-years
old, with a keen gaze, well-groomed hair, and well-worn, old
clothes that were nonetheless fastidiously clean.

‘
I'm here to help her,’ I tried again, unable to take my eyes
off the barrel of that enormous gun.

‘
Is it a suitable?’ someone called from inside.

The child with
a gun narrowed his eyes, and his quick glance travelled up and down
me. ‘Just a man.’

‘
Get him off the street before someone hears him,’ the voice
from inside snapped.

So the child
did.

Kicking the
door open, he glanced down at Barney and me, took a step back, and
gestured inside with the gun.

‘
I don't know why you're here, but if you try
anything—
if you attempt to hurt
her
,’ he didn't finish his
sentence.

I didn't need
him to, though I very much doubted a child of 10 could or would
shoot a man.

Carefully I
entered the building, and thankfully Barney was dutifully quiet by
my side.

I heard a
quick scampering as I walked over the floorboards, and turned to
see another child close the door, bolt it, and draw some strange
flashing mechanism in place over the lock.

Still
distracted by the gun, it took me a few seconds to realise where I
was standing.

I was in an
abandoned warehouse, most definitely. Yet the sight I saw could not
be summed up that easily.

The place was
full of . . . I wanted to say junk, but I
couldn't. Machines, mechanisms, bits of devices, old furniture that
had been reclaimed and altered.

And
children.

Of varying
ages.

One look told
me they were from the streets. It wasn't their clothes, as they
were by and large clean and a sturdily made. It was their
expressions. Wary and challenging.

‘
I'm not here to hurt anyone,’ I said slowly, cautiously, and
clearly, realising I couldn't simply stand there with my dog
snuffling at my heels.

‘
You followed her,’ one child stepped away from the
rest.

It was the
first time I had glanced her way, and as I did so I shuddered back
in shock.

She had the
end of a brass spotting scope over one eye. Yet it was not simply
attached there via a strap or stuck down by a cramped brow,
somewhat as you would a monocle. It was embedded. It was sewn right
into the flesh. Good God, I could even see her eye blinking through
the lens.

She was a
child. I could not specifically guess her age, yet she looked no
older than nine.

Her free eye
narrowed at me. ‘Why did you follow her?’

Still
distracted, I forced myself to speak, though I could not shift my
gaze from the end of that eyepiece.

It should not
be there. It should not be on anybody's face, let alone a
child’s.

Though I had
come across devices before, and yes, they had featured in many
crimes in the past several months, this was the first time I had
looked upon something so . . . outrageous.

‘
Who did that to you?’ I asked. It was not the answer she was
looking for, yet I could not force myself to say anything else.
‘
Who did that to you?’
I raised my voice.

She narrowed
her remaining eye, flicking her gaze from left to right, and
picking out select children as she apparently attempted to
communicate with them nonverbally.

‘
You are not in a position to ask, only answer,’ she
straightened up her shoulder, and stuck out her chin, reminding me
unpleasantly of my old school ma’am.

‘
What's going on here? Who are you people? Who has done this to
you?’ I repeated frantically as the horror of this injustice
chilled me like ice.

‘
Why did you follow Twincy here?’ The young girl with the
eyepiece crossed her arms.

‘
If you are going to interrogate him, do it elsewhere,’ I heard
somebody call from further onto the factory floor.

I stood
slightly to one side, and using my height, I stared off into the
distance.

I saw a table.
There was someone on it.

I recognised
the dress, and I recognised the wash of blood dripping down the
side of the fabric.

There were two
large crates by the desk, and two children were sitting on top.

I
shuddered.

Wouldn't
you?

What was I looking at?
What were they
doing
?

‘
My good man, do not fear; Vanessa can be quite abrupt at
times. I can see from the look of you that you do not know what
you're doing. I can also see that you are unhindered by
devices.’

‘
Do not share our names with this man,’ the child with the
eyepiece, Vanessa as I had just learnt, snapped loudly.

‘
I will do what I want, and you will do what I want. Have this
bickering conversation elsewhere; we must concentrate,’ the child
turned from me and returned to his task.

I couldn't
take it anymore.

I didn't care
that there was a boy of about 10 toting a gun my way. I still took
several sharp steps forward, staring, stiff-jawed at that
table.

‘
Before you say anything, my good man, we are fixing her. She
has become damaged,’ the child licked his lips as he swivelled his
gaze from me back to Twincy, ‘the devices along her skeleton must
be repaired. Delicate work, so you must understand that I can't put
up with such a disturbance. Keep your tone low and your questions
for later.’

. . . .

I guessed that
child was about eight years old, and he too, like Vanessa, had
devices embedded right into his face and hands. In fact, one long
look at his fingers told me they all looked like metal.

I
shuddered.

I choked even.
Good God, I could have thrown up too.

‘
What . . . ?’ I was pale and weary from
shock, but with a push I forced out my question.

‘
Very well,’ the child working on Twincy began, ‘we are former
street urchins who were kidnapped by Doctor Elliot Esquire. He
changed us,’ the child paid complete attention to Twincy, and only
glanced my way briefly.

‘
John, I do demand you shut up this moment,’ Vanessa turned on
her heel and took a powerful step forward, the movement shaking the
floorboards underneath her.

John, the
child working on Twincy, shrugged his shoulders. ‘Do not overreact,
Vanessa; I have already identified this man as Detective Michael F.
Stanford. I have kept my eyes on him, my devices too. I believe he
has served two stints as a soldier, and of late works for Scotland
Yard.’

I paled; how
did this child know so much about me?

‘
This is a security risk, an unacceptable one,’ Vanessa
growled.

‘
He has wandered into our presence. He has seen us. He knows
where we live. And, dear girl, you were the one who made
Theodore
bring him
inside. I am simply taking matters into my own hands.’

Vanessa
growled again.

I almost
wanted to intervene. I felt a duty to step between them, place my
hands out, and say something along the lines of ‘children,
children, calm down’. Yet I couldn't, because whether they were
children or not, they did not speak like it, and they certainly no
longer looked like it either. Those outrageous devices were a
blight against their age and innocence.

‘
And as I said, I believe I can trust this man, or at least I
am willing to tell him enough so that he will remain silent and
allow me to work.’ John paused for a moment, scrunched his eyebrows
down as he frowned, and clutched behind him for a tool.

I clamped a
hand to my mouth and tried not to retch.

‘
My good man, do not worry; I have done this many times, and I
am not in the least bit squeamish,’ John turned to me and nodded
low. He was every scrap a gentleman, apart from the fact he was
a
child
.

‘
What . . . what in all that is holy is
going on?’ I asked again urgently.

‘
I have already told you. Doctor Elliot Esquire. Everything you
have seen here today, and everything that has and will happen to
London for the foreseeable future, will be down to Doctor Elliot
Esquire.’

That statement
chilled me, it also sharpened my awareness. It allowed me to push
past my nerves and surprise long enough to focus on what John was
saying.

‘
Esquire?’ I rasped.

John nodded
low. ‘He kidnapped us and changed us, for we are suitable.’

Suitable?

Ordinarily a
fine word, right now it sent a terrible shiver down my spine. For
the context was wrong, terribly wrong.

I also felt I
understood what it meant.

‘
Whether it be our biology or some peculiarity of our
personalities, we can mesh with his devices better than most.’ John
paused again as he grabbed another tool.

He did not
look fazed in the least.

Yet he was
still a child, and that fact could not be ignored.

This situation
was so horrendously wrong. Yet I could not move as I listened to
him recount his story. I would not interrupt him either.

For no matter
how strange it was, it made a sick kind of sense. I had already
come to that conclusion, or a part of it, myself. I had realised
due to Lord Ridley's insistence that he was after Twincy, and I had
deduced from her abilities that she must be benefiting from the
power of some such device. Yet not once had I imagine they had been
grafted onto her very bones.

That sickly
thought sent a wave of nausea through me, and I quickly clutched a
hand to my chest, flattening my palm over my shirt until I was
reassured by the warmth that slowly travelled through.

‘
Twincy was always the most suitable. The jewel in his crown, I
believe he often puts it. Nevertheless, one day she escaped. As we
all did. We have banded together, and we work for one singular
purpose. To stop that man; to put a halt to his horrendous plans
before he can do London, England, and the world inestimable
damage.’

She had
escaped. It made sense. Now the fear she had shown as she had run
from not just me, but from whatever devilish creature had hunted
her tonight, made sense.