14. Chapter 14

Chapter fourteen

H ugh’s stomach was turning whirligig circles inside of him as the evening of the gathering for Eden approached. He had dressed in simple clothing, including his scuffed boots again, to look as non-police as possible. Jack dressed in the old-fashioned tailcoat that had been ironed and a few places mended. His boots were shined, his pants and cape washed, and he looked about as respectable as a spectral creature from another realm could look, Hugh thought. Quite handsome too, but now was not the time for a quick toss in the sheets. They needed to be focused and ready for whatever tonight was going to bring.

Jack gave him a loving kiss. “Be safe,” he whispered to Hugh as he pulled his top hat on over his horns.

“You too,” Hugh said softly, reaching up to adjust the collar at Jack’s throat. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Jack replied, kissing him once more. “I shall find you at Eden.”

Hugh nodded, and then Jack slid out the open bedroom window and dropped down into the street below, leaving Hugh alone to make his way to the Penny Lane Pub. Hugh crouched in the shadows in the stinking alley, waiting for Anthony to arrive. He still wasn’t sure if this idea was going to work, but it was the only plan that he had for getting into Eden. And if he didn’t get in, at least Jack would, so they could figure out what was going on.

A few young men and women began to trickle in through the back door, one or two faces that Hugh recognized from The Bull and Parasol. Eventually he spotted Anthony, walking alone. Anthony gestured him silently over, and they slipped inside the back door of the pub, sitting down at one of the tables there.

There was an assembly of men and women inside, and Hugh felt like he might be a bit overdressed, considering what some of them wore. But as long as he didn’t stick out, he figured he would just be another face in the crowd.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” said a man from the door. “My name is Mr. Green. I will be your guide for this evening. Thank you for being here.”

‘Mr. Green’ wore a bowler hat and a plain, brown suit. “We shall be departing for the gathering shortly. Once we arrive, we will have outfits for you to wear.”

“Where are we going?” one of the young women asked curiously.

“I’m afraid the location is secret,” Mr. Green said. “Our guests are sworn to secrecy, and you are as well. You will be blindfolded for the journey until we arrive at the location. If that bothers any of you, you are free to leave now.”

Glances were exchanged between the assembled revelers, but no one left. The amount of money that some of them must have received probably tamped down any overriding concern.

Mr. Green smiled. “Excellent. We will go out to the carriage, and once you are all seated, my assistants will put on the blindfolds.”

He led them out the door to where two long wagons pulled by two horse teams waited, not unlike the mariah the police used when transporting criminals, though black fabric covered the few windows so no one could see in or out.

Two assistants were helping people into the wagons. The first one was a big man with red hair and a nose that looked like it had been broken several times in his life. The other one was a ferret-faced man with large, gray muttonchops, and Hugh’s blood ran cold when he recognized him instantly. It was Sergeant Reardon! He turned to Anthony, his heart thundering so loud in his throat he could barely speak. “Shit. That man with the gray hair is my sergeant!”

“Are you fucking serious?” Anthony asked, his own voice low as he glanced over at him. Reardon was helping several of the ladies into one of the wagons, and Hugh didn’t have to look very closely to see that he was taking an appreciative look at each one as he did. He felt sick. This was a terrible idea, and he was about to have his cover blown.

Anthony suddenly shoved Hugh into the line of people waiting to get into the other wagon before he trotted over to where Reardon was giving a push to the ample bum of one of the women he was assisting. Hugh lifted his arm like he was scratching his head to try to block his face as best he could as Anthony suddenly trailed his fingertips over the front of Reardon’s coat. He said something in a low voice that Hugh couldn’t hear, but the sergeant’s eyes traveled down to look at the fingers, then back up to Anthony’s face, giving him a wicked grin that made Hugh’s stomach roil inside of him. He ducked his head a bit, taking the hand of the large, red-haired man that he luckily did not recognize to help him up into the back of the wagon. He sat down on a bench next to one of the other boys, a young man with red hair and freckles across his pale cheeks that looked like he might still be a teenager. He gave the boy a reassuring smile, and the boy gave him a tight-lipped one in return.

The redhaired man stepped up into the wagon with a handful of black fabric in his hands. He went around to each person, wrapping the fabric securely around their eyes. Hugh watched him approach the little redhead. The boy reached out a hand and grabbed Hugh’s wrist. Hugh placed his own hand over the boy’s and kept it there; the assistant didn’t say anything about it, tying the black fabric around the boy’s eyes before turning to Hugh.

His brain screamed at him that this was a terrible idea, that he was going to die, that he needed to run and not look back. But Jack was counting on him, and he would not be able to find out what was happening if he didn’t do this. So, Hugh just nodded and held still as the assistant slipped the blindfold around his eyes and tied it securely. He could only see the tiniest bit of light peeking from the bottom, but not enough to be able to tell where they might be going. Next to him, the boy was trembling a little, and Hugh gave his hand another squeeze.

One of the benches creaked, and Hugh guessed that the assistant had sat down, because the carriage suddenly began to roll. He swallowed down his nervousness, wondering if Jack was experiencing the same thing wherever his meeting place was. Would anyone dare to approach to blindfold Spring-Heeled Jack? He imagined a black cloth over Jack’s eyes but the intense, red flames of them still burning through the fabric like lamps in the night. “Are we allowed to talk?” he asked, directing it to the general vicinity of the assistant.

“Sure,” the man grunted.

Hugh gave the boy’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “My name’s Hugh,” he said softly. “What’s yours?”

“Morris,” the boy said, his voice even softer.

“Glad to meet you, Morris,” Hugh said. “Just hold onto me until we get there, all right?”

“Okay,” Morris agreed, and his fingers tightened further around Hugh’s wrist. Hugh didn’t want to accidentally say something to throw suspicion onto himself, so he just sat and held the boy’s hand.

The carriage moved along at a fast clip, and Hugh occasionally caught sounds from the streets they passed. He tried to take a guess where they might be, but there had been several turns, and nothing that he could hear gave him a good clue as to where they were. So, he simply sat. The ride took about twenty minutes before the horses slowed to a stop. Hugh waited, trying to see anything under the sliver left from his blindfold, but he could see nothing helpful.

After another minute, the carriage doors opened. “We have arrived,” said what he thought was Mr. Green. “Mr. Blue will escort you out of the carriage one by one and take you inside. Once everyone is inside, you will be able to remove your blindfolds.”

Mr. Blue must have been the big redheaded assistant, Hugh thought. He heard the man get up and help one of the passengers down, then moved to the next one. There was a soft murmur of voices outside, and Hugh guessed there was a system to escort the blindfolded guests with maximum efficiency. Mr. Blue tapped Hugh lightly on the shoulder. “Stand up,” he said, his voice not unkind but holding no room for shenanigans.

Hugh patted Morris’s hand, and the boy reluctantly let go of him. He rose to his feet, and a large hand kept his head bowed so he didn’t knock it on the carriage roof. Mr. Blue led him over to the carriage entrance, where he could feel a slight temperature shift. Though whether they were still outside on the streets or inside some sort of building, he could not be sure. “Step down,” Mr. Blue said as someone else took Hugh’s hand from the ground. Hugh carefully put his foot on the carriage’s step, using the hand to brace himself, and then stepped onto the ground.

“Right this way, please,” came a pleasant male voice from whomever the hand belonged to, and another hand touched the small of his back to guide him. It was not Reardon’s voice, at least, which was reassuring. He followed the prompting. “Watch your step,” the voice said. “The floor slopes.”

Hugh remembered what Anthony had said about going down a ramp into a possible underground area. His heart picked up a little in his chest as he carefully walked down the incline. It was not very steep, though it was decently long. He counted 127 steps before the voice said, “The next step is level,” and the hand holding his adjusted a little to steady him. The floor did even out, and he was walked along what he assumed was a short corridor, the light outside of his blindfold growing gradually brighter with each step.

After another short distance, the hands holding him adjusted positions again. “There is a chair right behind you. Please sit. You will be able to remove your blindfold shortly.”

Hugh carefully lowered himself into the chair. It felt like a simple wooden chair with a high back, though there were arms, which he was slightly grateful for, considering he could still not see much. He rested his forearms on the arms of the chair to steady himself as he waited, listening to the sounds around him. He could hear the soft crackle and sputter of gas lamps and the shuffle of feet. A few murmured voices, most of them giving similar instructions to what the voice had given him, directing people into chairs and offering polite reassurances. He inhaled, trying to see if there were any distinct smells. The air was warm and a little stale. He could smell perfume and other odors from those around him, the faint smoky smell of the lamps, but nothing else leaped to his mind immediately.

Someone cleared their throat, and then Mr. Green was speaking again. “Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen. You may remove your blindfolds now.”

Hugh reached up and slid his quickly off without untying it, glancing around the room. It was brightly lit with covered sconces, but there were no windows anywhere. The room they were in was large, the walls made from some sort of stone. He was not familiar with what they might be, but they looked quite old and rough-hewn, as if they had been carved. It was yellowish sort of stone that helped to make the room seem brighter than it was with the flickering lights.

The people he had been sitting with in the back room of the pub were now all seated in chairs as he was, arranged in a crude semicircle. Standing for them to be able to see him was Mr. Green, giving them all that friendly smile. Hugh quickly glanced around but did not see Reardon amongst the people. “We have some refreshments for you, and then I shall explain the evening’s affairs.”

Several people stepped forward, wearing black outfits that looked as if they might be servant uniforms of some sort, their eyes shaded with black domino masks. Each of them held a silver tray, upon which were glasses of champagne. Each person was handed a glass. Hugh gave it as unobtrusive of a sniff as he could, but he couldn’t smell anything beyond the bubbles.

“Please, drink up,” Mr. Green said after the last glass was handed out. Nearly everyone brought their glass to their lips. Hugh followed suit but did not open his mouth, letting the buzzy liquid brush over his lips but remain in the glass as Mr. Green began to talk again. “You all are here at the behest of our esteemed guests to serve as entertainment for the night, for which you and your employer, if you have one, have been compensated for. You will be given costumes to wear, and then we simply ask you to follow the whims of the guests.”

“Oi, they ain’t allowed to hurt us, is they?” asked a woman to Hugh’s right.

“Some of our guests have special tastes,” Mr. Green said. “But you may decide if you will be a willing participant.”

Hugh had heard enough police interrogation double-speak to know that Mr. Green had not said ‘No’ to the woman’s question, nor had he said that they would be allowed to deny a request from a guest, only that they could decide if they would be willing or not. His stomach tightened a little.

“Once our guests have been satisfied, you will be returned home,” Mr. Green went on with that same friendly smile. “Now, if you will please finish your drinks, ladies to the right, gentlemen to the left,” he said, gesturing to two archways where the black-clad servants waited with the trays to collect the glasses.

Hugh debated not drinking the champagne and just handing the glass back still full, but if they required him to drink it, they would be watching him much more closely, so he had to make the liquid disappear now. A swish around his mouth so his breath smelled of alcohol would probably be enough. He lifted his glass again. The champagne hit his tongue, the bubbles tickling. It would be so easy to swallow, and he could see how it would be quite tempting for the prostitutes to want to drink to help dull whatever was going to happen, but he forced himself to just hold it in his mouth for a few moments before he tipped the glass back down, letting the liquid flow out of his mouth and back into the flute. He glanced quickly around to see that the servers and the man in charge seemed to not be looking directly at him, too distracted by those already getting to their feet to head into the other areas. He lifted the glass to his mouth and upended it as if getting the last of the liquid inside, but instead he tipped the glass so the champagne flowed down his left cheek, down his neck, and over his back to slowly soak into his shirt. The bubbles tingled on his skin, and he swiped at his cheek with the back of his hand to try to clear away any obvious signs of it on his face. The room was warm; he hoped that the liquid on the back of his shirt would simply look like sweat.

He rose to his feet. Morris, the little redhead, was sitting a few chairs away and seemed to be waiting for him. Hugh felt his stomach clench again. The boy looked so nervous. He rose to his feet and nodded at him. “Come on,” he offered. Morris scampered to his feet and moved to his side like a quivering hare. Hugh gave him an encouraging smile. “It will be all right.”

Morris nodded, and he set his empty glass on the tray the server held out. Hugh set his own empty glass down too, then turned to hurry out of the gathering room and through the archway so no one would see the champagne on his clothes. Morris followed at his heels.

Down a short, lit passageway they walked to another room that was full of changing screens, upon which were draped bits of fabric that Hugh at first thought were decorative, until he saw another young man step from behind the screen with nothing but a silky, violet-colored loincloth hanging in front from a thin, gold chain around his waist. His backside was bare. He had no other clothes on except for the purple drape. Hugh felt his cheeks warm. Next to him, Morris let out a squeak. “Is that what we’re supposed to wear?”

Another of the black-masked servants gestured to a nearby screen. “Yes. Right this way, sir.”

Morris cast a glance back at Hugh. Hugh gave him a weak smile. “It will be all right.” He hoped to any deity that he was not lying to the boy.

Morris retreated behind the screen, and the servant gestured to another one. “You may leave your current clothes back there, they will be returned to you at the end of the night.”

Hugh nodded and stepped behind the screen. The things he was willing to do to solve a mystery, he thought to himself as he stripped off his waistcoat and shirt, putting the shirt on the bottom so no one would see the damp patch of champagne there. He slid off his boots and socks, then his trousers and undergarments, leaving him without a stitch of clothing on. He picked up the violet garment, which had a clasp with an adjustable gold chain to go around his waist. The purple garment was silky and at least hung past his knees, so he didn’t feel quite so exposed. At least in the front. The air on his bare back, legs, and buttocks was more than a little disconcerting. Jack would probably have a good laugh at him when this was all over.

He stepped out from behind the screen. As he did, he started to feel a little dizzy. He steadied himself and tried to focus on the nearest wall. The wall seemed wavery all of a sudden, like it was the edge of the river Thames. The candles flickered, and Hugh thought for a moment that one of the candelabras at the corner of his vision had started to twirl. He turned his head, but the candelabra was as still as it had been. But the movement was spreading now, the shadows getting bigger, stretching, starting to consume his vision. He turned to look again, and the world suddenly flared brightly. He raised a hand to his eyes, his limbs suddenly feeling like they were filled with lead.

“Hmm, hit this one really fast,” he heard a voice say, and suddenly there were several pairs of hands closing around him. He looked around, but the movement made his vision turn blurry. He groped out, trying to steady himself. “Easy there, we’ve got you,” said the unfamiliar voice. Hugh felt his feet leave the ground and the world tip at an odd angle. There was a mess of black around him, blacker than nighttime against the yellow gleam of the sconces and the walls. He felt himself moving, though by what means he could not tell. And then everything went oddly silent and dark.