Chapter Twenty-six

A fternoon was waning when they reached the corner of King William Street, and as Josef led them across the road towards W.R. Renshaw Ltd, a figure detached itself from the gathering shadows to intercept them.

Not a ghoul, but possibly worse.

“Mr Shepel,” said Daljit Dutta. “Lady Charlotte—I suspected you might be mixed up in this.”

“Mr Dutta.” Lottie came to a halt next to Josef. “Charmed, as always.”

Dutta smiled cooly. “Where is Lord Beaumont?”

There was a slight bulge beneath his coat which drew Josef’s eye: a gun. Well, he had a gun too, and drew his own coat back far enough that Dutta could see he was armed.

Their eyes met, and Josef said, “We’re on our way to help him. Don’t get in our way.”

“It’s been over twelve hours since he was compromised.” He glanced around at the people passing by. “It’s too late to help him now.”

Lottie said. “I treated his wound this morning to delay the progression of the infection. There’s still time, though the longer we stand here in idle conversation, the more sand runs through the glass.”

“For God’s sake,” Josef snapped. “Either help us or get out of the way.”

Dutta’s eyes widened, the only hint of feeling in his haughty features. “Saint has given his orders regarding Lord Beaumont, and I—”

“You what?” Josef said, stepping forward, close enough that he could see the subtle circles beneath Dutta’s eyes, the lines of tension in his face. “You’re going to be a good little soldier? Or are you going to help us save your friend?”

“ Help you?”

“Alex is injured. He can’t walk. We could use another man to help carry him out. Or to fight off pursuit.”

Behind him, Violet snorted her disagreement.

Dutta’s jaw set in dislike, and after a long look, he switched his attention from Josef to Lottie. “Is there a chance?”

“I’d hardly be here if there wasn’t,” she said. “Although I don’t expect you to help us. Unlike Mr Shepel, I well know The Society’s rules about associating with women of our ilk.”

“Sod The Society’s rules!” Josef cried. “And sod you, Dutta. Alex needs help. Now.” With that, he pushed past the man. Or tried to, but Dutta grabbed his coat lapel and held him in place.

“You’re taking an enormous risk with his life,” Dutta hissed. “Bigger than you can possibly know. Even if he survives, don’t think he will be the same man. And don’t think he will thank you.”

Josef wrenched himself free, shaken. “Alive is better than dead.”

“For you, perhaps. But this has been about you from the start, hasn’t it?”

“You don’t know anything about it. Or me.”

“I know what Alex—”

“Enough!” Violet pushed herself between them. “This bloody nonsense is why men never get anything done. Come on, Lottie, we might as well get to work while these two growl at each other.”

Smiling in amusement, Lottie followed Violet towards the shop door.

Josef glared at Dutta; Dutta glared back. Then, with nothing resolved, they both turned and strode after the two women.

If possible, Mr Brooke looked more bemused than ever when Josef returned to his shop with Lottie, Violet, and Dutta in tow.

Well, the ladies weren’t so much in tow as in the lead.

“Lady Charlotte Wolsey,” Lottie said, standing primly before Mr Brookes. “Thank you for securing the door. We’ll be going in now. Kindly close and lock it behind us.”

Brooke looked from her to Josef and back again. “Beg your pardon, ma’am—”

“That’s ‘my lady’ to you,” Violet piped up.

Brooke’s eyes widened. “Beg pardon, ma’am—uh, my lady—but it don’t seem right for two ladies to be going in pursuit of the Hun.”

“Maybe not,” Lottie said, smiling. “But there’s a war on, Mr Brooke. We all must play our part. And your part is to open that door. Now .”

Maybe it was his imagination, but Josef thought he heard an odd little thrill of power in that word. Brooke must have done as well, because he turned immediately and began unlocking the door.

Dutta tutted, loudly. Lottie ignored him

When the ponderous door swung open, she glanced once into the dark stairwell before reaching into her bag and retrieving what looked to Josef like a Christmas tree bauble of delicate blue frosted glass. The sort they’d made on the Continent, before the war. Then she stepped boldly through the door, Violet on her heels. Josef glanced at Dutta, met the challenge in his eyes with one of his own, and followed.

“We’ll need to get out again soon,” he told Brooke. “Stay by the door until we’re back, would you?”

Brooke looked uncertain. “Well, we close at five o’clock.”

Josef stared. “You close ?”

“I dare say ten pounds will make it worth your while to stay behind,” Lottie said. “And to say nothing of this, to anyone.”

Brooke’s startled expression was comical. “Ah, yes, I dare say it would, your ladyship.”

“My lady ,” Violet corrected again.

Lottie’s smile was small and frosty. “Close the door, Mr Brooke.”

He did so with alacrity, plunging them into abrupt and absolute darkness. Josef’s breath caught, chest tightening in claustrophobic panic.

In the darkness, Lottie murmured something, a slippery word Josef couldn’t quite catch, and then a soft blue light blossomed around them. It came, he saw in astonishment, from the Christmas bauble she held aloft.

“What on earth…?”

“Witch Light,” Violet said with a wink. “I’d leave it at that, if I was you.”

Josef fully intended to leave it at that—for now at least. “Come on,” he said, hurrying down the stairs. “He’s this way.”

As the others followed, a stark electric beam joined Lottie’s light. Josef glanced over his shoulder to see that Dutta held an army hand torch, the same as his own.

“I prefer manmade light,” he said stiffly. “More reliable.”

“Until the batteries run out.”

He raised an eyebrow at Josef’s, apparently, stupid comment. “I have spares.”

Of course he bloody did.

Lottie said, “Times are changing, Mr Dutta. Soon, The Society will have no choice but to value the female sphere.”

“Not in my lifetime,” Dutta predicted, smugly in Josef’s opinion.

“And that lifetime’s going to be bloody short,” Violet said, “if you don’t stop yacking and start paying attention. Joe, I can see a door down there.”

She was right. They were almost at the bottom of the stairs. “Be ready,” he said. “One attacked me on the platform earlier. It’s dead, but there could be others nearby.”

Reluctantly, he pulled Alex’s gun from his waistband as Dutta drew his own weapon. After rummaging in her large bag, Violet withdrew what looked very much like a filched policeman’s truncheon. Lottie simply lifted her free hand, palm out, holding the Witch Light high in the other. She murmured something, and the light dimmed.

After a moment’s hesitation, Dutta switched off his torch and slipped it into his coat pocket.

Josef gave them all a quick glance to make sure they were ready before he turned the handle, pushing open the door to the remains of King William Street station.

In the blue of the Witch Light, he saw that the body of the ghoul he’d killed was gone. “Someone’s been here,” he said, drawing to a halt near a splash of blood that marked the spot. “There was a body here, but it’s gone.”

Dutta said, “Are you certain it was dead?”

“I put a bullet through its head.”

He considered that. “The ghoul do reclaim their dead.”

“Reclaim them?” Josef asked faintly.

“Consume them,” Dutta clarified. “Others are likely to be close.”

For all that he’d seen at the front, Josef’s stomach turned. If Alex didn’t make it, the thought that his body might be… But no, he wouldn’t let that happen. He’d save him from that, at the very least. Whatever happened in the next few hours, Josef wouldn’t leave these tunnels without Alex. Even if that meant hauling his body out over one shoulder.

That settled, he felt marginally better. “Come on,” he said, moving down the platform. “Watch your footing. Some of the platform has given way.”

“This is remarkably unnerving,” Lottie said, sounding gleeful as she looked about. “I remember using this station as a child. My father brought me when it first opened—it was the first electrical railway. But to see it like this…” She shivered, clearly delighted. “Abandoned places have such a powerful presence, don’t you find?”

Dutta said, “I’m more concerned with the presence of the ghoul.”

Which, against his will, made Josef smile.

“The tunnel divides at the end of the platform,” he explained softly. “We’ll take the leftmost branch. It goes deeper, so it’s a bugger of a descent.” He glanced uncertainly at the women’s footwear. “And rough going.”

“He’s worrying we’re going to sprain an ankle,” Violet said. It was too dark to see whether she rolled her eyes, but the expression was very clearly in her tone.

“Don’t worry,” Dutta said, with what might have been a laugh. “They’re not your typical ladies; they’re quite capable of looking after themselves.”

“Whatever you may think of ‘typical ladies’,” Lottie said crisply, “I can assure you that most of us are capable of looking after ourselves.”

“And looking after lazy husbands, brothers, and fathers while we’re at it,” Violet added, with vehemence. “We’re only here because you lot buggered it up, aren’t we?”

Josef didn’t think that was fair, but then Dutta said, “You can’t blame The Society for this. It’s the war causing the trouble.”

“Didn’t say I blamed The Society.”

“Who started the war?” Lottie added. “And who’s keeping it going? Certainly not women.”

Lottie, Josef thought, would get on rather well with May. Perhaps, once all this was over, he’d introduce them. For now, though, he had other things to think about.

“Leave the politics for later,” he said, because they’d reached the end of the platform. “It’s down here.” He jumped onto the empty track bed and didn’t dare offer a hand to Violet or Lottie as they scrambled down after him. Not that they needed any help, despite the inconvenience of long skirts.

Violet sniffed. “I can smell ’em,” she said quietly. “Lottie?”

Lady Charlotte nodded. “Yes. I don’t think they’re far. Nightfall will bring them out; they hunt at night.”

Another chilling thought.

Although the Witch Light wasn’t as bright as a hand torch, its light diffused further, giving Josef a wider look at the tunnel as they started down towards the wall that blocked it off. The grey iron walls gleamed wetly, the tunnel itself not much wider than a train carriage, and from the ceiling he saw the stubby start of stalactites where the water drip, drip, dripped.

“What’s that?” Violet asked, pointing to something on the ground close to the wall blocking the tunnel.

Josef’s heart turned over uncomfortably when he recognised Alex’s hat. He must have lost it, or left it behind, when they’d scrambled through the hole made by the ghoul. Crouching, he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. Expensive, well made. Very Alex. “We have to get through there,” Josef said, standing. He didn’t let go of the hat.

Dutta made a disapproving noise, crouching down to peer through the hole. “Risky,” he said, as if they had a choice. “I’ll go first.” He glanced up at Josef and, after a slight pause, handed him his hand torch. “Hold this would you? Shine it through. I’d rather see what I’m getting into.”

Between Alex’s hat and his gun, Josef was running out of hands, so he settled the hat on his head to take the torch. Stupid, perhaps, but he wasn’t leaving that hat behind.

When he shone the beam through the hole, Dutta poked his head through. “It looks clear,” he said, doubtfully. “Clear enough.” Then, keeping his gun ready, he slipped through the hole and reached back for the torch.

The rest of them followed, Josef taking the lead. His excitement was growing, fear and anticipation mingling queasily. Not far to the door and the passage where he’d left Alex.

How long had it been? Less than three hours. He’d be all right. There was still time. There had to be because any other outcome was… Well, he couldn’t think about another outcome.

The door, when he found it, stood open. And this time, there was no light.

Wetting his dry mouth, heart thumping, Josef tried to remember whether he’d closed it behind him as he’d fled. Maybe he hadn’t? Maybe he’d left it just like this.

Dutta flashed his torch along the corridor, nose flaring in disgust. Josef didn’t blame him; the ghoul stench was powerful.

“Stay close,” Violet murmured to Lottie.

Lottie’s response was softer still. “You too.”

Perhaps Dutta really was a Subadar, or perhaps it was simply his aristocratic assumption of authority, but he went first through the door. Josef didn’t object. If toffs thought they had an inborn obligation to lead their men into the firing line, he was happy to let them do it. Especially happy in Dutta’s case, who he didn’t trust further than he could spit.

Lottie and Vi followed, side by side, and Josef brought up the rear. He kept one eye on the door behind them, belatedly wondering whether it would have been better to leave Dutta behind to guard their escape. He wasn’t about to offer to stay behind, though; he had to be the one to find Alex. He wasn’t leaving that to anyone else.

As they walked, the stench worsened. Josef’s grip on the gun grew clammy, his stomach roiling with fear and disgust and a clinging, desperate hope that they’d find Alex. That he’d be exactly where Josef had left him…

You fucking coward!

…and that he’d be fine. Well, no worse at least. Alive and still himself.

“Alex?” he called softly. Surely, they were close now. “Alex?”

Dutta shushed him.

No other sound came back to him save the pounding of his own heart, hard as a sledgehammer against his ribs.

Dutta stopped suddenly, his flashlight playing over something discarded on the ground. A man’s leg.

Violet swore creatively. Josef said, “It’s not Alex. That was—it was here before.”

He looked around, increasingly desperate in the soft glow of the Witch Light. “He should be here.”

“This is where you left him?” Lottie asked.

He nodded, pointing. “Against that wall…”

He felt sick, suddenly, short of air. Alex was gone.

Dutta said, “There’s a door here.”

That’s right. That led to the stairs Alex had tumbled down with the ghoul. The door was closed now, but Alex vividly remembered the sound of it opening as he fled…

Dutta leaned closer to it, listening, one hand up to silence the rest of them.

And then Josef heard it too, a wet slavering sound. Something—someone—eating.

God help me, I only feel…hunger.

Without thought, Josef reached for the door. Dutta grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. Silently, he raised his gun, readying himself, before nodding to Josef. He pulled on the door, wrenching it open on screeching hinges. Something crouched in the stairwell, bent over. When it lifted its head, gore dripped from its mouth, blue eyes like lamps in the dark.

Josef had half a second to process not Alex before the ghoul launched itself at Dutta. The gun fired, the bullet ricocheting into the stairwell but missing the ghoul, and the creature bore Dutta backwards and down. The Witch Light flared in Lottie’s hand, suddenly, shockingly white, making the ghoul howl and rear back from Dutta. Violet swung her truncheon at the creature’s head and sent it staggering sideways, time enough for Dutta to spring back to his feet. The ghoul howled again, a wet, hungry furious sound.

And Josef shot it between the eyes.

It crumpled and fell, and in the ringing silence, he was aware of everyone’s eyes on him. Well, what did they think? The conchie didn’t know how to fire a gun?

“Good shot,” Dutta said, as if they were on a fucking grouse hunt.

Josef just said, “What was it eating?”

He couldn’t bear to look, his heart a lead lump in his chest. The Witch Light had faded back to its soft purple, but it was still bright enough to see by. He heard someone turn back to the door, and then Violet said, “It’s part of an arm. Can’t say whose.”

The tension in the pit of Josef’s stomach tightened further, and he nodded. “At the top of the stairs, there’s another door. I think that’s where they are. We heard them through the door.”

“Your light was a clever trick,” Dutta told Lottie, sounding a little grudging. “Do that when we go through the next door, would you?”

“Yes, I had intended to.” She exchanged a wry look with Violet. “Witch Light blinds them temporarily. Didn’t you know that?”

Dutta didn’t answer. He said, “We don’t know how many we’ll be facing. If Beaumont is up there, we’re going to have to grab him fast and pull him out.”

“He can’t walk,” Josef reminded them.

Lottie said, “And by now, he may well not be…quite himself. He may resist.”

Josef closed his eyes. “I’ll get him,” he said, “if you lot can hold them off. I’ll carry him out.”

Like I should have done before.

Dutta frowned. “Beaumont is a large man, and you—”

“I can do it.”

“We’ll need to treat him as soon as possible,” Lottie added. “Right there, if we can, though it will take a few moments to muster the enchantment.”

“At least get a door shut between you and them first,” Violet told her. To Josef and Dutta, she added, “She can’t burn the Witch Light and cast an enchantment at the same time.”

Which made sense to Josef. “Right,” he said. “Me and Dutta get him through the door, then hold it while you two get to work.” He looked at Dutta, expecting him to baulk at Josef giving orders. Dutta only nodded, though.

“Then let’s get to it.”

They stole quietly, quickly to the top of the stairs. Blood streaked the steps, as it had done last time Josef was there. More blood? He couldn’t tell. Didn’t want to think about it. Just like he didn’t want to think about howAlex could have climbed these stairs, or how he might have been dragged up instead, or whether he was still alive…

He didn’t want to think about it, and yet it was all he could think about as they gathered around the door at the top of the stairs. Sounds bled through it, snarls, strange howls, shuffling movement. Josef felt sick with fear and desperation. He didn’t want to go through that door, but the thought that Alex might be on the other side, alone with those monsters, made him want to rip it from its bloody hinges.

“Right,” Dutta said grimly. “On three. One, two…”