Chapter Twenty-seven

“T hree!”

They burst through the door in a blaze of Witch Light, so bright even Josef had to squint. Howls rose around them, and a desperate snarling, scrabbling. The space beyond the door may once have been used for storage, but it had obviously been abandoned for years. Pipes ran across its ceiling, some looking new, the walls Victorian brickwork. The floor…? God only knew, because it was covered now in vile, stinking rags. The whole place stank like a charnel house.

Or a dressing station.

Keeping the Witch Light so bright seemed to be costing Lottie because her face looked pinched, and Violet had one hand on her elbow, helping her keep the light aloft. It was working, though, making the ghouls cower, faces covered. But Josef guessed they didn’t have much time.

Still squinting, he scanned the scabrous rags and writhing shapes of the ghouls in search of the only face he wanted to see. And dreaded seeing.

The glint of Witch Light on black hair drew his eye to a body slumped against the far wall.

Fear squeezed his voice down to a scratch. “There!” He tried again. “ There . He’s there!”

Two ghouls were near him, crouched and snarling, eyes hidden by their arms. Josef lifted the gun, but they were so close to Alex that he didn’t dare fire. The light was dimming, though, Lottie struggling.

“Hurry,” Violet snapped.

Turning the gun in his hands, holding the barrel, Josef waded in. “Get away from him!” he shouted, swinging the grip of the gun at the closest ghoul. It hissed at him through rotting teeth, staring around blindly. Josef swung the pistol in a savage arc, connecting with its head and sending the creature staggering sideways, away from Alex. Desperation must have given him strength. He’d heard of such things happening at the front.

But as the light dimmed further, the ghouls began to grow braver. He saw movement from the corner of his eye, heard the crack of a gunshot ricochet around the small room, but didn’t have time to look. All his focus now was on Alex. He lay sprawled against the wall, eyes closed, his broken leg out in front of him. Unconscious? God in heaven, he hoped so.

Josef fell to his knees at Alex's side, shaking his shoulder. “Alex? Alex, wake up.”

“Just grab him,” Dutta yelled. He sounded breathless, pressed. “Now!”

Shoving the gun into his waistband, Josef scrambled up, getting his hands under Alex’s arms. He was heavy, a dead weight, but Josef had spent months manhandling dead weights at the front. Grunting, he pulled Alex away from the wall and began to drag him towards the door. His head lolled back alarmingly; Josef didn’t stop.

Movement in the growing shadows caught his eye, more graveyard-blue eyes staring at him from the dark. Crouched and poised. And then with a yell, Violet leaped in front of him, swinging her truncheon, warding them off. Dutta fired again, and one of the creatures dropped. As he reached the door, the Witch Light flared once more, bright and white, sending the remaining ghouls howling into the shadows long enough for him to pull Alex through the door. Lottie and Violet followed. Then came three measured gunshots before Dutta backed out of the room, slamming the door shut and leaning against it.

Violet gasped, “Lottie!” And everything went dark.

Crouching, Josef lowered Alex to the floor. “What happened? Is she all right?”

“I’m fine,” Lottie said, sounding exhausted. “Don’t fuss.”

And then the electric light of Dutta’s hand torch split the dark. He still stood with his back to the door, bracing it. Lottie sat on the floor next to Josef, Violet crouching at her side.

“She’s exhausted,” Violet said, with enough accusation in her voice to make it clear who she blamed for that.

“Is he alive?” Dutta said, cool and crisp as ever.

Josef put his hand to Alex’s throat, feeling for a pulse. Something else he’d learned in Ypres. Alex’s skin felt cool and clammy under his fingers, but after a nightmare couple of seconds, he found a faint, fluttering pulse. His own heart slammed into his ribs in relief. “Yes,” he said over his shoulder. “Yes, he’s alive.”

Behind him, he heard a rustle of skirts as Lottie climbed to her feet. “Vi,” she said, a little wobble in her voice, “see to his leg. I’ll prepare the enchantment.”

Violet began what sounded like a protest but swallowed whatever she was going to say. Instead, she began rummaging through her first aid bag. Josef let them get on with it, his attention fixed on Alex’s face.

“Alex,” he said gently, tapping his cheek. “Wake up. Come on, open your eyes.” He looked like himself, at least, though his skin was deathly white.

“He’ll need to swallow this,” Lottie said. She knelt on the other side of Alex, holding a stoppered glass vial of dark liquid. “You’ll have to sit him up.”

Nodding, Josef scooted behind Alex and hauled him up so that he was resting against Josef’s chest. He held him there, arms wrapped around Alex, pinning his arms to his sides.

Lottie noticed that with a nod. Violet, meanwhile, was tying off a professional-looking dressing on Alex’s leg.

“You need to hurry,” Dutta said tensely. When Josef looked over, he saw that Dutta was pressing hard against the door, which jumped under the assault from the other side. Violet scrambled up and went to join him, adding her weight to the door.

“Tip his head back,” Lottie said. “And be ready.”

Then she bent her head and began to murmur soft, slippery, impossible-to-grasp words, one hand holding the vial and her other hovering over it. For long seconds nothing happened, save the dull thuds on the door and Dutta and Violet’s answering grunts of effort.

But then the vial began to glow, a deep iridescent thread of amethyst swirling through the liquid, growing brighter. Lottie looked up, and for a moment, Josef saw that same opalescent glow in her eyes. “Now,” she said, lifting the vial.

Josef tipped back Alex’s head, prizing open his jaw, and Lottie poured the potion—no other word for it—down his throat. She clamped his mouth shut, and Alex immediately began to struggle.

“Hold him still!”

Josef held on for dear life as Alex bucked and thrashed in his arms, purple liquid seeping from between his lips. Lottie had both hands on his jaw, holding his mouth shut until Alex convulsed one more time and began to cough.

Lottie fell back, triumphant. “He’s swallowed it!”

“How long until it works?” Josef asked, still holding Alex, though his convulsions were weakening.

“Fully? Several hours. But we should know if it’s worked sooner than that.”

“We can’t hold the door much longer,” Dutta warned. “You’re going to have to move. I’ll hold them back as long as I can.”

Lottie nodded, holding onto the wall as she slowly rose to her feet. She was exhausted. Violet would need to help her, which meant Josef had to carry Alex alone.

“Shepel,” Dutta said, holding out one hand. “Your gun.”

For a moment he hesitated, but if he was carrying Alex, he wouldn’t be able to use it, and Dutta could use all the help he could get covering their retreat. With a nod, he pulled it free of his waistband and slid it across the floor to Dutta.

Then, squirming out from behind Alex, he lowered him to the ground. Purple liquid stained his lips; his eyes were half-lidded now, that vile cold blue seeping out from beneath his lids.

God, let us have been in time , he prayed. Please .

He’d been trained to use a fireman’s lift, so he hurriedly rolled Alex onto his stomach and got his arms under Alex’s armpits, hauling him almost upright, before wedging one leg between Alex’s, hauling one arm over his shoulder and lifting him. He staggered for a moment, then caught his balance, settling Alex firmly across his shoulders.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

It was agonisingly slow progress getting down the stairs, terrified with every step that he’d lose his footing and kill them both in the fall. Violet and Lottie came next, Violet with a supportive arm around Lottie’s waist and Lottie holding the Witch Light aloft once more. Its glow was dim now, barely enough to light their way.

Behind them, he heard two gunshots in quick succession, then a third followed by the sounds of a scuffle. Dutta was doing what he could; Josef prayed it would be enough.

Josef’s legs burned by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, but his heart thumped in relief as he carried Alex through the door and into the corridor beyond. He was stirring, though, starting to move, making it harder for Josef to hold him. “Lie still,” he snapped, readjusting his grip. “I’ve got you.”

Violet and Lottie appeared next, Lottie seeming somewhat recovered. The Witch Light burned brighter, at least.

“Keep going,” she told Josef. “We'll try to seal this door once Mr Dutta is through.”

Another gunshot came from the stairwell, as if in answer.

Josef kept moving, walking as fast as he could under the weight of Alex’s body. He’d got perhaps halfway along the corridor before Alex woke up properly. He felt the moment Alex came to awareness, limbs jerking in panicked confusion as he started to fight against Josef’s grip.

“Alex, stop!” Josef shouted, but it was no good—he couldn’t hold him. He fell to his knees, letting Alex slide backwards off his shoulders, trying to protect his splinted leg from a bigger fall.

Alex cried out in pain, and Josef twisted around, getting hold of his shoulders, trying to hold him still. “Alex, it’s me. You’re all right.”

They were deep in the shadows, far from Lottie’s light, but it was bright enough that he could make out Alex’s pale features. And he almost cried, tears bulking his throat, at the sight of Alex’s eyes—wide, afraid, and dark.

Devoid of the sepulchral blue.

“Alex?” he said thickly, fingers tightening on his shoulders.

Alex blinked, staring. In a rough, rasping voice, he said, “You’re wearing my hat.”

Tears did fall then, through Josef’s smile. “You dropped it. I thought you’d want it back.”

Back along the corridor came the sound of shouting, the door slamming. More shouting and scuffling. The Witch Light flared, dimming as Lottie shouted a few unintelligible words.

Josef said, “We need to move. I can carry you.”

Woozily, Alex tried to sit up. Josef helped him. “I can walk,” Alex said. Then, “Can’t I?”

“Not really. You’ve broken your leg.”

“Ah.”

Josef’s heart did another elated cartwheel at that little ‘Ah’ because it was so very Alex. So very human.

“Even so, I’d rather not be hauled about like a sack of potatoes,” he said. “Help me up.”

Reluctantly, Josef did, one eye on the others as he pulled Alex upright. They were hurrying towards him, the Witch Light bobbing and growing brighter. Behind them, a faint violet haze hovered over the closed door. No ghoul came through it.

When Josef looked back at Alex, he found they were standing face to face, hands still joined, Alex watching him intently. Then, very quietly, he said, “You came back.”

Josef’s throat closed again. “Told you I would.”

Alex squeezed his hands, hard, but there was no time for more because the others had reached them.

“Lord Beaumont,” Lottie said, smiling. “You look better.”

Alex’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Lottie? What on earth—?”

“No time for that now,” she said crisply.

Then Dutta joined them. He had one gun in his hand, the other tucked into the waistband of his trousers. “Beaumont,” he said, as though they were meeting in Hyde Park.

Josef felt Alex stiffen in alarm. “What are you doing here?”

After a pause, Dutta said, “Saving your life, it appears.” Another silence followed, sharp as a blade. Then he said, “That enchantment won’t hold them for long. I suggest we make a run for it.”

“Then help me with him,” Josef said, looping one of Alex’s arms over his shoulder and sliding his arm around Alex’s waist. It felt good to have his warm body close, to feel the play of Alex’s muscles as he moved, and Josef had to struggle to keep his relief from showing.

Dutta hesitated, but then nodded and came to support Alex’s other side.

The women took the lead, Witch Light held high, and the three of them followed. It was faster this way, if more ungainly, with him and Dutta supporting Alex between them. They struggled along in silence for a few minutes until, in a low voice, Alex whispered, “The Society is involved with this?” He sounded doubtful.

Dutta said, “Not exactly.”

“Meaning what?”

“Let’s just concentrate on getting out in one piece, shall we?”

Josef agreed. Alex was breathing heavily, the effort of hobbling along costing him too much. “Save your breath for walking,” he said. “We can talk later.”

Alex pursed his lips and didn’t answer.

From behind them came a dull thud, then another, as the ghoul tried to get through the door at the bottom of the stairs. For now, whatever Lottie had done to it seemed to be holding, and ahead Josef could see the door which would lead them back into the abandoned train tunnel and from there to King William Street station. The door stood ajar, just as they’d left it. Thank God.

“Perhaps I could try another enchantment?” Lottie suggested from up ahead. “Seal this door, too.”

“Oh, give over,” Vi said crossly. “You can’t hardly walk straight, let alone cast an enchantment. We’ll have to wedge this one shut.”

It sounded like a good idea. There was plenty of debris in the tunnel that they could use, left over from where the tracks had been removed. All they needed was a little time to get Alex back to the old station, up the stairs—he grimaced at the thought of that spiral staircase—and out into the daylight.

If it was still daylight.

“Not far now,” he told Alex when they reached the door. Lottie stopped to light the way while Violet pulled the door wider to let them pass. It was too narrow to fit three abreast, though, so Dutta slipped free and went ahead, leaving Josef to support Alex as they hobbled through the doorway and down onto the track bed.

Alex cursed softly as his leg was jostled, and Josef winced. “Sorry,” he murmured, tightening his grip, trying to take more of the man’s weight.

“Never be sorry,” Alex whispered back, close enough that Josef could feel the warmth of his breath against his ear. He felt weak again with relief that Alex was here, still alive and himself.

Thank God. Thank you, God!

Behind them, Lottie and Violet stepped down and pulled the door shut behind them. In the hazy pool of Witch Light, Josef scanned the ground near his feet for something to use to brace the door. He spied a large piece of concrete and said, “How about—?”

Light flared from all angles, blinding electric torch beams slicing through the dark. And hiding behind them in the shadows gleamed blank saucer-like eyes and weird, distorted faces. Josef staggered back in fright, Alex swaying and grabbing onto him to keep his balance.

What the fuck was this?

Then, from the light stepped a slight, familiar figure. Neat, orderly, and pointing a gun. “We’ll take him from here, Mr Shepel.”

The creatures were all holding guns on them, Josef realised; he recognised their dull gunmetal gleam. A dozen of them, standing in an arc around the door. Waiting.

His gun, of course, was in Dutta’s possession. Dutta, who walked calmly to stand at the newcomer’s side. Fucking traitor.

“Saint,” Alex said, struggling to stand upright, almost to attention.

“You disobeyed orders, Lord Beaumont.”

“Orders to die!” Josef spat. “But now he’s cured, so you can shove your orders up your—”

“Cured?” Saint scoffed. “You’re talking about witchcraft.” The word dripped with disdain. More than disdain, revulsion.

“I’m talking about—”

“Might I suggest,” interrupted Lottie, “that you secure this door before you bicker? There are several rather angry ghouls on our heels.”

Saint ignored her entirely, although he turned and murmured something to one of the creatures behind him. On a silent command, half of them detached themselves from the group and headed towards the door. Which was when, with sickening understanding, Josef realised that they weren’t creatures at all but men. Men wearing gas masks, and laden with gas bombs.

“The ghoul are no longer your concern,” Saint said, as his men filed through the door and closed it behind them.

“What are they going to do?” Josef asked in horror.

Saint stepped closer, small and harsh in the strange light. “You’ve been warned before, and this is your final warning. Stay away from that which you don’t understand and about which you have no business knowing.”

“No business knowing?” Josef laughed, incredulously. “You don’t think this ”—he gestured around them—“is my business? It’s everyone’s business!”

“Of course it isn’t.” Saint looked genuinely baffled. “It is Society business.”

“Yeah? Well, we’ll see about that when I tell the whole fucking world what’s going on down here.”

At his side, he felt Alex flinch and glanced over to see him shaking his head in warning.

“I doubt even your little newspaper would publish such an…outlandish story,” said Saint. “And if it did, who would take it seriously? You’d be a laughingstock—or worse. They’d call you a shell shock case.”

There was too much truth in that for comfort. Nonetheless, Josef said, “We’ll see about that, won’t we? Don’t forget—I still have a photograph.”

“Josef, stop," Alex hissed. " Please …”

Saint levelled an accusing finger, his face dark in the shadows. “Listen to me, Shepel. Thus far, I have been forbearing—at Lord Beaumont’s request. But my patience has surpassed its limits. And so, I warn you: if you come to my notice again, it will be for the last time.” Then, to Alex, he snapped, “You’re with me. Now.”

“What?” Josef held Alex tighter. “Fuck off. He can’t walk. He’s broken his leg.”

Dutta said, “I’ll help him.” He lifted his weapon, aiming it lazily at Josef. “Step back, Mr Shepel.”

Josef could see Alex’s fucking gun tucked into Dutta’s belt. The bastard must have known this was coming; it must have been the plan all along. And Josef had handed over Alex’s weapon like a bloody idiot. Well, fuck Dutta. Josef wasn’t letting Alex go. Not this time. “You can’t just abduct him. Who the bloody hell do you people think you are? Even the government can’t—”

But Alex pulled away from him. “It’s all right,” he said stiffly, loud enough for Saint to hear. “Stand down, Mr Shepel. And thank you for your assistance.”

Josef stared. Thank you for your assistance?

Their eyes met, Alex’s dark and human in the crisscross of torch beams. Pained. “I’ll be all right,” he said softly. “Don’t worry.”

“I don’t trust them.”

Alex gave a small, heartbreaking smile. “Then for God’s sake, don’t give them a reason to kill you.”

That gave him pause, but of course, Alex was right. Saint wouldn’t think twice before shoving Josef into that tunnel with the fucking gas bombs. Who would know? Another dead prole.

He felt a hand on his arm and jumped, but it was only Violet. She didn’t speak, but her face echoed Alex’s warning. They were outgunned, their position was precarious, and one way or another, Josef was going to lose Alex. If not to death, then to The Society.

Perhaps that had been inevitable from the start.

Reluctantly, with a spear of pain lodged in his breastbone, Josef let Alex go. Let Dutta and one of the other gas-masked men escort him along the tunnel like a prisoner. Alex didn’t look back.

And then, from behind the door, the screaming started.