The Slum Orphanage - Chapter 27 (Patreon)

So, it was de Camp who had asked the question… Could the Mayor be the one working against Bremor? The chances were slim, but not nonexistent. With the right leverage, anyone could be made to act. Then again, de Camp was a politician, and that breed is always cautious, always knows how to guard against blackmail and outside influence. And it simply wasn’t in his interest. He had invested far too much in Harry and had staked his position on cooperation with the clan…

Perhaps I should simply walk up to him and ask how the idea, that the werewolves had missed their mark, had entered his head. De Camp was no fool; he might well have reached the conclusion himself that something was amiss. Or it was someone in his circle. His and Rogers’ at the same time… In that case, it would be better to rely on my sight, which had served me so well of late.

Ignoring the glow of protective amulets, I tried to deepen my gaze and separate artificial traces from natural ones. The blue-green patch of aether-and-blood magic around his head was nothing more than an anti-compulsion amulet, the grey sheen of steel across his chest protected against physical harm, and the aetheric haze guarded against magic. Clearly one of Harry’s clients.

Beneath all that, de Camp’s subtle body was in rather good condition, certainly far better than the street children I had seen plenty of today. Some of them had dark patches of illness covering up to a quarter of their already depleted auras. De Camp, by contrast, was healthy, save for a red-black haze in his head and a dark patch near the pancreas. The latter I attributed to a fondness for rich food, but the haze in his head caught my full attention.

For a moment, I worried his anti-compulsion protections weren’t working. But after studying the general and the Lord Chief Constable, I realised the haze indicated extreme irritation, perhaps even a mild migraine — something the officials concealed behind artificial politeness and routine phrases. The only person present whose aura remained entirely calm was de Camp’s secretary, Mr. Eustace Oates.

I took a closer look at him, pushing past a set of amulets dominated by fire, another Fairburn client, and noted minor kidney trouble and something more serious in the intestines. All in all, an ordinary subtle body, if not for that unnaturally steady calm. The fluctuations of energy were too consistent, too even, as though they came from an amulet rather than the man himself.

The secretary? A minor figure, perhaps, but certainly one with access to first-hand information. He could easily have whispered a few words to Dame Kerry. His composure made it all the more suspicious. A willing accomplice, or… something else, like with the children who only began to attack upon seeing Dame Kerry. Their subtle bodies had appeared ordinary before the change as well. Perhaps that mark near his intestines wasn’t an illness at all, but something far more dangerous, and far harder to detect.

I didn’t manage to return the meaningful look Harry had given me when he indicated de Camp. The delegation’s move from one hall to another was too quick, and then the wizard was seated with his back to me. If I’d kept circling in the guests’ line of sight, they would have grown suspicious. Quite a few had already noticed me in the corridor, seen me hovering near the dining hall, though I hoped not many had attached significance to it. Judging by the looks from Donald and my uncle, however, they had.

I returned to Albert and suggested another subject for observation. McLal was delighted and promptly sent me off to Peter. As I’d already mentioned, our architect had been overseeing the clearing of the ruins since morning. It was remarkable how much gifted labourers could accomplish under proper direction: little remained of the heaps of red dust. Shifters and warlocks with specialised abilities had spent the entire day clearing debris, loading brick dust and shattered concrete onto lorries bound for parts unknown. They had practically scoured the site of the former orphanage clean, exposing the intact foundation. A few more courses of brick could still be removed, but they might leave it as it was — after all, it had held.

Poor Peter, supervising the work, had lost his voice and was already on his second potion to restore it. He refused to speak with me.

“What the devil do I need you for?” he rasped. “If only you or Harry had been put to work here from the start…”

The architect waved me off irritably and sent me away. Just in time, as it happened, to notice new arrivals. At the central checkpoint, a Cooper had been stopped, a black one with white lettering on the doors: “Sheridan Veterinary Clinic.”

I could have taken the coward’s way out — slipped into the tent camp and avoided the encounter. For some reason, I had no expectation that a conversation with the Sheridans would be pleasant. But instead of Ellie’s imposing father behind the wheel, I saw her slightly unhinged brother, who had always supported our relationship in his own uniquely irritating fashion.

Ellie herself sat beside him, looking sullen, while on the back seat blazed Finella’s bright mane of hair.

Something unpleasant clicked in my mind: how long could I keep running? Sooner or later we would have to sort this out, so why not now?

I sighed, crushed the reluctance, and headed straight for the cordon. Garfield spotted me first.

“Oh, hello, brother-in…” he caught himself just in time and didn’t call me brother-in-law, which once again proved he wasn’t the fool he liked to appear. “Busy man,” Sheridan corrected himself. “The girls were worried about how you were holding up.”

“Gentlemen,” I said to the coppers, “let them through.”

The constables exchanged doubtful glances, weighing my importance. I was far less known in the Second than in the Fourth, so I had to introduce myself and show my baronial ring before they came to a decision. I pointed Garfield towards a place to park and followed on foot. By the time I reached them, the Sheridans and Spark had already stepped out of the motorcar. Unlike the sullen Ellie, Finella was positively radiant, making sure her left hand, with a large diamond on her ring finger, remained clearly visible.

“Congratulations,” I said dryly, inwardly sympathising with Simon. That fiery lady could well turn his life into a proper hell.

“Bit of a mess you’ve got here,” Garfield remarked. “Though I expected worse.”

“No one was hurt?” Ellie asked.

“A few burns, a handful of injuries,” I replied. “Nothing truly serious.”

I fell silent, and so did our guests. Finella’s bright smile dimmed slightly, then she gave the conversation a push.

“I explained everything to Ellie,” she said. “I was completely in the wrong — my apologies. Perhaps you two might make up quickly and seal it with a kiss?”

“Kissing in front of dozens of lenses isn’t the best idea,” I said. Then it struck me that letting them in had been a mistake. The car was far too recognisable. Fool! “Coming here at all was a bad idea. You’ve put yourselves in danger, and I’ve only made it worse!”

“We need to sort things out,” Ellie said.

“We do,” I agreed. “Come on, let’s pretend you’re here to treat the Earl of Bremor’s beloved cat. Grab your bag of instruments,” I told Garfield. “And you — stay here,” I said to Finella.

“What’s the point? I made such a scene here yesterday every dog remembers me.”

“You can wander around the tent camp if you like. Don’t follow us, no one will believe in a sick cat otherwise.”

“No one will believe it anyway,” Finella snorted. “I think you just want rid of me for a different reason… Don’t worry, I’m on your side.”

“Splendid. Then stay on it — right here.”

Finella raised her hands in a conciliatory gesture, one of Simon’s favourites.

“I’m staying.”

Garfield took a medical bag from the car, threw on a rough grey coat for appearances, and declared with mock solemnity: “Lead me to the patient, my lord.”

There was no coat for Ellie, and her presence beside her brother would hardly stand up to scrutiny, but I no longer had any real hope of that. The precautions were taken more out of habit than necessity. There were far fewer free rooms in Bremor House now, but I needed somewhere to put Garfield, so I tucked him into an interrogation room near Albert’s office.

I did not take the girl to my own rooms, it would have meant passing through the second floor, where crowds of guests were drifting from hall to hall, while the corridor and staircase were packed with guards. I had no wish to damage her reputation, she was already drawing looks as I poked my nose into every room on the ground floor. At least half of them ought to have been empty, but now each was occupied either by people or by mattresses and blankets laid out on the floor for workers and street children alike.

Failing to find anything suitable, I settled on one of the makeshift bedrooms.

“Sorry about the surroundings,” I said. “Finding somewhere more appropriate would take too long, and I’d rather you and your brother didn’t linger.”

“So eager to be rid of me?” she replied sharply, forcing a crooked smile.

“That sort of sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” I said.

“And what does?”

“The lighter kind, when you’re teasing for a laugh, not trying to wound.”

“I did that?”

“At times.”

Our eyes met, and I saw sadness and regret in hers. Much the same as I felt myself.

“Sorry,” we said at the same time, and exchanged bitter smiles.

“Please,” I said, “you go first.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I must have frayed your nerves quite a bit.”

“That did happen,” I admitted.

I was about to say I wasn’t angry, but she went on: “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you needed.”

“I’m sorry I asked for what you couldn’t give.”

“But you didn’t ask!” Ellie insisted.

“How did I not? Perhaps not in words, but didn’t my hands make it perfectly clear what I wanted?”

“Very skilfully,” she replied, now smiling in earnest.

“I did try.”

“And you always stopped when I truly began to resist…”

“I shouldn’t have?”

“You should have. Thank you, for your hands.”

It sounded like goodbye to me, and it stirred a wave of sadness, bitterness, and regret, along with a strange sense of relief. Ellie seemed to feel the same. I could see it in her damp eyes and in the faintly mournful curve of her smile.

“Thank you for letting them misbehave,” I said. “They’ll miss you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find someone to keep them occupied,” she said, trying to hold her smile, though the thought clearly displeased her.

Out of habit, I imagined it — someone else touching Ellie the way I had. My first instinct was to strangle the hypothetical bastard, snap his neck, and tear off his hands finger by finger. I forced myself to calm down, and to reassure her.

“I don’t think I’m quite ready for that.”

Ellie gave a faint smile.

“Thank you… I think. We should say goodbye.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

We stepped into the corridor, and I let Garfield out of the interrogation room. Ellie’s brother gave us a searching look, failed to make sense of anything, and asked: “Well? How did it go? Did the Earl’s beloved cat recover, or did it give up the ghost?”

We glanced at each other and smiled, but said nothing.

“Lad, I need to know,” Garfield pressed. “Can I still call you brother-in-law, or should I switch to ‘that shameless scoundrel who led my sister on’?”

“Gar!” Ellie protested.

“‘Scoundrel’ will do,” I said.

“We’ve settled things,” Ellie added. “No hard feelings.”

“Right, once more for the slow-witted,” Garfield said. “You have broken up, then?”

We exchanged another look, this time without smiling. It had been a strange conversation. Our intentions were clear enough, yet for some reason we had avoided stating them outright. Perhaps we still hoped for something, or perhaps we were simply avoiding the pain that words would bring. Ellie did not answer her brother. I did.

“Yes.”

“Got it. The cat of your love is well and truly dead. Come on, sis, I’ll buy you a cake to cheer you up. Farewell, Lord Scoundrel, you might have made a decent brother-in-law.”

Garfield and I shook hands. We stepped into the hall together, and nearly collided with Betty. She flicked a quick glance at Ellie, tossed out a casual ‘hello’, and hurried off to Albert’s office. Ellie, on the other hand, frowned, her voice turning sharp and demanding: “What is she doing here?!”

“Little sister,” Garfield reminded her, “it’s a bit late for scenes of jealousy.”

“What has jealousy got to do with it? That bitch tried to put a charm on Duncan! She ought to be rotting at hard labour in a quarry or some mine!”

I gestured towards the tent camp of street children.

“Hard labour.”

Ellie frowned, her shifter’s eyes flashing, then asked Garfield to leave.

“Oh, I see, not all is lost!” Sheridan perked up. “We’re reviving the cat!”

“Get out,” she ordered.

“Going, going,” the jester agreed. “See you, brother-in-law!”

Ellie waited until her brother had left the building, glanced around, then began to scold me in a low voice: “Anyone but her. I understand you might need… someone more experienced and less restrained than me. But not her. Duncan, that woman is dangerous.”

“Ellie, Garfield’s right, making scenes…”

“You mean you already..!” The outrage in her voice was so genuine that I found myself offended.

“And that right there is why we broke up!”

“And I thought it was because I didn’t hike my skirt up!” she snapped, setting off a surge of poorly controlled anger in me. A couple of sharp replies were already on the tip of my tongue, but Ellie suddenly glanced down the corridor, then seized me by the collar and pulled me towards her.

The movement was far too strong, too abrupt for a lady, so instead of a heated kiss, our teeth knocked together.

I tried to mumble a question about what on earth she was doing, but her lips were in the way. We weren’t really kissing, just pressing our lips together, until the murmur of approaching voices behind us made it convincing enough to pass for one. When the performance ended, Ellie gave my collar another tug and whispered in my ear: “Anyone, but not her.”

Then she released me, turned sharply, and strode out of the building.

Betty, standing in the corridor, smiled and gave a silent little round of applause, which embarrassed me, but I was far more flustered when I turned and saw nearly the entire delegation of guests on the staircase. My cheeks burned, and I made a hasty retreat, slipping away into the tent camp among the street children. Not the best idea, considering Betty was heading the same way. We ran into each other a few minutes later.

“Excellent performance,” my former flame said. “The fact that your lady tried so hard, for my benefit, warms the heart.”

“Betty, do me a favour and get lost,” I muttered.

“How very crude, and quite unlike you. I was expecting something along the lines of, ‘That’s none of your concern, madam.’ Did you quarrel?”

“We broke up,” I said.

“Why?”

“Now that really is none of your concern, madam,” I snapped.

“Indeed,” Betty agreed, turned on her heel, and walked off.

A lad found me shortly after with a message from my uncle.

Bryce had witnessed my farewell in the hall and summoned me for a dressing-down. The guests had temporarily left Bremor House, dispersing to their respective offices, and the clan was granted a brief respite. Harry, too, was keen to depart for the Anvil, but first he had to speak with Bryce and explain the conclusions he had truly drawn from examining the ritual, so I wasn’t scolded too harshly for my little performance.

Besides, my contributions, both in ideas and in my all-seeing gaze, counted in my favour: Dame Kerry Rogers and Eustace Oates were now under observation. More than that, it had already borne fruit. The lady was still in the tent camp when the guests began to depart, she intercepted de Camp’s secretary in the parking area, not the Mayor himself, but the secretary. They exchanged a few words, the substance of which was completely concealed from our watchers by a layered anti-eavesdropping spell.

There could be little doubt now that the secretary was involved, but we did not rush to seize him and tie him up in knots. The time for hasty decisions had passed. We now held the stronger position, not the werewolves. Let them hurry, let them scramble and make mistakes.