Hawthorn (19 page)

“Let's try getting off the river,” Raven said, his voice oddly distorted. “Maybe the fog won't be so bad inland.”

Only it was so bad that we flew straight into a stone wall. Raven, flying ahead of me, hit the wall first. This time I kept him from falling. I pulled him up to an open window and we both perched on the stone windowsill to catch our breath.

“I'm beginning to think this isn't a natural fog,” he gasped when he could talk again. “I think it was raised by—”

“Drooood!”

The harsh croak came from behind us. I whirled around to see who had spoken but except for a few crows the tower room was empty. One of them opened its beak and croaked again. “Drooood!” The other crows—there were five more—joined in. “Droood! Droood! Drooood!”

I slid my dagger out of its sheath and whispered, “Shadow crows,” to Raven.

“No,” he said, staying my hand. “They're ravens. They're . . .” He looked around him at the tower we were perched in. “This is the Tower of London and these are its resident six ravens. They protect the tower. Ancient lore says that as long as there are six ravens in the Tower of London England will never—”

“Fall!” One of the ravens cawed. It hopped up onto Raven's knee and squawked again. “Fall! Drood! Fall!”

“What's it trying to say?” Although I'd learned a little about communicating with birds I wasn't as good at it as Raven. “Can you speak to it?”

In answer Raven let out his own raucous series of caws and croaks. The ravens ruffled their feathers excitedly and clamored around Raven, cawing and bobbing their heads up and down.

“They say that Drood raised the fog to keep the Darklings grounded. His crows have tried to attack the tower and kill the ravens but they fought back.”

“Would their deaths really mean the fall of Britain?”

“
They
seem to think so and clearly Drood does, too. I've told them we're here to defeat Drood. They say we shouldn't fly, that other birds have warned them that the fog is dangerous to fly in and that their wild brethren have gone to their deaths slamming into buildings. The fog gets into their wings and weighs them down and spoils their navigational skills.”

“Then how are we going to get to van Drood?” I asked.

One of the ravens cawed in answer.

“What did it say?”

“He said we should take something called the tube.”

The tube turned out to be an underground train system much like New York's subways. We found a station not far from the tower and bought tickets. Raven seemed ill at ease taking the stairs below ground. It must have reminded him of the dungeons under the Hellgate mansion where he'd been kept a prisoner and tortured last year. I squeezed his hand and took over finding Belgrave Square on the map. While we were waiting for the train I studied the map and memorized the route to Victoria Station in case we needed it for tomorrow. I was hoping, though, that we'd be able to get Helen away from van Drood before that.

The train was full of clerks and secretaries traveling home from work. Many were reading newspapers.
ARCHDUKE
ASSASSINATED
IN SARAJEVO,
the headlines read. It gave me a sick feeling in my stomach to read the same headline I'd seen in tattered clippings pinned to Mr. Bellows's corkboard in the ruined Blythewood. I overheard a man and woman talking about the assassination. “No need to trouble yer little head over it, luv, that's a far piece from here. A spot o' bother in the Balkans don't have nothink to do with us.”

I wondered what these people would think in a little over a month's time when their country was plunged into a war because of
a
spot o' bother in the Balkans
. How many of these young men would go off to war to die? How many of these women would lose husbands, lovers, brothers, and friends?

Raven squeezed my hand, guessing where my thoughts were trending. “We'll stop him,” he said. “And save Helen.”

I squeezed his hand back and then noticed that we'd reached our stop. As we climbed up to the street in a crowd of young men and women I wondered for the first time what I would do if it came to a choice between saving Helen and averting war.

WE EMERGED FROM
the tube station into a fog so thick that I couldn
't see my own hand in front of my face. “How are we ever going to find it in this?” I wailed, just as a stout gentleman with a walrus mustache and a bowler hat hove into view.

“Excuse me, sir!” I shouted. “Can you tell us how to get to Belgrave Square?”

The gentleman stopped with a huff and responded with a series of garbled noises that sounded as if he had swallowed a foghorn. Then he vanished into the fog.

“Did you get any of that?” I asked Raven.

“I've had more intelligible conversations with mockingbirds and they only repeat whatever you say—here, someone else is coming.”

A black pram breached the fog like the prow of an iceboat cutting through a frozen river. It was steered by a diminutive woman in a black-and-white uniform and a white frilled cap.

“Excuse me,” Raven said, bowing. “Can you tell us the way to Belgrave Square?”

“I could tell you but it wouldn't do you a bit of good in this pea soup,” the tiny woman replied. Looking at her closer I saw she couldn't have been much older than me. “It ain't natural, I
tells the mistress this morning, and not 'ealthy for Baby's lungs, but she would 'ave me take 'im out for his
exercise
as if it's 'im what's pushing me around the block.” She barked a short laugh. “But if you want to get to Belgrave Square without foundering in the fog you'd best follow me. But be sharp about it, I don't have the time to lollygag all morning.”

Raven and I exchanged a look and then jumped to keep up with the baby nurse, who, despite her short stature, was walking at a brisk clip. “How long has it been like this?” he asked.

“The fog came up this morning before first light. Cook says it rolls in from the river, but I was up giving young sir 'ere his four a.m. and I saw it coming up from across the square—from that 'ouse with all them strange goings-on.”

Raven and I looked at each other over the nurse's head. “Is it the house where the American gentleman is staying?”

“Oi, he's not a gentleman if you ask me, though no one ever asks Lizzie what she thinks. I seen all manner of unsavory types coming and going from there at all hours. I'm awake on account of young sir 'ere, so I sees it all. There's men that come to that 'ouse that 'ardly seem like men at all. Shadowy types, if you knows what I mean.”

“Yes,” Raven said, sliding his eyes toward me. “I think we do.”

“Have you noticed a young American girl staying there?” I asked.

“Pretty blonde thing?” she asked.

“Yes. Helen, her name's Helen van Beek and she's my friend.”

“Oi, I'm glad to know she's got one. Poor lamb looks like she's being led to slaughter. Every day at four o'clock she takes
a turn around the park like clockwork—like
she's
a piece of clockwork. 'Er eyes, what you can see of them through the veil she always wears, glazed over like she's walking in 'er sleep, that 'orrible mother of 'ers clinging on to 'er arm as if afraid she might bolt. I 'ope you're 'ere to talk some sense into 'er.”

“I am!” I said. “Four o'clock, you say?” I took out my repeater and flipped open the cover to see the time. The figures hammered out a tune I'd never heard before, ringing the four o'clock hour.

“Well ain't that somethink,” Lizzie said, peering over the pram at my watch. “That's the tune your friend 'ums all the time. Is it a favorite song between you two? Somethink you sang at school mayhaps?”

“Something like that,” I said, warily eyeing the row of iron spikes emerging from the fog.

“There's the park,” Lizzie said. “Your friend will be inside by now. I 'ope she'll wake up a bit when she sees you. Ta-ta, now, try not to get lost in the fog.” Lizzie waved at us and hurried past the entrance to the park. Within seconds she was swallowed up as if she had never existed, although I could still hear her remonstrating with “young sir” not to toss his pacifier on the ground.

“That's not an old school song,” Raven said when Lizzie had gone. “Is it?”

“No,” I said. “I've never heard it before. It must be part of van Drood's mesmerism spell, which means I won't be able to use the repeater to demesmerize Helen. Oh, I do wish Mr. Omar was here.”

As if summoned by his name, the tall Hindu appeared out
of the fog. His white turban and tunic blended so well with the fog that it was as if his head were floating bodiless. As eerie as the sight was I was overjoyed to see him. “Oh, Mr. Omar! Have you seen Helen yet?”

“No, but we have observed that she always walks in the park at this hour and have come to have a look at her.”

“Do you think you can free her of van Drood's spell?”

“If he can't, no one can.” I jumped at the voice and looked down to see Kid Marvel.

“Let us hope that is not true,” Omar said. “I have no way of knowing if Helen's spell will yield to my influence until I see her. I do not like this fog. It befuddles the head and saps the spirit, it—”

“Messes up my ears,” another voice announced. Marlin appeared out of the fog, clad in a long waxed duster, water dripping off his shoulders and the brim of his hat.

“Have you been swimming in the Thames?” Raven asked.

“Might as well. I've been tracking the fog since dawn. It started from van Drood's house—”

“Just as Lizzie said,” I said to Raven.

“—then swept counterclockwise around the city making stops at the House of Lords and Number Ten Downing Street.”

“Ah,” Omar said. “Van Drood is using the fog to infiltrate centers of power, lulling government officials into a false complacency just when they should be most alert to the threat of war.”

“The fog makes you want to lie down and give up,” Marlin said, his face grimmer than I'd ever seen it. I remembered what Raven had said about Marlin not being the carefree clown he
appeared to be and how he'd been disappointed in love once before. I wondered what the fog had been whispering into his ears this morning—apparently nothing good.

“I found myself thinking of hanging it all up and flying home to Ravencliffe, but then I remembered . . .” He paused and held out his hand. “Here she comes.”

A veiled woman dressed head to toe in black stepped out of the fog so silently that even my Darkling ears had failed to hear her approach, but clearly Marlin was more acutely attuned to her movements. I thought it must be an older woman, but then I caught the flash of blue eyes beneath the veil and recognized my friend.

“Helen!” I cried, stepping in front of her before she could pass.

She looked at me through the spiderweb shadow cast by the heavy lace veil. “Hello, Ava,” she said as if not at all surprised to see me. “How nice to see you. Have you come to town for my wedding? I'm afraid the weather is frightful.”

I gaped at her. “I've come to town to stop your marriage to van Drood!”

“You always did have a wry sense of humor,” Helen replied, nonplussed. “What larks we had at school.” She tilted her head back and forth as if looking for those memories.

“She seems to remember who she is and who I am,” I said to Omar, who had come up beside me and was peering curiously at Helen. “That must be a good sign, right? She's not completely lost.”

“Of course I remember you, Avaline Hall of the Manhattan Halls. We were roommates at Blythewood, where we learned
dancing and deportment and had cocoa parties and midnight feasts. It was all jolly good fun, but now I'm ready to take my place in society. So you see, I am not at all lost. I know exactly where I am—at Number Twelve Belgrave Square. Mama and I are guests of my betrothed, Judicus van Drood. We are to be married tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” Marlin cried, stepping between Helen and me.

“Yes, tomorrow at the Grosvenor Hotel, which is located conveniently adjacent to Victoria Station. We are leaving for our honeymoon tour of Europe directly after. Please do come. The ceremony is at eleven o'clock.”

“That's an hour before Nathan's meeting with Drood,” Raven said. “Drood is double-crossing Nathan.”

“Nathan? Is he here?” Helen blinked her blue eyes. She looked as if she had an eyelash caught in her eye—or as if she were trying to see past the web of shadows over her face.

“Yes,” I told her. “Nathan found out the location of the third vessel to bargain with van Drood for your freedom. But if you refuse to marry van Drood he won't have to give it to him.”

“But why would I refuse to marry Mr. van Drood?” Helen asked, blinking again. I wondered why she didn't just push the damned veil away. Helen had never cared for veils. She had always thought they were fussy and old-fashioned.
Why cover my best asset?
she'd once remarked with candid pride in her own beauty. “He's the richest man in New York, perhaps in all the world. Mother and I will have no more money worries once I am wed. I'll be able to buy all the dresses I want and have a house in town and the country and summers in Newport and
grand tours of Europe. I'll have servants to tend to my every need and I'll throw parties and be invited to all the right parties. I'll never have to worry about anything ever again.”

“But he's old enough to be your father!” I cried.

“Many girls marry older gentlemen,” she replied. “It's quite the done thing and often the best course for a girl of my temperament. I need a steady hand to guide me. I've been rather fickle on my own.”

Her eyes had drifted to a spot over my shoulder. I turned and found Nathan standing there. He was wearing a black raincoat and a low-brimmed hat that cast his face in shadow.

“Yes,” Nathan said, stepping forward. “You have been rather fickle, haven't you? You haven't been able to decide between me and him.” He jerked his chin toward Marlin and I saw Marlin flinch.

“I wouldn't say that,” Marlin said, moving closer to Helen. I could tell by the way his shoulders rippled under his duster that he wanted to unleash his wings and mantle them over Helen's head. “I'd say that Helen chose me.”

“Only because she was frightened of her feelings for me,” Nathan said, moving closer to Helen. Her blue eyes were flicking from one to the other, darting beneath the veil like a pair of birds trapped in a net. “When I told you how I felt about you last summer you didn't trust me . . . I suppose I may have expressed myself poorly.”

“You said,” Helen said, her blue eyes fixing on Nathan, “‘As long as Ava's chosen Raven, you and I might as well throw in our oars together.'”

“You idiot!” I cried, swatting Nathan on the arm. “You know perfectly well that it's always been Helen you loved.”

“Yes, I do know that now. And I know what an idiot I've been, thank you very much, but I'm trying to make things right.” He turned back to Helen. “Damnit, Helen, don't you know how I feel? I've loved you since you climbed trees with me even though you were terrified of heights because you knew I didn't really want to be alone. I love you because despite all the damn fool things I've done you've stood by me. You've always seen the good in me even when I couldn't see it myself. Just as I see my Helen here, even under van Drood's spell, fighting to get free and out from under that dreadful veil.” He lifted his hand to Helen's veil, but she flinched away.

“That was a very pretty speech, Mr. Beckwith, but hardly an appropriate one to make to a betrothed lady. Of course I, too, have many fond memories of our childhood escapades, but that's all they were. I have put aside my childish ways now and I suggest you do as well. I believe you have made a business deal with my betrothed. You have something he wants. You may think that you will be able to trick him into releasing me without holding up your end of the bargain but I will warn you, for the sake of the friendship we shared, for the sake of old times”—her eyes flicked to me—“you will fail. Judicus van Drood always gets what he wants. And as for bargaining for my release—it is pointless. I am bound to him by chains that none of you can break.”

She stared at each of us defiantly, blue eyes blazing beneath her veil. Nathan's hands were balled into fists, Marlin's wings
were stirring beneath his coat, but it was Omar who stepped forward in front of Helen and met her challenging stare.

“It is the trick of the master mesmerist to make his victim believe that there is no escape, that the bars of her cage are unbreachable, the irons that bind her unbreakable. But no cage is inescapable if the captive believes escape is possible.”

“Then I am truly doomed, Mr. Omar, because I do not believe escape is possible.”

“But you
know
you've been mesmerized,” Marlin cried. “Shouldn't that make it easier for you to break his spell?”

“I have not been mesmerized,” Helen said, her voice so icy I shivered. “I have simply been shown the truth. Mr. van Drood has removed the scales from my eyes and shown me what the world truly is. I have seen the polite smiles of ladies turn into jealous sneers, the benevolent regard of gentlemen exposed as lecherous leers. I have seen my mother's maternal care revealed as craven fear of her own poverty and disgrace. Even your pretty declaration of love, Nathan, is only a desperate attempt to save yourself from self-loathing. Just as your attempts to save me”—she turned to Marlin—“come out of your guilt that you gave up on that Blythewood girl who stood you up in the woods. It's occurred to you that she might not have come because something happened to her. But instead of looking for her you went off to sulk.”