Tangled Webs (14 page)

“There is something I need to do, Becky. Tonight. Now, help me figure out a way to escape.” Arista stalked to the window. They were high above the street, and had no way to climb
down; it was pointless to try. With no idea where they were going in the morning, she had to get out now, while she still had the chance to find her way back to their old home.

Deep voices could be heard from outside the door. Arista pressed her ear to the wood. A guard. Damn.

“I need to go back to the house. Wild is looking for Nic, but I’m not sure I can trust him yet. I have to let Nic know that we’re okay, and tell him how to find us. I’m
afraid he may think
we
died in the fire, too.” It was only half the truth. She and Becky would have the means to live any way they chose.

“But if Mr. Wild said he was looking…” Becky twisted her fingers together and glanced at the door.

“I’m sure that Nic will go back to the house, looking for a hint that we’re still alive. I’m just going to leave something so that he knows for sure. I’ll be back
before anyone misses me, I promise.”

She
hoped
to be gone and back before anyone missed her.

“There’s a guard outside the door. I need a way to distract him.” Arista looked around the room for anything that might be useful. The only thing she had was her knife. That
wouldn’t work. She wasn’t a murderer. The heavy candlestick? Would anyone believe he was simply sleeping if he were sitting prone against the wall? She had to take the risk.

Arista picked up the heavy candlestick and glanced at the door. The man was big, but if she hit him just right…

“I have an idea, miss.” Becky grabbed the covered tray from the stand by the bed and opened the door. Though Arista couldn’t see anyone, she heard the deep tone of a
man’s voice just outside the room. Becky said something in reply, then the door closed.

It seemed like hours passed. Arista paced the room. What if Becky had been caught? What if Wild were questioning her? This might be the only chance Arista had to find Bones’s stash before
Wild had her firmly under his thumb. He had saved her, but not due to any kind of chivalry toward her. He had reasons of his own.

She had picked up the candlestick again when she heard voices in the hall. The door swung open.

“Thank you very much,” Becky said, backing into the room with the covered silver tray in her hands. “You’re a very nice gentleman.”

“Anytime, miss,” came a reply.

Arista watched as Becky smiled at the man in the hall. She very rarely ever met a man’s gaze, and if it happened by accident, she always turned away first. When Becky closed the door,
Arista saw the faint stain of a blush on her friend’s cheeks.

Another reason why Arista had to figure out a way to get them out of this life; so that Becky could have one. Arista wondered if her friend wanted a family of her own. They’d never talked
about it—never talked about any kind of future, really. Without a guarantee that there would even be a future, there had never been any point in talking about it. Now, however?

The thought took Arista by surprise.
Did
Becky want that? Her own family?

“Here, miss, I got these for you.” Becky’s voice broke through the strange direction of Arista’s thoughts. Arista could not focus. Why was she so distracted? Maybe
because for the first time in her life, there was a promise of something more. The future, the freedom of her thoughts, made her mind go to strange places. She needed to focus on the here and
now.

Her friend lifted the silver lid, and underneath, there was a neat pile of folded clothes. They looked very similar to the ones Arista had stolen earlier. Becky had sneaked them into the room,
disguised as food.

“Becky, you are a genius,” Arista said with a big smile. She turned around, and Becky immediately began helping her undress. Soon Arista stood in just her shift and began pulling on
the rough boys’ clothing.

“I’m still not sure how you’re planning on getting out, miss,” Becky said. “That man that Mr. Wild put outside the door isn’t moving.”

“Maybe you’d like to distract him for me?” she teased.

Becky’s cheeks turned red. “He was just doing his job,” she said, and her glance fell to the floor.

Arista wanted to pull her friend into a hug. Despite the scars and bandage over one eye, Becky’s goodness still radiated out.

“I only need a few seconds to make it down the hall,” Arista said. She stepped out from behind the screen and adjusted the wool cap. The clothing hung a little loose on her frame,
but it hid her gender more than her old disguise had. The only thing missing was shoes.

She hoped that somewhere near the kitchen door, an extra pair of boots could be found. Otherwise she’d be running through the alleyways barefoot. It wouldn’t be her first time, but
in the darkness she’d have to go slowly and walk carefully to avoid broken glass or sharp stones—and there was no time for caution.

Becky chewed her bottom lip. “Are you sure about this? If you get caught…” They’d both heard the veiled warning in Wild’s tone, but really—what could he do
to her? He needed her.

Still, there were ways to ensure Arista’s cooperation without threatening her. One look at Becky proved that. And Wild, unfortunately, knew Arista would do anything to protect the
girl.

“As soon as I’m gone, I want you to lock the door and wedge the chair under the latch—do you understand?” Arista said. “I’ll use our usual knock to let you
know it’s me when I return. Do not open the door to anyone else. Is that clear?”

Her voice was sharp, but she needed Becky to listen to her—to do
exactly
as she said. “If Wild insists you open the door, blow out all the candles, tuck my dress under the
blanket, and whisper that I’m sleeping. That should buy me a little more time. I’ll be back before daybreak.” Arista started toward the door.

“And if you’re not?”

Becky’s soft question stopped her. It was always possible, that she might not return—especially wandering the alleys alone in those dark hours before dawn. Even with her superb knife
skills, it only took one mistake.

“Don’t think about it. I’ll return. I promise you.” Arista took the girl’s clammy hands in hers and squeezed. “Now, just imagine yourself at Haymarket
Theatre—like the play I told you about—and put on a good show.” Becky’s lips trembled as she tried to smile.

If she could bring Becky with her, she would. If they had anywhere else to go…

“Ready?” Arista asked. The longer she waited, the higher her chances of getting caught. Becky took a deep breath and nodded. She released Arista’s hands and stepped to the
door. Her hand shook as she reached for the latch, but she didn’t pause.

“Hello again.” Becky moved out of the room and left the door slightly ajar. “My mistress is sleeping, and I find that I am not at all tired. I hoped that I could find someone
to converse with. There aren’t many to talk to around here.”

Arista heard the way Becky’s voice wavered and held her own breath. Would the man notice her nervousness and become suspicious?

“Most aren’t here for the conversation,” the man said with a knowing chuckle.

“This isn’t the kind of place I normally stay in,” Becky said. Her voice got a little fainter and Arista decided to take a quick look out the door. Sure enough, Becky had moved
a few feet away and the man now had his back to the door. Becky glanced past the man and saw Arista.

“I used to be a lady’s maid,” Becky continued. “Before…” She brushed a hand to her face and Arista watched her gaze slide down to the floor. Anyone would
blame the maid. No one would ever dare point a finger at the lord.

Arista took a tentative step into the hallway and paused.

“Damned rich bastards think they can get away with anything.” His voice grew hard with contempt. The man shifted toward her and Becky put her hand on his thick arm.

“It was the best thing that happened to me. I got away from him before something worse happened. He had a horrible reputation…”

Arista missed the rest of the conversation. She made it down the hall, her bare feet silent on the carpeting, and opened the servants’ door before she dared to exhale. A quick glance back
showed Becky and the man were still deep in conversation.

Confidence surged through Arista, making her muscles sing. Three flights of stairs and the kitchen door were all that stood between her and escape. Every creak from the uneven steps made her
catch her breath, and it seemed to take forever to get to the bottom, but she finally made it without anyone the wiser.

When Arista opened the kitchen door, there was more movement in the house than before. A half dozen kitchen girls were mixing and kneading huge piles of dough on the large center island. These
must be apprentices, not yet experienced enough to do anything but turn the dough.

One looked up, and an immediate spark of interest flashed in the young girl’s eyes. She looked about twelve or thirteen. Arista thought it peculiar, until she remembered she was dressed as
a boy. She ran the last few steps and threw herself out the door. The fading sound of laughter followed her abrupt departure.

So much for leaving unnoticed.

The garden was full of shadows. The glow from the kitchen illuminated only the area right in front of the door. And there, on the side of the step, she saw a pair of boots. The errand boy must
have put them there so as not to track mud into the house.

With a quick, silent apology, Arista grabbed them and hurried toward the back of the garden, to where Wild had materialized earlier. Sure enough, a small gate was hidden in the dark. The alley
that ran behind the brothel was so black she could barely see her hand in front of her face. Arista slipped the boots onto her feet as quickly as she could.

Once she was free of the alley, she didn’t try to be quiet anymore. She simply ran. Her borrowed boots thumped against the ground, breaking the silence of the night with each step. In just
three turns, Arista made it back to the familiar labyrinth of alleys that would lead her to Fleet Street—she could navigate them blindfolded if she had to. The shadows were quiet as she raced
past. Even the ones who staggered home drunk from the taverns were asleep in their own beds at this hour.

Only the sneaks who picked the pockets of those same drunks were out. The occasional whisper of movement was the only indication they were there. It was one job Bones had never required her to
do, though he sent most of the children out to do this dirty work. It was a very dangerous practice. Sometimes the drunk would wake, and fight back. Sometimes an even more desperate sneak would
rather stick a knife in a fellow thief than return empty-handed.

An acrid aroma filled the air, even before she made the last turn out of the alley. Wet, charred wood. A dull thumping filled her ears when she looked at where the house had once stood. It no
longer reached for the sky. All that remained of her home was a lifeless pile of broken pieces.

Something inside her snapped, and all at once, Arista could see her freedom. Nothing was left of her nightmare, her prison. Her tormentor had perished in the bowels of the hell he’d
created. Laughter bubbled up in her throat. A fitting death for the likes of him. She inhaled deeply, letting the stench of this death fill her lungs.

Once, this place had filled her with a burning fear, but no more.

It was a terrifying and exhilarating thought. For the first time in her life, Arista had a say in her future. Her future might be clouded with uncertainty at the moment, but it was true
nonetheless. The only thing missing was Nic.

Blackened wood crunched and snapped beneath her feet as she made her way over the pile of debris. Wild had been right. Not much remained at all. The fire had burned the building almost to the
ground. Gritty soot coated everything. It smeared across her skin in black slashes.

The rubble would have been picked over as soon as it was cool enough to touch. Arista could hear the scratching of the creatures who were still salvaging inside the pile of burnt wood.

Her room should be just ahead, on the other side of the chimney. The fire had burned hottest there, where it had started. There wasn’t much left, and there was nothing she could recognize,
except the barest hint of where the walls used to be. The straw mattress had been there, in the corner, and under it she had hidden things only a child would find valuable. A cornhusk doll Nic had
made for her. The sketch on her wall. Gone. Everything was gone.

Her gaze slowly moved to the spot where she had last seen Bones. The Watch must have removed the body, but Arista still couldn’t resist the urge to dig the toe of her boot under a pile of
boards and lift them up. As illogical as it seemed, she half expected Bones to come charging through the rubble and finish what he’d started. Her bruised ribs throbbed.

Arista kicked at the pile of burned boards. They fell apart into a mess of black dust and lumps of charcoal. What she wanted was buried deeper, where no one knew to look. Even she didn’t
know the exact location.

Nic said that Bones had hidden it under a floorboard near the stove. If that had been pilfered, she might as well give up, rather than tear apart the entire house. It took several long minutes
to make her way to the middle of the house. The chimney, almost entirely intact, rose up like a signpost. With only the stray light from a lone, unbroken streetlamp to illuminate the ruins, Arista
had to pick her way slowly toward it.

A dark shape grew distinct from the rest of the blackness as she crept closer. The old potbelly stove still stood, but something else was different. She knew what it was almost immediately. The
space in front of the stove had been neatly cleared, and the floorboards were torn up. Arista stuck her hand in the hole, roughly the size of her head, and found nothing. The letters, the
money—it was all gone.

She sat down with a bump, not caring about the soot that was rubbing off onto her borrowed clothes. The noose of having to work with Wild tightened around her neck. Images of the fire flashed
through her head. Bones had been more furious than Arista had ever seen before. He’d shouted that something had gone missing.