Chapter Twenty-Nine
Alora didn’t wait for the Urchins to depart ahead of her. Instead, she ran. The deadbolt sounded an alarmed screech against her hand that she hoped they didn’t hear but knew couldn’t be helped if they did. She must reach Ellie Turkens before they did. She couldn’t allow any other future.
My fault, she cried in her head. It’s my fault.
When would she ever learn? She’d harmed the newly named Mortimer the same way.
By asking questions when she’d known it to be dangerous.
By encouraging interactions when she’d known they were unwise.
If any harm were to come to Ellie because of her, she’d never forgive herself for as long as she lived.
And so she ran. Down the entirety of Mugwort Alley.
Across Slumber Lane, through Thistledown Square, and along the length of Rune Street until she skidded to a halt before the yellow outside of Books and Nibbles.
The violet shutters were thrown open, the windows and door, too.
Alora bent at the waist to regain her breath and used precious seconds to step between buildings and remove her coat.
She couldn’t surprise Ellie in such a way.
It wouldn’t do to stop her heart for the sake of saving her memories.
When she was as presentable as she could make herself, though she knew there was sweat dampening her hair yet, Alora straightened her shoulders and walked through the entrance. She found the bookshop’s owner as she often did, her nose in a story and delivering a cup of tea.
“Sugar, dear? Yes, it’s right here.”
Alora skirted around the table of two young women until she planted herself right in Ellie’s way. The old woman’s book pressed into Alora’s chest before she noticed anyone in her path. Hooded blue eyes flicked across the top of its pages to find hers.
“Alora! What are you doing? Oh my, whatever is the matter?”
“Mrs. Turkens, I—” A shadow passed by the window, and on instinct she reached for Ellie’s wrists. “I must speak with you.”
Urging Ellie Turkens after her required more effort than she wished. The old woman seemed convinced she could only go at one pace, and that pace was slow. Alora might have felt badly over how she pushed the bookshop owner, but she’d seen Ellie in a rush, and knew her capable of some speed yet.
“Dear, I must protest this rough grip.”
“I’m sorry,” said Alora, and released her at once. They were near the back of the shop now, not far from the kitchen. “Have I hurt you?”
“No, you haven’t. But can you say the same? Your energy is all out of sorts.” Ellie made a smoothing motion on either side of her head, close to touching, but not quite.
“Physically, I am well. Mrs. Turkens, I’m afraid for you. I’ve just come from Mugwort Alley.” Alora cut off abruptly, realizing how loudly she spoke in her rush to get it all out of her before they arrived. “I overheard something I wasn’t meant to. Ellie, the Urchins are coming for you.”
Ellie Turkens blinked at her in a fair imitation of her owls.
Then her plum lips pursed. “Over what we discussed? Oh, that odious man.” She spun away from Alora and marched off, revealing she did indeed have quite more agility than most other eighty-something-year-olds Alora knew.
Alora followed her into the kitchen. “It’s that fragile ego.
It has grown so big and bloated over the years that one little prick of a word sends it tooting away like a popped balloon.
Well, just let one of his shadowy underlings come and find me here. ”
Alora watched with wide eyes as Ellie set three kettles to boiling atop the stove. Her gaze lifted to the violet wall across, to the amassed group of teacups hung from little hooks. They began at the ceiling and trailed all the way down to the floor. “What should we do?”
Ellie turned toward her, her expression softening. “Don’t worry about me, dearest. You should get out of here while you can. Go home and drink green tea with a dollop of pumpkin and cream. Sprinkle on a smidgeon of cayenne, if you can stomach it, to zap the zest back into you.”
“What? No, Mrs. Turkens. I won’t leave you to fight with an Urchin alone. I’ve seen their weapons, and I’ve seen what damage they can do.”
Ellie shook her head at her as if she could dispel the image. “Shh. Shh, Alora. What are you doing saying such things out loud? Do you wish to be next?”
Alora groaned in frustration. “I don’t care about myself! And even so, I’m starting to think I’m under some protection. At least as far as the next couple days are concerned. It’s you I’m worried for!”
The kettles took to whistling, which earned them a grin from their owner. “As I’ve said, you needn’t worry over me.”
Twilight had given in to night, and still there was only one lamp burning along the wall. It bathed the kitchen in soft light that didn’t extend beyond the doorway. Alora focused on those shadows, waiting for what she knew would come.
And it did.
Between one blink and the next, an Urchin stood there.
Alora startled and Ellie hissed a breath. A heartbeat later, the old woman held a kettle between them and him. “Your kind aren’t welcome here, Urchin.”
A rasping snort of disbelief left the masked man. Alora watched his attention travel between her and Ellie Turkens, his hood shifting. “Miss Pennigrim,” he said, tipping his head. “I didn’t expect to find another here. Least of all, you.”
That earned her a sideways glance from Ellie, which Alora promptly ignored. Instead, she glowered. She knew precisely who was behind this disguise. “It seems you cannot help but continue making mistakes, Urchin. Perhaps you should leave.”
He made a threatening noise, the effect of which was quite terrifying beneath the mask and stepped farther into the room. “I can smell your fear. Your agitation.”
“I am agitated because you will not leave my bookstore,” said Ellie, and scowled fiercer than Alora had ever seen. If there was any fear to be smelled, she was sure it didn’t come from Ellie Turkens.
In response, the Urchin drew the baton from his belt. “If I have to dispense with the both of you, I will.”
“And when Master Merridon learns of why I cannot finish my contract? What will you say to him?”
Another pointed look from Ellie was all the reaction she received for her admission. An admission she contractually shouldn’t have made, but she needed to call the Urchin’s bluff before he did something drastic. Fragile egos, as Ellie Turkens explained, were something to be wary of.
The Urchin seemed to hesitate, his hand shifting along the edge of the baton. “I would only need to tell him that you interfered with an important assignment. That you knew and witnessed more than you should. He would understand.”
“And whose fault is it that I’m here as witness at all? If you were as skilled as your cohorts, you’d have waited until Mrs. Turkens was alone. Instead, you burst through at the first stroke of night without a care for your surroundings. I don’t believe he would be so understanding.”
A hiss sounded from behind the Urchin’s shadowed hood. “It is a good thing then, that you won’t remember it all to relay it.”
He took another step into the room and raised his weapon, and Alora realized in that moment there would be no talking him out of what he planned. Three things happened in the following seconds, and they seemed to happen all at once:
A figure leapt through the doorway.
Ellie Turkens tossed a boiling kettle of water.
And Alora imagined the baton into a snake, but a fangless one, of course.
The figure turned out to be Mortimer, and in his raised hands was held a giant tome.
He smacked it over the head of the Urchin with such force that the younger man went down to his knees.
It was there that Ellie’s boiling water met him, and the screech emanating from behind the mask was otherworldly due to its enchantment.
The baton dropped from his hand to slither dazedly away, curling around Alora’s ankle, soulless and knowing only she commanded it.
Alora opened her mouth to demand the Urchin never return or else face something much worse, but it seemed Mortimer hit him harder than she thought. The Urchin swayed back and forth a moment before he toppled forward onto the floor. He didn’t move again.
They all stared down at him in silence, watching for his continued breaths.
“The Encyclopedia of Continental Flora. My apologies, madam. I’ll pay for it.”
“Don’t worry yourself over it. Nobody likes books that heavy; it’s been gathering dust for a decade.”
Alora crouched enough to see that Mr. Salvoy breathed still and drew a breath of her own in relief. Her hand met the snake’s head absently, where she brushed her fingers along it before they came away, carrying a piece of string. She tucked it into her satchel.
“What should we do with him?” she said, pulling back his hood. His hair was left in disarray from the cowl, the skin on his forehead red and promising to blister. Otherwise, he appeared as if he could be sleeping.
“Send for the captain is what we should do. I know for fact that he wouldn’t agree with what this boy attempted. Attacking a second person without order, and that person, specifically, being you.”
“There will be no more of these ruffians in my shop,” said Ellie, her voice quaking but final. She returned the empty kettle to the stove, where she gripped another. With a practiced hand, she poured three cups of tea.
Alora took hers without comment, her mind far away. When it returned to the kitchen, she said in a flat voice, “The captain is dead anyway.”
Mortimer gasped. “No. Surely not.”
“He was brought down by specter wolves.”
“Specter wolves! Where?”
“Renwick. Not far from the mansion’s gate.” Her voice was toneless and quiet. Still, it sounded loud in the kitchen.
“I’ve not seen a specter wolf in… Why, it must be six or seven years, at least. Even then, it wasn’t a large one.
It only came out at night.” When no one else spoke, Mortimer stepped over the unconscious Urchin until he stood before Alora.
His voice grew soft with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Miss Pennigrim. ”
“Whatever for? I hardly knew him.”
“Sometimes that doesn’t matter.” He said it as if he understood firsthand, and the grip on her shoulder told her she had a friend to come to, should she need him.
She found it hard to breathe.
“Leave the Urchin with me,” said Ellie.
“With you?” questioned Mortimer, his brow raised. “But what about when he wakes?”
“I’ve not read thousands of stories for nothing.
And I know a lot of people, specifically merchants.
If one leaves tomorrow with a trussed-up sack of grain after making his deliveries, no one will suspect a thing.
Even if it is squawking.” Taking a long sip of tea, she studied Alora over the rim.
The steam wafted around the old woman’s nose, iridescent tendrils in the shape of moth wings.
“I’m not sure how you managed to get so mixed up in all this, my dear, but be certain that your humors are not at all thrilled with what you’ve put yourself through.
Go home this minute and leave these young men to me. ”
Mortimer turned a finger on himself, looking one way then the other.
“Yes, you. I’ll have your help. Your humors, at least, appear quite fine.”
“Oh. Well. Thank you, madam.”
Ellie Turkens nodded as curtly as a king.
When Alora handed over her teacup, the old woman took it and Alora’s hand all in one grasp.
Quietly, so as not to be overheard, she said, “I’m not some cracked mug.
I’ve played with the dangers of handsome devils, too, back in my day.
But be assured, darling, though he might smile like one, Marshall Merridon is no devil.
He’s pond scum. He should be lying belly up in a swamp.
I don’t know what sort of contract you have with him, but find a way out of it fast as you can.
That mansion is like quicksand.” She planted a kiss on Alora’s forehead, swift and soft.
“Trust your instincts. They’re good ones. ”