Whiskered Worry, Pt 3
Тем временем в мясной лавке
Pop looked up as the bell on the door rang. Billy stood there with his daughter's basket and a veritable armory of weapons on his back. The weaselman grinned, getting to his feet.
"Oi, pretty girl," he cooed, going immediately to the basket and chucking Lyta's chin. She giggled and her fingers wrapped in his whiskers. Wincing as she pulled, Pop extracted himself carefully. "She's got a grip there, Billy Boy. Gonna be a brawler like 'er Mother." He eyed his friend. "Didn't think you show up tonight ready for a fight. Kinda thought we'd scout it out a bit first."
"As I sees it, we need to know what we're dealin' with and they need to know who they're dealin' with. Once Svetty gets here, I'll leave this stuff with you and she and I'll go round to this dragon lady's place and have a word. You hang back in case things go south. Savvy?"
The weasel nodded sagely. "Aye. And babysit the Miss." He beamed at the baby. "I allus always loved the ladies more 'en violence," he purred at her." The raucous song of the door erupted as Svetlana strode through, her eyes hooded by a frown.
"What is wrong?" she demanded, quickly giving Billy a kiss and gathering her daughter out of her basket.
"Na' much. Poppy's put 'is foot in it and we need to figger out what 'e's put 'is foot in and whether we ask for money or bust 'eads."
Billy smiled his most bloodcurdling smile at Lyta who laughed and pumped her pudgy limbs in response. "I'm hopin' for money," Billy said without looking up.
He turned back to Pop. "Lemme make sure I got this right. Some buncha toffs pop inna shop takes one lookit'cha and hires you straightaway to go an' rescue their long-lost daughter from some Opium house we ain't never noticed before that's like one block away?"
"Nah," his friend countered. "It was that Proff bloke who keeps trying to sell us books for 'is gambling debt. I KNEW him. Just not the menagerie of uprights that 'ee brought wi' him. Not a one of them useful. All scholarly-like and nervous as wild cats." He rolled his eyes. "Like I'd a rolled them in the shop proper. But the Prof had some lovely lad wi’ him tho’. Coulda talked the ears off an ass. “‘E had knives. And that Prof, well ‘e too can talk the dead awake and then insult them back to the grave. But all weren’t any good at that place, Billy.”
The weasel then scowled, his teeth glinting in a snarl. "That other you said were part of the problem. We ain't never noticed this place before. My hackles were up the minute I was showed the doorway. Ain't right, Billy boy. Somats up and it ain't the Queen's dress."
"Well," Billy said blinking his eyes in mock innocence. "Since there's a new hestablishment in the neighborhood, the Missus and I should drop round an' pay our respects. I'll even bring a nice 'am."
Pop nodded. "And a cannon," he muttered. He studied the trio before him as the baby played with a stray lock of her mother's hair. "She's hiding somethin' Billy. She looks like a woman, but she sure don't smell like one. You might wanna bring some magical firepower." He paused, and then added, "Tap that little miser hobbit we send coin to. He's got a stake in this business too and all 'ee's done is lay back 'n' watch the money roll in. You and Lana oughta scout it out, see what you and the Missus think, and then we need to make a plan." The idea of a plan brought a pained wince to his face. "Lookit me, gettin' all organized and such."
"Agreed, just us first," he said. "Soon as the M'seur 'obbut' gets involved, profits go down and troubles go up. We do a quick reconnoiter round the back, then Lana and I walk up to the front door just like regular folks. If things go bad," he looked at the weasel and his Wife, "and they won't go bad, Poppy you run and Lana and I'll extricate ourselves. So long's we stay out on the street or near the door there's not likely to be too much funny business go'n on. Agreed?"
Волки в дверь
The alley behind the building had been easy enough to spot, as was the guard squatting next to the door. At casual glance he appeared to be sleeping but Billy could tell he was awake if not attentive; certainly not as attentive as a guard Billy would have posted under similar circumstances.
He passed a significant glance at Svetlana as they continued walking. Her blue silk jacket did an admirable job of hiding her lack of corset but it could not hope to disguise her height, broad shoulders, or the look in her eye that portended violence. She would never say it, but Billy could tell that she chafed at the restrictiveness of the dress and jacket and would have preferred trousers and tunic if fighting would be had.
They rounded the corner back to Whitechapel Road and Billy caught a brief glance of the pair of them in a shop window. Just me and the missus out fer an early mornin' peramble. For all of her dislike of the clothes 'lana looked wonderful in them. He, on the other hand, seemed not so uncomfortable in his clothes as his clothes seemed uncomfortable with him: Too tight at the chest, too short on the sleeve, the limits of what was available off the rack. The bowler hat also seemed oddly small on his head and kept sliding off.
It's a shite disguise but then again it ain't really a disguise is it? It's what we wanna be even if it ain't gonna be.
Billy continued walking until Svetlana grabbed his arm. "Villium, what is problem? We are here."
He looked quickly right and left and saw nothing. "What'cha talking about?"
She grabbed his head and pointed it directly at the door. "Look. Is right here."
<br
His eyes seemed unable to look directly where his head was pointed. They looked left and saw a building and the same to the right but where she pointed him was a slippery greyness that made his stomach oddly dizzy. Realizing what was happening, he focused and suddenly the door was there; much like suddenly seeing an object that had been missing all day sitting in plain sight.
He smiled a slightly bloodcurdling smile. "Seems like Poppy was right. Time to pay them a visit."
Svetlana looked at her husband, her blue eyes sharp on his face. It didn't bother her that he hadn't noticed the door. More that he didn't seem to be too bothered by it. She studied him quickly to see if he was hiding any fear and gave an inner shrug. If her Villiam wasn't bothered by magic, then she surely wasn't. She gestured to the knob.
"The door, miliy moy." It pleased her greatly to have him open doors for her. Strangely much more satisfying than to kick them in.
He reached for the door and then stopped and turned to his wife. "I don't need to tell you to stay sharpish," Billy said under his breath. "This is a social call and all that, but if this goes sideways we fall back to this door and out. Pop's got us covered from across the street, assuming he can see the door." Billy opened the door and gestured Lana through it. "After you, my pet. Let's go meet the new neighbors."
Svetlana gathered her skirts and swept into the front room, her face set with a serene, pretty smile and noted the inhabitants as her husband came in after her. The small, older Chinese man at the counter looked at her curiously as the four large Mongols studiously ignored them. Her eyes sparkled. It had been a while since she had fought Mongols.
Billy walked to the man, smiled his unnerving smile and put forth his right hand. " 'Allo, is the lady of the 'ouse in? The Mrs. and I are with the local welcoming committee and we wanted to offer our respects."
The older man pushed down his small, smoked lens glasses to peer up at his giant visitor. "No lady. You want buy something? We sell herbs." His eyes darted to Svetlana but she winsomely let a strand of blond hair fall over one sky blue eye. Frowning lightly, the man turned again to Billy and missed Svetlana palming her knife.
Billy's smile became a touch broader and more bloodthirsty, but his tone was unchanged. "Son, lyin' ta'me is no proper way to start a relationship. I know a lady runs this place just like I know those herbs yer sellin ain't used to make bouillabaisse. Go Tell her that I need to speak to her toot sweet. If. You. Please."
"Surprisingly, you not here to buy. Please leave." He gestured for the two Mongols and they stepped forward threateningly. A moment later, one fell from the knife in his eye and then other was looking at the point of a sword lightly held by Svetlana.
"I haven't gotten to shop," she stated calmly, letting her accent heavily taint her words. "Villiam, convince him to let us shop." She cut her eyes to the other hidden guards, holding them at bay with the pistol in her other hand.
Billy stayed where he was but he did withdraw his hand. "As you can see, the Missus can be quite forceful an' she does love a good shop. Now, if you please. Bring out the lady an' we can 'ave a nice chat." He held up the basket in his left hand. "I even brought an 'am as an 'ouse warming gift. Butchered the piggy meeself I did, so you know it's fresh."
Sweat slicked the man's face causing his lenses to slide even further down. "She is not here." Drawing a breath, he tried to smile pleasantly. "I tell her you came. Left gift." He paused before his next words, imperceptibly growing a bit more confident. "She will be happy to call on you. You leave card where she can find you."
"Now see that don't work for me." He began walking past the old man. "Tell you what, we'll have a quick look-see. Mebbe talk to a few of your clients see an' if they know where to find her." As he continued walking he turned his head to Svetlana. "Come on, lass, les' go shoppin'."
Svetlana nodded with a brilliant smile. "Indeed." She followed him, holding her weapons ready. "We do not need your company. We will find our own way."
His eyes narrowed, but the older man shook his head as his guard looked at him. "Let her find them as they wish," he muttered under his breath and jerked his head to have the body removed.
Pop had given them the basic layout when they were still at the shop and Billy considered his next moves. Straight back past the Mongols, are the room with the poppy smokers. If this is a straight-up grab for Protection, then the smart money's on rousting the lotus eaters in the back room and doing some creative smashing, nothing too bad, just enough to know we mean business. It might even pull the lady of the house out of whatever hole she's bolted herself into.
Then again, if Poppy was right then there's more than a little magical chicanery involved too. That at least deserved a bit more reconnoiter. Perhaps there might be valuables or a safe in the office.
Even as he considered these things, he realized that he was not headed to the sleepers, or to some random, presumed office deeper in the building, but straight back to where Pop had said the cages were.
Billy's mind flashed to one of the only childhood memories that did not involve London. He'd been in a cage once. Not a jail cell, but a proper cage built onto a cart. Jen was there, as was his dad, unconscious from his injuries. Behind them, he could see their cottage still smoldering.
A man appeared. It might have been a guard or just some ill-advised guest. Billy slammed the unfortunate's head into a stone pillar, hard enough that it left a bloody trail as the man collapsed to the floor.
"This way."
Svetlana smiled. "At least we will be able to find our way back from the bodies we are leaving." She followed closely behind her husband, watching carefully behind them.
Billy nodded grimly as he headed to the back. His fists clenched, needing something to punch, but no further targets presented themselves.
The corridor was narrow, longer and more twisted than Pop had described and when they reached the back, he found the cages. In them were a number of women, naked, bedraggled, drugged, some weeping.
With a great roar, Billy tore the door off the first cage terrifying the girl inside.
Svetlana watched as Billy's face contorted in rage and hung back to watch him. Her eyes narrowed appraisingly as she watched, her instincts telling her something was a bit off.
He worked his way down the row opening cages roughly as he went. "Oy! All ye out the back door and down the alley. There's a weasel named Pop 'cross the street. Tell 'em I sent ye. If ye need, ye can go back to my shop.
"An if anyone can tell me where the 'ead of this establishment is, there's a sovereign in it for ye."
Svetlana put a hand on her husband's shoulder. "Villiam, they wouldn't know," she said gently.
"Yeah, 'it'us worth a shot. Let's get them out and go back and find the office. Mebbe we can roust some opium fiends or find the office."
They made quick work of letting the girls out and the bedraggled group shivered and whimpered in a tight clutch as they stared at the unusual pair. Svetlana shook her head pityingly, an almost motherly look on her face.
"Ve're going to have to lead them out, darling. Dey're almost more than useless right now. I'd guess that they'd get back into those boxes if ve spooked them."
At his wife's words Billy brought himself up short for just a moment, torn between a desire to kill those responsible and the obvious need to get the freed women to safety. He closed his eyes and tried to consciously separate his violent proclivities from the tactical needs of the situation. "If we leave now they'll be even more prepared when we get back, but you aren't wrong."
Svetlana nodded and muttered softly, "I'm not certain that they aren't prepared now." Stepping forward, she gathered the arm of the youngest girl firmly in her own. "Come, little duckling. Ve go." Her blue eyes seared over the rest. "You vill follow us outside. No sounds."
Her husband, she favored with a warm smile. "Lead on, Moy geroy."
They led the bedraggled women to the back door making short and silent work of the guard outside. As the last of the women trundled outside Billy grabbed his wife by the sleeve. "We've just declared war on someone we don't know and 'aven't really even done nothin' to them yet. We need to either figure out more about 'em or torch the building."
He looked sideways back into the building. "Never strike to wound, ducks. Not when yer serious. You take 'em out through the alley. Get 'em back to the shop. I'll Reconnoiter a bit more. If I ain't out in 20 minutes get the 'obbit, or the kernal."
Billy switched to his more commanding tone and addressed the ladies. "A'ight, you lot. You'll follow the Missus. No talking and no noise. If yer lucky you can be 'ome and dry before sunrise."
The tall blonde nodded and then gave him a quick kiss. "Be careful, Villiam. This is not a common place of villainy." She then turned her cool gaze to the women and waved them towards the exit. Like a shadow she moved in front of them and tried the door. The lock proved resistant, but she spun like a dervish and the door burst open, broken into the alley. Svetlana glanced back at her husband and grinned as the women began to pour outside. "I vill take them to a constable. I vill be back soon." And with that, she gently closed the ragged remains of the door.
As the women left Billy began thinking about where the office might be, or the proprietress.
He hadn't seen an office on the way to the cages, so he suspected that the important rooms were either on a higher floor or further back into the building.
Billy went further into the building and then up the stairs, but found only drug addled men and startled prostitutes. He made a proper roust of it, scaring off the men and guards.
He then went back downstairs and worked his way from the entrance, finding a large room with many addicts reclining on couches so infused with poppy smoke that one need only lie upon them to become intoxicated.
It was then, though, that his senses from the Crimea started kicking in. The place, like a warren, kept going deeper, but the building sat on Whitechapel between Osborn and that alley. Couldn't be more than 40 yards deep, but here it was.
He began thinking about the door and the cloying miasma that hung in the room I need to close my eyes and walk through this place like it was a collapsed tunnel with no lights.
He closed his eyes and began concentrating repeating the mantra his father had taught him as a child.
I am an orc in the dark.
I am the fear that causes men to hide from the night.
I am the silent blade that takes the hearts of all foes.
Nothing is hidden from an orc in the dark.
His ears stretched and he heard a hall unseen and a door that had only quiet behind it. He walked towards it, stumbling but once over the semiconscious revelers.
When he stood where the door should be, he opened his eyes and saw only the other end of the hallway. The door ain't wanting to be seen, but I bet my boot'll find it true enough. He reared back and smashed the door.
A short panelled hallway of teak and rice paper lavishly and expertly painted led to two ornate doors, one ahead and one to the left.
Right, this looks like the place.
The door straight ahead was the obvious office, but he tried the door to the left first.
The door was open, but what it was open to made no sense to Billy. A garden of stone and trees and ornamental plants along with a small table. These were odd for this part of town and the garden was too big again by half to fit in the building, but all of that was not so odd as the clear sky and daylight that shone through the door.. Billy squinted, Mid afternoon by where the sun is. That's completely Bonkers. No way I've been 'ere more than an half an hour.
Billy stepped back, away further into the hallway and away from the garden. Someone's having a gas with me and I don't like that.
He turned to the remaining door and was surprised to find it unlocked. He threw the door open and leapt inside ducking to avoid any attackers.
A slender Oriental woman looked up from paperwork on a vast painted and carved desk, her almond eyes opening a little in surprise. Her perfect mouth opened and she reached out to the little old man who stood beside her to hold his arm. His glasses had resumed their proper perch on his nose, but slid a little again as he started, seeing the orc.
"Oy," Billy said standing up. "You the proprietress?"
The young woman rose to her feet, her elaborately embroidered blue silk tunic catching the twinkling gaslight. She smiled warmly.
"Yes. May I help you?" Her face was almost doll like in its perfection and her dark eyes were painted to set their exotic tilt off to perfection.
Billy had still not answered the question of whether or not what he saw was real and the thought that he probably should have waited for back up of some variety was becoming prevalent.
'Say la vee' as the froggies say. Just got a play it straight 'til I can get clear.
"I should hope so," he said nodding his head. "Name's Billy Butcher. I run a shop up the block. The Missus and I had heard stories about your establishment; balmy stories and none too favorable, so we thought we should pay respects and get to the truth o' the matter."
Her painted eyes narrowed slightly. ""And what is this truth you and your wife seek?"
"Firstly, that such a fine hestablishment as this could'a opened up so close by wi'out us nonethewiser. I likes to keep up with me local fellow tradesmen.
"Second, there's been rumors, scurrilous o'course, that there's been kidnappins happenin round here and that somehow this hestablishment's involved. As someone oo's felt the unjust hand o' the law on me shoulder more'n once, I thought I'd investigate this meself and bring this to your attention 'fore someone brought the rozzers in."
"Rozzers?" The madam blinked with polite confusion. "We do not have kidnapping here." She looked to her companion and he nodded and shook his head in agreement with her. "All women pretty and willing. Make customers happy happy."
Billy fought to keep his temper down. Gotta play it smart and level, like when the Company Sergeant used to call me on the carpet(before I became Company Sergeant). None of this is worth spit if I don't make it out in one piece.
"Don' missunerstan me. I ain't one for fine moral judgments on wha' folks get up to in places like this, specially since it's the only way some folks get to eat, but a lotta folks look to me to keep people and businesses safe, if you get me meaning, an' kidnappin, that brings attention of the sort folks don' like."
Her gaze hit his eyes like lightning; sharp and old, her eyes glittered gently before she closed them. When they re-opened, the young woman was there, pleasant and meek. "So you do not object that my customers chase the white dragon here? Only that I sometimes have guests?"
Billy kept his face straight and level even as he realized he was completely out of his depth. Definitely gotta bring the hobbit in, maybe even the Colonel.
"Look, long as your dragon don't go chasing folks down the streets 'an your paid up with the local boss, it ain't so different from Limehouse here. Grabbin' folks off the street though, particularly West Enders, ain't gonna be upheld, though. Savvy?"
"You mean, do I understand?" the woman asked softly and the words were brittle in the air between them. She nodded. "And to that, I answer, yes. So what money you want?"
Reaching over, she patted the man's arm firmly and he reached for an ornately carved and inlaid enamel box on her desk. "Liu Wei will pay you. You give to local boss." Her speech slowed with the last words, as if they were unfamiliar and she wanted to pronounce them carefully.
"Right then. Prolly 15 pound 'd be about right"
"Fifteen pounds." the lady responded nodding. "Liu?"
The man counted out each coin as if it were his personal funds, laying them in Billy's vast hand with exaggerated lethargy.
Finally done, the woman extended her hand to Billy. "I pay for protection. I pay for good protection?" She watched as he failed to take her hand, her nostrils flaring ever so slightly as she lowered hers again.
"Aye" Now just to get me arse out of here and back to the street.
Softly, clearly, with a deep amusement, her voice sounded as he turned to go.
"Your wife excellent warrior. Kill good Mongol guards. Good protection. Fifteen pounds cheap price for her. Thank you."
"There ain't enough peals in the ocean 'an she ain't for sale. Now, I'll see me own way out, if ye don' mind."
БоБолее опасны, чем пьяные Хореклее опасны, чем пьяные ласки
As he made his way out into the dim morning Billy's first thought was to gather up his compatriots and get back to the shop as soon as possible to develop a new plan. The hobbit would be part of it to be sure. Magic to battle magic would be best; That or torch the place to the ground. Until the plan was in place, they'd need Surveillance too. Get some of the local lads sitting on the corner and alley tracking comings and goings. Some good blackmail as well as sizing up of the enemy.
Billy looked across the street to where Pop had set up his watch post with Lyta and the carriage. The weasel was still there looking squirrelier than usual, if that was possible and the carriage was gone.
Gone. GODAMNIT, they got to Pop. If so much as hair on my baby's head is mussed I'll Burn this block and pull out that bitch's teeth with my bare hands.
Pop had chewed a bloody hole on the inside of his lip, fighting his worst urges. Glancing furtively to the end of the street, he saw Nellie sitting as he told her, holding Lyta carefully and tenderly. As if sensing he looked at her, Nellie wiggled her fingers at him cheerfully, her cheeks apple round with a grin.
Pop nodded with forced warmth, willing his eyes back to his lap and bit his lip for more pain to focus his racing mind.
Although the taste of his own blood was driving him to a maddening edge of joyful carnage. Both girls, torn limb from limb. Passerbys. . .murdered with gleeful joy. For the joy of killing. The power of that moment. He shuddered. Nellie had to keep Lyta down the street until her parents came back.
That streetkid, normal human boy had sprayed him with something. "Beastie, rotten beastie," the boy had said laughing to his friends. Like they was something special. Poppy hadn't seen them before. He knew his streetkids. Like Evie. Like Simon. Like Bobby. Like Nellie. He shuddered, seeing her face white and bloodied in his mind’s eye, the energizing screams of Lyta in the background.
He looked up again, his vision red with bloodlust and saw the form of his friend walking towards him. "Billie?' he asked like a prayer.
Billy focused on the weasel as he crossed the street. A cab nearly hit him, but a low snarl from the orc frightened the horse such that it reared and attempted to bolt away. The weasel was obviously having some sort of issues, but at the moment Billy had other concerns. "Pop, you fishfucker," he bellowed. "Where's my daughter? Ye were supposed to keep 'er with you till we got out."
Pop felt the hair on his neck rise and bore his teeth at the rush of excitement at the challenge.
No, no! I'm a man, a good man! he shrieked to himself and made himself rise to his feet. Pointing to Nellie, he shook his head. "She's down the street with Nellie, mate. I had to send her there. These streetrats came along, sprayed me with sumthin.' I thought it were nothin', but as I was holding Lyta, I began to have thoughts. . ."
He shook his head, visions of torn flesh dancing gleefully across his mind's eye, the raucous screams of terror sounding in his head as his eyes were caught by a group of washing women walking down the sidewalk. A snarl rose in his throat, his brown eyes narrowing as he grinned savagely.
He cast a glance down the street and saw the carriage and the girl and quickly. There was something definitely wrong with the lad. He kept hopping foot to foot and he had that look like he does just before he dives into a plate of fish, or hires a prostitute. "Poppy, what is the matter with you?" Billy said with more concern than anger in his voice. "'Bit of water shouldn't put you off your mission. Buck up lad."
"Billie, I wanted to tear Lyta from limb to limb. If Nellie hadn't happened by, I don't know what I'd done. Bless the child, she did as I asked and took her down the street. To be safe. I ain't right, Billy boy. Sommats wrong. The weasel is up in me. Me thoughts are muddled and all I can think of is how much fun it'd be to spray this street in blood."
He turned plaintive and worried eyes up to his friend's face. "Help me!"
Billy handed him his flask. "Drink the whole thing." I need to start carrying two of these. He looked up and down the street to see if he could spot Svetlana or any of the Mongols. "Look, it's the proprietress of the place. She's got som' sorta magic, makes ye see things tha ain't there. Let's get back to the shop. A block from 'ere and you'll be right as rain."
His friend nodded, his eyes narrowing as his face grew grim.
"Maybe so. But lock me in me room when we get there." His eyes darted furtively to a young paperboy and he reached for his pistol. The empty pocket reminded him that he had given it to Nellie with firm orders to shoot him if he came at her. He wasn't right. He knew it. Maybe it was the dragonlady. He was terrified it wasn't.
He took a tiny mouthful of whiskey and let the rest of the swallow dribble down his chin once Billy looked away. He didn’t need to lose control at this moment. Pushing the flask into Billy’s hand, he smiled tightly at his friend and nodded a thanks.
Billy glanced up and down the street. No sign of the rat lads, but Pop wasn't the only beastman acting odd. Guess it ain't the Dragon Lady after all.
He stole a glance at his friend. The weasel looked a bit more drunk and less crazed. He whistled Nellie to follow. They needed to get back to the shop, sort out the girls and then to the Colonel. This was beyond the Hobbit's scope now.
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