Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos-Theo 1 (19 page)

It was stunning how well he managed to blend in with the crowd. He moved through the throngs of people as if he were a cork bobbing on the ocean, letting the crowd's momentum carry him forward.

I looked at Henry. Even from this distance I could see the tense excitement running through him. To him, this was all a ripping game. I left it that way. If one stopped to think of what we were risking, of what might happen if the Germans were on to us ... I gulped. I forced myself to concentrate on what was happening down below and not let my imagination run wild.

Finally, the crowd's movements carried Will within reach of the German delegation. Without looking at me, he reached up and adjusted his hat, his sign that he was in place and ready. Steady now, I told myself, my heart thumping in my chest as loudly as a big brass drum.

I caught Henry's eye and flipped my hair over my shoulder, which was the signal. Henry nodded, then lifted the long flexible stick he'd been carrying all morning. He loaded the small leather pocket on the tip with birdshot, pulled it back, and then bent down out of sight. He took careful aim, then released the tip of the stick, sending the small lead bits raining down into the crowd.

Immediately people began slapping at their faces and necks as if they were being stung by insects. A low murmur rose up as people broke off their conversations and began looking around.

Will used the opportunity to get right behind von Braggenschnott. All the Germans had ignored the stinging shot and were looking into the sky, eyes alert, trying to find the source of the attack. No shrugging it off for them.

As they stared up toward the stack of containers where Henry lay hidden, Will lifted the coattails of von Braggenschnott's morning coat.

I held my breath.

Will's fingers slipped into the German's back pocket—and came out empty.

I nearly fainted as a thought occurred to me: What if he wasn't carrying the Heart of Egypt on him? What if he'd hidden it somewhere in his luggage? What then?

It was a horrible revelation.
Was
this the right thing to do?
Were
we putting Will in too much danger?

I gave myself a mental shake. It was too late for second thoughts now. We'd just have to brazen it out.

Will pulled back from von Braggenschnott and waited for the next distraction. I turned to Henry, who sat leaning against a container, well hidden from the crowd. He was watching me and awaiting further signals.

Very carefully, I bent down and gave him the next signal—I adjusted my left shoe.

When I stood up again, he nodded. Time for the thunderbolts.

Within seconds, small whirligigging objects came zooming over the crowd. I knew they were just paper twists weighted with pebbles, but they certainly surprised the people below. Startled and confused, people cried out and ducked for cover.

Will stepped toward von Braggenschnott. But alas! Instead of moving away from the disturbance like everybody else, the man turned toward the commotion and slammed smack into Will, who clutched at the German's coat to try to keep his balance. The vile man shouted something, then backhanded Will across the face.

Will staggered backward and von Braggenschnott and his men drew guns—real live guns—and began shooting at the silly thunderbolts!

Mass confusion and pandemonium erupted as everyone hit the ground to avoid having their head shot off.

Henry leaped to his feet to go to Will's aid. Frantically, I motioned him back to his hiding place. If they discovered that Henry was behind all this, who knew what they'd do to him? Shoot him, that's what.

Von Braggenschnott motioned at two of his men to head in the direction of the thunderbolts.

I motioned to Henry like mad, trying to get his attention. Finally, he looked over at me and got the idea. He scuttled away, weaving a crooked path between the cargo containers, and disappeared out of sight.

This wasn't going at all how we'd planned. Who would have guessed that von Braggenschnott and his men would be so horrid about a little thing like cracking thunderbolts?

I looked back and saw Will struggle to his feet, blood pouring from his nose. He wiped his hand across his face and spotted the blood. His expression grew furious and he drew back his leg as if he were going to kick von Braggenschnott. But if Will did that then von Braggenschnott would take him apart limb by limb. Apparently Will stumbled onto the same idea, for he backed off a bit, then sauntered away. Sauntered, mind you—I would have torn out of there like all the furies of hell were behind me!

Henry reached me first. "Did he get it?"

"I don't know. I couldn't see."

"Did you see that Bragging Snot beast take a swing at him?"

"Yes, I did. His nose is bleeding buckets, too."

"Vermin."

We heard a shuffling sound off to the right. Will appeared, blood streaked across his face, and a black eye already beginning to form, but he was grinning from ear to ear. "Blimey! Did you see that Bogeyfellow take a swipe at me?" He sounded highly indignant, but proud, too.

"I certainly did. The rotter." I discovered I couldn't bring myself to ask if he'd got the Heart of Egypt. If he failed, I wasn't sure I wanted to know quite yet. The fact that Will was smiling was promising, but he
was
a boy. He could just as easily be smiling at the adventure of it all.

Henry, however, had no such reservations. "So, did you get it?"

Will smiled so wide, I was afraid his face was going to split in half like an overripe squash.

He patted his front trouser pocket. "That I did!"

I went weak with relief. I closed my eyes and slumped against the wall behind me. "Oh, well done, Will! Very well done!"

His cheeks grew red and he shuffled his feet on the ground. "Oh, 'twer nothin' miss. Really."

"Nonsense! That foul man struck you! You could have—"

"Give off," he mumbled, clearly not wanting to talk about this.

Henry piped up. "That
was
bloody brilliant!"

Will's head jerked up and he and Henry exchanged devilish grins.

"May I have it now?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"'Course." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a velvet pouch, and placed it in my hand.

I shuddered as the force of the curse hit me.

"You all right, miss?" Will asked, concern in his voice.

"Yes, I'm fine. Let's go home, shall we?" As we made our way home, a swell of pride surged through me.

We'd done it.

T
HE REST OF THE DAY
, Henry and I basked in the glow of our smashing success. It was a heady feeling. Whenever Henry caught my eye, he would break into a grin. I should have scolded him for being too obvious, except I was too busy grinning back.

There was one sticky moment when I told him he couldn't come with me to return the Heart of Egypt to Wigmere. But when I explained it was his job to keep Mother and Father from discovering I was gone, he was a little more cooperative.

And of course I felt ever so guilty having the Heart of Egypt right under my parents' nose and not being able to tell them. How furious they'd be if they knew! They'd most likely ship me off to some horribly grim school for the next five years. (I tried to tell myself I was only saving them the pain of losing it twice, but it wasn't helping much.)

I set off bright and early the next day and headed to Somerset House and the Society of Antiquaries. It was pouring rain and the wind was howling as if every disembodied spirit on earth had decided to join in. It was eerie, but I was confident. I patted the pocket of the old waterproof I was wearing. I had the means of saving our entire nation safely tucked in my pocket.

Because of the nasty weather, there were very few people about. It was a long walk, but satisfaction at having retrieved the Heart of Egypt gave me a rather lot of cheerful energy.

At Somerset House, I marched with confidence up the stairs to the third floor. The doorman must have sensed my resolve because he only threw me a quick glance and didn't try to stop me. Perhaps he recognized me.

After my last visit, I intended to avoid Boythorpe at all costs. I kept my steps light and walked straight past his door, hoping he wouldn't pop his annoying little head out to see what was going on.

Once safely past his office, I went to Wigmere's, sixth door down on the left. I looked to make sure no one else was in the hallway. The place seemed quite deserted.

I knocked. There was no answer. I knocked again. Still nothing. Well, stuff and nonsense. How was I to return the beastly artifact if Wigmere didn't have the decency to be here?

I stood there for a moment, thoroughly stumped. But then I remembered: the lift! I headed down the hallway and found the last door on the right, the skinny little one that looked like a closet. I stepped in, then shut the door behind me.

The attendant was surprised to see me. "What are you doing here, miss? All by yourself?"

"I need to see Lord Wigmere and he isn't in his office. Is he on Level Six?"

The man hesitated, studying me with suspicion.

"It's all right! I'm allowed down there. You saw me yourself not three days ago. Besides, it's urgent that I see Wigmere."

"Very well, but if there's hell to pay, you'll do the paying."

I nodded. "Fair enough."

I was a little more prepared this time when my stomach tried to shoot out of the top of my head, but not much.

When the lift stopped, the attendant opened the door. Before he could get any ideas about escorting me, I stepped out and waved a quick goodbye, then hurried into Level Six.

Only to find that the place was deserted. All of the desks were empty, all of the offices abandoned, piles of paper left helter-skelter. Where was everyone?

Feeling unsure, I headed to the infirmary where Stokes had been. Surely he was still too sick to move?

As I drew close to the small room, I heard voices. With relief, I recognized one of them as Wigmere's.

When I knocked, the voices stopped abruptly, then Wigmere's bulk filled the doorway, looking large and puffed up, like a cat when it's trying to scare you.

His face relaxed when he saw it was only me. "Theodosia?" His gaze moved past me to the floor, then all the way back to the lift.

When I turned to follow his gaze, I saw a long puddling trail behind me from the water running off my waterproof. "Sorry about that. I'll clean it up later, if you like."

"Never mind," he said. "Come in and let's get you out of your wet things. Then you can tell me what you're doing here." I can't say he sounded particularly happy to see me.

Wigmere stepped back and motioned me into the room. Stokes was sitting up in bed, and a table had been set up next to him, on which there was a large map spread out with lots of little pins stuck in it.

There were a few moments of fumbling as I wriggled out of my waterproof and Wigmere found someplace to hang it. "So," he said at last. "Only something of great importance could bring you out in this sort of weather. I trust something has happened?"

"No," I began.

His face drooped.

"Something even better than that," I continued before he could get too discouraged.

He perked up again and I must say I quite enjoyed being the one to bring that look to such a long face. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the carefully wrapped bundle. "Here."

He looked from the bundle to my face, then back to the bundle again. "What is this?"

"Open it and you shall see." I was nearly dancing in anticipation. He would be so pleased!

Wigmere took the bundle out of my hand and unwrapped it. Once he had lifted the last of the wrapping away, he turned the velvet pouch upside down.

"Upon my soul!" he gasped. The Heart of Egypt sat in his palm, winking and blinking and glittering in all its malevolent brilliance. "How on earth did you get hold of this?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

His mustache twitched. "I think I'm up to it. Come, have a seat and tell us your tale."

I made myself comfortable in one of the extra chairs and relayed my story. It was gratifying to have Wigmere's and Stokes's full attention. They were full of "I says!" and "Good Lords!" The whole time I talked, Wigmere kept turning the Heart of Egypt over and over in his hands.

When I'd finished, Wigmere looked at me, his face deceptively bland. "And just how much did you tell your brother and his friend?"

"Nothing!" I hurried to assure him. "Remember, they knew some of it before we even met you. I just built on that."

His face relaxed. "You do understand how dangerous it was to tackle those men by yourselves, don't you? You or one of your friends could have been injured, or killed. Or worse."

I looked at him in surprise. "What could be worse than being killed?"

He and Stokes exchanged a glance. "Being tortured," Stokes said softly. "To give over secrets, betray your mates or this organization. That type of thing."

My mind immediately flew to the iron maiden and the rack we had in the Inquisition collection at the museum. I gulped.

"Exactly," said Wigmere.