Bank of Westminster

Chapter 11

Baron followed the little girl at a distance, watching as she struggled to climb the wrought-iron gate and open it for him.

They walked through several more alleyways before Baron finally asked, after a moment's hesitation, "Why are you helping me?"

"The gentleman helped me, so I should help the gentleman," Julius replied brightly, a child's smile on her face. "If you hadn't sold all my flowers for me this morning, I'd still be out on the street shouting."

With practiced ease she hopped onto a high ledge and reached down toward him.

Baron hesitated, then shook his head.

The girl bit her lip, her expression dimming, but the next moment the young man did something that startled her all over again—he sprang up like a tiger and vaulted onto the nearly seven-foot ledge in a single bound.

"Let's go," he said to the wide-eyed girl. "I just figured an adult's weight would be more than a little girl could handle."

"I'm fourteen," Julius muttered, coming back to herself.

"Still school age."

"I've never been to school."

"There are no schools in the Inside?" Baron asked, curious.

"Inner London only has schools for wizards and demon-hunters. Tuition is expensive, and besides, I'm a bloodless scion—I don't have the bloodline to become an enforcer. There's no point wasting money."

Her curiosity piqued, the girl asked, "Sir, you're from the Outside, aren't you? Do all the children there have schools to attend?"

How does everyone know I'm from the Outside?

"Don't call me sir. Just call me Constantine."

The moment the words left his mouth, Baron felt a jolt as Carmen drifted into his thoughts. He pushed aside thoughts of the Witch and explained, "The Outside has universal basic education. The government pays for poor students to finish at least secondary school."

At least that's how it works in a certain Eastern powerhouse, he thought. As for Britain... Baron had no idea, but as a developed country the policy was probably similar.

"The government pays for it outright?"

"Of course. A government chosen by the people has a duty."

Julius looked thoughtful.

"We're here!"

She stopped in front of a shabby wooden door and rapped on the old-fashioned knocker. Light, scurrying footsteps sounded inside; the door creaked open to reveal three children in plain but neat clothes.

"This is Ferdinand, my Younger Brother... Martha, my Younger Sister... and Annie, the youngest... Father's at work—he drives the carriages for Westminster People's Bank, looking after the griffins..."

As Julius said each name, the child bowed shyly but politely to Baron.

He patted their heads and produced three gold-coin chocolates from thin air, pressing one into each small palm.

Lawrence had claimed the chocolates made dogs bleat like sheep if they ate them; otherwise they were just ordinary gold-coin chocolates.

Julius clapped her hands and had the little ones thank Baron; their childish voices rang out.

Baron noticed a tall wooden stool by the door—clearly one of them had stood on it to peek through the spy-hole before opening the door.

A pack of lonely kids, much like himself in his previous life.

"Why not move to the Outside? Once you've saved enough for Underground tickets you could leave."

Ferdinand disappeared into the west bedroom with his chocolate, while Baron naturally lifted the smallest child, Annie, pinched her cheek, and sat at the only table in the parlor.

The parlor doubled as a bedroom: a few steps away stood a wooden box-bed closed on three sides, drawers beneath for storage. In medieval Europe, poor families had slept in such beds to stay warm in winter and save space.

Julius brewed a cup of tea for Baron and sat on the bed, combing Martha's hair.

"Can't bear to leave," she said.

"Can't bear to leave?"

Julius nodded, biting the wooden comb as she worked Martha's hair into a neat braid.

"Once a bloodless scion leaves the Inside, the Law of Forgetting takes hold. The longer you stay on the Outside, the more memories of the Inside fade... The only way to avoid it is to travel between the Inside and the Outside at least once a week."

As always, whether in the Inside or the Outside, science or fantasy, poverty was the hardest thing for the poor to escape, Baron thought.

"I grew up in Inner London. No matter what it's like, it's where I live."

When Martha's braid was finished, Julius pinched the little girl's cheek in satisfaction and whispered, "To forget the people who matter, to live alone in another world—even if you're happy, you'd still be lonely."

Baron said nothing. Not out of sentiment—loneliness and happiness were distant concepts to a man on the verge of death.

When a man's about to die, philosophy can go to hell.

He caught the faint shuffle of footsteps outside the door and tensed.

Setting Annie down, he drained the cup of tea in one gulp and slipped it into the dragon-gallbladder storage ring. Before Julius could react, he vaulted through the window and hung by his fingertips from the rough wall.

He could only hope no one inside the attic would suddenly open a window for a breath of Inner London's gray air—land was gold here, the same as Outside London. At least no one would look up.

The knock came—sharp, impatient.

"Hunter Association. Bronze demon-hunter Bill Frank. I have a report that you're harboring a fugitive..."

Before Julius could open the door, the lock shattered under a brutal kick and a swarm of black-clad enforcers poured in.

Baron ducked lower, swinging like an ape to the next window.

If he wasn't mistaken, this should be Julius's father's bedroom.

But the moment he raised his head, Baron's heart jumped.

A pair of gray eyes.

A haggard, emaciated woman sat propped against the bed's headboard. She glanced at Baron hanging outside the window with vacant eyes, then turned back to the gray wall.

The woman didn't even have the energy to be surprised.

Baron understood why Julius hadn't introduced her mother—she must have feared the woman's lifelessness would frighten guests.

His gaze swept the room and lingered on the newspaper on the bedside table:

Bill Frank's Private Bounty! One Thousand Pounds! Wanted: Escapee from London Prison!

In the parlor, the search had ended. The bedroom door opened and Bill strode in, nostrils pinched against the oppressive air.

"Mrs. Cavendish, have you seen a young man in a black coat—face unclear—wearing a dragon-gallbladder ring on his... middle finger? Or was it the index?"

The woman said nothing.

Bill glanced at the newspaper on the table and spoke more gently.

"Mrs. Cavendish, if I recall correctly, you're suffering from Gray Fog sickness. The treatment is long and expensive for a family like yours..."

He lifted the newspaper. "Ten thousand pounds won't cure it, but it would ease the burden."

"Mother..." Julius and the little ones called out nervously.

They had been herded into the bedroom by the lion-knight, clearly meant as leverage.

Baron's heart tightened as the woman's frail hand lifted toward the window where he hung.

He shifted to hang by one hand and reached for the shotgun at his waist, thumbing off the safety.

"There?"

Bill followed the woman's finger. All he saw was a table with gold-coin-chocolate crumbs.

Frowning, he failed to understand.

Mrs. Cavendish ignored him, smiled weakly at her son Ferdinand, and whispered, "The chocolate was delicious."

"Mocking me?"

Bill's temper flared. He would have beaten a confession out of her, but the woman was so weak he merely slammed the door and returned to the parlor.

He drew a thick ledger from his coat, flipped it open, and pointed to a page.

"Miss Julius Cavendish, if the accounts are correct, your family is seven months behind on the mist-sweeping fee."

He tore out the page and handed it to Julius. "Six hundred seven pounds and fifty pence. Pay now..."

He signaled a subordinate to produce a prepared form. "Or sign this death-risk agreement and come with us to the interrogation room."

A demon-hunter interrogation room—where mortality rates beat any hospital.

Julius paled. The three children, already frightened, turned even paler. Tears welled but never fell; their sister had taught them tears were worthless.

"Please cooperate."

Bill smirked as he snapped handcuffs onto Julius's wrists, running a finger along her cheek. "A girl this young—I haven't had the pleasure yet."

Julius bit her lip, looked at her siblings, and finally raised a trembling hand toward the window...

"Looks like I've been found after all."

A young, arrogant voice.

"Who?"

Bill turned toward the sound.

A figure in a windbreaker vaulted through the window, tossed his shotgun aside, and raised both hands. "The fugitive you're looking for."

"Take him."

Bill issued the order as if he'd expected it. The demon-hunters threw Baron to the floor.