Chapter 64
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 63
The plan, such as it is, works just fine. The cab driver doesn’t look too excited about a big, red dog in his cab, but doesn’t argue with Arthur about it.
It’s weird getting out a little ways from Blaire’s, though- he knows this street so well, and nothing has changed, like he hasn’t been away at all. But everything for him has changed so much, and so much has happened. How can everything here look just how he remembers it?
But he has something to do; he can’t just stand around here, so he heads towards the pub. It’s afternoon, so it’s getting busy, he can hear the sounds of voices- all men, it strikes him, and none minding their manners or their language. He glances down at Darcy, and hopes she won’t find that too upsetting, then pushes the door open to step inside.
Of course they draw looks. He doesn’t know if anyone recognizes him, and whether it would be good or bad if they did, but he makes his way to the bar to order a beer anyway.
He hasn’t been in here often, and he doesn’t particularly like it. The floorboards are rough and stained and sticky with spilled drink and probably some less sanitary things, and there’s no tables, only some stools. The people here are a mix of dock workers and locals and some fancier people who want to have a night out where they don’t have to be appropriate. Blaire’s is right on Whitechapel Road, so it gets all the traffic that goes along there. That means it’s not as dubious as some of the pubs in the back alleys, but it’s still not a place Arthur is comfortable in.
Especially not because he knows the local gang leaders and such also like to drink here, and that the backyard is frequently the site for exactly the kind of blood sports Gregory put his name to- dog fights and cock fights and boxing matches, too.
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Since she isn’t on a leash, Darcy ends up wandering in a loose circle around Arthur. There’s so much to smell here, so much info, and hm, that smells familiar. Maybe that’s the one from the note? Her tongue lolls out against the smell trail on the floor boards… No, no, that’s Gregory, and he was walking that way. Following the trail she looks up at a man, half a boy really, leaning himself suggestively against one of the other patrons… She recognizes him, she saw him through Gregory’s eyes when they checked if she could do that. And she really didn’t want to be reminded of that, so she shakes her head violently before returning back to Arthur’s side and tries not to look too upset.
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Arthur looks down at the feeling of Darcy’s fur brushing against his leg again, and thinks she doesn’t look too happy to be in here. But since he can’t ask her right now, instead he moves around the taproom a little, like he’s looking for a convenient out-of-the-way place to drink his beer, so she can catch the scent of as many people as possible. He’s just found a reasonably clean spot of wall to lean on, though, when a man approaches him. He’s not a very big man, so Arthur isn’t too worried- and he’s pretty sure he’s the bookie around here. He thinks that’s the man he’s seen taking down bets in his little notebook some of the other times he’s been here.
His suspicions are confirmed when the man tells him that that’s a mighty fine dog he has there, but shouldn’t he have a beast like that on a leash?
Arthur feels irrationally insulted, and has to resist the urge to put his hand into Darcy’s ruff. He informs the man that no, she’s great and she listens to him, it’s fine.
The man just chuckles at him, and then starts asking whether Arthur’s interested in a business opportunity- he’d know some people who would pay a nice bit of money for a dog like that.
Again, Arthur knows it’s a good thing this man is treating Darcy as just another dog, but… but even if she was, why does he think he’d just sell her to some stranger? Darcy is sniffing at the man, and then nudges Arthur’s leg with her nose- does that mean she’s recognized his scent?
Arthur isn’t actually sure what to do next, but… but the idea was only to see if they could find the people involved. Well, they found one, so he tells the man that no, she’s not for sale. He knows he sounds curt, and the man’s smile is insincere as he steps back and assures Arthur he was just enquiring. Arthur wouldn’t at all put it past him to now be thinking about how he might steal Darcy, but for the moment, he leaves.
Arthur sips at his beer, glances around, makes sure no one’s close enough or paying attention enough to hear him, and murmurs, hidden behind his mug: “That him?” He lets his hand dangle next to her head. “One nudge for yes, two for no.”
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Darcy sticks her snout into his palm then waggles her head sideways slightly. His smell isn’t the strongest on the letter but it’s on there so he’s part of it. Hopefully Arthur gets what she means.
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“Not a yes or a no?” he asks. “He’s not the guy, but… has something to do with it?”
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She gives him one nudge for that, and a tail wag for good measure. Also, she heard what he said about her and didn’t he essentially say she’s good for him? That makes her so happy that she dares cuddle her side into his leg. He likes cuddling, doesn’t he? How does she know that? Oh, her drac is snorting, it must know, and that means it’s true.
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It doesn’t really feel appropriate, but they’re pretending Darcy is a dog and it’s what he would do if she were, so… Arthur rubs her shoulder in a pet. “I’m not sure what to do now,” he confesses, slouches a little lower on the wall, still uses pretend-drinks from his beer to hide his mouth from the people in the bar if anyone is watching. “Maybe I keep pretending to drink and you have a wander around the room and see if you can sniff out any of the others?”
Nudging his hand again, she gives it a lick, too, then sticks her nose to the ground and goes to work finding the other smell that’s stronger on the letter. At the door to the backyard she hesitates, looks back at Arthur.
Arthur decides to stay with his dog-owner persona, and maybe curious stranger persona, and wanders to the backdoor. Nobody stops him, so he opens the door. In the backyard, there’s a simple ring made with some crates and ropes, and two men are having a boxing match in it- nothing very brutal, it looks like they’re maybe warming up or just doing it for fun. So it’s not surprising that there aren’t a whole lot of onlookers, just a half a dozen men standing or sitting on more crates with their mugs in their hands, calling the occasional jeer at the fighters, but with no heat behind it.
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With the door open, Darcy can keep following the trail easily enough, the man definitely went that way.
Then the wind brings another smell to her and her head bolts up. No! She has to help! She whimpers and frantically tries to locate the direction it comes from. There, that way! So much fear. So much pain. No. No, she’s coming! Please, hold out a little bit longer! She can smell her little night friends’ terror. It’s so strong, so many… and it comes from planks at the edge of the backyard. Just stacked there, nothing is happening right now, but they are drenched, completely drenched with horror.
Up close, Darcy can also see the blots of dark, dried blood on the planks, but it’s the lingering smell of dying and fear and agony that has her hackles rise. Has her snarl and growl at this monument to torture… But she’s too late, she can’t help, she can’t help all her little friends who suffered here and that makes her whimper instead.
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Arthur was just going to hover by the door, but then Darcy dashes off across the yard, and growls, and whines, and looks really upset- at a stack of wood, though. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but the men around the yard are looking, and frowning, so he heads after Darcy, puts his hand on her head. They’re still being watched, so he can’t ask her what’s wrong, so instead he just says: “C’mon, let’s go,” like she’s just a dog acting oddly.
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She’s still whining but she doesn’t want to be bad for him, so she falls back against his side, obediently walks along, gets back on the trail, as she was meant to do. She can cry later. The next time she’s in her hospital, she’ll hold her rats extra tenderly!
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Arthur is glad Darcy heard him, is listening to him, and is kind of leading him while still brushing the side of his leg. She’s heading for a man leaning near a corner at the back of the yard, arms crossed, watching the fight as the combatants get back to it. The other men’s attention is shifting back to the ring, too, and so Arthur pretends as if he was just going for a crate near that man in the corner to sit down and watch, too, while he finishes his beer. He even gives the man a nod when their eyes meet, and gets a minimal one in return. The man looks suspicious, but he also takes in Darcy, and stays where he is.
It really is very handy to have a very big and dangerous-looking wolf by your side when you’re dealing with scary people, Arthur decides. He doesn’t even feel scared or intimidated at all. If someone started trouble, Darcy could bite them. Well, and also, he has his magic- not his defense bracelet, that’s in the inside pocket of his jacket since they’re trying to be not magical and things at Art’s house, but if he had to, he could still defend himself. But he doesn’t look scary, and so he likes that Darcy keeps people from trying to start something in the first place.
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Yes, that’s him. That’s definitely him! The smell matches exactly what she got off the note. Darcy’s sure she could follow that smell all the way to Daddy’s door, so she circles back to Arthur, sticks her snout back into his hand and gives him one nudge.
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Arthur nods to her that he understood, scratches his fingers into the fur on her chest because it seems like the thing to do, and stays where he is until he’s finished his beer and the sparring match, or whatever it is, in the ring is over. Then he heads back inside, gives his mug back, and leaves, all unhurried, as if he really just came in there for a drink. He does make sure Darcy’s purse is still where he put it underneath his clothes, and all his other things, and walks down Whitechapel Road until they reach a little alley he knows between the sides of two buildings. It’s usually empty and no one pays much attention to it, and it’s like that today, too, so once they’re a few yards from the street, in the cool, damp shadow, he crouches down. “Was that him? Was that the guy who brought the letter, the last one?” he asks Darcy.
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Nodding, she agrees and well, he only just was so very forward to touch her collarbones intimately, so he must want more closeness so she licks his face.
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Arthur blinks at the lick, chuckles, then remembers: “Uh… you do still remember you have a human shape, right?” Last time she licked his face was when she got all stuck being a wolf, if he remembers right…
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After a long look across the alley, she turns to her human form and mumbles with a blush. “Yes, but um, well, you had your fingers against my skin there on my collarbone and I don’t know, that was very forward, so I thought maybe you wanted the kiss?”
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“Wha…?” He blinks again, then blushes furiously. “I, um… I didn’t, um… sorry?” he squeaks, because… because he didn’t think of that! He was just… forgetting that she wasn’t a wolf, or something? He doesn’t actually know, and in hindsight, that seems very inappropriate and… and, also… a kiss?
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“Oh.” Now she made him flustered, she didn’t mean to, she just wanted to be good for him and she didn’t mind. After all, well, she’s a harlot, and so’s her mother, and Papa encourages her to bite Daddy, and it’s the one way she can be good for her husband, so maybe that’s not so bad. But she knows Arthur is really shy about anything like that, so she leans in to give him another kiss on the cheek and smiles softly. “Don’t apologize. I can kiss my brother-dear, can’t I? I care about you and you did so well in the pub.”
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“Well, when you put it that way…” he allows. “Um, yes, you can? …Thanks.” He gives her a smile, even though he can still feel the heat in his cheeks. “It wasn’t nearly as scary as it would’ve been without you there! Nobody wanted to mess with you!”
“They can mess with me, but if they had tried to be mean to you I would have bitten them where it hurts!” Stomping her foot, she nods decidedly before deflating. “I could at least have protected you. I couldn’t protect all my friends. I hate that place!”
“All your friends?” Arthur asks. What friends? He thought she’d never been there before?
Falling against the wall behind her and covering her face with her hands, Darcy starts crying. “So many. Those boards, those blasted boards are soaked in pain. I hate it! My poor little ones!”
The boards? Little ones? “Um… Sorry, I don’t understand?” he admits, but reaches out a hand to rest on her upper arm in comfort- he doesn’t know whether that’s a comforting place to touch someone, but she’s upset and he wants to help.
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She’s still crying, humans are so mean, so terribly mean. Then there’s a slight sound, no, she has to protect Arthur from any sudden people… oh, it’s not people. Her friends always know when she’s upset. Of course they do and she needs to hug them, hug them all while she can. These ones are alive! Sliding down the wall, out from Arthur’s touch she opens her arms wide at the first rat running at her but she knows there are more, so many more in the shadows and the walls and all around them. This is not a good part of town, not good for the humans, the nasty humans who don’t love her friends!
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Right, animals come to Darcy when she’s upset, don’t they? He’s seen bats fly up to her sometimes… That doesn’t quite prepare him for all the brown bodies and twitching whiskers that start to emerge from down the alley and drain pipes and cracks in the wall- that is a lot of rats! Obviously, he knew there were plenty around in Whitechapel, but it’s one thing to see them scurry across an alley and a totally different one to see so many at once. It’s like a bumpy, brown carpet!
But they like Darcy, and Darcy likes him, so he doesn’t think he has anything to worry about and just holds still where he’s crouched so he doesn’t end up squishing anyone when they run between his feet.
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Darcy wants to kiss every single last one of her little friends. They’re alive, they aren’t in pain, they aren’t afraid. She keeps petting and handing out skritches and compliments, and all the while also holds the ones with little hurts and aches out to Arthur. They deserve love! This is their home, too, not just the greedy humans! Their home? Oh… Arthur knew which pub it would be, so she looks up at him. “Arthur-dear, is this your home?”
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Actually, Arthur thinks, even if there’s really very many of them, and he doesn’t want to think too closely about what all they’ve been scampering around in and gnawing on, the rats are still really cute. They’re small and warm in his hands when he heals them, and none of them try to bite him, just sniff at his fingers in curiosity and then run off again to Darcy when he’s healed them. And it’s not like it takes a lot of magic, with how small they are, even if there’s a bunch of them.
At Darcy’s question, he looks up from the rat in his hands and across to her. “Um, home?” He looks around. “If you mean, did I grow up around here, yeah.” He ducks his head a little at her seeing this place in all its shabby, low-class glory. “I… don’t know if it feels very home-like…” It used to, he supposes? But then, it’s not like he had anything else…
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“Oh, how very rude of me! Arthur-dear, I should have asked if you don’t want to show me around. I mean, uh, and I should have asked if you wanted to come along when I visited my home, I mean, my old room earlier. I didn’t mean to neglect you, sorry.” Smiling apologetically, she holds up one of the rats, a really pretty one with different coloured eyes and smelling of lots of love, as a sign of her wanting to make up for being so bad.
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Arthur takes the rat- finds there’s nothing to heal, it’s just a friendly rat with interestingly coloured eyes, so he carefully pets her head with a finger and enjoys when she relaxes on his palms and starts making that happy kind-of purring sound.
“Um, that’s okay, I mean, it’s okay if you wanted to do it by yourself? And, well… I don’t know if I would’ve been comfortable going back into Newgate,” he admits. “…There’s really not a lot to show around here, it’s not like it’s a nice neighbourhood…”
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“Isn’t she the prettiest? She smells of love!” Darcy chirps at the bruxing rat being just as sweet as she knew she would be. Turning her wide smile on Arthur, she holds her hand out. “We know the two people who we need to deal with. Daddy and Papa will know what to do. Please, we’re here anyway. I want to know where you came from so that I know more about the only brother-dearest I have.” She wants to be better for him and how is she supposed to do that when she doesn’t know enough?
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“She is very sweet and pretty,” Arthur agrees- smells of love? Well, he doesn’t know what that smells like, or what it means, but she’s definitely a lovely rat. “And, okay, if you want to see, I can show you,” he agrees. He’s never shown anyone anything about this place, but… well, Darcy asked. He doesn’t mind, either.
“Does she want to come along?” he asks about the rat, because he assumes Darcy is holding out her hand for him to take, but he has one hand full of rat and is using the other one to pet said rat, so…
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“There are terribly many humans out there and I don’t think she’s any more fond of them than I am. Let her go back to her nest and family.” Standing up slowly, Darcy thanks all her friends, she’s feeling much better now; they should all go and find themselves something nice for tea. But maybe they could be invited to come over to dinner at Arthur’s place another time, if he doesn’t mind, of course.
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Inviting a horde of rats to dinner? Well… why not, Arthur decides- yes, he’ll just have to organise some food first, but they’d be welcome at some point. He sets the rat he’s holding carefully down on the floor after a last soft pet, then stands up, carefully, to make sure he’s not stepping on anyone’s tail or paws. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he tells Darcy.
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Taking his hand, she reaches up to her face and is a bit worried because no, she can’t feel the mask, just her drac, but Arthur likes animals, so as long as she’s his big protective dog that’s probably okay. “I know that I have to live in the now, have to focus on my friends who I can still protect. Um, that includes you,” she adds with a slightly unsure side-ways look before turning to the mouth of the alley. But she has no clue which way it is from here, so she waits on Arthur to guide her rather than dragging him anywhere.
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“Um, thank you,” he says, not quite sure how to express how that makes him feel. “I, um, like being protected? But also I want to help, too, where I can, of course.”
He still doesn’t understand quite what happened back at Blaire’s, but if Darcy’s trying to move on from it, he doesn’t want to drag her back into being upset, so he steps up to lead her out of the alley- only realizes that people might notice them holding hands and drawing all sorts of conclusions when they’re already back on the street. But he doesn’t really want to let go, and she’s his sister in law, they’re allowed to hold hands? He thinks? Well, probably he should offer her his arm, instead, actually… but he likes holding her hand… He shoots her a side-ways look while he starts heading in the direction of Severn Street.
Smiling at him and holding on a bit tighter to his hand at the look, head held high, she reassures him that they are working together, aren’t they? She couldn’t have walked around the mean pub without him and he’s always at her side with those pesky excursions, too, advising her and helping her solve things. “You help me all the time!”
That makes him smile back at her, straighten his shoulders and squeeze her hand in return. “I’m glad, then!” He proceeds to tell her about the places they’re passing: Over down that way are the docks, Gregory and him used to look at the boats there and imagine they were big sailing ships and they’d sneak away on them and have great adventures. But big sailing ships don’t come up this far the Thames, it’s just barges and fishing boats, of course. And over that way, you get to a small church with a graveyard. When he was really little, before he met Gregory, he liked to go there to read- it was quiet and people wouldn’t bother you. And also down that corner, that’s where the Jack the Ripper murders happened… which, uh, is mostly what the neighbourhood is famous for…
She tells him what she dreamed about all kinds of stories when she looked out her window, too, and that she could just about see the Thames if she stuck her face close to the bars. She might have looked at the very same boats he did! And she very vaguely remembers hearing about Jack the Ripper, and how the guards thought they’d probably soon have him in her prison, but then it never happened, she thinks.
No, he never got captured! Sometimes, Gregory and him would try and scare each other with stories of how maybe he was still lurking around, just waiting… but, well, he only attacked women, so they weren’t really too scared. And there weren’t any more murders like that- it was when Arthur was still really little or something, anyway. So maybe he got caught for something else. Or he moved away. Or maybe it was some rich guy just coming down here to murder some people for fun, who knows…
He sees a group of boys just a little older than him down the road as they turn off towards his house, and he tucks Darcy into another little alley between two buildings until they turn the corner and disappear. That was Blackie and his gang, they are really mean- Blackie’s even bragged that he’s working for an Espenito boss!
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They’re really mean? Darcy narrows her eyes and tenses, already preparing to run after them. “Were they mean to you? I’ll go and bite them!”
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Arthur’s eyes widen and waves his hand. “No! I mean, didn’t you hear, he says he’s working for the Espenitos! That’s way more trouble than it’s worth! And also, he hasn’t managed to catch me since I was, like, seven. And even then it was more taunting and shoving, they were too scared of my father to do anything really bad.”
Darcy doesn’t know who those Espenitos are and she doesn’t care, nobody gets to be mean to her Arthur-dear, but also now she’s confused. “But you’re afraid of your father, too?”
“Um…” Arthur blushes, but it’s true. “…Yes? He’s scary. …What does that have to do with anything?”
Wrinkling her nose, Darcy huffs, then nods. “That means he’s not actually protecting you even if the other mean people don’t do something because of him. Ergo, he’s a big meanie, too. I don’t like him at all. I’ll bite him if I see him for being mean to you!”
“Um, no, it’s more like… like he gets to be mad at me, but other people don’t because… it’s up to him?” Arthur tries to explain, ducks his head. “And… and I really appreciate it, but he’s dangerous and I don’t want him to hurt you.” He lifts his head again to give her a pleading look. “Please be careful? Please don’t make him mad at you?”
This time she stomps her foot so hard that the stone cracks lightly. “No! It’s not up to him. He’s your father and he’s really very bad at it and he’s giving all papas a bad name! No, he doesn’t get to be mad at you, and if you worry about me, fine, then I’ll make sure that Lucy bites him, too! You’re part of my family. Your… your…” She makes a high-pitched sound and blushes, but says it anyway: “Your father is a big stupid idiot meanie!”
Arthur doesn’t know what he was expecting, but by the way she blushed, something harsher than that, and it makes his lips twitch in a smile. But also, her words make him feel all warm, and, well… if Lucy is involved, it’s probably okay, she’s a vampire, after all. His father probably can’t hurt her- right? “Thank you,” he says, and his voice comes out a bit choked, he has to clear his throat. “Thank you,” he repeats. “But, um, yes, please, have Lucy be there so he can’t do anything awful to you…” He does his best not to think too closely about the end of any confrontation between his father and Lucy and Darcy- as long as Lucy and Darcy are okay, that’s what matters, he tells himself.
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Still blushing from having said something so rude, Darcy ducks her head a bit and looks sideways at Arthur, but nods. “Of course not, but I need to make sure that he doesn’t do anything to you first. As long as you are fine, well, you can heal me.” Grinning at him, she dares lean back out of the alley. “Can we go on now?”
“…Not if he curses you in some nasty way,” Arthur points out with a shudder, but nods and shakes the thought off. “Yes, we can go now, the house is just over there.” He points at it, then hesitates. “…You don’t think he came back here, right? That’d be stupid? He’d get caught?”
Thinking both of that over, Darcy makes herself tall. “I don’t think so, but please invite me right in and, um, I guess, don’t look because well, you always do that thing where you tell me what not to do, but if I don’t, then he has time to curse me, and you just said that’s bad, so there.”
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Right, yes, the inviting in thing- Arthur would have forgotten about that, that’s a bit embarrassing. And… “Um… please do whatever is necessary to protect us if he’s there.” That would qualify as an emergency, as far as he’s concerned.
He looks at the house again, but can’t tell whether anyone is in there, or has been in there. It’s just standing there, front door shut, windows reflecting the light, so he starts towards it.
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While walking alongside Arthur, Darcy looks around the street. It’s so narrow and grimy, the houses all attached to each other. It’s so different from her world. Well, mostly it has a sky overhead and there’s no bars on the windows. Poor Arthur must have felt so unsafe in that.
She’s glad that she can give him a different home, one where he doesn’t have to worry about his father maybe being in. No, no she’s very sure that the wards would alert her if somebody who intends to be mean to her household would try to get in. She might hate the fey shackle on her arm, and it definitely isn’t a fair contract but she’s getting at least some things for selling off her freedom. For right now, though, she focuses on her curiosity and smiles at Arthur for allowing her to protect him.