“If you ever see her again,” my employer growled, “you will remember that monsters pick on the weak and the harmless because it is the monsters who are afraid.” He held the final stone in his fingers and stepped to the edge of the bubbling pool. “And they are right to be afraid.”
The men cowered against the bare bricks as Jackaby raised his hand for a final throw. “No! Don’t!” The ringleader’s voice cracked.
“Leave them be.” The voice at my side startled me. It was soft and low.
Jackaby turned. His arm dropped slowly until it hung at his side. He was breathing heavily.
Behind him, the magma was already cooling, ruby red pools hardening to charred black rock. The three men scrambled, jumping over the patch on the far side and scampering off into the night.
“They would not have been merciful to you,” said Jackaby.
“No,” she agreed. “They wouldn’t.”
Jackaby’s lips turned up ever so slightly. “Ah, I see. That’s precisely the point, isn’t it? Yes. I suppose you’re right.”
“I’d rather be the maiden than the monster any day,” the woman said. “But you’re wrong about me.”
Jackaby raised his eyebrows. “Oh? I’m generally a very good judge of character.”
“Weak and harmless?”
Jackaby paused. “I did not mean to imply . . . but fair enough. My apologies. Please allow me to introduce myself—”
“Detective Jackaby,” she said. “I read the papers, too, mister. You had a hat in the picture.”
Jackaby nodded with a pout. “I certainly did. A good hat, too. This is my associate, Miss Abigail Rook.”
“My heroes,” she said. “You can call me Lydia. Lydia Lee.”
“Charmed, Miss Lee,” I said. “I would rather our meeting had come under better circumstances.”
She laughed weakly. It was a deep, husky laugh. “That’s sweet, miss, but I don’t see folks like you ever meeting someone like me under better circumstances.”
I swallowed, not knowing how to respond. “We’ll get you to a hospital straightaway,” I said.
“Don’t bother with any of that,” she said, making an effort to straighten up. “I’ve been through worse. I’ll be through worse again.”
Jackaby stepped forward to take her other arm. “And still true to yourself. You are anything but weak, Miss Lee, I’ll grant you that. If you won’t accept our help, then please allow us the pleasure of your company as far as your front door?”
Miss Lee accepted Jackaby’s arm and we escorted her a few blocks to the east, where she informed us that she shared a cramped apartment on the second floor. Lamps lit up in the windows as we approached, and a crowd of women soon came pouring out of the nearby doorways to help. An old woman with thick gray curls tied back in a tight bun pushed to the front. She rounded on Jackaby before we had even reached the stairs. “Is this your doing?” She menaced Jackaby with a prod from a hefty rolling pin.
Lydia waved her off. “It’s okay, Mama Tilly. They’re only helping.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” I asked as one of Miss Lee’s neighbors took my place at her side, nudging me out of the way.
“I’ll be fine, miss,” she said, wincing as she tested her weight on the first step. Jackaby spoke quietly with the woman called Mama Tilly, and then as quickly as we had gotten ourselves into the whole mess, we were out of it. Jackaby trod back up the road as if nothing had happened.
“What were you talking to Mama Tilly about?” I asked, keeping pace.
“Hm? Just making some arrangements. Miss Lee was not entirely truthful about her state of affairs. She is in tremendous pain. She has at least one fractured rib and serious bruising on her legs and arms, possibly more serious injuries beneath—she needs medical attention. We happen to know a capable nurse. This should be a perfectly simple house call for Mona O’Connor—at least compared to the last one she performed for us.” Miss O’Connor’s last patient had been only mostly human. “I gave Mama Tilly Mona’s information and advised her to charge the services to me.”
I nodded. “That was kind of you.” We walked on for a few more paces. “Was Miss Lee really . . .” I hesitated.
“What?” Jackaby looked back at me.
“Miss Lee was really a boy, wasn’t she? Underneath?”
He slowed and then came to a stop and looked me square in the eyes. “That’s up to her to decide, I suppose, but it’s not what I saw. Underneath, she was herself—as are we all. Lydia Lee is as much a lady as you or Jenny or anyone. I imagine the midwife or attending doctor probably had another opinion on the matter, but it only goes to show what doctors really know.”
“Shouldn’t a doctor be able to tell at least that much?”
Jackaby’s expression clouded darkly. “I have great respect for the medical profession, Miss Rook,” he said soberly, “but it is not for doctors to tell us who we are.”
Chapter Eight
The sun slipped down to meet the horizon as we pressed on through New Fiddleham, the sky darkening like a dying ember. A lamplighter was making his way from streetlight to streetlight as we passed. My feet were beginning to ache and I had a stitch in my side, but Jackaby’s inner fires seemed only to have been stoked by our encounter with the thugs. He marched forward briskly and I began to lag behind.
A hansom cab rolled past with rubber wheels that glided smoothly along the cobblestones behind its horse. The couple seated within looked impossibly, almost arrogantly comfortable. “Have you ever considered hiring a driver, sir?” I called ahead breathlessly. “It’s just that we do seem to do quite a bit of traveling.”
“There is a great deal to be experienced in this city,” he answered, not looking back. “No reason to limit the scope of our vision.”
“The scope of my vision,” I said, panting, “is not quite the same as the scope of yours, Mr. Jackaby. And I have experienced blisters before.”
He paused at the end of the street and waited for me to catch up. I half expected him to be cross with me, but he looked sympathetic. “There is quite a lot to miss,” he said. “Do you know that long before it was ever called New Fiddleham, this area was already inhabited?”
“You mean by Indians?” I said.
He leaned against a wrought iron hitching post and nodded. “Do you see that?” He pointed at the empty road. At midday, this stretch of Mason Street would be a blur of carriages and pedestrians clamoring to and fro, but in the dwindling light of dusk it was abandoned. “Just there,” Jackaby prompted, “in the middle of the lane.”
Between the worn path of countless carriage wheels, a single weed had pushed up through the paving stones. “I see a little green plant, if that’s what you mean” I said.