The courtesy drew a shy sideways glance and a mottled blush.
Lowry dug inside his breeches’ pocket and tossed three grubby coins onto the table. ‘There, that’s a penny over. Surely you’ll spread your legs for that?’
The girl gathered up the coins. ‘Only to take a piss.’ She sent a last sliding glance at Helen, and was gone.
Lowry burst out laughing. ‘I’d like to take my whip to her — I reckon she’d kick and scream good.’
From all that Hammond had told her, Lowry was not speaking euphemistically. He pushed a tankard across to Helen. She stopped its trajectory with a flat hand.
‘I am not here to drink, Lowry. I am here for the journal.’
He sobered immediately. ‘Just you and me.’ He turned a pugnacious smile upon Hammond. ‘You go wait outside like a good little lap dog.’ He tilted his head. ‘Or should that be arse dog.’ He snorted again.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Hammond said.
‘This is Reclaimer and Terrene business. Not for the likes of you.’ Lowry took another swig, his eyes on Helen. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. ‘I know he’s not your Terrene.’
‘No.’
‘I hear your maid is going to be your Terrene.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I still got a friend or two in the Dark Days Club.’ He gave another amused snort. ‘A girl Reclaimer and a girl Terrene. I can imagine Pike’s view on that. You haven’t done the bond ritual yet, eh?’
‘No.’
He smiled and leaned back, his eyes finding Hammond again. ‘Like I said, Reclaimer and Terrene business, and you ain’t neither.’
He was not going to deal until they were alone. ‘Wait in the yard,’ she told Hammond. ‘This will not take long.’
He gave a small shake of his head. ‘I will not leave you with this man.’
Helen clenched her fists on her thighs. He was making her look weak. ‘Go,’ she ordered.
He angled his face from her own, bracing against her insistence.
She leaned closer and whispered, ‘He will not bargain while you are here. Do you want us to fail?’
Hammond hissed out a breath, logic finally overcoming his distrust. He stood, his eyes on Lowry. The former Terrene gave a contemptuous wave, then raised his tankard again and drank deeply.
Hammond stepped back over the bench, pausing for a moment near Helen’s ear to whisper, ‘I will be at the doorway if you need me.’
She nodded, although if Lowry did attack it would be at Terrene speed. Hammond would have no chance of getting near her in time.
‘Well now,’ Lowry said as Hammond walked away, ‘that, there, is the crux of the problem.’
He placed his emptied tankard on the table and pulled across Hammond’s abandoned one, the ale slopping over the side. Helen watched him. No need to ask the question: he was going to tell her anyway.
‘That’s why female Reclaimers don’t work,’ he pronounced. ‘A man wants to protect a woman, even when the chit in question could tear his head off with one hand.’
Helen let the comment pass. ‘Pike wants the journal,’ she said steadily, her voice pitched for privacy although no one sat close enough to hear in the babble of the room. ‘I have the authority to offer you five thousand pounds.’
Lowry leaned his elbows on the rough plank table. ‘Straight to business.’ He pointed a forefinger at her chest, a crescent of dirt beneath the nail. ‘You have the black heart of a merchant, Mr Amberley.’
‘Five thousand,’ she repeated, ignoring the insult.
Lowry rested his chin on his hands. ‘Has he told you anything about it?’
‘Enough,’ she said warily.
‘Did he mention what it’s written in?’
‘What do you mean?’
Lowry smiled. ‘Benchley wrote the whole thing in blood. Real hard to read, in more ways than one. Makes you want to puke after looking at it awhile.’
‘Blood? Whatever for?’
He lifted a shoulder. ‘He never told me the whys and wherefores. We did do quite a bit of blood-collecting though.’
Helen regarded him narrowly. Was he just trying to scare her or was the journal really written in blood? She could see no deception in his small eyes, only unholy enjoyment. From her reading she knew that blood was one of the carrier elements of alchemy, just like hair. The Colligat that her mother had created — now in the hands of the Grand Deceiver — had been made out of hair, its power woven into the strands. Perhaps the journal had power woven into its blood-ink? A disturbing thought.
‘Want to know where we got the blood for the last bit?’
‘I do not,’ Helen said curtly.
He grinned. ‘Ratcliffe Highway.’
The name of the infamous murders brought a chill of horror. ‘Are you saying it is written in the blood of those people? That poor baby?’
‘We were after the blood of the two Deceivers amongst them. But it got messy in there.’
‘You are disgusting.’
‘Well then, you won’t want to know what I copied out about your parents.’ He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a grimy, creased piece of paper and placed it on the table. ‘Call it an enticement.’
An enticement for what? Pike was already offering to buy the journal.
‘How do I know what it says is real?’
He reached for the paper. ‘You don’t have to read it if you don’t believe me.’
Helen snatched it up; she had to know what was on it. Ignoring his soft laugh, she angled the slip of paper towards the dim glow of the candle. The writing sprawled in an upward slant, the letters ill-formed. Squinting, she slowly made out their meaning.
Lady C and Lord D boarded the Dolphin at Southampton 25 May 1802. VC told me they were intending to flee to France.
The sentence stopped. Helen turned the paper over; nothing written on the back. Was the information genuine? The twenty-fifth was the day before her parents had died, and the Dolphin was certainly their yacht. Moreover, no one had known her mother and father had decided to flee to France. It seemed likely it was real.
‘Who is this VC?’ she demanded. ‘You’ve read the rest of it, haven’t you? Tell me what it said.’
‘If I told you everything, you wouldn’t need the journal.’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘I’ll tell you one thing though: Benchley thought he and Carlston were the ones meant to fight the Grand Deceiver. Not you. He said you was just the bringer of evil.’
‘I’m not the one who kills babies and innocent people.’
Lowry snorted. ‘Girl, you just wait a bit. You’ll be killing like us in no time, or you’ll be dead.’
She ignored the vile prophecy and slid the scrap of paper into her jacket pocket. ‘I’m keeping this.’
Lowry shrugged. ‘I’ve got the original, and five thousand ain’t enough for it.’
Pike had said fifteen thousand was the maximum offer, and after that she had to make it clear that the Dark Days Club would take it by force. Would this man even care about such a threat?