Chapter Twenty-seven – Leaving Like Ladies

“Well, now,” she heard a man say, “this was all very impressive, but it’s best we stop here.”

Stella glanced towards the door, and the first thing she saw was a gun. It was a Ruby, pioneered by the Spanish company Gabilondo y Urresti, and one of the main weapons of the Holy Spanish Empire’s army. It was a semi-automatic .32 ACP calibre with a magazine capacity of nine shots.

A man walked slowly into the room, holding the gun out before him at chest height, his arm slightly bent.

Gabilondo y Urresti had made three hundred thousand of those pistols, and it wasn’t nearly enough to meet the empire’s demands. Fifty other companies had started producing them, and the quality was variable. An Urresti Ruby was a well made little gun, but some of the knock-offs had incorrectly hardened steel parts and poor finishes. It wasn’t uncommon for one of those to be a runaway gun that kept firing after the trigger was no longer being pulled. Some of them also had improperly fitted safety mechanisms. They could come off safety when holstered.

They were simple guns, easy to field strip, and intuitive for novices. The three extra bullets were a plus, but the weak calibre gave relatively low stopping power.

Still, it was a very pretty gun, and it was delightful to see one here, now.

Her attention flickered to the window and back to the gun. Delightful and dangerous. One shot fired would result in everyone opening fire. There were armed police out there facing off against armed Sabinis, police she had put there. People were going to die.

She moved without thinking. Two tentacles seised the man’s chest, pinning him in place, another wrapped around the gun and pulled. It didn’t come. She thought she could see his finger begin to tighten on the trigger, but she doubted she could actually see that from her position.

She pulled harder, and the gun was flying towards her. A tentacle reflexively grabbed it out of the air as blood sprayed across one of the woman, who began to scream. Blood?

The man’s arm was still extended, ending at the wrist, blood shooting out. She leapt to him as he fell backwards, a tentacle snaking around his arm. She tied it in a tourniquet and severed it from her body.

His face was pale, and he was trembling.

“You’re okay,” she told him. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

He stared up at her mask, her eyes.

“Sabini has a great prosthesis clinic, I hear.” Her words were calm. Her mind was screaming. She had had to stop him, but surely there had been another way. There had been no time to think, just react.

Her mother would be proud.

There was blood on her mask.

Violet was standing in the doorway, staring at her.

The screaming died away, fading into whimpering.

Stella stood up and turned to the knife man. “Your friend needs help. Look after him. You can leave after I do.” She looked around the woman in the room. Twenty of them, all in their early twenties, from all over the world. “I didn’t mean for this to go this way. I’m sorry if it frightened you. I came to take you all away from here.”

“To what,” one of them asked. “To your mad war with all the gangs in London? We’re safe here.”

“They look after us,” another said. “They’re… not so bad, really. No worse than a husband would be.”

“They feed us,” one said, as if that was all that mattered. She was Russian, so maybe it was.

“I’ve seen what they feed you,” Stella replied, flicking a glance towards the sandwich table.

The Russian shrugged. “Food is food.”

“What about you?” she asked a woman she thought might be from Zenasia. The woman shook her head and said nothing. “You?” to a Black woman with the darkest skin she had ever seen.

“They will hunt us if we leave,” the woman replied wearily.

“This is what we deserve,” another woman said in a whisper Stella strained to hear. “This is what I deserve.”

Her heart broke at every word. Each refusal tore another chunk from it. Her mother had said this would happen, but she hadn’t believed it. She’d been sure she could protect them, she could convince them. She hadn’t thought she’d be trying to do so with Darby’s guards in the room, listening to her every word.

She glanced over at Violet and the Jamaican woman smiled softly at her. “I will go wherever you go.”

One of them.

One out of seven, so far.

The one who was covered in blood had stopped whimpering, but she was staring off into space, no longer a part of what was happening in the room. Another woman, who Stella thought might be Spanish, was dabbing at her face with a cloth. She knew at a glance neither would leave.

“I will go,” the Tawantinsuyun woman announced. “I would rather walk to my death than stay in this hell.”

Two out of ten. It wasn’t a lot.

The next three refused too, tearing Stella’s heart apart a little more. Then a short Asian woman said she would come. Three out of fourteen. She wanted at least two more. A quarter of the number. At least.

The next four refused. Stella looked hopefully at the last two. One bit her lip and turned her head away. The last one, an Australian by her accent, said she would go. Four.

Four out of twenty.

Feeling like she had failed, Stella turned her attention to the guards. “Wait until ten minutes after we’ve left.”

She led the four women out of the room.

“How are we getting out of the street?” the Tawantinsuyun woman asked.

That was step… seven? She’d lost count.

“Houdini,” she replied.

The guards only waited two minutes before they burst into the street, one half-collapsing with pain. His comrade dropped him and sprinted to the south barrier, where he had a rushed conversation with the Sabini bear, gesturing back towards the building, and the man who needed medical attention right now.

The bear’s response was clearly anger. He began shouting at his men, and they put their guns on the ground and started opening the barriers. A moment later the police rushed them, both forces trying to claim credit for the surrender. Stella and the others watched from a window of the building they hadn’t ever left. When enough of the police had forced their way into Hatton Garden, Stella led four women out into the street. Her costume had once more become a dress, her mask hidden beneath it, the bloody silk moved to the inside of her clothing.

“Poor dear,” she commented as she walked past the amputated man. “Someone should give him a hand.”

Violet winced.

Stella walked over to the nearest constable. “Excuse me, officer. I was doing a tad bit of shopping when all this hullabaloo started. It was quite dreadful, we had to hide in this little silversmith workshop? But just look at the lovely bangle I bought.”

“Ma’am,” the constable began.

“I shall be telling my father all about this, over dinner. The honourable gentleman is often kept late at Parliament, but I’m sure daddy will rush home when he hears what a dreadful day I’ve had. What is your name, officer, and I shall commend you to daddy.”

The City Detective Inspector practically pushed the Metropolitan constable aside. “Detective Inspector Nicholas Berry, at your service, ma’am,” he said with a tight smile.

“Oh, a Detective, how wonderfully gallant. Tell me, detective, it is quite alright for us to leave, isn’t it? I do not like the way some of these ghastly men are staring at me, especially the large, bearded one.”

“Of course, ma’am,” he replied. “Right this way.”

They walked. They walked along the southern stretch of Hatton Garden to Holborn Circus, then along Holborn Viaduct until it became Newgate, and along Newgate until it became Cheapside. They walked in silence, five women who felt like they had targets on their backs.

“Where are we going?” Violet asked as they stopped in Cheapside.

“Church.” Stella’s reply told them nothing.

They boarded a tram and rode it to Commercial Road, then Stella led them to the Cut, and subtly messaged her mother with her aether brace as they walked.

Selene was waiting at the edge of the canal for them.

“Introduce me to your guests, Stella,” her mum said.

“This is Violet, and I don’t know the others. We didn’t do introductions yet.”

“I am Kusi Sisa,” the Tawantinsuyun woman said.

“I am Kannika,” the Asian woman said.

“Molly,” the Australian replied.

“You’re Zenasian?” her mother asked Kannika.

“I am from Ratcha-anachak Sayam,” she replied. “It might be part of Zenasia, but some of us remember what it was.”

Her mother stared at Kannika for a moment, then nodded. “Stella, take the others inside. I’ll be having a word with Molly for a moment.”

The verger met Stella as she led the three women into the church. “No! You will not bring more strays into the House of God.”

“Didn’t Jesus go out amongst the lepers?”

“Yes, but he didn’t bring them home.”

“Peace,” her mother said, stepping into the church behind them, cleaning the blade of a knife with a red handkerchief. “This is the last day we shall trouble you.” He glared at her, but then turned and stomped off.

“Molly?” Stella asked.

“You need to be warier, Stella. You court disaster bringing danger home with you. She was a spy.”

“I think the Sabinis put her with us to watch us,” Violet whispered.

“You never said that before,” Stella said.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t, when she was with us.”

“She knows where we are,” Stella told her mother.

“She didn’t just walk off, darling. Oh, do be less squeamish about killing people. Sometimes it’s necessary. Let us go downstairs first, and then we can decide what comes next.”

“Who are these children?” Kusi Sisa asked as they reached the crypt. “Some of them look… odd.”

“Yes, they do, don’t they? They were taken by criminals. They can’t go home.”

“The poor things,” Kannika said, and went immediately to sit with a group, and talk to them.

“The things… your daughter does, with the silk, it is odd, too,” Kusi Sisa asked quietly, when Stella seemed to have gone too far to hear them.

“Yes, it is. The world is changing.”

“What will you do with these children?”

Selene looked Kusi Sisa in the eye. “I am taking them to a place they can be safe. I will train them to look after one another and themselves. I will stop the criminals, the government, or anyone else from exploiting or experimenting on them.”

“Then I will help.”

“Thank you. Go introduce yourself to them, I must speak to my daughter.”

Stella stopped pretending not to eavesdrop and let herself be led to the kitchen. She immediately began making tea.

“Tell me everything.”

Stella did. “Then I led the women the Sabini’s had forced into prostitution as we walked, calm and dignified, out of Hatton Garden, under the burning stares of Sabini gangsters, and with a police escort.”

“I thought I was clear about the repercussions of starting a gang war last night, Stella, but today you have escalated it, brought in the police again, and had some of Sabini’s men arrested.”

“Mama, it was the only way to save them.”

“It was not. You could have watched, waited until they were being moved elsewhere, hit whilst they were in transit.”

“I had to be ready to leave with you today.”

Her mother considered her words. “You are responsible for igniting this gang war, Stella. You are responsible for every innocent person hurt by it. You will not be leaving with me today. You must remain here and minimise the harm you have caused. It will be good training for you.”

“Mama?”

Her mother turned to Violet, who was still by Stella’s side. “Would you take employment as our maid? I am loathe to leave Stella in London alone. I would not hold you responsible for any of her actions. Lord knows I cannot control her.”

“My lady, yes, I would be honoured to keep a safe place for Stella until your return.”

Her mother nodded, then fixed her attention on Stella. “Minimise the harm, protect the innocents. Those are your orders, carry them out as you see fit. For everything else, Violet is in charge. We will leave in the morning. Have some food and get some rest.”

Previous Chapter: Chapter Twenty-six

End of Arc One: Hero in the Shadows

Read on for Arc Two: The Shadows Gather

Next Chapter: Chapter Twenty-eight