A Dark Heart by Margaret Foxe Read Free Book Online

disreputable as the one Elijah lived
in. A few hollow-eyed pedestrians picked their way around the slops that had
been tossed from chamber pots through paper-covered windows at dawn. Large
fetid puddles of unidentifiable liquids had gathered in deep ruts gouged in the
packed earth from the traffic that had once rolled down this street –
decades ago. It had remained virtually untouched by the Steam Revolution and
modern sanitation. It smelled like a sewer and looked like a sewer.
    "Did you just call me broody, Percy?" he growled.
    "Don't try and deny it. You should move. You wouldn't feel so broody
in less ... er, rustic accommodations."
    He grunted. Why should he move, when he belonged here? He'd been born in
a shite-filled hole just like this one. He fully expected to die in one. And at
least this shite-filled hole was so disgusting even the meanest beggars steered
clear of it if they could help it. The few who peopled the sad, dilapidated
hovels on this street were as near to ghosts as he was.
    Here, he had far less of a chance of hurting someone if something went
wrong.
    "You are full of advice this morning, Percy,” he muttered.
    "Just protecting my investment. Ah, our ride is still here,"
she said, waving her handkerchief towards the top of the street.
    The sight of a bulky, metal-worked police steamcart in his pre-1850's
slum of a neighborhood was a jarring sight and attracted attention. Unwanted
attention. A crowd of wide-eyed indigents had started to gather and gawk,
though at a distance. No one wanted to get too close to a police vehicle, or
Constable Matthews, whose massive size, Welding arms, and belligerent stance
could intimidate even a vampire.
    So much for keeping a low profile in the neighborhood.
    Elijah glared at Percy, who just shrugged. "The Constable was good
enough to give me a lift across town. He is as worried about you as I am,” she
said.
    "Why the hell is Matthews so worried?" he grumbled.
    "Perhaps because you've been late to work every day for the past two
months. If you manage to show up at all."
    "Well, I'm not fucking late today," he growled. "It's
barely past daybreak."
    Percy gave him a droll look. "I was unaware eleven in the morning
was near daybreak."
    He rolled his eyes, though inwardly he cringed. He'd shot himself full of
morphine at nightfall yesterday, which meant he'd been out cold some fifteen
hours. He was finding it harder and harder to wake up. "So I'm late. Who
the bloody hell cares?"
    "Constable Matthews, apparently."
    Elijah snorted and stalked to the head of his street, where it
intersected with George Street, which was wider and busier, but just as grim.
The crowd of gawkers was comprised of the usual denizens – whores, pimps,
thieves and even a handful of old Machinists, with their gruesome metal
appendages. Their attention shifted from the clanking police vehicle to
Elijah's approach, and just like that, the mood in the air shifted from
idle curiosity to suspicious antipathy. Elijah endured the collective intakes
of air, the hushed mutterings, the shifty-eyed glares. Everyone knew who he
was, and a few even suspected what he was. But no one liked him. He was
as welcome here as a venereal disease.
    If the incidents of murder and rape had dropped off significantly since
his move to the neighborhood, and Black Market foot soldiers had begun to give this
area a wide berth because of his presence, no one seemed to have noticed or
cared.
    Not that he wanted any thanks. He could just as easily snap one day and
consume the whole neighborhood. As far as he was concerned, they could hate him
all they wanted.
    Elijah turned his glare over the crowd, and it was enough to send most of
them scattering, as if they could sense the monster inside of him just waiting
for an excuse to burst free. But Constable Matthews just quirked his brow at
Elijah's glare, unimpressed as always, and hopped up into the driver's seat of
the steamcart, kicking the vehicle into gear. It lurched forward