brief moment. Then Grand Master Sinclair ordered, âHide upstairs and donât come down.â He turned to Lord Marbury and unsheathed the blade from his cane. âGet Kensington to the underground trolley. Finn, you and I play hero.â
Finn nodded. âIâll grab the shotgun.â
As Lord Marbury slipped away to gather the baron, Finn ran for the den.
The front door burst open.
Col. Hendrix charged in but let his henchmen meet the old manâs sword cane. âIâm here for the boy!â
âYou cannot have him, you bronze abomination!â Sinclairâs Scottish drawl shook the house.
Col. Hendrix looked up and roared, âUpstairs!â
Genevieve grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me toward the Blue Room.
As we entered, I closed the door and Genevieve ran to the window. A loud gunshot echoed through the house. I hoped it was Finn with the shotgun from over the fireplace.
The sound of crashing metal stormed up the stairs. I looked around for a place to hide, but it had to be Col. Hendrix, only moments from smashing in the door.
Over the clashing swords I heard the Grand Master. âAlexander, run! Get to safety!â
I joined Genevieve at the window as she lifted the sash. âIf Sinclair wants us to go, it must be bad.â
She pointed to a narrow ledge made by the elaborate molding and whispered, âThe downspout can be used as a ladder.â
âSounds like youâve done this before.â
A sly smile came to the soft lines of her face. âMaybe.â
âI think weâre going to get along.â
I took a deep breath to calm my heart, then gripped the wall and took the first step onto the ledge. Genevieve followed and we slid over to the downspout. The treacherous footing made each step a cautious one, but fear of failing kept me glued to the wall. The thick metal bands that secured the copper downspout acted as a ladder to the safety of the street below, and soon we were on solid ground.
I looked back at the window. Col. Hendrix ripped the curtain down. He leapt from the second story and landed hard but upright on both feet. Two of his henchmen jumped but crumpled to the ground.
Genevieve pointed toward the docks, and we disappeared into the dense fog.
Col. Hendrix kicked one of his henchmen. âAfter âem, donât let those little var-mits get away!â
Another blast from the shotgun filled the night sky. The chilly, damp veil of thick, white mist obscured everything except the sound of metal clinking on cobblestones.
London was huge, bigger than any place I had ever been, and I couldnât keep this pace for long. Breathing heavily, Genevieve and I slowed to walk along a row of merchant ships.
Col. Hendrix and two of his henchmen ran around a corner. He couldnât see us yet, but it would only be a moment. I grabbed Genevieve and dove behind some wooden crates with barrels stacked beside them.
Genevieve gripped her heaving chest and whispered, âWhere do we run? I thought we would have lost them by now.â
âYeah, me too.â I hoped my heart would stay inside, but it was pounding so hard, it seemed as if it might leap from my throat. And then a metal foot stomped on the wooden dock. We froze.
The Southernerâs guttural voice came from the other side of the crates. âTheyâre around here. Search everything.â
I whispered to Genevieve. âLetâs slip into the water.â
âNo.â
âWhat?â
âItâs disgusting down there.â
âWell, itâs better than ending up with him.â
âHe might have the antidote.â
I couldnât argue with that.
Genevieve stood up and charged at Col. Hendrix with her hand on the hilt of her saber. âGive me the antidote for my father!â
I yanked her back behind the barrels. She struggled, but complied.
Col. Hendrixâs voice sounded like sandpaper. âI ainât got it.â
The gears
Learning to Kill: Stories