The Osiris Curse by Paul Crilley Read Free Book Online

that were the case. No, this was more of a habitual path, something he had done before, and something he would do again. The steadiness of the pace, the unhesitating turning of corners told Tweed that.
    It also told him something about the man himself. He liked routine. He was careful, but his habits betrayed this caution. Made it pointless.
    The snow fell thicker, white flakes against a black sky. The weather muffled London, softening sounds, sights becoming blurred around the edges as the snow floated heavily to the ground.
    After a few more turns, they left the docks behind altogether, heading northeast into the Strand and then into Piccadilly.
    Tweed frowned as they passed the mansions and huge houses ofthe rich, wondering exactly where they were going. The city would be waking up soon, and he was hoping they would be off the streets by then. Traffic was light at the moment, but in an hour it was going to be impossible to keep track of their man. It was hard enough now, with the snow falling heavier and heavier. It was only the light of the automaton's æther cage that enabled them to keep on Wilberforce's tail.
    They entered Kensington, and turned onto Cromwell Road. The street globes powered by the Tesla Tower looming above lit the area with the glow of sodium bulbs. The snow drifted through their orange halos, appearing from the darkness and sinking into shadow once again.
    In the distance, Tweed could see the massive front of the Natural History Museum, it's terra cotta brickwork illuminated by hidden lights, the two massive spires that flanked the front steps bright against the ink black sky.
    Wilberforce's hansom cab slowed down some distance from the museum. Octavia quickly leaned forward.
    â€œStop here,” she said, and their own cab slowed to a halt. She slotted money into the automaton's head and hopped out. Tweed followed, his feet making crump crump sounds in the freshly fallen snow. He shivered and clapped his gloved hands together, then winced apologetically at the noise as Octavia whirled around and glared at him.
    â€œSorry,” he whispered.
    The cab turned around and headed back the way they'd come. Tweed and Octavia ducked into a recessed doorway and watched as Wilberforce headed straight toward the museum.
    â€œWhat's he up to?” said Tweed. “The museum won't even be open at this time.”
    They hurried along the street and crouched down behind a low wall that flanked the museum steps. They peered over the top, justin time to see Wilberforce moving stealthily along the side of the building. They waited until he had vanished from view, then followed him along the wall to the rear of the museum.
    At the back was a huge garden dotted with sheds, huts, and rundown workshops. Wilberforce ducked inside one of the smaller huts. Tweed and Octavia moved carefully forward, peering through the grimy window.
    The hut was empty.
    Tweed straightened up and yanked the door open. The room was about five meters square, empty of any kind of furnishings, and more importantly, empty of Benedict Wilberforce.
    â€œCheck for hidden doors,” said Octavia.
    Tweed pointed at the floor where a semicircle of scuffed flooring was clearly visible, as if something had been moved repeatedly across the wooden planks. “Way ahead of you, Songbird. One point to me.”
    Tweed quickly searched for the catch to open the hidden door, but it was Octavia who found it.
    â€œAnd one point to me,” she said, as a narrow portion of wall swung toward them.
    The hidden door was part of a false wall that hid a flight of well-lit stairs leading down into the ground.
    â€œSecret tunnels,” grumbled Tweed. “Why'd it have to be secret tunnels?”
    â€œLook on the bright side,” said Octavia, elbowing him out of the way. “At least it's not dark.”
    She was right. The steps and the tunnel itself were well looked after, swept clean and lit with Tesla glowglobes. He counted the stairs