Caleb Carr - The Angel Of Darkness

I ignored that, still trying to figure how they’d come to be where we were at just that moment. “You didn’t know it was me in the carriage when you came down the street,” I said, thinking out loud. “The lady inside, she signaled to you-how come?”

As the boys tightened their bodies and started slapping their sticks into their open hands, Ding Dong moved on me slowly. “You don’t wanna have nothin’ to do with that lady, Stevepipe, you hear? I’m givin’ you real good advice: stay away from her and stay away from her house.”

There’s times when those of us born with what you might call wise mouths just can’t control them. For a second I thought of Kat; then I gave Ding Dong a vicious little grin of my own. “Don’t try to tell me she’s one of your girls, Ding Dong,” I said. “Only way you’d touch a woman over fourteen’s if she was your mother .”

At that Ding Dong lost his grin and swung hard for my head. I ducked under Frederick and went for the whip that stood by the seat of the calash. Ding Dong pursued, and then Cyrus got in front of the other boys, waving the brass knuckles. Before any actual blows could be exchanged, though, Miss Howard jumped down from the carriage, grabbed Ding Dong by the hair, and stuck the stubby barrel of her derringer hard against his head.

“Hold on, now!” she called to the other Dusters. “All of you! Just move away, we’re here on police business!”

Ding Dong had more sense than to try for the gun, but he did let out a laugh. “ ‘Police business’? A moll, a nigger, and a kid? I was born in the mornin’, sister, but it weren’t yesterday mornin’-”

Ding Dong grunted as Miss Howard slapped the gun across his head hard and then crammed the barrel back by his ear.

“One more word out of you, and there’ll be a forty-one-caliber bullet rattling around your empty skull! Now, tell your friends to move away !”

Hissing in pain, Ding Dong nodded. “Okay, boys-I think we made our point. No reason to go any farther with it.”

The other Dusters backtracked reluctantly, and Cyrus let his right hand drop just a bit. I kept the horsewhip held high, though, knowing these types better than my friends did and aware that we wouldn’t be really safe until they were out of sight. Miss Howard pushed Ding Dong toward his pals with a rough motion, one what made him stumble and then smile again.

“Rough little bitch, ain’t ya?” he said. “I’ll remember that. And you remember what I told you all: stay away from this house, and don’t ever-Jimmy!”

In a sudden movement what I’m sure they’d practiced many times in similar spots, one of the Dusters quickly tossed his axe handle to Ding Dong, who rushed past Cyrus and slapped the flat of the wood hard on Frederick ’s haunch. The gelding reared in pain and confusion, and then, in a group, the Dusters all rushed Cyrus, who was alone on Frederick ’s left side. Ding Dong got in one good shot with the axe handle to Cyrus’s ribs, while another of the boys managed to ram him hard in the chest with his thick piece of wood. The now-unarmed kid named Jimmy paid for all this by taking the brass knuckles in the face, and then Cyrus fended off another blow from the third mug.

By now Miss Howard had gotten around to them and was threatening to shoot, while I’d darted back under the still frantic Frederick and lifted the whip, letting fly at Ding Dong’s face. I cut him a nice little hole in his left cheek, causing him to go down on one knee. But before I could gloat too much, I turned to see that one of the Dusters had broken into a suicidal run at Miss Howard, making it impossible for her to take aim at the others, while another was poised to lay a vicious and maybe lethal blow to Cyrus’s head with his slab of wood.

I cried out, “Cyrus!” and rushed at the Duster-but I knew it was too late. The wood was about to come down, and the crazed, bloodthirsty cackle that came out of the kid indicated how bad the hit would be. But then, in a flash what was barely comprehendible-

All the madness went out of the Duster’s face, and his eyes went round. He paused, arms high in the air, and then his jaw dropped into an expression of complete confusion. He managed to yell “ Ding Dong ?”-just that way, like a question-before he crumpled to the ground.

It was such a queer thing that everyone stopped for a few seconds to watch-except for me. Alone out of the group I had a view beyond the falling Duster, and I used it to quickly take in the street around us. My head moved just in time to see a little black kid-maybe ten years old, from the size of him, bushy-haired and dressed in clothes what were too big for him-running around the corner.

Ding Dong bolted over to his fallen boy, who by now was out cold. Miss Howard got her Duster to back off, finally, with the derringer, while Cyrus made ready to let Jimmy have another quick shot with the knuckles, one what Jimmy had the sense to run from. Ding Dong rolled the unconscious Duster over, and pulled something out of the back of his leg. “What the hell …?” he mumbled; then he looked up at me.

He was holding a plain, straight stick about ten inches long-and it was clear he figured I’d stuck his boy with it. “What the hell did you do to him, Stevie, you miserable-”

He made a run for me, but then Miss Howard fired the derringer into the air. That was enough for the Dusters, who’d rightly figured that she was mad enough by now to let one of them have her next bullet, what she quickly chambered. Like the miserable pack of crazed dogs they were, they all moved as one to pick up their unconscious pal, and then Ding Dong threw the stick down in front of me.

“I’ll remember this, Stevie,” he said quietly, without any grin now. “I’ll remember it when I’m giving Kat a good fuck tonight!”

With those words it was my turn to make a mad rush at him; but Cyrus got his big arms around me and I couldn’t do anything except watch Ding Dong laugh and disappear around the corner of Greenwich Street with his boys.

“And remember!” I heard him call from half a block away. “Stay away from that house-and that woman!”

The gunshot had brought the Isaacsons, the Doctor, and Mr. Moore out onto the street, while Nurse Hunter stood in her doorway, making like she was shocked and horrified by what was going on. We all managed to get ourselves calmed down, though in my case it was tough, and when the Doctor asked Miss Howard what had happened, she only said quietly, “Later, Doctor. I assume the child isn’t inside?”

The Doctor looked at her in a little surprise. “You assume correctly. But how?”

“This whole thing’s more complicated than it looks,” she answered, as she directed me to pick up the stick what’d struck the Duster. “And we need to get out of here. Now .”

The Doctor nodded, and then the four men re-approached Nurse Hunter, who’d come out onto the curb. “Were any of your people hurt, Doctor?” she asked, still seeming very concerned. “Can I help? I have some bandaging inside-”

“No, Mrs. Hunter,” he said, pretty sternly.

“There are some very dangerous types in this neighborhood, I’m afraid.” Nurse Hunter’s golden eyes locked onto the Doctor’s for just long enough to reveal that she meant her next words sincerely. “Perhaps you should go, before they come back with friends.”

The Doctor paused, studying her. “Yes,” he said. “Perhaps we should.”

“Let’s go, everybody, now !”Marcus called to the rest of us. “If I know the Dusters, they will be back, and there’ll be plenty of them.”

We all started to pile back onto and into the calash-all, that is, except for the Doctor. He stood looking at Nurse Hunter, waiting for her to say something more. She never broke under his gaze; and after a few seconds she just arched one eyebrow, smiled a bit, and said: