Emma Holloway - A Study in Ashes

Poppy bit her lip, unsure what to say. But any words she might have found were buried beneath the roar of a cannon, and then the answering rattle of gunshots.

“Come on.” Alice lurched toward the sound, catching Poppy in her forward momentum.

Every instinct told Poppy she’d been a fool to insist they come here. They should have gone home after Soho rather than waltzing into the battle zone, but a moment later she saw the sign for Beryl. It’s only a minute more . And she knew there was no way Alice was going to leave without trying to find her son.

Beryl Lane was barely wide enough for three people to walk abreast, the old cobbles undulating like waves frozen into stone. They were about to turn down the narrow space when the sound of running feet made them draw back. Black-coated Yellowbacks came tearing in their direction. Poppy and Alice squashed themselves against the bricks. Poppy felt the rush of air against her face as they passed, the hem of their coats brushing hers. The men paid them no heed, but galloped ahead to where the lane emptied into a square. Then the leaders fell to their knees, raising their weapons, while the men in back aimed over their heads. Something was coming this way.

Alice ran, heading in the direction from where the Yellowbacks had come. Poppy trailed after, casting anxious glances over her shoulder. They didn’t go far. The old house sat in a bend of the street, jutting like a peninsula into the cobbles. From the look of it, there had never been a manor involved, though it showed signs of once housing a tavern. One look around told Poppy that no carriages—let alone the Gold King’s—waited nearby. Alice was already mounting the steps to go inside when a heavy woman—the kind who had lived hard but not necessarily well—came rushing out with a carpetbag stuffed with clothes.

“Out of my way, love!” said the woman, pushing Alice aside.

Poppy got squarely in her path. “A moment of your time, love .” She snatched the carpetbag out of the woman’s hand. The woman cried out, but Poppy already had both hands in the bag. That was enough to tell her what she wanted to know.

“What are you doing?” the woman snarled.

“I’m looking for a baby.”

The owner of the bag looked startled and then incredulous. “Well, I don’t have one!”

“Ma’am,” Alice clutched the woman’s sleeve with both her hands, her expression pleading. Poppy could see all the strain of the last week in Alice’s face. The color had left her lips, making her look deathly ill. Dried blood trailed down one side of her face. The only brightness about Alice was the fire of her hair, which was falling loose from its pins. “Ma’am, please, I’m looking for my son.”

The woman stopped, her face softening a degree. “And he’s supposed to be here?”

Alice swayed slightly, but took a deep breath. “The Gold King or his men would have brought him, most likely with his nurse.”

“No one has come here.” The woman shook her head. “Everyone who can is leaving, and I suggest you do the same.” With that she pulled away, grabbing her bag and hurrying as fast as her short, thick legs would go.

Alice let out a despairing cry. “He has to be here!”

But Poppy didn’t think the woman had lied. She held Alice a moment, giving her what comfort she could—and needing some of that comfort herself—but her mind was racing. “We need to go.”

But then the soldiers at the end of the alley began firing round after round. It was a steady barrage—some rifles and some aether weapons—so fast that the individual shots melted into a steady noise. However, it only lasted seconds before the men fell back, yelling with terror.

Poppy screamed, too. A huge snake reared up in the entrance to the lane, head higher than the Yellowbacks, body a thick rope of glistening black scales. Its mouth opened in a warning hiss, swordlike fangs unfolding from its jaws. The hood of its neck flared, half the width of the lane. It swooped down, striking one of the Yellowbacks with a blow so hard Poppy heard bones crack. And then it unhinged its huge jaws and began gulping the man headfirst with convulsive swallows. The other Yellowbacks rained bullets on the monster, but they plinked off harmlessly.

“Poppy!” Alice cried.

But she couldn’t take her eyes off the thing, her entire body turning cold with horror. She was fascinated, caught like a rabbit. A soldier with a magnetic aether weapon opened fire, but the blast sizzled harmlessly around the snake in a coruscating blue haze. Whatever the thing was, it was not made of flesh and blood, but magic and steel. This fell from that zephyr. There were hundreds of them! Suddenly, every inch of her skin was crawling.

“Poppy!” Alice shook her. “Run!”

Poppy snapped out of her daze as the snake started on its second course. “Run,” she repeated with an enthusiastic nod, and then set action to words. Running felt wonderful.

Alice led the way, hurrying east. They burst into the square where the market should have been, but it was in disarray. The square was usually bustling with vendors selling fruits, vegetables, flowers, and whatever else a person could want. Now it looked as if the wares had been set up for the day, but then chaos had taken over. Produce was strewn everywhere, and the sharp scent of crushed fruit permeated the air. A handful of people were dodging through the square trying to get to the other side, some of them with weapons drawn. Poppy skirted around a table, her feet rolling dangerously on a scatter of apples. She stooped to retrieve a walking stick that someone had dropped and gripped it like a club.

A snake as long as Poppy’s arm fell from the building above, landing on the cobbles a few yards to their left. It coiled and wound, moving in a weird sideways crawl that ate the distance between them. Alice jerked Poppy away, but she was saved only because the thing struck at a man who tried to push past them. He fell with a cry, immediately paralyzed by the bite. Poppy spun, shocked, but Alice hauled her forward.

There were more serpents oozing out of the windows above. One dropped, landing nose-first, and its head shattered in an explosion of gears—but the tail kept thrashing. A man shot it with his pistol, the force of the bullet making it flip in the air. But then a serpent shot from beneath a bushel of onions, slithering up the gunman’s leg.

Cold metal brushed Poppy’s leg and she shrieked, slashing out with her stick. It connected with something, but she was bolting too fast to see more. Poppy’s feet were heavy and numb, but panic forced her onward. She could hear herself gasping, her ribs struggling against her stays. Alice looked no better, tears streaking her ashen face, but both kept moving. There wasn’t a choice—until a knot of people milling in panic up ahead told Poppy the west side of the market was no escape. The crowd swirled and eddied like water hitting a dam.

“More snakes,” Alice gasped, pointing. “Straight ahead and north.” She was trembling in panic, her raspy breath starting to catch in terrified hiccups.

Poppy clung to her own self-control. “Then we go toward the river. We have to get away from the buildings.”

Alice gave a sharp nod and they turned left as soon as they could, fighting through the press of bodies. Others had the same idea and it would have been hard to change direction if they’d wanted to. The surge carried them forward, Poppy’s feet barely touching the earth at some points, but she clung to Alice’s hand.

The squash of the crowd got slightly better the moment they emerged onto the Strand. At that moment Poppy realized that the snakes hadn’t been working randomly. Thousands of people were being forced out of the market and toward the Thames, where the Blue Boys waited.