Coleen Kwan - Darke London

“You!” Thaddeus Ormond exclaimed as he gaped at Nellie. “You’re supposed to be dead.” He transferred his stare to Julian. Ormond’s eyes bulged, as hard and black as the onyx pin stabbed in his cravat. “Well. Now this is a nasty surprise. I never would have guessed. All my bothersome fish in the same basket. That will save me a lot of trouble, I suppose.”

Julian shouldered his way past Nellie and stood in front of Sir Thaddeus. “What an unexpected displeasure, Uncle .”

Sir Thaddeus sucked in his cheeks. “Insolent pup. I’m no uncle of yours and never will be.” To emphasise his words, he thunked his ebony cane on the floor.

Julian lowered his head as a slow-burning anger built up inside him. In the past few weeks his obsession with discovering his parentage had abated somewhat, swept aside as he focussed his energies on Nellie’s behalf, but now, confronted by his tormentor, his resentment blasted back to the fore.

“It gives me no joy to acknowledge our blood tie,” he snapped. “Given the man you are, I’m ashamed to be related to such scum. But tonight I’ve received even further proof of our dismal connection. Your unfortunate son revealed he was born with a vestigial toe, a characteristic I too bear. A rather telling fact, don’t you think?”

Above his high-necked frock coat, Sir Thaddeus’s face swelled up. The tips of his waxed moustache quivered in outrage. “That fool son of mine. The sooner I get him settled the better.” He turned his inimical glare on Nellie. “And you. Why am I not surprised to see you still so unpleasantly alive? I knew something was fishy about your death.” Twisting his neck, he hollered over his shoulder, “Kray! Get up here now.”

Heavy feet clumped up the stairs. Julian tensed in anticipation. His fears were confirmed as the familiar burly figure of Thaddeus’s hired thug appeared in the doorway, the distinctive pockmarks around his deep-set eyes affirming his identity.

“Aye, guv’nor,” he muttered, his gaze darting towards Nellie.

“Well, then? You’re not taken aback by the sight of a ghost?” Thaddeus jabbed his finger at Nellie. “Despite the mess on her face, doesn’t she look remarkably like the woman you were supposed to dispatch?”

Beside Julian, Nellie was breathing hard, her fists clenched at her sides. “You filthy mongrel,” she burst out at Sir Thaddeus. “You lying, despicable monster.”

“P’shaw.” He sneered at her down the length of his bony nose. “You refused to go quietly, so you got what you deserved.”

“And what of Pip? Did he know what you were up to? Did he want me dead too?” Two spots of colour stained her white cheeks.

Sir Thaddeus merely sniffed and turned to his henchman. “What happened that night? How in hellfire did a slip of a thing like her get away from you?”

The man raised his hillocky shoulders. “I were set ’pon.” Scowling, he jerked his brick-like chin in Julian’s direction. “By ’im. ’e must a followed you and me, and then ’e attacked me.”

“The devil take it!” Thaddeus huffed in exasperation. “What’s the matter with you, you dolt? You’re more than a match for that stripling. Who was the woman you threw in the river, then?”

“Some doxy no one would miss,” the dolt confessed resentfully.

“But she had the rings.” Sir Thaddeus’s face grew thunderous. “I knew it. You were after the rings, even though I’d paid you. That’s why she escaped, you no good dunce.” He lifted his cane threateningly.

Kray ducked. “Oi, sir, I’ll have none of that.” A surly scowl folded up his features. “She were a right little wildcat, she were, biting and scratching me like a hussy. I ’ad a devil of a time trying to snuff ’er.”

Nightmarish images of Nellie fighting for her life seared Julian’s brain. This was the beast who’d assaulted her, who’d slashed off her fingers and hacked up her face. Volcanic fury spurted through him, and a second later he charged towards the other man. Bent low, he drove his shoulder hard into the thug’s belly. Kray let out a grunt and staggered backwards as Julian flung his arms around his waist in a tight bear hug. The man was taller and heavier than he, but Julian had the advantage of surprise. Using his own weight, he thrust at the man and toppled him to the ground. The floorboards shuddered under the impact. Nimble and driven by fury, Julian shifted position and collared the ruffian from behind in a suffocating chokehold. The man thrashed about, his meaty fingers clawing to free himself, but Julian had both forearms braced around the man’s thick neck. He knew he could maintain that stance indefinitely, and with every struggle the man merely added to his own choking misery. Not realising this, the man fought even harder, but inch by inch, Julian simply increased the pressure on the man’s throat. The man’s cheeks started to mottle, and flecks of spittle frothed from his mouth. His eyes, wild and desperate, bulged in their sockets. Julian pressed down even harder. Threads of red appeared in the whites of the man’s eyes. Someone cried out. It sounded like Nellie, but his ears seemed muffled. All he could focus on was the man gasping in his stranglehold.

A storm of blows suddenly rained down on him, landing sharply on his head, shoulders and back. Wincing, he twisted round to find Sir Thaddeus laying into him with his cane. As he flinched away, Nellie launched herself at Sir Thaddeus, her lips drawn back in a primitive snarl. Her gloved hand was extended, ready for her claws to bite into him, but at the last minute Sir Thaddeus spun round and slashed his cane hard upon her arm. The sickening crack of wood against bone echoed through the room. Gasping in pain, Nellie fell to her knees.

“Nellie!” Julian cried, his hold slackening.

The momentary lapse was all the man in his grip required. With an almighty heave, he broke free of Julian’s hold, drew back his fist and ploughed it straight into Julian’s jaw. White stars exploded in his vision as agony shattered through his chin. He struggled to his feet, instinctively putting up his fists in a defensive stance. Kray threw another punch at him. This time he managed to duck, but it still caught him a glancing blow on his cheek. Hot salty blood spurted into his mouth. He spat, dodged another haymaker and slammed his fist onto Kray’s nose. Cartilage crunched beneath his knuckles. The man staggered back, bellowing as blood gushed from his nostrils.

Fully occupied with Kray, Julian did not see the cane swinging towards him until the last second when he heard it whistling through the air. By then it was too late. With agonising force, the rigid cane cracked against his left temple. Excruciating pain burst through his skull. He felt his knees collapsing beneath him. He cursed his weakness but could do nothing as he slid to the floor.

Nellie rushed to his side. Through the blackness fogging his senses, he felt her hands moving anxiously over him, before she was suddenly wrenched away from him. He shouted and received another blow to his pounding temple. Nausea gagged his throat. Rough hands grabbed the lapels of his coat, before a series of brutal punches rocked his head from side to side. Nellie screamed. The battering continued until Sir Thaddeus barked out, “Enough. You’re making too much noise and wasting time. Take him to the other room.”

Julian flailed his arms at the man holding him, but his body refused to obey him. He felt his feet being lifted before he was unceremoniously dragged out of the room. As he slid past the curtain, he made one final attempt to lift his head. Through his bleary eyes, the last thing he saw was Nellie facing off against Sir Thaddeus, her scars jagging like lightning across her white face.