The Connicle Curse Read online

  Denton shrugged with a jackal’s smile. “Did I? I’m sure I don’t recall. You’d best toddle on home and fetch it.” He glanced at the clock on the far end of the counter. “Of course we close at three. You’ll likely have to come back tomorrow. Pity that.”

  “Bollocks!” Colin snarled. “Are you really going to be such a bloody tosser?”

  “Oh.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Quite.”

  Before I could think to raise my own protest, Colin turned on his heel and stormed from the room. Only then did I once more become aware of the cold, putrid air as I stared mutely across the counter at Denton Ross’s ecstatic smirk.

  CHAPTER 17

  Paul’s eyes were riveted on Colin’s right hand as he carelessly spun a crown between his fingers. He was clearly deep in thought as he stared out the carriage window, his hand moving without the slightest hint of consciousness on his part, while Paul watched his movements as though they were an endlessly profound bit of magic. At first I figured the little urchin merely yearning for the coin, but then I noticed him trying to mimic Colin’s actions with the half crown he’d just earned. It was a clever trick for a street lad to learn and I knew the rascal appreciated that fact as well.

  “It isn’t good to pick up bad habits,” I admonished.

  “What?” Colin turned back and stared idly at the two of us.

  “Paul is studying how you flip that coin about.”

  He glanced down at his hand with a vacant look. “Oh.” He shoved the crown back into his vest pocket. “Helps me think,” he muttered as he set his gaze outside again. “I can teach you sometime if you’d like.”

  I was about to protest when Paul abruptly slammed the roof of the coach with his fist and announced that we had arrived. We had come all the way up to Lisson Grove, where one slim four-story tenement hugged the next and the only nod to there ever having been groves was the postage-stamp-sized bits of weed and dirt out front.

  “You followed that young cabbie from Sundha Guitnu’s school all the way up here?” Colin turned to Paul with a dubious gaze.

  “ ’Oo?”

  “The young lady at the library,” I answered.

  “Bloody well right,” he said as he shoved the coin he’d earned up his left sleeve. “’At’s why I were tellin’ ya I oughta earn a shillin’ or two more. Cost me a sack a change ta come all this way.”

  I tossed him a skeptical look. “I’ll bet you stole your transportation on whichever back bumper suited the direction you needed to go.”

  Paul scowled at me even as Colin waved us both off. “Why don’t we make sure this is the right place before you start bartering for more money.”

  “Oh, it’s right as rhubarb,” Paul said as he shoved past Colin to jump out of the carriage first. “Ya got nothin’ ta worry ’bout.”

  Colin chuckled as he climbed out. “Right as rhubarb?”

  Paul led us to a flat on the second floor near the back. The building was well cared for, if modest, and looked aged by some forty or fifty years. This cabdriver, whoever he was, obviously came from solid working-class stock.

  Colin gave Paul another shilling before shooing him off, with the promise of further recompense if everything bore out as he’d said it would. As soon as the boy scampered away, Colin turned and knocked on the door. It took several moments for someone to answer, but as the door yawed open I saw at once that Paul had indeed earned his fee. Before us stood the same pasty, redheaded rogue with the long face and aquiline nose that I had seen extorting jewelry from Sunny Guitnu at the university library.

  Colin slid his eyes to me and I gave the slightest nod. “Good afternoon,” he said, offering a warm smile. “My name is Colin Pendragon and this is my associate, Ethan Pruitt. I’m a detective working on behalf of Mr. Prakhasa Guitnu regarding a most insidious theft—”

  “Who?” The young man cut Colin off with a frown, though I could see that his fingers had tightened around the doorknob.

  “He has a daughter named Sundha,” Colin went on. “I understand you are acquainted with her?”

  Before he could answer, a worn woman of middle years came up behind him, peeking over his shoulder at the two of us. “Who is it, Cillian?”

  Colin’s face lit up as he offered the woman his best dimpled smile. “Colin Pendragon and Ethan Pruitt at your service.”

  “Colin Pendragon?!” Her hand went up to her mouth as she gasped. “I know ya from the papers. I dun’t believe it!” She elbowed poor Cillian aside as she swung the door wide. “Come in.” She flushed as Colin and I crossed the threshold. “I jest dun’t believe it. Wait’ll me girls hear about this.” Her smile looked about to rend her face as she waved us into the sparse but immaculate sitting room. “I never thought we’d have a famous man in our little flat.” She turned back to Cillian, still hovering at the door. “Come away from there and fetch us some tea, boy. Where’re your manners?”

  “You mustn’t fuss,” Colin said as he took a seat across from the woman. “In truth, it’s your Cillian we’ve come to see.”

  “Cillian?!” She shifted her eyes to him and her brow curled down. “Has he done somethin’? I’ll clock his arse if he has. He knows better.”

  “Not at all.” Colin gave an easy laugh that seemed to assuage her. “In fact, your boy’s done a great turn on a small case we’re involved with. You must be quite proud of him.”

  “Most days,” she answered warily. “He is a good lad. Been helpin’ provide for us since his da passed away when he were jest a tot.” Her smile began to waver. “Is this anythin’ I need ta be worried about?”

  “Not in the least. But we would appreciate just a few minutes with your son alone. I’m sure you understand.” He glanced at Cillian, who had still done little more than take a single step from the door, making me wonder if he was considering an attempt to flee.

  “A course.” She exhaled as she stood up. “Then I’ll be the one ta fetch the tea. Ya make yerselves ta home. Dun’t mind me.” She scuttled out of the room but not before jerking her chin at her son in an obvious effort to get him into the room.

  “Please don’t trouble yourself,” Colin called after her. “We won’t take a moment more of your Cillian’s time than we must.” He glanced back at the young man and dropped his voice. “Will you please come in here and sit down.”

  “What’s this about?” he shot back, his eyes darting nervously even as he finally came in to join us. “I don’t know about any theft.”

  “You were seen by Mr. Pruitt this very day with Sundha Guitnu at the university library.”

  “So?”

  Colin’s eyebrows drifted up as he glanced at me. “Ah. A step in the right direction.”

  “You were arguing with her,” I said. “And after a minute she paid you off with a piece of jewelry. Most certainly one of her father’s pieces. That is called extortion.”

  Cillian’s face went slack as he looked from me to Colin before leaning forward and rubbing a hand across his forehead. His fiery hair contrasted sharply with the waxen discomfort that had settled on his face, and suddenly I found myself feeling unaccountably sorry for him. “You have it all wrong,” he muttered in a near whisper. “I love Sunny.” He lifted his eyes back to us and I could see a kaleidoscope of pain, fear, and yearning in them. “I’ve asked her to marry me.”

  “Oh . . .” Colin said grimly as I felt my own heart sink, mortified that I had been so wrong about what I thought I had seen.

  Cillian seemed unable to continue, so it was a great relief when his mother ambled back into the room with a tray. “Here you go, gentlemen.” She smiled proudly as she placed the tray of tea and ginger biscuits on the table between us. “Take yer time. I’ll be in me room should ya need anythin’ else.” Her eyes flicked to her son as she left, and I could see the concern in them.

  “Your mother is a fine woman,” Colin said as he picked up his tea and sipped at it a moment. “Now tell us about you and Sundha.”

  “Sunny and I . . .” His words came
uneasily, his eyes remaining fixed to the floor. “We are in love.” He spoke with immense gravity as though determining the fate of the world, and in a way I suppose for him that was true. “It is the simple truth.” He pulled an old, heavily creased piece of paper from his wallet and handed it over to Colin. I love you forever, Cillian, it said in a florid girl’s handwriting, come what may. It was signed by Sunny.

  “Come what may,” Colin read aloud. “I suppose that includes stealing from her father?”

  “What does he care?” Cillian yanked the note back as though Colin’s very breath might soil it. “He has plenty of money. Have you seen the way they live? And he’s certain to disown Sunny when he finds out. So I’m saving him a costly dowry. He ought to thank me.”

  “I very much doubt he will see it that way.”

  Cillian spun on Colin with a savage glare. “And what do you know about any of it? A stodgy old sod like you hasn’t any idea what it’s like to be in love. To feel passion so intense it threatens to burn your very soul. I’ll not live without Sunny and she feels the same about me.”

  Colin looked as stunned as I felt by the young man’s sudden outburst. However, I was still surprised when all he said was, “Stodgy old sod?!”

  The fire that flushed Cillian’s cheeks dissipated as he stared at Colin, and it took only a moment more before he sagged back into his chair and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I love Sunny. I think about her all the time and am only happy, truly happy, when we’re together. She’s the first thought of my day and the last at night. If I can’t be with her . . .” He let his voice trail off pitifully.

  Colin heaved a sigh. “How old are you, Cillian?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Nineteen!” he snapped. “Responsible enough to be driving a cab for over a year now.”

  Colin smiled. “If only being married were like driving a cab.” Cillian’s face went dark, but before he could say anything Colin’s hand came up to hold him off. “The point is . . .” Colin went on in a calm, measured tone, “I did not fall in love until I was twenty-four. Can you imagine? I was already resigned to spending the whole of my life alone. Then the most wondrous person came back into my life and I thought I would lose my mind if we could not be together. And there was much against us at first, but I knew . . . we knew . . . there could be no other way for us. So yes, even though you perceive me a stodgy old sod, I do understand the depths of what you feel. But I also know that love will not provide you shelter, nor put food in your babies’ mouths, nor shield you from the stares and judgments of those who despise what they perceive you to be. So do not ever underestimate the realities of the decision you are making. For yourself and for Sundha.

  “Ask yourself what will happen when your passions abate? Or how she will feel when her family refuses to acknowledge her? Or when your babies come and you live in a flat smaller than the room Sundha now sleeps in?” He leaned forward. “But most of all, how long do you think either of you will be able to tolerate the glares of people who revile you simply because the colors of your skin do not match? What do you imagine will happen to all that love you’re drowning in then?”

  “What about that love of yours?” Cillian shot back defiantly. “You said there was much against you at first, but neither of you cared. Why should you be able to marry and fulfill your desires when we should not?”

  Colin kept his eyes locked on Cillian. “I am not married. My decision to be with the person I love is fraught with risk every day. But it is one we made together, knowing what the consequences were.”

  My heart froze as I watched Cillian’s brow furrow, hoping Colin’s inference had been lost on him. “And so it is with us,” he finally announced with great surety. “Nothing you can say will dissuade us.”

  “Very well.” Colin leaned back with a tight smile. “You may do as you wish, but you cannot start your lives together by having Sundha steal from her father.”

  “I am not having her do anything,” Cillian insisted. “It was her idea.”

  “Whichever the case, the outcome remains the same.”

  “You think we are foolish and without a proper thought, but we have already considered everything you seek to frighten us with. Sunny knows I drive a cab just as she is aware that her father has more money than he can ever use. A third of which would be hers one day were she to accept his every dictate. So she is taking a small part of what already belongs to her to help us get a modest start. I don’t see where that is so wrong.”

  “It is stealing,” Colin answered plainly. “A third of the Guitnu estate belongs to Sundha only if her parents decide it is hers. It is not for her to take as she wishes. Especially when she knows with every certainty that she is defying their will. Tell me your mother didn’t teach you that long before you knew anything about the unreasonableness of love.”

  Cillian’s jaw set tight as he gazed off between us and I could tell he was struggling with how to respond.

  “Does your mother know about you and Sundha?”

  “I will tell her when everything is ready. She’ll stay with us. Sunny and I have already decided it.”

  “I should think she will be greatly disappointed to hear what the two of you have done,” Colin said.

  “It’s all very easy for you,” Cillian responded with great defense. “You got what you wanted. Yet you would have me and Sunny turn away from each other to settle for a life of regret.”

  Colin shifted in his chair as he leaned toward Cillian again, his eyes holding the younger man’s with an inescapable intensity. “Have I once told you to turn away from Sundha?”

  Cillian blinked but did not respond. And even as I reconsidered Colin’s many words of caution, I realized that he had not.

  “I am only asking that you search your brimming heart and decide whether it is the young lady you truly love, or her father’s sparkling gems?”

  Cillian recoiled as though he’d been struck. “I love her,” he seethed.

  “Then you must return the jewelry. It does not belong to either of you. You and your mother appear to be surviving without such things. If you and Sundha love each other as much as you insist, then that must be the foundation for your lives together, not ill-gotten gains. Is it not enough that you’re already taking one of the three most valuable things the Guitnus have to give? Is Sundha not worth more than all the rest of it?”

  “But the things you said earlier . . .” He rubbed at his face and looked about to weep. “If those things come true . . .”

  “There is no if,” Colin said as he stood up. “They will happen and either they will make your union stronger or they will rend it. But you have already lost if you start with a legacy of malfeasance.” He sighed and tossed me a glance as I got to my feet, my head and heart reeling. “You and Sundha have much to discuss, Cillian. I will give you three days to bring me your mutual decision, but know that I will not be hindered in the solution of this case. And do not seek to disappear before our next meeting as I shall have eager eyes on your every move until then.” He flashed a tight grin and took a quick step back before abruptly stopping. “You spoke about regret,” he added. “I would caution you to remember that it encompasses both ends of the spectrum. Regret for the choices you did not make, as well as for those that you did.”

  He nodded curtly, leaving Cillian looking quite feeble and done in as we headed for the door.

  CHAPTER 18

  Colin’s steady breathing beside me should have lulled me to sleep hours before, and yet I remained wide awake. One of his legs was astride my hip and he had an arm flung across my chest, and all I could think was how fortunate I was and how very sad I felt for Sunny Guitnu and Cillian. It made me wonder where I might be had Colin and I not come together in spite of the law, convention, and, in my case, a self-imposed abuse driven by the opium that soothed my fears and ceased my doubts.

  I had been aware of opium as a boy, but it wasn’t until I was s
ent to Easling and Temple Academy that I had my first taste. It was a dare from an older boy, as such things so often are. But while he and his mates determined it great good sport to addle the minds of a few twelve-year-olds, I was delirious with relief at the anesthetizing of my every thought. Neither the spectre of my mother’s broken mind nor my own growing sense that I was, in fact, somehow different from every other boy could hunt me under the gentle stroke of opium’s comforting release.

  How I would like to say that it was a slow and stealthy process, but I would be lying, for it was not. Within weeks I was stealing small amounts from classmates whenever I could, and long before that year was out I had become a regular in the East End, prowling about like a spectral waif, picking pockets, begging, plying whatever trade I needed to get the one thing I valued more than any other: relief. Fleeting though it was—sporadic, destructive, debilitating—nothing mattered more.

  By the time I was fifteen Maw Heikens had taken me into her club to watch over her girls and tend to chores. For this she had given me a tiny room in her cellar and enough food to keep me alive. Food had ceased being much of a concern for me anyway. By then I was spending far more time in her establishment than at Easling and Temple, but since my grandparents sent their generous payments to the school without fail, no one said a word. I was certain no one knew or cared, but I was mistaken. Colin had been there, always on the periphery, but there just the same. He was not of my league and I paid him little mind, but fate would not leave it be so. Or perhaps it was more than fate. I do not profess to know. But what I am certain of is that without Colin’s interference there is little chance I would have survived very much longer.

  The relentlessness of my thoughts finally drove me from our bed. I slipped on a nightshirt and crept downstairs to warm some cocoa for myself even though I knew I risked the wrath of Mrs. Behmoth if caught. With the stealth of a mouse I tiptoed into the kitchen and lit one of the lamps near the stove. I painstakingly lifted a small saucepan from the rack overhead, my bare feet masking my every footfall, and almost dropped it when there came a sudden pounding. My jaw unhinged, as I thought it impossible for Mrs. Behmoth to have heard me. It wasn’t until the pounding came again, more pronounced than the first, that I realized it wasn’t Mrs. Behmoth at all. Someone was at the front door.