“It was just hanging there,” the girl said. “Like a ripe apple. I was gonna give it back.”
“It’s Uriel’s?” he asked, waiting for her nod. “Christ, Cee. He’s the only family we have.”
Bram scanned the back windows for a way in, but wasn’t quite desperate enough to break anything yet. “A little help, if you don’t mind.”
“And in answer to your question, Cecilia, no,” Armando went on as if Bram hadn’t spoken at all. “I do not think they’ll let us go for a pocket watch. No matter how fancy it is.”
The watch was beautiful indeed, green and turquoise gems in the shape of a dragonfly studded the silver casing.
The gate shuddered beneath a heavy thump.
A voice came from beyond the gate. “Come on, ‘Arvey. They ain’t worth this.”
“What the boss wants—”
“The boss can get fer himself,” the first man finished. “I’ve got blood on me ‘ands and I don’t want them fings catching a whiff.”
“Run then, coward.”
“Don’t come complaining to me when you’re dead,” the man yelled as he ran away.
Bram could hear the corpses now. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. He would have to ask Armando later exactly what had him spooked about those particular corpses. But first, they needed to get in the blasted house. He lay on his belly, digging a slither of flint into the casing of the basement window while the weeds tickled his chin. Beyond the gate, someone was attempting to jump the wall, the sound of his boots scrambling against the brick until he shrieked and ran away.
Had the corpses followed?
“If I can get the putty out…” Bram muttered to himself.
“Bram, we don’t have time to remove the glass, pane by pane. And please be quiet for a moment.”
He lay still as the melody of a lullaby hummed its way through the wooden gate.
Cecilia moved towards it, and Bram lurched to his feet to impede her progress. Was the corpse in the alley really Cecilia’s mother as Armando’s behaviour suggested?
“It sounds like—”
“So, that’s where I put my watch,” Uriel said, appearing from nowhere to pluck the article from Cecilia’s fingers, snuffing out the end of her sentence. “It plays a dainty tune, does it not? Perhaps, you should hang onto it.”
Uriel reached for Bram with one hand and Cecilia with the other. Armando grabbed Uriel’s shoulder, and a moment later, they were in a small garret.
Bram blinked. What in the world just happened?
Uriel told Armando and Cecilia to pack their things. This was where his vibrant friend lived? In a cramped attic with holes in the ceiling? Bram glanced around, admonishing himself for judging Armando’s financial situation. What did it matter if he was poor when he was so generous in spirit? Bram admired him all the more for his relentless pursuit of Bram’s safety when his own prospects were apparently so dire.
According to Uriel, Jack Wish had offered a reward for Armando’s capture, which necessitated a stay at Uriel’s rooms on Nightingale Lane. There was just one problem.
“Bel doesn’t like me,” Armando complained, after which negotiations for several other rooms began.
“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” Bram interjected.
Armando and Uriel turned in surprise. Had they forgotten he was still there?
“Well…” Armando rubbed the back of his neck. “You see, uh…” He spread his palms and grimaced at Uriel.
Uriel turned to Bram. “I’m an angel, darling.”
Bram’s cheeks burned. “An angel?”
Uriel grinned, tipped Bram’s chin, and rubbed his thumb over his cheek. “A heavenly body.”
“Oh, goodness,” Bram squeaked, unable to look at the man. The angel.
Thankfully, Uriel turned away to address Cecilia. “Fill it with your favourite things.”
“I don’t think Bram will fit,” she said, after stuffing the bag with treasures that were hiding inside her dress and boots.
“Aw, am I your favourite?” Bram asked.
“Yes. I miss you when you can’t visit us. You’re more fun than Mando, and you don’t mind when I get my dress dirty.”
“That’s because he doesn’t have to get it clean,” Armando reminded her.
“You could always get Miss Phelps to do your laundry,” Bram suggested, winking at Cecilia.
The girl giggled. “She loves you.”
“She’s terrifying,” Armando complained. “She has a mouth like the Blackwall Tunnel.”
A flapping sound came from the other room, and Armando asked, “Cecilia, did you leave the window open again?”
