away with it, and she sat beside him on the roof.
They huddled closer, enjoying the feeling of being together. From up here they could see across the patchwork of rooftops that spread towards the river. Factory chimneys protruded from the riverbank, belching brown smoke. In the other direction rose the tall, elegant architecture of Mayfair. Church towers jutted up here and there, their white stone streaked with dark grime.
Wild Boy pictured Marcus as they’d last seen him. He wanted to tell Clarissa about the killer’s deal, but she wouldn’t think twice about accepting it. He had no idea what danger was involved in finding the next black diamond. And he knew Marcus wouldn’t want them do to it, not even to save him.
Was there another way? His mind kept spinning. Pain pounded his skull. He couldn’t gather his thoughts.
“What clues do we have so far?” Clarissa said. “The killer is collecting black diamonds. He stole one from the Queen and then from Lady Bentick. But why, and why’d he save me at Lady Bentick’s house and no one else?”
Wild Boy had wondered about that. He sensed it might be an important clue. “You still got that note he gave you?”
“Said to destroy it,” Clarissa said, “so I threw it on the fire as I left the dining room. I thought it was from you, remember. Ain’t we got nothing else?”
Wild Boy slid two papers from his pocket – the Queen’s card and the page from the
Encyclopaedia Demonica
. He handed them to Clarissa and she read about Malphas, that screaming crow with those black eyes and barbed-wire teeth.
“A demon,” she said. “Destroyer of cities.”
“No,” Wild Boy said. “The killer’s crazy, thinks he’s working for a demon. But he’s a real person, all right.”
“What did he say? Anything that can help us?”
“I’m… I’m not sure.”
She shifted closer, pressing against him. He felt her body tremble.
“I’m scared, Wild Boy. We won’t make it on the streets, not us.”
Somewhere across the roofs, a crow cawed. Wild Boy’s wound throbbed harder. He saw a flash of his nightmare – crows and a fairground field, a caravan and a showman.
Clarissa was right. They wouldn’t make it on the streets. Not together.
The crow called louder.
“I… I was lying,” Wild Boy said. “I did hear the killer.”
“What? What did he say?”
“We gotta steal a black diamond.”
15
B OND S TREET
I t seemed almost impossible that the squalour of the Rat’s Castle, where dead bodies were left where they fell, existed just a few streets away from this – the most exclusive road in the richest city in the world. Here were London’s poshest clothing boutiques selling mink muffs, fox-fur mantles and beaver-pelt opera hats. Footmen in powdered wigs stood like dusty statues by coaches that were decorated with crests of dukes and counts and viscounts and marquesses. Behind jewellery shop windows, breathtaking displays of gemstones reflected the midday sun in the colours of the rainbow.
The sweep of shops was broken halfway along the street where one building stood detached from the others, and two floors taller. Plasterwork columns climbed its façade, and sculptures framed its tall windows: twisting stone wreaths and fat-cheeked cherubs blasting bugles. While the other buildings had been scrubbed of the green-black grime that encrusted most of London’s buildings, this one had been left to its mercy, so that the cherubs appeared as demons clinging to withered leaves.
“That’s it,” Gideon said. “That’s Oberstein’s place.”
Wild Boy had guessed as much. It was the only building here that matched the killer’s description.
Dangerous
.
They watched from the roof across the street. Gideon had led them here by breaking into the shop below and sneaking up the service stairs. That had been the easy part of their plan. Now they had to get into Oberstein’s building, steal a black diamond and get out alive.
It had no shop sign and nothing
They huddled closer, enjoying the feeling of being together. From up here they could see across the patchwork of rooftops that spread towards the river. Factory chimneys protruded from the riverbank, belching brown smoke. In the other direction rose the tall, elegant architecture of Mayfair. Church towers jutted up here and there, their white stone streaked with dark grime.
Wild Boy pictured Marcus as they’d last seen him. He wanted to tell Clarissa about the killer’s deal, but she wouldn’t think twice about accepting it. He had no idea what danger was involved in finding the next black diamond. And he knew Marcus wouldn’t want them do to it, not even to save him.
Was there another way? His mind kept spinning. Pain pounded his skull. He couldn’t gather his thoughts.
“What clues do we have so far?” Clarissa said. “The killer is collecting black diamonds. He stole one from the Queen and then from Lady Bentick. But why, and why’d he save me at Lady Bentick’s house and no one else?”
Wild Boy had wondered about that. He sensed it might be an important clue. “You still got that note he gave you?”
“Said to destroy it,” Clarissa said, “so I threw it on the fire as I left the dining room. I thought it was from you, remember. Ain’t we got nothing else?”
Wild Boy slid two papers from his pocket – the Queen’s card and the page from the
Encyclopaedia Demonica
. He handed them to Clarissa and she read about Malphas, that screaming crow with those black eyes and barbed-wire teeth.
“A demon,” she said. “Destroyer of cities.”
“No,” Wild Boy said. “The killer’s crazy, thinks he’s working for a demon. But he’s a real person, all right.”
“What did he say? Anything that can help us?”
“I’m… I’m not sure.”
She shifted closer, pressing against him. He felt her body tremble.
“I’m scared, Wild Boy. We won’t make it on the streets, not us.”
Somewhere across the roofs, a crow cawed. Wild Boy’s wound throbbed harder. He saw a flash of his nightmare – crows and a fairground field, a caravan and a showman.
Clarissa was right. They wouldn’t make it on the streets. Not together.
The crow called louder.
“I… I was lying,” Wild Boy said. “I did hear the killer.”
“What? What did he say?”
“We gotta steal a black diamond.”
15
B OND S TREET
I t seemed almost impossible that the squalour of the Rat’s Castle, where dead bodies were left where they fell, existed just a few streets away from this – the most exclusive road in the richest city in the world. Here were London’s poshest clothing boutiques selling mink muffs, fox-fur mantles and beaver-pelt opera hats. Footmen in powdered wigs stood like dusty statues by coaches that were decorated with crests of dukes and counts and viscounts and marquesses. Behind jewellery shop windows, breathtaking displays of gemstones reflected the midday sun in the colours of the rainbow.
The sweep of shops was broken halfway along the street where one building stood detached from the others, and two floors taller. Plasterwork columns climbed its façade, and sculptures framed its tall windows: twisting stone wreaths and fat-cheeked cherubs blasting bugles. While the other buildings had been scrubbed of the green-black grime that encrusted most of London’s buildings, this one had been left to its mercy, so that the cherubs appeared as demons clinging to withered leaves.
“That’s it,” Gideon said. “That’s Oberstein’s place.”
Wild Boy had guessed as much. It was the only building here that matched the killer’s description.
Dangerous
.
They watched from the roof across the street. Gideon had led them here by breaking into the shop below and sneaking up the service stairs. That had been the easy part of their plan. Now they had to get into Oberstein’s building, steal a black diamond and get out alive.
It had no shop sign and nothing
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