The Firestones

By Samatha Allard

Simone LeBeau has done many things in her eventful life, but she never pictured the day she would end up working with Richard Collins. The former messenger has been a constant thorn in her side, but when he offers her a job she can’t refuse.

After they are hired to find out who poisoned Lord Basil Blackstone, they must find out if the crime is linked to the Firestones of Akbar, taken by the Blackstones during their last trip to Egypt. Simone and Richard are thrust into a world of cults and impending doom.

Demons don’t exist, do they?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: Feb 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781683614845

Book preview

Chapter One

London at night was a creature of shadow and smoke. The smog the factories created gave the sky an almost purplish tint. The sight would have been beautiful if the pollution hadn’t been so deadly. The members of the Hermes Guild wore masks when they travelled via the rooftops. At the inception of the guild, they hadn’t, but when more and more messengers contracted black lung, the masks became mandatory.

The two of them drew some curious stares as Simone and Richard walked down the streets together. Women were not a common sight you saw on the streets unless they worked for under the banner of Nyx. There were a lot of guilds in London, varied in sizes, but those who worked for the Goddess of Night were different. They weren’t like the courtesans under the protection of the Aphrodite Guild. They went under the name whore, but Simone had always hated the word. If anyone mistook her for one of the ladies of Nyx, she might need to reconsider her wardrobe. She still mostly wore the uniform of the messengers because the thought of manoeuvring in a corset made her shudder. Her current job required difficult tasks made easier to accomplish by wearing trousers. Who cared whether people thought she was a lady or not? The only opinion that mattered was her own. Anyone else could take a leap into the Thames for all she cared.

The noise of metal hitting the pavement was jarring to her. It resembled a walking stick and Richard used it as such. The two of them needed the crowbar if they hoped to get into the sewers.

Two birds, one stone, said he told her he didn’t need two aids for walking. If one accomplishes both tasks, why do I need two?

She double-checked the map he’d drawn. Richard spent the morning simplifying the map of London’s sewers. Easier to read than the tangled mess of tunnels beneath the city on the original. When they reached the area he’d marked with a cross, she searched the ground for the relevant manhole cover. It’s over there. She gestured for her partner to join her.

He worked the claw under the lip of the metal and grunted as he applied pressure to remove the cover, which came off with an audible pop.

Have you heard the tales of the crocodiles in the sewers? She glanced down into the black depths. No point in putting any faith in rumours or myths—tales created and published in the Penny Dreadful. In her case, she grew up in New Orleans, not far from the bayou. She’d seen more than her fair share of monsters in the swamps.

Richard chuckled. I’ve read the same stories as you. This is London. Nothing surprises me about this city or the people who call it home.

The thick smell of decay reached Simone, and she wrinkled her nose. Her stomach rolled. And you want us to go down there?

The idea is sound. Judging from the place where Mr. Chapel last saw Bobo, the dog must be somewhere close.

This is nothing like the picture you painted for me when you requested I work with you. I’m sure at no point did you mention scouring the sewers. I would have distinctly remembered.

In truth, she hadn’t known what her future held the night she fell. The nails on her left hand had only now started to grow back. They’d stopped a serial killer. A monster who’d murdered the people of Dark town and who’d desired Jane’s—her ward—heart for his ill daughter. They’d solved a crime even the police seemed reluctant to crack. And now she was going to be spending time in a sewer, searching for a runaway dog. At least the job had variation.

She wistfully stared up at the sky. The inky blackness giving way to rich reds and oranges. The messengers of the Hermes Guild would be out soon, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, delivering messages. A part of her missed the freedom. The danger. Never in the years she’d worked for them had she spent so much time on the ground level.

We can’t leave any stones unturned. Maybe we’ll be lucky and find him.

She glared at him. A small dog in the largest sewers in the kingdom?

I know the odds aren’t in the dog’s favour. We can’t give up. The Chapels are our way in to have more paying customers. He glanced down into the darkness.

And how, pray tell, are you planning on getting down the ladder? His clockwork legs might have been impressive, but they didn’t make such tasks easy.

I wasn’t. One of us needs to stay up here for the other to hand the dog to. He sighed. I didn’t think I needed to explain.

Simone had been hired to do the legwork. To go to the places he couldn’t because of his disability. She reluctantly pulled up her mask, covering her mouth and nose. He seemed to be enjoying the situation much more than he should have.

With a final glare, she stepped into the hole and travelled down the steps. When she reached the concrete at the base of the ladder, she twisted the lantern’s catch which hung at her hip.

If the crocodiles get me while I’m down here, I will haunt you, she shouted up at him—well, the outline of his head anyway. The streetlamp behind him created a halo around him, leaving his features a dark shadow.

There isn’t anything down there besides a scared little dog who needs our help. He didn’t even sound faintly apologetic. You’ll be a hero.

I’ll give you, you’ll be a hero, she muttered underneath her breath, and then said, If I’m not out in an hour, I want you to send a search party.

I’m going to kill him, Simone growled as she made her way to where Bobo entered the sewer. The mask didn’t do much against the scent of decay heavy in the air. No amount of money is enough for the indignity of this. He swayed me with promises of solving unsolvable crimes. Never did he mention this. Damn, if he’d mentioned this, I would have told him where he could have shoved his job opportunity. She grumbled as she picked her path deeper into the unknown. I will show you things you’ve never seen before, she mocked. A task you’ve accomplished, Mr. Collins. I’m fairly sure the corpse of something floating in what could have been water in a previous life was not what I had in mind.

There was no point in being upset or angry. He offered her an out, knowing she wouldn’t be able to work for the Hermes Guild forever. Only the young and the fearless could fly across the rooftops. The eldest messenger of all time had been twenty-one before she left the job—only two years older than Simone. Working with or for him. Richard gave her the opportunity to do something more with her life. Too bad their cases lacked the excitement she craved.

A yelp echoed in the tunnel, and she stopped.

A snap. A snarl.

The sounds reverberated in the enclosed space, which made pinning down the origin of the noises difficult. The sounds hadn’t come from behind her…she’d been keen-eyed, searching the ground for anything resembling a dog or a clue. So, pup must be somewhere in front of her.

She picked up her pace. Bobo? she called before frowning at her own words. Seriously, who names their dog after a clown?

She turned the corner and skidded to a stop. The light in her lamp might not have been bright, but it did a fair job of illuminating a good few feet in front of her in a place of no light at all.

Something moved in the water.

Large. With a tail. And a snout.

She swore under her breath. Sure, swearing may not have been ladylike, but she could turn the air blue if the occasion demanded. A crocodile swerved its head and fixed her with a stare. The gloom veiled the details, but she’d no doubt she stared death in the face, regardless of being able to make out the colour of the beast’s scales.

And not six feet away from the croc sat a ball of fur.

Huh. Looked like Bobo found himself a playmate.

One with a mouth stuffed with sharp pointy teeth.

I would hardly be to blame if I left you here, she debated in hushed whispers. You’ll never learn to choose your playmates wisely if I have to rescue you. She edged herself around the corner, her back to the wall as she made her way closer to Bobo. I’m also sure I’m not getting hazard pay for this.

The crocodile continued to watch her, but Simone did her best not to make eye contact. The dog yelped, and the beast swung its immense head toward him. Only a portion of its body lay exposed, the rest hidden beneath the murky depths, but the thing had to be huge.

You don’t want to eat him. You’ll be hungry in an hour, maybe even less. She kept moving. She didn’t like her chances of fighting the croc, which could probably rip her in half in one quick head shake. So, she made sure she didn’t make any sudden movements, each step careful and deliberate.

The dog spotted her, moved toward her but stopped, one of his back legs caught on something behind him. As she drew closer, her lantern illuminated Bobo and what he managed to get caught on, a metal grate in the wall.

Not like I needed anything more stacked against us, Bobo.

The crocodile pulled itself out of the throughway. Good golly, the thing was massive. No way the beast originally came from the sewers, not unless someone was feeding it. Which wouldn’t have been a surprise, since the darker element of London probably left their fair share of bodies down here. Most likely the reason why the thing was so fat.

The crocodile, fully emerged from the water, swerved its head from side to side, looking between her and the dog. Simone stopped a few feet away from Bobo and knelt, reaching out. The pup licked her fingertips and struggled to get closer to her. She reached behind Bobo and blindly groped for where he was caught.

You’ve made a fine mess of this. But I’m going to get you out. She didn’t want to turn her back on the crocodile, but she needed both hands to pull the dog free. At least if I don’t look at you, I won’t know when you come to kill me. She turned and blindly pulled at the pup’s fur. Bobo yelped, but after a few brief seconds of work, she got him free and he jumped into her arms. Rising, she put her back against the wall.

The crocodile lumbered his way towards her.

Well nice to meet you and all that, but we really have to go. She edged away.

How far was she from the entrance? A good couple of minutes. If this turned into a race, the beast in front of her would tear her down in an instant. But the manhole isn’t the only exit.

She passed several ladders in her search, the crocodile following her every step. Was the thing gaining in speed?

With her free hand, she pulled her lantern free. Throw the lantern. The glass will break. The fire will distract the thing with teeth. Yes, it was a stupid idea, but she had made a living doing stupid things. All she had to be was faster than the crocodile.

With a loose grip on the handle, she threw her only source of light. The sound of glass breaking against the stone floor echoed behind her, and she took off in a sprint. I will haunt you, Richard, if I die down here, I swear.

Chapter Two

He’d never had much faith in people. When confronted with anything other than normal, they’d always proven themselves to be fickle. A fact proven to him countless times. The day he lost his legs for one. At the time, he’d known his parents had done their best for him. The surgery to heal him hadn’t been cheap, but they’d been disappointed the surgeon hadn’t fixed him completely. How weeks would turn to months and then to years as he tried to find his sense of normalcy.

His legs were alien and otherworldly, beautiful in their complexity. They’d changed his life completely. His job as a messenger, something his parents, with all their money, despaired of, had taken for him. The fear, a result of the fall, which robbed him of his legs, meant he would never feel safe travelling via the rooftops. Nothing scared his mother more than to know her only son worked for the Hermes Guild. He’d laughed when he told her he would be careful, nothing bad happened to the messengers who took care. He’d considered himself good enough to be an inspiration for others. Maybe that attitude had led to his downfall. The reason he’d slipped.

Simone had drawn his eye the day she joined the guild. Older than the new recruits but fearless. He’d recognized something in her, and the knowledge had terrified him after his accident. One day, she would fall, and she wouldn’t have anyone who cared enough to put her back together.

The reason he chased after her, warned her like a stern school teacher? A part of him saw himself in her. Her spirit. After the accident, many treated him like a broken toy. Fixed but the cracks were still there. She’d never treated him as anything but a pain. How she rolled her eyes at the mere sight of him.

Refreshing and frustrating.

And now they worked together. The legs and the brain. A good team. He’d let her go down in the sewer by herself because he could trust her. The lack of ability to climb was his weakness. If he stumbled over anything down there, he would be stuck. The legs crafted for him were terrible for running. She, however, possessed speed, and her mind, though not as meticulously crafted as his, was still sharp. Nobody could describe her as a fool, and she started to trust him. An important step in any partnership.

He peered down into the hole. She’d been gone for some time. Maybe they should have tried to accomplish the task in the morning. The windy pathways of the sewers weren’t supposed to be dangerous. The police made sure they were kept mostly empty, even if some vagrants still had no problems in calling the smelly place home.

She’ll be fine, he muttered to himself. She handled a serial killer by herself. A dark and gloomy sewer is nothing in comparison. He carefully knelt, the gears groaning and creaking underneath his weight. A stab of pain, almost familiar, was a dull reminder his body was incomplete. With his hands on either side of the sewer hole, he peered into the darkness, ignoring the biting pain between his shoulders. Inky blackness greeted him.

Simone. Her name echoed in the confined space. Can you hear me?

Nobody answered.

"Look, maybe this wasn’t my best idea. How about you come up and we’ll try again in the