Soulbound (Darkest London 6)

Adam leaned closer to Eliza. “You see, Mab’s mortal body is of this realm. One might destroy that body and yet she lives still. However, she must gather the power to create a new body and return here.”

“How did she do it, then?” Eliza asked.

“She leached my powers,” Adam answered, then turned to Thorne and Miss Evernight. “She is searching for us and has put a price upon our heads. The demons appear up for the challenge.”

Thorne glanced at the chains Adam wore. “Sorry to say, mate, but you’re easy pickings trapped in those fae laces.”

Not so easy, Adam wanted to protest. But Thorne was correct; while Adam had been able to slow down two low-level demons, he would not survive a fight with a more powerful one.

Eliza fists bunched upon her lap. “We need to get onto Lucien’s barge, only it is surely being watched.”

“What is it that you had in mind?” Thorne asked. “We have quite a bit of effective weaponry.”

Eliza’s eyes took on an interested light, but Miss Evernight shook her head, her nose wrinkling as though the idea were horrid. “I’ve an excellent way to get you onto Lucien’s barge undetected.”

Chapter Sixteen

Holly had put them in a tomb. A damned underwater tomb. That was, at least, how Eliza saw it. She’d nearly turned tail and run when Holly had guided them down into her dungeon – her cellar laboratory – and then along a dank and cramped tunnel that led directly to the banks of the Thames. Hidden in an abnormally large boathouse was a strange sort of vessel that looked like an overgrown cigar.

Adam had taken one look at it and grinned so wide and pleased that he appeared to be no more than a boy. “A submariner boat. Bloody brilliant.”

Though it was Adam who appeared brilliant just then, his dark, sinful handsomeness juxtaposed against his bright smile. Even Holly appeared disconcerted for a moment. She blinked at him, then seemed to shake herself out of her fog. “Yes. I’ve been conducting test runs. She’s seaworthy and sound.”

“So this… boat,” Eliza got out, “goes underwater?”

Holly gave her a cool look. “You Yanks used such vessels during your civil war.”

“Oh, we did.” Eliza’s breakfast curdled in her belly. “Most famously the H. L. Hunley, which sank off the coast of Charleston.” Eliza shivered just thinking on it.

“Now, now, Miss May, where is your sense of nautical adventure?” Adam grinned at her. “Surely little girls fantasize about being pirates as well?”

“I’d rather be a highwayman and keep my feet dry,” she muttered.

Next to her, Thorne nodded sagely. “My mate is a brilliant bird, but I quite agree. It’s far too much like a coffin for my liking.”

“I thought you loved coffins, dearest,” Holly quipped.

Thorne grinned. He was a handsome devil, with a sharp beauty. Not Eliza’s particular brand of liquor, as her grandfather Aiden used to say, but striking to be sure. He caught her gaze and leaned in a bit. “Tell me true, Miss May, are you well?” He glanced at Adam, who was wrapped up in gazing longingly at Holly’s nightmarish craft. “If you need assistance —”

“I am well,” Holly assured Thorne in a low voice. “And under no duress. But thank you. It is kind of you to ask.”

“Of course.”

Adam’s gaze snapped back to her just then. “Hurry along, Miss May.”

As though he could hardly wait to get in the death trap, he all but dragged her to the pier.

For a boat that was supposed to remain underwater, the thing was far too small, perhaps twenty feet in length, and made of iron plate. Eliza’s trepidation grew as Holly opened a small, circular hatch and descended down a ladder. Eliza had no choice but to follow. Inside was as expected, narrow and suffocating. The only source of light came from a row of portal windows no bigger than dinner plates and, at the front, a curved window made of glass so thick that Eliza decided it would only be good for seeing what lay directly in their path. Not particularly comforting.

With ill grace, she sat upon one of the narrow seats that ran down the middle of the boat. Able to fit two people each, the benches were spaced in a checkerboard pattern so that the passengers’ weight was equally distributed throughout. Or so said a brusque Holly as she finished giving a dockside Thorne instructions on how to release the craft from its moorings and then closed the hatch. The sound was a dull and final boom.

It was fine. Safe. Holly was brilliant. Eliza repeated this mantra as her cousin took the captain’s seat and messed about with various nobs and levers. The engine started with a horrible buzz and made conversing impossible. Not that she’d be able to. Adam had crawled up to sit by Holly and was now having an animated discussion, involving his pointing to things of interest and generally grinning about like a child at an iced-cream cart.

Eliza braced herself as the craft gave a hard lurch and then simply sank. Gads, what a sensation. She felt as though she too were falling. Darkness descended as they slipped into the murky waters of the Thames. Under the water. Eliza shifted in her seat, trying not to let her thoughts run wild.

The air was hot and stale. Barely moving. Sweat trickled. Holly had promised that the trip would take no more than ten to fifteen minutes. They hadn’t very far to go to reach Lucien’s barge, but the submarine must move at a snail’s pace to avoid debris and detection.

To Eliza, every second felt an eternity. Distantly she heard the deep cadence of Adam’s voice, paired with Holly’s lighter tones. But the engine noise was too loud to understand what they were saying. Eliza closed her eyes and practiced taking even breaths.