Chapter 10: Visitors

By late afternoon, Severin had learned that being stabbed was easier than being bored.

The nurse had propped him higher against the pillows after he complained that staring at the same patch of ceiling was making him stupid. She also took away the newspaper another patient tried to pass him. Severin suspected that had less to do with medicine and more to do with the constable posted outside the ward.

He had just managed half a cup of tea when the nurse returned. "You’ve got visitors."

Severin looked at her. "Visitors?"

"Four young men, but I sent two of them home."

"Which two are still here?"

"One’s broad and red-haired, and he started arguing with the constable."

Severin smiled. "Spud."

"The other one I’m fairly sure is still a boy."

"Eddie. Yeah, he’s seventeen."

Before the nurse could reply, the door opened and Spud came through first in a brown work coat dusted with coal grit, followed by Eddie in a flat cap and the same patched jacket he had worn at the freight yard. Both stopped when they saw Severin.

For once, Spud had nothing ready, while Eddie quietly took off his cap.

Severin looked down at himself. Hospital shirt, bandage around his middle beneath the blanket, his left knee wrapped, dark bruises along his forearms. "I’ve looked better."

Spud crossed the room. "You stupid bastard."

"There he is."

"You nearly got yourself killed."

"Good to see you too."

Spud looked as if he wanted to hit him and had been denied the pleasure by the surgeon. He grabbed the chair and sat hard enough to make it complain.

Eddie stayed at the foot of the bed. "They said you’ve got a bloody hole in you."

"Don’t worry. They exaggerate."

Spud just stared at him until Severin sighed. "Fine. There was a bit of a hole."

Spud rubbed both hands over his face. His palms were black with yard dirt. "Saint, what the hell happened?"

Severin glanced toward the open door. The constable stood far enough away to pretend he wasn’t listening. "I’m guessing you’ve heard the story."

"You mean stories. I’ve heard six by now." Spud folded his arms. "Blazer’s heard even more."

Severin smiled. "That sounds about right."

"Saint, half the Kiln Ward thinks you robbed the bloody train. The other half thinks you killed a bloke and burned the place down to hide it. Lenny even heard you were dead, then found someone taking bets on whether you’d hang."

"Did he bet on me living?"

"Of course he fucking did."

Severin laughed until the stitches pulled, and his hand went to the bandage.

Spud leaned toward him. "Easy."

"I’m fine."

Eddie dragged the second chair closer and lowered his voice. "Saint, we’ve got a problem. The coppers came for us."

"All four of you?"

"Me, Spud, Sam and Blazer."

"Shit. They already had your names when they questioned me."

"What did you tell them?" Spud asked.

"That you were my mates. Nothing else."

Eddie picked at a frayed thread on his cap. "They asked if we planned the fire and helped you steal the cargo."

"These fuckers won’t let go of the robbery."

"I know," Spud said. "They think you were pretending to guard the place while we moved some of the freight, then burned the rest."

"That makes no fucking sense. The cargo was still there when the fire started."

"They reckon you took some before."

Severin swore under his breath.

Spud leaned back and kept his voice low. "Now tell us what really happened."

He started with the one-eyed man in a black hood. The Imperial accent had been hard to miss. Severin told them how he tried to keep the man away from the freight and got a sword pommel to the skull for it.

Spud interrupted. "Are you stupid? You went at a bloke with a sword using your pocketknife?"

"I thought he was stealing the crates."

"So what? You should’ve taken the fucking coins and run."

Eddie looked at Spud. "The bastard nearly died defending Pike’s boxes."

Spud sighed. "Carry on."

So he did, telling them how the opened crates had held glass jars, powders, preserved flesh and pieces of bone. Beneath the ordinary freight paint, hidden marks had shone violet once the fire caught.

Eddie stopped playing with the thread on his cap. "You saw the marks light up?"

"Once the fire caught. Couldn’t make out the shape through the smoke."

Eddie frowned as though bad visibility were the most offensive part of the story.

Severin moved on to the worker and described the chanting, then the man’s arm splitting as bone pushed through his forearm.

Eddie stopped him. "And he could still move the hand?"

Spud raised a hand. "Let him finish."

Severin told them about the ribs and the changes along the worker’s back, then hesitated before getting to the one-eyed man pulling off his glove.

Spud noticed. "What?"

"This is the part where you call me mad."

"I’ve been calling you mad since we were fourteen."

Severin looked down at his sluggish right fingers. "The man had marks across his hand. They lit up. Then lightning came out of his palm."

Eddie stared, and Spud stared longer. From the corridor came the rattle of a trolley and a woman coughing behind a closed door.

"Lightning," Spud said, looking toward Eddie. "Out of his bloody hand?"

Eddie shook his head. "Don’t look at me."

Severin let his head rest against the pillow. "I was expecting this. The police didn’t believe me either."

Spud scratched the side of his nose. "Maybe you hit your head a bit too hard, mate."

"I know how it sounds, but I know what I saw. His fingers started shaking after he used it."

Eddie lowered his voice. "Saint, did you take something before the shift?"

Severin’s voice rose. "You think I was fucking drugged? You really think I set the place on fire and decided lightning would make the story believable?"

"Keep your voice down," Eddie said. "I was asking."

"Saint does have a point," Spud said. "Who the hell would make up a story like this?"

"Finally. Thank you."

"What happened to the one-eyed bastard?"

"He patched me up, burned what was left of the cargo and disappeared. The police are looking for him."

Spud sighed. "That’s not helping."

Eddie glanced at him. "We can talk to the boys. Ask around for this bloke."

"Don’t," Severin said.

"What? Why?"

"Because he’s dangerous, and I’ve got you lot in enough trouble already."

Spud rubbed a thumb across his dirty palm. "I bet Pike knows something."

"I’m not sure. He knew the cargo mattered, but that doesn’t mean he knew what was inside."

Eddie leaned forward. "I can ask the mechanics if anybody saw how the man got in."

"You lot, please. I mean it." Severin glanced toward the open door. "The coppers already have your names. Stay low."

Spud knew which bookmakers owed money and where thieves changed pubs after a bad job. Eddie could open locks or make broken machinery behave; Blazer only had to show up for most men with sense to get nervous. None of that opened a hospital door guarded by police without making things worse.

"We can find out if anyone saw something," Spud said.

"Fine. Ask around, but stay away from the warehouse."

Eddie smiled. "Blazer won’t like that. You know how much he likes fire."

"Exactly. That’s why he stays away."

The constable’s shadow crossed the doorway before he stepped inside. "That’s enough, lads."

Spud turned in his chair. "We’ve only been here ten minutes."

"Closer to thirty."

"Then your watch is shit."

"Spud," Severin said.

The constable raised his voice and pointed toward the corridor. "Out."

Spud stood slowly. For a second, Severin thought the visit might end with another arrest. Then Spud shoved the chair back under the wall.

Eddie put his cap on. "We’ll be back."

"Bring some gossip next time."

"I’ll tell Lenny."

"Then bring money too. He’ll charge you for it."

Spud stopped beside the bed. "We’re going to sort something out."

Severin looked up at him. "Just make sure the next time I see you isn’t in cuffs."

"No promises. Get some sleep, Saint."

The constable cleared his throat and rested a hand on his truncheon.

"Yeah, yeah. We’re going."

Spud and Eddie left with the constable behind them.

On the bedside table, Severin’s tea had gone cold. He reached for it with his right hand, missed the handle by an inch, and used his left instead.

A minute later the constable came back alone. He dragged his chair to the doorway and sat down.