Page 42 of Molly Boys

“Sir.” Archie nodded and stepped aside.

He watched as Harcourt strode down the corridor with Merriweather hurrying to keep up. The smaller man glanced behind him and gave Archie one last meaningful look.

Sliding his hand into his pocket, he retrieved the scrap of paper and unfolded it. It was an address in Bethnal Green. Hopefully no one there would recognise him as a police inspector and he could slip into the place to find Eddy.

Tucking the paper away safely although he’d already committed the address to memory, Archie set off down the corridor. This investigation had certainly taken a strange turn. As if it weren’t bad enough that he had to try and puzzle out why some monster was butchering young men and leaving their naked bodies discarded, now he had to sneak into an opium den to try and locate a missing prince.

12

Ev wandered down the street lost in thought, absently following the sooty pin-pricks of light from the stretch oil lamps that guided his way. Smog hung heavy in the air and settled over Sally Street like a shroud. There was a reason the locals referred to this place asThe Alley of Lost Souls, and tonight it seemed especially befitting. It was the place those in the know sought out when they wanted to forget.

Stopping abruptly, he spun around, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the mist and poor lighting. There it was again, a prickle at the back of his neck and the feeling of being watched.

The tiny hairs on his arms beneath his heavy coat began to rise and his belly churned. Being alone on the streets had never bothered him before, but suddenly he felt… unsafe, like he was being hunted.

With his heart pounding, he quickened his pace. Despite the poor visibility, he caught a glimpse of red and knew he was nearing his destination. Hurrying further, he came upon the red door with a brass knocker in the shape of a small, twisted ring. From previous visits he knew there would be no identifying marks other than a tiny lotus flower etched into the wood beneath the centre of the brass ring.

The door sat nestled and unassuming between an apothecary and a tobacconist, both of which were closed due to the late hour.

Ev grasped the brass ring and knocked briskly, trying to ignore the prickling at the back of his neck. After a moment, the door opened, and a small man appeared. Recognising Ev, the man nodded and stepped back to allow entry. Ev couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief that there was now a door between him and the strange sense of being stalked out on the eerie streets.

Following along behind the brightly attired fellow, he absently noted his loose-fitting black trousers gathered at the ankles to reveal white stockings and dainty black silk slippers. The tunic he wore displayed an intricate scene of embroidered peacocks and swallows along his back, matching the closely fitted skull cap from which flowed a single braid of long shiny black hair.

Soon they reached another door and descended into the darkness beyond, down a steep flight of stairs which led deep underground and opened into a cavernous room draped with richly coloured fabrics of crimson, copper, and gold.

Someone had scattered beds, sofas, and sleeping pallets throughout the room and domed oil lamps hung from the ceiling, suspended by delicate chains. Painted glass bowls diffused the light, emitting a low glow that highlighted some of the beds and sofas and cast others into shadow while a haze of sweet-smelling smoke hovered in the air.

Everett was led to a low cloth-covered sofa in the quiet shadowed corner of the room which he tended to favour. Removing his overcoat and laying it over the sofa’s back, he settled himself comfortably on the seat and unbuttoned his collar.

The attendant scurried away, only to return a short moment later with a tray containing a long pipe, several delicate tools, and a lacquered box inlaid with jade. Setting it on a low table in front of Ev, the attendant knelt on a cushion next to the table and began to shape pellets of raw opium, filling the bowl of the pipe with quick, deft movements. Once done, he handed the pipe to Ev.

Ev reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and withdrew a few coins for the attendant. The man nodded in satisfaction, then rose to his feet and walked away. Leaning over and placing the bowl of the pipe over the lit lamp on the table, Ev inhaled the vaporised opium.

Holding his breath, he leaned back into the sofa, then slowly exhaled as his mind wandered. So many fragments and half-thoughts filled his head that he couldn’t sort through them all into a semblance of coherence. But as the effects of the poppy began to blanket his senses, he began to relax.

Francis had decided to keep the Islington house closed for the time being, a sensible course of action as far as Ev was concerned. Unfortunately, it also made Francis’ temperament increasingly petulant. Denied his favourite form of entertainment meant that he was decidedly peevish in addition to the obvious worry they all felt. Usually, Ev knew just how to soothe him, but tonight he was rather unsettled himself.

Unlike Francis’ closure of the Islington house, which was newer and less protected than Mother Clap’s, Louie had decided to keep his place open. Ev suspected it would take a cataclysmic event from the gods to interrupt the running of Louie’s establishment, but according to Francis, the entertainments Louie had planned were a hell of a lot more subdued than was usual for the flamboyant libertine.

David’s death had affected Louie deeply, Ev could tell from the short conversation they’d had at the coroner’s court. David and Louie had been very close and Louie mourned him in the only way he knew how. Ev couldn’t judge the man for seeking comfort however he could.

David.

Ev took another deep drag, his mind replaying what little he remembered of that night at Mother Clap’s. Much of it was lost in the haze of drugs and alcohol, but he could call forward David’s smile and the way it reached his warm eyes. The man hadn’t deserved such an awful end, and neither had Charlie, who’d been such a sweet boy, always eager to please.

Ev knew they weren’t the only victims. There were ten other nameless men, forgotten simply because their fate had been determined in The Old Nichol. The police had no idea how prolific the killer really was.

Shaking his head to remove the horror from his mind, he inhaled again, enjoying the looseness in his limbs and the tingling of his lips. The pleasant haziness wrapped itself around him in a lover’s embrace and he found his mind drifting to the surprisingly young and dangerously attractive Detective Inspector Franklin. In the privacy of his own head he could dwell on the fullness of the inspector’s inviting lips, the stubbled line of his strong jawline, the strength of his hard body. Ev’s cock thickened within the confines of his trousers, but he made no move to do anything about it, content to simply enjoy the lazy fantasy of a man he could never have.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting but the pipe was almost empty, his hand too heavy to even lift it languidly to his lips, and when he finally sank down into sweet oblivion, it was with a smile curving his lips and a pair of intensely dark eyes lulling him into hot sweaty dreams.

* * *

Archie squinted through the smog, certain he’d seen the red door he was looking for. He was definitely on Sally Street, but the smog banked and rolled, moving as if alive and trying to keep him from his destination.

He pressed on through the cold street and once again caught a glimpse of red. Stepping up to the door, he reached out to trace his fingers over a small flower etched into the wood at the centre of the twisted brass ring.

The Lotus Flower.