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"Where are we going again?" Malcolm hadn't said a word since we left the house. The only information I had was it was to help Vanessa. I didn't understand why she was asking him for help and not me. Had she forgotten what he did to us? It was suppose to be me and her against him, not with him. And now he was taking us into the bowels of the city and neither of them were telling me why.

"You'll see," Malcolm answered. I gave Vanessa an annoyed look. I didn't like following Malcolm to random places, it never ended well for either of us.

"Just do this for me," Vanessa said quietly.

"I don't understand what I'm doing." Malcolm was leading us towards an alley under a train bridge. People were staring at us when we passed them, it was clear we didn't belong here.

"I suppose it's a private sort of atonement," Malcolm said. "My wife is involved in work here and I took it up." Maybe this would be interesting. The fact that he still called that woman his wife certainly was.

"And me?" Vanessa asked.

"You're looking for a kind of peace. That's a long journey you must make alone. But I find a touch of it here." I had no idea what they were talking about. All I could see were wooden crates and barrels. It looked like a shipyard, what peace could be found in a shipyard? Malcolm drew three masks out of his coat. They looked like the kind doctor's wore while performing surgery.

"You must I'm afraid," Malcolm said, handing Vanessa and I masks. "Cholera is ramped here." I raised my eyebrows, but took it. We walked further into the alley which was a maze cut out between the wooden crates. Other people in masks were coming out, most were men dressed in middle class suits. I heard the distant sound of coughing.

"How is this meant to help me?" Vanessa asked.

"You'll see." There was a Cholera warning sign on the door. When we entered the tunnels, I shivered. They were dark, dimly lit by torches and looked like a dungeon. Malcolm took a lamp and lead the way further in. There was a baby crying somewhere and distant sounds of talking and coughing. The mask over my face was uncomfortable and made it hard to breathe, but I was suddenly thankful for it. I had pieced together what this place was by the warning side, the nuns pacing around and the coughing people that layered the floor. It was a Cholera treatment center.

"Are you alright?" Vanessa asked.

"I'm fine."

The further in we got, the more people I saw. Most of them were huddled in packs of two or three. They sat on the floor in filthy clothes, some had tents made of fabric and others held small children to them. All their eyes were vacant.

"In the shadow of wealth, so much suffering," Malcolm said. His voice was muffled by his mask. My eyes landed on an old woman huddled under a cloth roof. She was holding a young girl who looked close to dead if she wasn't already. The old woman's eyes followed mine as I passed. They were expressionless and empty, like she'd seen too much pain to feel anymore. I pressed my arm against Vanessa's and kept walking.

We walked further into the neverending tunnels. The people never ended either, there had to be hundreds of them living down here like gutter rats. The tunnels widened to reveal a long line of people. There was more talking here. A long table stretched as far as I could see in one direction. The sick people were taking bowls from nuns and other workers behind the table who were spooning out soup. Malcolm lead us behind it and exchanged his lantern for an apron.

"You work here?" I asked.

"When I can. And provide them with funds. It makes me feel like a better man." I should have known he was here for selfish reasons. But so were Vanessa and I. She wanted peace and I wanted to help her. I wasn't here for these people. Vanessa grabbed a ladle and started spooning soup, so I copied her. There was a never ending line of people. I was amazed at how many children there were. It made me sad that children had to live in a dark place like this. They couldn't see the sun or even feel wind on their faces. I glanced at Malcolm who was talking quietly to a woman. He took her hand and smiled under his mask as she thanked him. I had never thought of Malcolm as kind, even when I was a child before I knew his crimes. I wasn't sure why it made me feel so guilty to hate him.

I served soup for a while, but I didn't like being in one place for too long. I spotted a little girl sitting by herself and got a bowl to give to her. Her large eyes followed me fearfully as I got closer. She didn't seem to have anyone looking after her and couldn't have been older than six. I sat down a good foot away from her and slid the bowl over. She took it eagerly, eating like she'd never tasted food before. After she'd driken for a few seconds, her eyes stared at me over the bowl.

"I'm Ava, what's your name?" I asked. I wondered if she knew how to speak, how long she'd been down here. All of her family was probably dead.

"Sarah." Her little voice was frightened, she didn't trust people. I wouldn't have trusted them either. I noticed she was clutching a tattered doll to her side. The doll's face was distorted by dirt and it only had one eye.

"What's her name?"

"Lucy." Her voice was more confident this time. "It was my mother's name."

"It's a pretty name. Can I see?" I didn't think she would, but the little girl held out the doll. I took it, smoothing down the straw hair and thumbing a bit of the dirt from it's cloth face. I handed it back to her. "Can I tell you a secret?" The girl nodded eagerly and I scooted closer. "Your doll has special powers."

"She does?"

"Yes. She's the reason you were able to find this place, why the nuns keep you safe. She's a protector doll. And as long as you have her, you'll always have someone to look after you." The girl smiled, clutching the dirty doll to her chest. "I have to go help some more people." Her face fell a little but she nodded. I got up.

"Ma'am?" I turned back to her.

"Are you angel? My mother use to talk about them. They look over us." Her innocent eyes made me want to run away.

"No, I'm not an angel. But I'm sure you'll meet one someday." I went back to the table and grabbed a tray of soup to bring to people who couldn't get up.

"What did you tell her?" Vanessa asked, smiling in the direction of the little girl.

"Lies," I answered, walking away. I handed bowls to a man and a woman sitting against the wall. The man's leg looked broken. I noticed another man muttering to himself in the corner. He was sitting alone, which most people weren't. I walked over and saw that his face was distorted. It looked burned on one side and it was oddly pale. And I recognized him. He was Victor's creature, the one I'd seen pin him against the ally wall. The one who'd been a mistake. I should have turned around, but of course I didn't.

"Would you like some soup?" I asked. The creature hadn't noticed I was there, he was mumbling some type of poetry like I was in a trance. Maybe I should have been afraid of him.

"Ma'm," he said, looking down.
"Would you like some soup?" I repeated.

"Yes Ma'm, thank you." He took it.

"Can I sit with you?" I wondered if I would see his past if I touched him, or if he'd be blank like Dorian Grey.

"Yes, Ma'm." He didn't seem like the same person who'd treated to kill Victor. He was almost skittish now, he wouldn't look at my face. As if he was ashamed of his own. I sat next to him, taking off my mask. I was having a hard time believing he had cholera.

"It's probably not very good," I said, nodding at the soup he'd just drunk.

"It's fine, ma'm."

"My name is Ava. And it's miss." I smiled at him. I wondered if I could charm a dead person.

"Miss Ava. My name is John Clare." I noted how he had to think about it. I watched two nuns picking up dirty soup bowls and putting them in trays.

"They make me nervous." I left room for him to ask a question.

"Who?

"The nuns." I waited.

"Why?"

"I never understood the faith I was raised with. I didn't like it. Are you religious?" He didn't meet my eyes. He didn't want me to get a good look at his face, he was hoping the dim light would hide him. But I could see that his eyes were an odd yellow color, like an animals.

"Are you offering?"

"Do you need it?" He smiled slightly, his eyes flickering over mine for a second.

"I never have."

"Well then I won't offer. I wouldn't be any good at forgiving sins anyway. The Almighty and I don't get along. I don't think we're speaking right now." He finally met my eyes as he laughed. Yes, I could charm a dead person.

"I read the bible when I was younger, but then I discovered Wordsworth and the old platitudes and parables seemed anemic, even unnecessary."

"Mr. Wordsworth has a lot to answer for then," I laughed. He laughed like a child would, slowly and with a gleeful smile. Is it not this, Miss Ava , the glory of life surmounts the fear of death. Good Christians fear hellfire, so to avoid it, they are kind to their fellow man. Good pagans do not have this fear, so they can be who they are, good or ill, as their nature dictates. We have no fear of God, so we are accountable to no one but each other." I wished that was true. Being angry at God didn't mean I wasn't afraid of him.

"That's a lot of responsibility."

"And why you do this, no doubt. Helping those in need."

"No, I came here because I was told to," I answered truthfully. "Do you really not believe in heaven?" I was almost afraid of the answer, like his option would turn to fact.

"I believe in this world and those creatures that fill it. That's always been enough for me." I wished I could believe that. But when you've met the devil and seen hell, you have to believe in God and wish to see heaven. "Look around you. Sacred mysteries at every turn."

"But if there's nothing after this, why does it matter?" He smiled.

"'To see the world in a grain of sand. And a heaven in a wild flower. Hold infinity in the palm of your hand And eternity in an hour'"

"I don't see any of Blake's wild flower's here," I noted. "Only suffering."

"Then you need to look harder." One of the nuns came over to us.

"You're required, Miss Ives." I nodded and she left.

"Suppose I have to feed more people." I got up, though I wanted to sit with him longer. I'd almost forgotten that he was Victor's creature and I wanted to find out all his secrets. "I'm not used to working like this. These stupid little shoes hurt my feet." He laughed.

"Thank you for the soup."

"Thank you for the conversation." He looked down again when I stepped into the light. "And you have beautiful eyes." I went back and found Vanessa.

"What have you been doing?"
"I was talking to someone." I picked up a ladle and started spooning more soup into outstretched bowls.

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter." I could tell be the silence she didn't like that answer. Did she expect me not to be angry at her for being friends with Malcolm?

"I can always tell when you're lying, you know."

"I'm not lying, I was talking to someone and it doesn't matter."

"Not about that. I asked you if you were alright and you said you were fine. But you're not." I spilled a drop of soup onto a man's hand.

"Sorry," I told him. " Don't be angry at me for not telling you things when you go to Malcolm for your solace." It came out sharper than I wanted it to.

"Give him a chance, Ava. He wants to help us."

"We've never need his help before. And he's had eighteen years worth of chances."

"You can't be angry at him when you even don't try to see how he's changed." I put my ladle down.

"Malcolm Murray will never change. Can we go home now?"

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I knocked lightly on Ethan's door. Malcolm had called his insane friend from the British Museum because he was apparently the only person in the whole of London who knew anything about Verbis Diablo. I didn't wait for Ethan to say come in before cracking the door.

"Malcolm's guest is here," I said. "Don't tell him you own guns, he'll never leave you alone." Vanessa was already letting Lyle into the house when Ethan and I reached the stairs.

"Miss Ives, our lamentable separation has trebled my pleasure at seeing you again." Ethan raised his eyebrows at me.

"You weren't kidding."
"He's not even a drunk." I liked having Ethan staying here. He was the only one in the house I felt like talking too. Last night had gone the same as the one before. As soon as I put my head down on the pillow, I saw flashes of blood and scorpions then felt like I was falling into an abyss. Ethan's presence made me feel safe, but I couldn't tell him about my dreams. He wouldn't understand, I wasn't sure if anyone would. And it wasn't their job to solve my problems. I was tired of having to rely on other people.

"Hello again, dear!" Lyle had spotted me.

"Mr. Lyle." He kissed my hand. "My heart shall burst." I forced myself to smile while yanking my hand away too quickly.

"This is Mr. Ethan Chandler." I was glad at an excuse to get Lyle's attention on a new play thing.

"Mr. Chandler! You are so very tall. You render me Lilliputian." Did using big words make him feel more intelligent? Because the horrible French accent wasn't helping his cause.

"Hello Mr. Lyle."

"American! I'm undone." Sembene was smiling at the ground as we walked into the parlor. I decided I didn't want to be mad at Vanessa anymore and sat next to her on the couch. I could never be mad at her for too long, it was lonely. Malcolm was still out, so we waited for him. He'd come back late last night and happier than usual. Apparently errands were very exciting. Lyle started telling us a stories about Egyptian culture that I didn't listen to. Ethan was being patient with him, even contributing to the conversation which of course set Lyle off more. He was practically in love with him. As I listened to Lyle talk, I noticed how his eyes kept darting to Vanessa and me. Something was different about him from the time we met. He seemed less innocent somehow. It was about a half an hour before Malcolm walked in.

"Mr. Lyle, thank you for coming."
"Oh, always a pleasure Malcolm! I wouldn't have missed a chance to see the Ives girls again." I smiled and reached out my hand for him to squeeze. He'd shaken my hand before, but I hadn't been trying to see anything then. But when I did there was a sharp pain in my head and I saw an outline of a scorpion drawn in blood. It was only there for a second, just long enough for him to squeeze my hand and let go, but I thought I heard a baby crying.

"Given you're an expert on dead languages, we thought to appeal for your help," Malcolm was saying. Vanessa was staring at me.

"So we're to have another adventure in translation, are we?" Lyle took the drink Malcolm was offering to him. I watched the way he moved, but found nothing suspicious. He clinked his glass against Malcom's. "Brazen our way to the mythic past."

"If you're willing."

"What's wrong?" Vanessa whispered in my ear.

"I don't know."

"Oh, I feel Mr. Chandler can offer able rescue should we find ourselves suddenly afoul of the odd glph."

"Well, I do have a gun belt." I gave him a look. I told him not to.

"Stop!" Lyle exclaimed. Ethan laughed and I was pretty sure it was for my benefit. There was a knock on the door and Sembene went to answer it.

"I'll get it!" I said, jumping over the back of the couch. Victor seemed surprised that I'd answered the door and more surprised when I stood on my toes to kiss him.

"Will you be careful?" he demanded, pulling away.

"Why?"

"Do you really want them to know?" I glanced at the parlor door and shrugged and took his hand.

"You're gonna like our language expert, he's as crazy as you."

"Sorry I'm late," Victor said. I'd let go of his hand before we stepped into view and sat back down as Sembene took his coat.

"Mr. Ferdinand Lyle, Doctor Victor Frankenstein," Malcolm introduced them. Lyle shook his hand.

"Doctor. Charmed."

"So you're the chappy who's going to translate the mythical language?" I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

"Not so mythical as you think, young man. Verbis Diablo, the devil's tongue, has roots as old as Aramaic. And likely most older. It was an oral tradition for the most part, like most now-dead languages. We haven't entirely lost it, we've just forgotten it."

"And if I were to tell you it's spoken now? In London?" Malcolm asked. Lyle didn't seem at all shocked.

"I should express surprise, but not complete bafflement." Victor sat an appropriate distance away from me but sent me a smile. "Note I said it was an oral tradition for the most part. There is one written example of the language. Relics of a sort. In a long-forgotten box deep in the archives of the British Museum." They were keeping something that dangerous in the British Museum? Probably not the best idea. "I can't imagine anyone has looked at them in years." Lyle made himself comfortable in front of the fire.

"In the 11th century, a Carthusian monk known to us only as Brother Gregory began to lose his mind. He said he was possessed by a demon, perhaps the father of all demons, the fallen angel himself." I put my hand over Vanessa's. "In any event, this demon spoke to him in the Verbis Diablo. Brother Gregory wrote down what it said on whatever was to hand. Having nothing like science to consult, his brothers finally pronounced Brother Gregory mad and locked him away." The atmosphere in the room seemed darker. "But his lunatic ravings are now in the British Museum. The only existing written example of this seemingly dead language. If we seek to understand the Verbis Diablo, we must start there.

"Can you get the relics? Bring them here?" Malcolm asked.

"Oh, yes .Like most of the plundered riches of the British Museum, they are scrupulously ignored. I'll just plunder them back. Perhaps Mr. Chandler could accompany me?"

"My pleasure, sir."

"Will you bring your gun belt." I grinned at the floor.

"Both guns." Lyle laughed like a giddy child.

"What happened to Brother Gregory?" Vanessa asked quietly.

"Ah. He locked away by his brothers," Lyle answered solemnly. "The visitations from the demon did not abate. They were deep within him.A curse, if you will. Seemingly inescapable."

"What did he do?" I asked.

"After years of of confinement, and torment, they were finally convinced he was not in fact mad, but possessed by the Devil. They burned him at the stake." I bite my lip.

"God love religion," Victor said. When we were done, Ethan grabbed his coat to leave with Lyle. I watched Lyle talking to Malcolm, trying to find something wrong with him. His hand shouldn't have showed me those images, it was wrong somehow. And now Ethan was going alone with him. I caught him before he joined Malcolm and Lyle by the door.

"Keep an eye on him, he's lying about something."

"How do you know?" Ethan asked. I shrugged.

"I just do." Ethan nodded trustingly. I watched them go from the window. He had his gun belt, he'd be fine. It was only Lyle. Victor was getting ready to leave as well.

"When do I get to meet her?" I asked. We both knew who I was talking about.

"Not yet," he said quietly. "She has to adjust first, it's a long process. I don't want to introduce her to anyone from her old life yet."

"You don't want her to remember," I realized.

"It would be too painful for her."

"Don't act like a saint, we both know you're not." He rolled his eyes at me.

"I can't be a saint if I don't believe in it." I thought about telling him I'd met his creature, but decided not to. Not until he let me see Brona. "I'll see you tomorrow night." He glanced over my shoulder, then kissed me quickly and shut the door between us. I wondered if I was the first woman he'd ever kissed. He wasn't very good at it, he acted like an awkward child.

"I"m going out," Malcolm said, taking his coat from Sembene.

"Where?" I asked.

"I'm meeting a friend." Something about the way he said it was odd.

"What friend?"

"Must you know everything? I'll be back by the afternoon to discuss what Lyle and Ethan find. Look after your sister." He shut the door behind him. And Vanessa thought he'd changed. He was still slamming doors in my face.

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"I've never been absconded with national treasures before," Lyle was saying as he and Ethan took off their coast. It seemed to have gone well. I almost wished I went, stealing things from the British Museum sounded exacting.

"Did you have any difficulty?" Malcolm asked. He'd gotten back the better part of an hour ago. I still wanted to know who he'd met.

"Oh it was heartstopping!" Lyle said dramatically. Mr. Chandler was heroic, as you might imagine, but I like to think I acquitted myself with singular vigor."

"Born for action, this one," Ethan joked. Did he actually like him? They started unloading random objects onto the table. They were covered in bits of hay from the tub they'd been stored in. There was a lot of them. Old chalices, bowls, a piece of wood. And they had aramaic looking writing on them.

"What are these?" Vanessa asked, turning over a seashell type object in her hand.

"Apparently whatever Brother Gregory could find on which to write the demon's words," Lyle answered. It looked like a pile of garbage.

"This is Latin," Ethan said, looking at one of the cups.

"And Arabic here," Malcolm said, handing him a wooden cross. I picked up what looked to be an animal skull. It had Aramaic written on it. It was covered in letters, but it was all the same word. Devil.

"A verbal tower of Babel," I muttered. The table was now covered with the old objects. This man had to have been insane.

"Well," Ethan muttered. "Who's good at puzzles?"