Chapter 8:
"Moral Boundaries"
July 28, 1915
London Zoological Society
"Eliot Vost?" Asked Dr. Barlow, eyebrows raised. "I suppose that would not be an unwise alliance. It would be quite unorthodox, but perhaps that is exactly what we need right now. It wouldn't hurt to have surprise on our side."
Count Volger shot Alek a skeptical look. "You do not even know the name of our adversary yet," he declared, gesturing towards the photograph of the Brigade's scarred leader, "and you propose that we simply team up with Vost, a man who was our enemy yesterday? Aleksander, we cannot trust him."
"True," Alek agreed, "but that doesn't mean that we cannot make use of him or his resources." He pointed towards the photograph. "I doubt that the Brigade, an off-branch group of extremists, has enough wealth to compete with a company with profits like Red Star Chemicals has."
Dr. Barlow nodded thoughtfully. "Our interests certainly align. And more importantly, we have a common enemy."
"Indeed," Alek confirmed. "I saw how he reacted last night when he realized that Dr. Sullivan was in danger. He dropped his guard, trusted me completely, and risked his life to find his business partner. He truly cares for the doctor. I think their relationship goes further than just the company- they may be old friends." Alek turned to the Count, who still appeared doubtful. "We don't trust him," Alek continued, "but he trusted me remarkably easily. We can use that trust. Not just to rescue Deryn."
Count Volger set the photograph on Dr. Barlow's desk, his expression thoughtful. "You're suggesting that we use his trust against him. We'll be partnering with him to find Deryn and Dr. Sullivan, but at the same time, we'll also be finding a way to stop the production of Black Star."
Alek nodded. "No doubt we'll have a far better chance at discovering the weapon's components from the inside. And once we know more about it, we can figure out a way to destroy it, or to stop its production permanently."
Bovril, who was still wearing the doctor's bowler hat, cocked his head. "The man does not comprehend the concept of moral boundaries!" The loris jabbered, its huge glassy eyes staring straight at Alek.
Alek wished he could disagree with the creature, but he knew in his gut that this was wrong. He already felt guilt creeping up on him, welling up in his gut. This was wrong, he knew it was wrong, and he was going to do it anyway, because that was what it would take to save Deryn and the countless other lives that Black Star was threatening to snuff out.
"It may not be particularly moral," Dr. Barlow divulged, "but taking advantage of Eliot Vost is our best option." With a flourish, she swept the bowler hat off of Bovril's head and set it atop her own. "Are we in agreement, then?"
She, Alek, and even the loris turned to the Count. He was peering curiously out the window.
"I don't suppose young Aleksander will change his mind. And, since we seem to be running short on time to come up with an alternative plan, I grudgingly concur."
"What do you mean, we're running short on time?" Dr. Barlow asked.
Volger turned to face them, a slow smile spreading across his face. "It seems that Mr. Vost had the same idea that we did." He pointed out the window with his thumb.
Alek stepped closer and peered down at the street. Far below, walking swiftly towards the Society's entrance, was an extremely tall figure that Alek instantly recognized.
"Vost is here?" Alek turned to Dr. Barlow. "Vost is here!"
"Ah, I see." She said calmly.
"Aren't you surprised?" Alek asked incredulously.
"Oh, quite." She confirmed. "I've simply made it a habit of mine to never appear so." She glanced towards Volger inquisitively.
The Count scowled. "I hope Vost can be of use to us. Our enemy is a formidable one. We do not even know the man's name. This man, whoever he is, lives a life of secrets."
Alek laughed humorlessly. He had spent years pretending not to be a prince and had seen Deryn lie her way into becoming an airman. For heaven's sake, Dr. Barlow worked for a society that only existed because of its innocent facade as a zoological organization! This man might be living covertly, but really, Alek could not think of one person he knew who didn't make a living on secrets.
...
July 28, 1915
Unknown Location
Edward gave Deryn a stern look. "Of course you've never followed an order in your life, princess, but if you listen to anything I say, listen to this: Do not stare at his face. Do not act surprised when you see his face. And for heaven's sake, do not ask him about his face."
"Why would I-" Deryn began, but the words died in her throat as the sequence of locks on the metal door began shifting and clicking. Edward shot her a dark look. A warning. The old Deryn would have snorted at him, declared him a bum-rag, and taken this as an opportunity to escape. But this Deryn, princess-in-disguise Deryn, lowered her eyes and looked at the floor to hide the rage and indignation burning in her eyes. If she was going to do this, she was going to have to be clever about it. Brute force would give her away faster than a hydrogen sniffer could wag its tail.
Then the door sprung open with such force that the hinges screeched, and the grating sound of metal grinding against metal instantly made Deryn's headache threaten to return. It was at this sound, however, that the elusive and Dr. Chester Sullivan finally awoke.
"Is it tea time already?" He asked with a pleasant lilt in his voice, yawning as if he'd spent the night in a posh feather bed surrounded with goose down pillows rather than tied up in an empty room, held captive by a mysterious coalition of rebels.
"I've had the most excellent dream." He announced, quite unfazed by his surroundings. Aye, and here I am in the middle of a nightmare, Deryn thought.
"What a beautiful sight," Came an amused voice that Deryn instantly recognized. She snapped her neck up to see the man who had spoken, the man whose voice she clearly recognized as the one who had terrorized the crowd at the gala the night before.
His face was vicious- not because of the scar that stretched across it, pale and thin as lightning, or the chunk of missing ear, or even his dark, accusing eyes. It was his smile, stretching eerily wide, displaying all of his teeth. Deryn was instantly reminded of a Tigeresque's mercilessly sharp incisors at the sight of his grin. She didn't stare at his scarred cheek or mutilated ear, but she was completely unable to take her eyes off of that unforgiving mouth.
"A righteous day it is," the man continued, his smile widening still. "A murderer masquerading as a scientist and a pampered royal harlot, sprawled out on the dirty floor where they belong."
Deryn had to struggle to keep from laughing aloud- she'd been called many, many things before, but never a harlot. It was all a squick too ridiculous for her to take.
"If there's tea, I'd fancy a cup of Earl Grey," Sullivan announced to no one in particular as he struggled into a sitting position. His paunch was making it difficult for him to rise. "And of course a few biscuits would suit me just as well." He directed his gaze at Edward. "If you wouldn't mind fetching me and the lady a few, lad."
Is he a fool, or is he just stark raving mad? Deryn wondered incredulously, staring at the oblivious boffin as he smoothed down the front of his hideous patchwork jacket. Could he possibly think that Edward is a servant? He turned to Deryn and gave her a toothy smile, his cheeks pink from effort. "I'm sure the tea will please you, darling, I've had it imported from France. Very expensive, yes, but exquisite enough to make up for it." He looked back at their captors. "Be quick with the tea and I'll allow you both the leftovers when we've finished."
He winked, as if this promise would inspire his captors with enthusiasm. Which it did not. It did, however, inspire the scarred man to brutally kick Sullivan's face so forcefully that the boffin toppled over and spat blood on the floor.
"You," said the man, his mouth a cruel slash across his face, "are welcome to address me as 'sir.' To you, my name may as well be Sir. I am not your servant, but you are most certainly my hostage. To me, your lives are worthless- no, they are disgusting." He spat. "It pains me to see you both breathing. You are abominations, who don't deserve to draw breath any more than those horrific, blasphemous MONSTERS you've created!"
He lowered his voice so that it was barely louder than a whisper. "I have allowed you to live because the rest of your heathenous Darwinists are under the ludicrous impression that you both have value. Just because I need you as leverage, do not believe for a moment that I won't spare you pain. Disrespect me or insult me again and I will not hesitate to discipline you. Have faith that I shall relish in the experience."
"Relish," muttered Sullivan thoughtfully, still sprawled out on the floor. A strand of saliva and blood hung from the corner of his mouth, but he didn't seem to notice. "I don't suppose that would go well with tea."
This earned him a barrage of ruthless blows from 'Sir', who kicked his stomach so unforgivingly hard that Sullivan vomited all over his patchwork jacket.
"Stop it!" Deryn shrieked. She'd kept herself from spitting curses when that bum-rag had delivered that degrading speech to them, but she couldn't stand to watch a defenseless man being beaten so cruelly. Even if that defenseless man was a nutty dumpkof who manufactured poison.
The man shot her a glare dripping with hostility. Pointedly, he kicked Sullivan once more, and then he slowly approached Deryn. He knelt in front of her, so his scarred face was only a few centimeters away from her own. She did not avert her eyes- she stared brazenly into his.
"Did you just give me an order?" He asked coolly. Deryn briefly wondered if there was a correct way to answer this question. Blisters, of course there isn't. She looked down, breaking eye contact. She hoped this was a proper display of obedience. If he was so concerned about assuming his dominance, she might as well let him have it.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said as meekly as she could. "It just pains me to see someone suffer." I'd love to see YOU suffer, though, she thought. She felt like a fraud. She felt weak. It took all her willpower to keep from headbutting this monster before her with all her might.
"Just as I thought," he sneered. "You answer like a pathetic, helpless woman. I despise the wills of women. Do you know why?" He paused, waiting for an answer.
"No, sir." Deryn choked out, her hands curled into fists. She was so furious she was shaking.
"They're passionless creatures. They cling helplessly to men, and even when they wish to defy a man, they always submit in the end. Their own ideas are so worthless that they don't even bother to stand up for themselves."
Very slowly, he reached and held the side of Deryn's face in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Her skin burned where he touched her.
"Women are spineless," he whispered close to her ear so that only she could hear. "And good for nothing but offering themselves to men."
"That isn't true." She vowed, her voice wavering. Every part of her yearned to explode with rage, to attack this man with all her might.
"Oh?" The man asked, and smiled unnervingly. "Prove it. Prove that you are not just a plaything."
This was her chance. She could let everything out, she could snarl and add a few extra scars to this madman's collection, she could rub it in his self-righteous face. She could. She longed to. But the princess? She would never do such a thing. She would act with dignity, but she would also act with caution.
She looked down and said nothing.
"Exactly. You prove my point, princess. You are nothing- you may have been raised as royalty, but you are just another woman, destined to live beneath the heel of a man's' boot until he tires of you."
He slapped her face with the back of his hand. She did not resist. His ring sliced the skin on her cheek and she felt warm blood drip down the side of her face and trickle down her neck.
"You've dirtied my hand," he complained, and wiped his fingers on Deryn's skirts. "You should apologize."
"I apologize, sir." She said tonelessly.
"Of course you do," he agreed, and stood up.
"Edward." He said, and the boy instantly snapped to attention.
"Yes, sir?"
"Stand guard outside. I have better things to attend to." He shot Deryn and Dr. Sullivan a look of revulsion. "Inform me if they attempt to escape or do anything equally moronic."
He left without so much as another glance. The moment the door closed, Edward gave her a hard look.
"Are you all right?" He asked, which surprised her a little. Why should he be concerned? He hated them as much as that man had.
"It's Sullivan you should be asking." Deryn retorted coldly. Besides, she barely felt any pain. The shame hurt far worse than the blow had.