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“Come, now, Holmes. You do not mean that?”
“I meant what I said.” A gesture brushed my gentle admonishment aside. “If he cannot learn to mind his words, he will soon find himself without even his coworkers’ regard. You saw the superintendent’s frown just as well as I did.”
I had, and that frown had grown only deeper and sharper the longer that hapless constable spoke. Smythe had pushed half his coworkers away with a single sentence. He would not need long to alienate himself from the rest.
Not that I would admit that to Holmes. Something about today had threatened to lower his mood, and in the absence of another case, I could at least provide an argument. The lingering chill of an empty house decided against hanging my heavy coat in the stairwell wardrobe as I followed Holmes toward the fireplace.
“I think—”
Holmes froze not two steps into the sitting room, then one hand quickly lifted in a request for silence. Tension landed on his shoulders as he quickly scanned the rug, the fireplace, and my armchair. A look pulled me out of the doorway but maintained my silence as he stepped carefully around the room, then checked his bedroom and the stairs to my own room. When a smooth movement palmed his revolver from his desk drawer, I tilted my head in silent question.
“Intruder,” he signed. “Footprints near the fireplace. Your chair.”
What about my chair?
If he answered the question, I missed the signal, but the next gesture let me slowly cross the room, checking every direction on my way. I saw nothing near the door, or by the shelves, but small, almost delicate footprints patterned the rug in front of the fireplace. No human could have made those prints.
But if the nymph had waited for us to return, she would have announced herself by now. While a magical had certainly let themselves into our home, a nymph would not have caused a problem.
So then why had she used the chimney to enter our flat?
I found the answer in the armchair. Two lumps of coal rested in the exact middle of my chair, a novel propped behind them. The title page toward the back meant I recognized the novel only through familiarity, but I focused more on the coal in the middle of my chair. Why would—
Wait. Coal. Cole. What had we discussed that day?
“You watch all of London?”
My cracking voice could not hide my amazement, and Nicolas’ laugh warmed the room. “I watch all of every city, John, though not all at once. You know I prepare a present for every child each year. How else do I make sure the gift is appropriate if I do not watch?”
“But then…” The question trailed away, but I rephrased before he could ask. “Do you truly give coal to bad kids?”
“No.” He shook his head, one hand claiming yet another piece of shortbread. I would have to remember how much he liked this year’s dessert. “I give coal to the parents of misbehaving kids,” he corrected. “Most young children misbehave because they want the attention, for whatever reason. If I notice a young one struggling because their parents don’t have time to pay them the attention they need, I will often leave coal behind for the parents. Your parents have given you a good grasp of money. If you had to choose between food and heat, how much value would you put in a few scoops of coal?”
Understanding bloomed. “You give them coal to put more food on the table and give the parents more time with their kids over the holiday!”
A slight tilt of his glass served as a ‘well done.’ “The children do not understand, of course, but they lose interest as soon as they find their own present, and the parents do not have to work as hard for a few days.”
The conversation had wandered through other gifts he occasionally left before returning to how he watched entire cities without spending every moment sitting in the scrying room, but my thoughts jumped forward, to the coal-derived code he had mentioned using with the local elders of each race when a magical needed help.
Two lumps of coal rested in my chair, one rather small, the other miniscule. They sat in the middle of my seat, and a storybook leaned against the chair behind them. One glance at the approaching snowstorm sent me back down the stairs as fast as I could go.
“Watson!”
“Keep up or stay behind!”
Hurried footsteps clattered down the stairs behind me. He nearly tripped once, and only the banister kept me upright, but luck and gravity got us both to the entry without injury. I barely grabbed my sturdier cane as I barreled toward the street, and a wave flagged down a passing cabbie while he locked the door behind us. He caught up just as a cab lurched to a halt.
“Watson, what—”
“Storey’s Gate,” I told the cabbie, ignoring Holmes’ question in a clear order to get in. After the many times he had started a case by hustling me out the door without explanation, he could follow without question when it mattered. “An extra tuppence if you get us there in under twenty minutes.”
That motivated the driver far more than the approaching storm. He flicked the reins as Holmes quickly dove into the other seat, and we jolted away from the flat at a speed slightly faster than most cabbies would risk on the slushy roads. I decided not to comment, however. How long—
“Watson?”
“It’s a code, Holmes,” I answered shortly. Worry continually checked my pocket watch. “You have everything you need to deduce the message.”
I would tell him soon enough, of course, but solving the cypher would keep him busy as we bounced up one road and down the next, and I had no interest in the many questions that would arise should I give him that information too early. He could figure it out or see for himself. I wanted to watch the streets pass.
I wanted to be there, more accurately, but unlike the many magicals now hiding from the incoming storm, I could not instantly travel even small distances. Streets passed in a blur as I fought not to lose myself to my worry.
How long had the cry gone unheard before we returned home? Would they still be in the same area? Would we reach them in time? Nicolas would not have sent a nymph to me if any other magical could have helped, and he had only sent the nymph to us instead of the park because she could not withstand the incoming storm long enough to do any good.
But why had he left the message in our sitting room instead of simply using the amulet?
Because I had not felt the amulet. The thought sent me digging through my many layers, only to put my hand into an overly warm pocket with too much fabric between the heat and my side. A glance found the exact same message as was encoded on my armchair, and I skimmed the text to ensure I had not missed something before wiping it clean to send one of my own.
“Are they still there?”
The words shimmered, then faded beneath his reply.
“Yes. Look in the roots. Not far from the corner.”
Tangled roots or a hollow tree, then. A decent idea for conserving warmth, but they would never last the night. We lurched to a halt before Holmes could make out the words over my shoulder. I tilted the gem to let him read while I addressed the cabbie.
“We’ll have another fare for you if you wait,” I promised as I dug out most of the coins in my pocket. Holmes’ raised eyebrow announced he knew just what I would be giving up in paying that cab fare, but we could solve that problem later. First, I had to find those young ones. Comprehension sparked as he followed me toward the nearest copse of trees.
“Do you know their names?”
“No.”
He frowned but headed left when I turned right, and we each began a search pattern. A slowly zigzagging path checked trees and bushes in turn. The wind kicked up ahead of the looming clouds. Snow blew out of lingering drifts to lower visibility. The temperature plummeted with every passing minute, but I refused to lose two children to a snowstorm. I ignored the chill to keep searching. Behind every tree. Under every bush. In the various hollows.
“Watson!”
I had just moved into the third section of my pattern when Holmes’ voice carried over the wind. He waved, then crouched in front of a large tree. I moved as quickly as I could over the uneven, snow-covered ground.
“…hear me?” he was murmuring as I came within range. I could not hear a response over the wind, but he pulled a tiny, unmoving boy free of the tree trunk just before I stopped beside him. My own glance quickly spotted the much smaller girl the young one had been shielding. She easily tucked into my coat, just as the boy did Holmes’. He frowned down at where he had cocooned the boy under his scarf.
“They are too small.”
I shook my head. Both children had their magical parent’s ears. “They’re Endangered Ones and probably twins. With fraternal twins, one always grows larger than the other. Even in humans. It’s just more pronounced with Endangered Ones. I’m more worried that they haven’t woken.”
Extremely worried, though saying as much would do nothing. A quick message to Nicolas ensured he had not seen a parent or another sibling nearby, and we hurried back toward the cabbie. We could only get them home and get them warm.
“Holmes?”
I waited to ensure the cabbie still lingered at the corner before voicing a quiet question, but he knew as well as I how many coins I had in my pocket. To pay for the return cab, I would have to make the cabbie wait outside the flat while I retrieved my emergency money from my medical bag, but he immediately nodded.
“Yes. Get in.”
A sigh served as a quiet ‘thank you,’ and I leaned back slightly in the seat, balancing the child on my chest. She never moved all the way home.
Though Holmes moved plenty. With his questions either answered or deduced, and nothing we could do for the newest Irregulars but reach shelter, his worry turned into frustration—mostly that I had solved a “break-in” without him. He griped and grumbled all the way home and through warming up the sitting room, only quieting when the young one on his chest finally started shivering. Careful movements helped me wrap them together near the fire so they would not wake held by strangers.
Then he retrieved hot chocolate and hot water bottles before joining me on the settee to continue grumbling. He would probably make me explain the code and its history later.
And everything about the Endangered Ones, of course, but that could wait until we calmed down the two terrified children in our sitting room.