Tremor

Chapter 4

04

In the few minutes that followed Eleanor's revelation, Penny had taken the opportunity to press a teacup into Eleanor's hands, with the excuse that the tea did "wonders for nerves."

Eleanor didn't argue and sipped the tea as Lingonberry started scribbling away at the teleportation sigil on the sandstone floor.

"Penny, pass me the tea ladle, won't you?"

"No, Grandfather," Penny refused, and shook her head. "That ladle's strictly for tea. You see? That's exactly the reason why Mr Wallis won't accept tea from the cauldron."

"I wasn't going to-" Lingonberry paused. "Actually, never mind. Could you pass me the paintbrush? …we don't use it for any culinary purposes, do we?"

"You'd better not," Penny warned even as Eleanor regarded the tea suspiciously, "since it's covered in glue. What on earth will you do when I return to school?"

"Possibly give food poisoning to myself," Lingonberry was only partially joking as he took the paintbrush, regarded it carefully, then tossed it over his shoulder where it landed precariously close to Eleanor's foot. "The chalk box, if you please, Penny dear."

Penny dutifully handed the box over to Lingonberry. "Perhaps you can take on an assistant? Maybe Miss Greene? Would you be amenable to that?" she asked Eleanor.

"I…" Eleanor thought about it. She truly had no idea where to go in the city, much less how to even start on breaking her marriage contract, preferably in a way that did not result in death. Or how to find the wizard who caused the whole mess in the first place. That, however, did not mean she was desperate enough to live in the same building as a grumpy man and a slightly dotty Magician. Penelope was possibly the only normal thing she'd encountered so far. "I'm afraid I must think about it."

"Well, I would be open to offering you a job and a place to stay," Lingonberry replied good-naturedly. "But first, I should bail our resident inspector out of mind control, shouldn't I?"

"Inspector?" Eleanor repeated. "Mr Wallis is an inspector? He seems… a little too young for the job. He does not appear to be any older than five and twenty."

"He is five and twenty," Lingonberry answered, now drawing chalk marks on the floor, "but he did have a few years of experience with dealing with the supernatural. Being the delivery boy of a Magician will do that to you."

"He was your delivery boy?" Eleanor joined the dots.

"Oh, yes," Lingonberry looked up from the chalk marks, smiling fondly at the memory. "Fought off a werewolf right in front of Chief Barker's eyes on one of his runs. Managed to make constable soon after."

"Werewolves?" Eleanor was very quickly rethinking her possible employment.

"To be fair," Lingonberry pondered the matter carefully, "he was carrying three ham sandwiches at the time."

"And silver coins," Penny put in helpfully. Then, at Eleanor's pointed look, "It's a long story."

"Never mind," Eleanor supposed it was a story for another time. "Are you intending to go after Mr Wallis?"

"Oh, no," Lingonberry pulled himself off the floor with a groan, mumbling something about 'shouldn't be doing that at my age' under his breath, "you are."

Before Eleanor could respond, the umbrella was shoved unceremoniously into her hands and she herself was propelled without fanfare onto the sigil.

"Just tell the receptionist Felix forgot his umbrella," was the last thing Eleanor heard before surroundings dissolved into darkness.

The darkness did not last long at all, and colour and light rose from the darkness, spiralling up and around her head in thin ribbons before thickening and forming into a foyer with dull grey carpeting and cathedral-like arches that stretched up into the alarmingly tall ceiling.

Eleanor's feet hit the ground unsteadily, and she swerved straight into a desk. Instead of being disgruntled at the sudden appearance, a cheery voice asked, "First time teleporting, dear?"

Eleanor winced at the new bruise on her hip. She straightened up slowly. "Am I that obvious?"

"'fraid so," the receptionist, a cheery middle-aged woman with thick spectacles perched on her nose answered her. "Who are you here to see, dear?"

Eleanor looked down at the umbrella, then at the receptionist, taking in the badge proclaiming the woman to be a 'Ms Murray'. She squared her shoulders, and hoped she looked a little more professional. "My name is Emily Greene and I am here to see Mr Wallis. He has," Emily added, "forgotten his umbrella, and his landlord wished for me to deliver this to him. In person."

Murray looked at her. Then shrugged, as if young ladies showing up with umbrellas were a common occurrence. "Sure thing, dear. I'll take you to him."

…

Unusually, Parkes did all the talking this time.

Felix was too busy staving off a headache to be much help, besides offering grunts of affirmation every now and then to Parkes' account. His fingers twitched slightly, and Felix clenched his hands into fists. The shaking stopped, and he let out a discrete sigh. The headache pounded away merrily.

With a start, Felix realised Parkes had finished with the report, and Chief Barker was talking again.

"We managed to lose an entire squad to the drug," the Chief had not noticed Felix's discomfort, "and forensics are still studying the substance. We were hoping you'd have some answers for us, Mr Wallis."

Felix blinked, snapping to attention. "I beg your pardon?"

Barker frowned, then glanced at Parkes. Parkes shrugged. Barker's gaze shot back at Felix when the man winced. "Mr Wallis?"

"'m fine," the man muttered, "what was your question?"

The concern did not leave Barker's expression, but she pressed on. If there was anything the chief knew, Felix Wallis was stubborn. "As I was saying, have you made any developments on the nature of the drug?"

"No," Felix replied, "I left the matter with Lingonberry. I suspect he is studying the drug even as we speak."

"And I trust he will have results soon?" Barker's gaze turned to the doorway when the capybara lumbered past again. Parkes found his attention similarly diverted.

That was possibly why neither were prepared when Felix suddenly shot up out of his chair with a ferocious snarl and knocked aside the desk, reaching out with murderous intent at the chief. Barker had time to register that Felix's eyes were unusually blue – almost glowing – before the man was knocked into the ground…

…with a well-placed umbrella to the head.

Barker stared at the petite woman brandishing the umbrella, dimly noting that Ms Murray, the receptionist, was looking quite shocked.

The younger woman swallowed, then offered quiet explanation. "Mr Lingonberry believes that a… ah, a blunt trauma to the head seems to resolve most problems."

And from the floor, Felix muttered something very uncomplimentary about the Magician's parentage.

…

The excuse of being the Magician's assistant was a very convenient one, as Emily Greene found out.

She hadn't meant to introduce herself as Lingonberry's assistant, but there was only so many excuses one could offer when pinned by a suspicious glare from one very intimidating Chief Cheryl Barker who demanded to know what was going on. And so, Eleanor had introduced herself as Emily Greene, newest assistant to the Magician at the Brownstone while Felix Wallis was examined by a doctor. Wallis bore the poking and prodding with an emotionless expression, one that steadily darkened as Emily stammered out her explanation.

Constable Parkes spent an uncomfortable amount of this time staring at Emily, as if he was trying to pinpoint something about her, something very elusive. To Emily's relief, Parkes had clearly been too disoriented several hours earlier to notice that her hair was a different colour to when he'd first met her at the docks. In fact, he took the explanation of Emily being the Magician's assistant quite steadily. It would, for one, explain why she'd been at the docks at that time of night in the first place. Emily was simply happy that the excuse dispelled any questions the constable might have had.

Despite Wallis and Parkes being cleared for duty, Barker wisely decided that the two had been through enough for the day, and gave strict instructions for the two to spend the rest of the day off duty, with the assurance that the rest of the police were not simpletons and could handle the situation quite well.

Wallis had only agreed on the condition that Barker notified him the moment Weasel was found.

Following that, the man had left the office, without another glance at Emily.

Emily had spent two seconds frozen in indecision before Parkes remarked, "You'd best follow him, Miss Greene."

Emily did not need to be told twice – she had no idea how to get back to the Brownstone since someone had teleported her without warning, and Wallis was her best bet at the moment. She was sure if she didn't return to the Brownstone, Lingonberry would eventually send someone – probably Penny – to pick her up, but it was not a chance Emily was willing to take.

By the time Emily caught up with Wallis, the man was halfway down the stairs leading up to the police station's entrance.

"Is he really hiring you as his assistant?" Wallis stopped long enough to turn around and glare at Emily with an anger that wasn't entirely directed at her – Lingonberry was the main object of his ire.

"Yes."

"Of course he did," Wallis started down the stairs again, with an angry sigh. "I thought I told him to wait… why did he send you here?" He added as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

Perhaps it was the annoyance on Wallis' face. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep.

For what ever reason, Emily did not reply with an answer along the lines of 'to save you from becoming a mindless zombie'. Instead, she blurted, "Mr Lingonberry said you'd forgotten your umbrella."

For the first time since her brief acquaintance with Felix Wallis, Emily caught a glimpse of Felix, rather than Inspector Wallis.

"He said what?" Felix blinked in bemusement, eying the umbrella in Emily's hands.

Before Emily could repeat her answer, the sky, already overcast, broke apart with a boom of thunder and buckets of rain.

Emily yelped, and opened the umbrella, saving herself from the worst of the drenching. It was then that she noticed something odd – her shoes remained surprisingly dry, despite not being protected by the umbrella, and the rain drops that had managed to hit her were already vanishing into little puffs of steam.

Looking away from her miraculously dry shoes, Emily raised her gaze to meet Felix's, who watched her with an unreadable expression. He did not seem to care that he was becoming more and more waterlogged by the moment, and was studying Emily like she was some kind of puzzle.

Emily was not sure exactly what to do, but ultimately decided on one course of action. She held the umbrella out to him timidly, a tentative peace offering.

Felix looked at the umbrella, then back at Emily. Then, all his previous anger seemed to deflate and be washed away by the rain. He took the offered umbrella and held it over the two of them. He started in surprise when the rain soaking his hair and jacket dried, curling away into little tendrils of steam. He looked at the sigil in the underside of the umbrella and chuckled wryly. "A drying charm."

"Keeps away the rain and other undesirables," Emily quoted.

Felix offered his arm to Emily when she stepped towards him cautiously.

"Let's get back to the Brownstone, shall we?"

Felix's tone was almost gentle, and Emily took the proffered arm.

…

The storm did not last as long as Emily thought it would. By the time the duo reached the Brownstone, the rain was slowing to a steady drizzle.

Despite the drying charm on the umbrella, Emily was glad to be out of the rain. Like last time, the door of the Brownstone slammed shut behind them, but Emily was too tired to flinch this time.

Lingonberry and Penny were waiting patiently in the foyer, and judging their respective armchairs and books that they'd dragged out from somewhere, they had been waiting for some time.

"You," Felix was certainly not as angry as before, but definitely still annoyed, "and I need to have a talk, Lingonberry."

"Of course," the Magician smiled innocently, blithely ignoring the dirty look directed his way by Felix. "Penny, you'll get Miss Greene settled, won't you?"

Felix didn't argue the point, and opened the door next to the stairs. Emily caught a glimpse of a couch and a lit fireplace before the door swung shut behind Lingonberry and Felix.

Having the vaguest impression that she'd missed a very important silent communication between the two men, Emily nonetheless allowed herself to be swept away by Penny up the stairs.

"I've taken the time to air out one of the apartments. It's the one on the third floor, right below mine," Penny chattered away, and Emily nodded, only partially listening. "Grandfather lives in the one on the top floor, although he spends more time in the attic more than anything. Mr Wallis, as you've probably inferred, lives on the ground floor. He claims the further away he is from the attic, the more soundly he'll sleep at night."

"Does his claim have any merit?" Emily asked as the two made their way past the second floor and onto the third.

"In a manner of speaking," Penny admitted as she opened the door on the third floor. "Grandfather is not exactly a quiet man when he works."

"At night?"

"Occasionally."

Emily stopped at the doorway, taking in the sight of the apartment. A small but cosy sitting room took up the majority of the space, with a corridor leading further into the apartment.

"Bedroom is the door on the left," Penny's voice echoed down the corridor as she gestured at the aforementioned door, "and the bathroom's on the right. We do have running water, thank goodness. I know this most likely isn't what you're used to but-"

"It's wonderful," Emily's smile was genuine. It was most likely the first time she'd ever truly had a room to herself – in a figurative manner of speech. Back at Moreau Manor, one could never be too sure that one wasn't under constant watch by the servants. But this, the small apartment was all for her and her alone. "It's perfect."

Penny seemed pleased, and pressed on. "I'm afraid there's no kitchen here. The bottom floor and the attic are the only ones with a kitchen. We take our meals at the ground floor."

"Then why…?"

"If you are asking why there's tea in the attic," Penny foresaw Emily's question, "it is because we used to eat upstairs, until Mr Wallis had one too many incidents with the perils of eating in a workroom. He insisted that he would take care of our meals for the sakes of our health." She sighed regretfully. "I'm afraid the tea and the cauldron was the last straw for him."

Emily very much wanted to ask just what had happened with the cauldron that had so horrified Mr Wallis, but Penny waved her off before she could ask her question.

"The cauldron," Penny advised wisely, "is a story best left for Mr Wallis to tell."

Emily left it at that. "So… might I ask, what now?"

"Now," Penny handed the key of the apartment to Emily, "you get some rest. I'll be by later today. Grandfather wants me to familiarise you with the tasks you will be completing as his assistant-"

"How did he know that I agreed?" Emily interrupted in surprise. "He… he cannot see the future, can he?"

"Only a little," Penny admitted after a moment. "Mainly he simply looks out the window in the attic for his answers."

Emily thought it was wise to not make a comment at that, and Penny continued. "There will be a few deliveries I need to complete, and you will have to learn where to deliver-"

"What do you deliver?" Emily blushed when she realised she'd interrupted again. "My apologies, I did not mean to interrupt."

"No matter," Penny waved away the apology, unoffended, "I should have waited until you're rested before going into this. I shall leave you, and return in the afternoon."

After a quick exchange of goodbyes, Penny left the apartment, closing the door behind her. Emily considered it for a moment, then decided that she should lock the door. After all, she did not truly know the people in the Brownstone, even if a little voice in her head, the same one that had told her to jump onto the train, whispered that they could be trusted.

And then she crawled into her bed and slept.

Two floors below, Lingonberry likewise left Felix's apartment, and the young man in question was sprawled on the couch, fast asleep after a somewhat civilised argument about the young lady in question two floors above.

Elsewhere, in the middle of the city, Headquarters was graced with the presence of Lord Moreau himself, frantic that his daughter had, apparently, either been kidnapped or vaporised. He certainly did not expect Eleanor Moreau had the will to run away.

…

By the time Emily woke, she was blissfully unaware of the fact that by the next morning, Eleanor Moreau's face would once again be plastered across the newspapers. Instead, she was more occupied with the incessant knocking at the apartment door and the afternoon sunlight streaming through her bedroom window.

"I'm coming," Emily called, feeling rather much like Eleanor after sleeping in. Taking a moment to straighten her clothes and hair, she unlocked the door to see Penny, laden with a satchel of something that clinked with every step.

"Did you rest well?" Penny asked brightly.

Truth be told, Emily still felt a little groggy, but that was to be expected after waking up so quickly. "Well enough. How long was I asleep?"

"Four hours," Penny straightened the satchel, and handed a list to Emily. "These are the deliveries you will be making."

Emily scanned the list. "…is there a map I can use?"

Penny laughed. "I'll be showing you the places, so hopefully you won't need one. But if you need one, yes, I do have a map."

The deliveries were straightforward enough. First was old Mrs Hackett with her chickens in her front yard that squabbled and pecked away, who was in need of a salve for her rheumatism in her fingers. She was followed by Miss Davis who had an unfortunate allergy to grass and required a constant supply of what suspiciously looked like cough medicine. Mr Roycroft did not voice what the vial of hair dye was for, and neither of the girls were impolite enough to ask.

The silver hairs on the man's head provided all the answers, after all.

Halfway through the deliveries, Emily finally dared to ask if Lingonberry ran an apothecary.

"It's more of a hobby," Penny replied. "He does have a proper job. I'm sure he'll let you know soon enough."

The deliveries stretched on into the late afternoon as the two girls travelled the cobbled streets of Oakston, collecting the golden coins the citizens of Oakston used as currency in exchange for the little vials.

Once, Emily had to stop and wonder if she was hallucinating when she caught sight of a few odd looking birds – almost like they were wearing suits – waddling past, but she was very quickly reassured by the sight of a constable rushing past in pursuit of the birds.

"Penguins," Penny offered as an explanation. "From the zoo."

Emily wasn't sure what penguins where, but she vaguely remembered reading the word somewhere.

By the end of the deliveries, Emily found herself being dragged into "Mrs Kingsbury's", a dress shop, by the looks of the mannequins in the shop's window.

"Are you in need of a dress?" Emily frowned as she looked over the list. "This place is not on our deliveries-"

"That's because you," Penny grinned at Emily, "are the one in need of a dress. Several, in fact. And underclothing too, unless you took your entire wardrobe with you on your train trip."

Emily blinked in surprise. "How did you know I was on a train?"

Penny did not answer, and ushered her towards the seamstress, Mrs Kingsbury, and in between being measured by the seamstress, Emily did not have another chance to ask again.

…

Penny and Emily returned to the Brownstone to find Inspector Wallis on the telephone in the foyer.

"Miss Dreadful, Miss Greene," he nodded at the two as he climbed the stairs, calling out, "Lingon! I need to use the teleportation sigil!"

Emily spluttered in outrage on Penny's behalf when the younger girl did not seem to be offended at having been called 'Dreadful'. "Why, that was most singularly rude of him! How could he call you that?"

"Hm?" Penny only just seemed to notice Emily's outrage. "You mean 'Dreadful'? That's my name."

"Your name is…" Emily asked slowly with growing horror, "…Penny Dreadful? Why on earth did your parents name you that?"

"I have a Grandfather who goes by Lingonberry," Penny reminded Emily dryly with a small smirk, "I'm afraid unusual names simply run in the family." Then, she frowned a little. "I wonder where Mr Wallis is off to."

The two girls looked up the stairway as one. One of the many parcels of clothing Emily was carrying fell free of her grasp with a loud thump, and the two girls stared at the fallen parcel.

"Perhaps we should get these up to your room."

Emily agreed.