“Quel porc vous êtes! Will you ever be finished with the syrup?” Helene asked irritably, resting her chin in her hand and huffing.

“Eventually,” I replied, grinning as I finished drenching my waffles completely in the maple syrup. “Here. Take it.”

Helene took the syrup pitcher carefully. “Ew! It is all dripping on the sides! What a mess!”

I rolled my eyes and dug into my breakfast.

“What you need is to learn…how do you say? Oh yes, some self-control. That is what my maman used to tell me when I was very small. What you should not do is—”

“Let me enjoy myself, Helene! It’s not often that I get to eat anything that’s any good at all, y’know. I’ll be off soon enough, so let me enjoy your cooking without you bossing me around, all right?”

“I do not think you will ‘be off’ any time soon, Tom. I do not appear to be any closer to leaving than I was when we first joined together, if you have not yet noticed.”

“I have noticed.” I smirked at her. “At this rate, we’ll all be living together till we’re old and grey.”

“Maybe we can spend Christmas together!”

“Ugh. Don’t even say that. If this mess isn’t solved by November, I’m leaving, whether I’m wanted by deadly killers or not, you ken? I have a life to lead!”

“Ah oui, and what a life you live!” Helene cut her waffles a tad viciously. “What important—”

A loud caw from the hall made me jump and Helene glare at me. “What the hell! It wasn’t me who cawed, it was Luce’s bloody ugly bird!” I shook my head and looked down at Misère, who was plodding across the floor, cawing.

“Aren’t ravens bad luck?” I said aside to Helene. “A symbol of death, ain’t it?”

“Where is Lucien, do you think?” Helene looked worried, and stood up. “He usually comes for his breakfast about now.”

“Bloody plonker probably wants you to serve it to him in bed,” I snickered. “Either that or he died in there and Misère wants us to get rid of the body.” I paused. “Now there’s an idea!”

“Do not be silly. If he was dead, you would feel it. And Misère would be dead too.” Helene picked the bird up, and stroked his feathers, wincing at his uproarious cawing.

“Maybe Misère’s hungry.” I held out a kipper on a fork, but Misère barely noticed, still cawing. “Blimey. When a familiar refuses a kipper, that’s something.”

“I should check on Lucien.” Helene looked worried, which bothered me. She barely knew Lucien at all. She must’ve just been worried because he was part of our haphazard coven. I wondered if she’d be that worried for my sake.

“Well, I’ll go check with you,” I said breezily, shoving past her into the hall, with Blarney at my heels. “If he’s dead, I’ve first dibs on looting the corpse, agreed?”

“How can you say that?” Helene hurried after me, clutching Misère in her arms. Grimoire peeked out of her apron pocket, as curious of the goings-on as the rest of us. “If there is something wrong with him, you will feel very bad!”

“Doubt it very much actually.” We had stopped at Lucien’s door, and she still hadn’t made a move to open it. “By the by, what if he’s perfectly fine and the poor sod’s just getting dressed and we barge in? We’ll all be a hell of a lot less than happy if that happens, aye?”

“Something is wrong with him,” Helene said. “Can you not feel it?” She looked up at me and shook her head. “We must check on him.”

She magicked open the door and tip-toed in, with me directly behind her. Misère cawed and fluttered out of Helene’s arms onto the bed, where he nestled next to the lump in the bed that appeared to be Lucien.

“Bloody hell. He ain’t moving at all. I think he is dead.” I cocked an eyebrow at Helene. “Either that or he passed out. Oi! Lucien, you been drinking?”

Helene smacked me hard in the arm. “Ferme-la! Lucien, are you sick?”

Lucien lifted his head off the pillow and looked mournfully at us. “I feel awful.”

“You sound awful! Not to mention, you look bloody awful too,” I said loudly, making a face, and receiving a glare from Helene. It was true though; the bloke looked even worse than he had that night when we’d all gotten together. His face, which was usually far too pale, was unhealthily flushed, and he looked as if he’d taken a few hard knocks from someone, judging by his cut lip and the ugly bruise spread over his chin.

Helene clambered onto the bed and put her tiny hand to Lucien’s forehead. “Lucien pauvre…You have a bad fever!”

“That’s the least of his problems,” I pointed out, magicking Lucien’s desk chair closer and seating myself upon it. “What the hell happened to your face, Luce?”

Lucien groaned and laid his head back down. “I f-feel worse than I’ve ever felt in my entire l-life. I’m b-b-bloody freezing, and everything h-hurts.”

“Everything?” I snickered.

They both ignored me. Helene looked thoughtful, her legs tucked under herself and her skirt spread neatly around her. Lucien groaned again and rolled over onto his side, pulling his blankets to his chin and shivering.

“You’re probably dying of some disease,” I declared, locking me arms behind my head. “Probably caught it from some bird you got off with. Well, I could’ve told you that you ain’t living a healthy lifestyle—”

“I think you have la grippe, Lucien,” Helene said seriously.

“Can he die of whatever that is?” I asked, sitting up straight.

Lucien groaned again, and Helene reached over and brushed his hair off his forehead fondly. You could practically see the wheels in her mind turning, as she realized that a sick Lucien actually needed her and would have no choice but to associate with her every day. I knew she was tired of me drinking and being annoying every minute.

“Well, will he die?” I asked again. “Because if you’re dyin’, Luce, we need to talk about what you’re going to leave for me in your will.”

“Do not joke about dying,” Helene scolded. “It is not funny. Lucien has the influenza, which he can die of if he does not have a doctor see him. You need to be quiet. How would you like it if someone laughed when you were sick?”

“Lucien’s a pansy,” I said airily. “I don’t get sick, hardly never. I had scarlet fever before and I didn’t sit around whining and cryin’ about it. Honestly, Lucien should shut up and get his arse out o’ bed. There’s lots of people worse off that do a lot more all day. And I actually had a lot of people laughin’ when I got sick. You try living on the streets sometime and see how it is. I’m going t’go finish my breakfast.” I got up and left the room, Blarney trailing after me.

I returned to the kitchen feeling a bit more sour than I’d felt before, and finished my waffles. After a moment, I took Helene’s plate and finished that off too. I was pouring myself a cup of tea when she came back in waving a piece of paper.

“Tom, you need to go out and get Lucien’s doctor,” she said, brandishing the paper in my face.

I rolled my eyes and dumped the last six sugar cubes into my cup, along with some honey, milk, and a dash of whiskey from the bottle I’d found under the table. “No, thanks. Don’t feel like it.”

“I would go, but I do not know London very well. You will be safe if you go, I am sure. The council cannot know where we are staying. And besides, Lucien said the doctor—Dr. Maxwell—does not live very far from here.”

“I said no. Bugger off.” I downed the tea, and uncorked the whiskey bottle. “I’m not Lucien’s slave, y’know. Yours neither.” I lifted the bottle to take a swig from it and realized it was empty. “Oi! What the hell? Blast! Helene!”

She crossed her arms, her little face set. Blarney mewed, a bit impressed despite herself. I wasn’t impressed at all.

“You brat! Give it back!”

“No! Lucien is very sick and he is only going to get worse if you do not get him a doctor!”

“Oh, haha, I don’t bloody care. What happens to Lucien is none of my damn business!”

“Yes, it is!” Helene shoved me hard in the chest. “We are a coven! You have to care!”

“I never asked t’be a coven! If being a coven means being that sod’s servant, then to hell with it! I go to fetch his doctor, and next thing you know, I’m drawing his bathwater, shaving him, and helpin’ him get dressed! I don’t think so! That ain’t happening!”

“You are a selfish man! You do not care about anyone but yourself!”

“Maybe so.” I stood up, and lifted Blarney into my arms. “Look here, love, I don’t see why I should do anything at all for Luce. What the hell do I owe him?”

“This is Lucien’s house we are living in, Tom! Getting the doctor is the least you could do for him!”

“Well, I never asked to live here. If I’d known I’d be made to be errand boy—”

“Ça alors! If you will not do it for him, then do it for me! I cook for you every single day—”

“Again, I never asked any of you for anything! I don’t need—”

“Ah, oui, but you enjoy all of the benefits, do you not?”

I shrugged. She was beginning to get to me now. I headed into the hall and she followed.

“Tom, please, you must go! I cannot take care of Lucien on my own! Please! People can die of influenza!”

I stopped and turned around. She looked genuinely worried, and for good reason, I had to admit. I’d seen boys die of influenza when I’d been in Murphy’s gang, and I didn’t wish a death like that—or of any sort—on Lucien, for all that I fairly disliked him. Besides, when I was injured by the ghosts at Lady Willoughby’s, Lucien had been ready to drag me to the doctor. Of course, I hadn’t needed it, but he’d made an effort and I figured I did owe him in some small way for that.

“Aye, fine, then. You probably won’t let me be till I do, so I might as well. For my own comfort then, you ken? Not for Luce’s. Blimey.”

“Thank you! I knew you would!” Helene hugged my arm, and I pulled away, adjusting my sleeve uncomfortably.

“I might still just change my mind,” I reminded her, crossing my arms.

“No, your good side won you over already,” she said playfully, her eyes sparkling. “I can tell.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this. Don’t exactly help me becoming an absolute rotter, does it?” I rapped on the Maxwells’ door for what had to be somewhere near the third time. “Blast. You’re right. I am going soft."

Blarney mewed and nuzzled my neck.

“I love you too, darling, but that doesn’t solve our problem. Halloween’s comin’ up and if I’m being a good boy, who knows what’ll happen? I can’t let Helene get to me anymore, that’s our problem.”

The door opened then, and I forced a smile at the plain-faced maid who was peeking out. “Hello, I’m looking for Dr. Maxwell?”

She looked me over skeptically. “He’s inside, having his breakfast. You can wait out here.”

“I don’t have time to bloody wait. I need to see the doctor now, you ken?”

“Fine.” She opened the door wider. “But the animal stays outside.”

“What, my cat? Oh, come now. She won’t touch anything.”

“I don’t need cat hair all over the house. I have enough cleaning to do already. You can leave the animal outside, or you can wait outside.”

“Fine, fine. Calm down.” I let Blarney down and she mewed sadly. “It’s all right, love. I’ll only be a minute. Y’won’t even have the time to miss me.” I looked up at the maid. “Not talking to you, by the way. Was just talking to my cat.”

“Hm. If you’re going to step inside, please hurry up.” She moved away from me as I entered, in an obvious effort to avoid contact. I wasn’t sorry for it. She was not a pretty thing, with brown hair pulled back in a tight bun, and a pasty pinched and pock-marked face. I’d gathered in the past few years that her type—the unattractive working woman—harbored a good deal of bitterness which always soured their attitude.

After shutting the door, she beckoned for me to follow her. “The doctor is in the dining room having breakfast with his wife. I’ll take you in, and mind you don’t touch anything.”

I blinked innocently at her. “Do you think me a thief, ma’am?”

“I know your kind, boy,” she said coldly, leading me out of the front hall and toward the dining room. I made a face at her back and nicked a few notes I saw lying around a small side table in the hall.

We entered the dining room, my eyes roving and catching on valuables, and briefly looking over the old folks seated at the table. They had to be Dr. and Mrs. Maxwell.

“This boy here to see you, Dr. Maxwell,” the maid said, waving her hand in my general direction.

“Oh yes, thank you, Eliza,” the old bloke said, smiling and putting down his marmalade and toast.

Eliza left the room, but not before sending me a glare. I ignored her and leaned casually against the wall, my hands in my pockets.

“Would you like something to eat, dear?” The missus smiled at me and gestured at the breakfast foods laid out on the table, on which she seemed to be dining rather heartily.

What was it with women offering me food everywhere I went? Was it me in particular they liked to feed, or was it just a general womanly tendency to stuff everyone full of food? I wasn’t used to females at all.

“No, thanks, ma’am; I’m in a bit of a hurry. I’m here for this bloke—Lucien Baptiste.”

“Lucien?” Dr. Maxwell smiled, apparently being one of those odd people who actually liked Lucien.

“Such a nice boy,” Mrs. Maxwell said, nodding. “Very polite.”

“Aye, Lucien.” I straightened up, and shrugged. “He’s got the flu, apparently. Looks like hell and all, sounds awful, and he keeps whining about everything. He’s a bit of a weakling, so if you can help him you’d best come quick because he’s not the type who lasts very long when sick. He might even be dead by the time I get back there. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Oh dear, remember how sick Lucien used to get?” Mrs. Maxwell looked worried, and shook her head at me. “That poor boy used to be fainting all the time. Not much of an assistant, was he, Dr. Maxwell? And he was always coming down to breakfast so late during the last few months he was with us. He was always such a nice boy, but not very focused and I don’t think he took the work very seriously—”

Dr. Maxwell nodded at his wife as she prattled on, and got to his feet. “I’ll go and fetch my things. You can wait in the hall or in here. We’ll get going in a moment.”

“I’ll wait here,” I said, nodding, as he left the room. I smiled broadly at Mrs. Maxwell, and we had a decent conversation while I waited for the doctor. She blathered on and I nodded at the right bits, gave in and ate some food too. She was a nice woman, and she had a nice pair of earrings too, which I magicked into my pockets.

After the doctor came back and wished a good-bye to his wife, we finally made off. The moment I stepped outside Blarney leaped at my legs, mewing about how she missed me and how I’d been in there for too long.

I laughed, and cuddled her to my cheek. “Oh, I missed you too, love. I was worried for you alone out here!” I noticed Dr. Maxwell looking my way, so I smiled. “My cat, Blarney. That damn maid of yours told me not to bring an animal in, so I had to leave her outside.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, returning the smile. “Eliza is a bit strict. She’s very fond of making up house rules to suit herself. By the by, I didn’t get your name, did I?”

“Didn’t you? My name’s Thomas Ryan,” I said, giving him the name I’d given his wife when she asked. “So Lucien used to be your assistant then?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Wasn’t much good, was he?”

“He tried. But Lucien was never cut out for this sort of job.”

“Oh, aye, he’s more of the professional philanderer sort. Why’d he bother getting a job with you then? I can’t imagine he’d ever seriously consider going into your business.”

Dr. Maxwell sent me a quick, almost curious glance. “Lucien’s father chose his business. Lucien was in school for that until his father died. That was when he came to me. I let him go when he was eighteen, and have hardly seen him since. I’m sure he lives quite well off his magician tricks…That’s what I hear anyway.”

“Magician tricks?” I laughed, and shook my head. “He makes money off of magic? Blimey. That’s cheap of him, taking advantage of people.”

“I wouldn’t think less of him for it,” Dr. Maxwell said easily. “Lucien does the best he can for himself. He tries.”

“I suppose he does. As much as he can. Which ain’t sayin’ much.” I took one of Lucien’s cigarettes from my pocket and lit it. After a moment, I offered one to the doctor, but he declined politely. “Suit yourself. So, tell me, there’s something I’ve always wondered about doctors—D’you do what you do for the sake of helping people or do you do it for money?”

“I like to help people. But I’ve known many doctors who do it purely for money. You have those in every occupation.”

“Rather. Y’know, I’ve never liked doctors much. No offense. But they never seemed much use to me.” I breathed out smoke in a sigh. “You people can’t fix hardly anything, but people pay you to dish out foul-tasting stuff that’s s’posed to make them better. And it doesn’t even matter, because people die anyway.”

“Doctors are only human,” he pointed out.

“Aye, true. And humans are weak.” I smiled, tucking my chin against Blarney’s soft little head. “It’s just our nature.”

“You’re back!” Helene cried, pulling the door open. “And you did bring the doctor!

“I said I would, didn’t I? Did you think I lied?” I pushed past her and went into the kitchen, where the biscuit jar was open on the table

“Do not take more than two biscuits,” Helene warned, coming in the kitchen.

“She’s awful bossy, isn’t she?” I said to Dr. Maxwell, who was waiting politely in the hall. “Helene’s the maid, by the way. Thinks she’s got the run of the house. She’s terribly cute though, ain’t she?” I ruffled Helene’s hair and she yelped, pulling away and trying to fix her hair back to the way it was.

I grabbed a fistful of biscuits, put the lid back on the jar, and grinned at Dr. Maxwell. “C’mon, then. I’ll take you to Luce’s room. Oi, Helene, Luce is still alive, right?”

“Yes, of course! I am making him tea!” We were near Lucien’s door when Helene leaned out of the kitchen into the hall. “Tom! You shut Grimoire in the biscuit jar!”

“I was just being polite closing the jar!” I shouted back. “I go an extra mile for you, Helene, and you don’t appreciate it one bit!”

“You are going to gain an extra mile simply in girth if you do not stop taking three times as many biscuits as I tell you to!”

I shook my head at Dr. Maxwell. “Women. Always badgering.” I kicked open Lucien’s door. “There you go, doctor. There’s your patient.”

Lucien looked our way as we entered, he was still lying in his bed where I’d left him earlier. “Dr. Maxwell,” he began, pulling himself up on his elbows, before breaking out into a coughing fit that had him doubled over. Misère fluttered down from the headboard into the bed, apparently concerned.

“Told you he didn’t sound good,” I said, shaking my head. “Oi, Helene! Are you sure he isn’t awfully near death? We can save on doctor fees if we just let him pass away in peace, you know!”

Dr. Maxwell ignored my talk, as mature people tended to do, and set his black bag at the foot of Lucien’s bed. “Hello, Lucien. It’s been a long time hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has,” Lucien said, a bit uncomfortably, pulling himself up into a sitting position.

“Bloody hell,” I said, coming closer to the bed and gaping at him. “What really happened to you last night?”

He looked like he had been in a fight. He wasn’t wearing his shirt, and after smugly noticing that he wasn’t much broader than myself, I realized the bloke was covered in large bruises, bruises that were definitely not from falling down some stairs or something, but from another, likely bigger, person’s fists.

“Y’know, this is probably a stupid question, but why exactly would someone want to knock you around, Luce? Particularly, what did you do to deserve it?” I pulled the chair closer with my foot, and plunked down into it. “Do tell.”

“Ugh, shut up, Tom. Don’t you have anything better to do?” Lucien blew his nose into a handkerchief, watching the doctor out of the corner of his eye, as the old bloke poked through his black bag.

“No, I do not,” I said, in mock sadness, running a hand over my hair, and stretching my legs out, making myself comfortable. “Helene vanished the whiskey and I’m so miserable sober I thought I might as well heap on more misery by spendin’ time with you, old boy.”

“More misery for you or me?” Lucien asked suspiciously.

“Does it really matter?” I grinned, and shoved two biscuits into me mouth at once. Blarney bounded onto Lucien’s desk with a certain admirable grace, amid the papers and ink bottles. Lucien looked irritated about that, but had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

Dr. Maxwell put on his stethoscope, and put the end of it to Lucien’s chest. He was careful not to touch any of the bruises, but Lucien looked uncomfortable, shifting, tucking his hair behind his ears, and avoiding Dr. Maxwell’s eyes.

“Are you all right, Lucien?” Dr. Maxwell asked suddenly, his voice seemingly absent-minded.

“I’m sick,” Lucien reminded him, looking even more awkward.

“Oh yes, I know. You’re terribly congested.” He tucked the stethoscope back into his bag, rummaged a bit more, and produced a thermometer, which he handed to Lucien. “Hold it under your tongue. What I mean to ask, Lucien, is if everything is all right in your life…Are you in any sort of…danger?”

Lucien nearly choked on the thermometer; the doctor took it from him, and Lucien looked away, wiping his mouth, and making an effort not to look worried.

“No more danger than I ever was before,” he said carefully, glancing up at the doctor.

“You’ve got a high fever,” said Dr. Maxwell, studying the thermometer. “You are in a bad way. Your friend had good reason to be so concerned.”

“Friend?” I repeated, a bit too surprised to come up with anything smart to say.

Lucien looked disbelieving too. “We’re not friends. Just…um…” He couldn’t come up with the right word, besides ‘coven members’, and gave up on it.

“Honestly, I’m worried about you, Lucien,” said the doctor, with a sigh. “I always thought you’d change, that you’d learn on your own, but I guess I was wrong. You seem just as thoughtless as you were back when you were apprenticed to me. You have to understand, Lucien, as your life changes, you have to change with it. You have to grow up. You’ve responsibilities now. It’s not just you anymore. You have people relying on you.” He glanced at me, and I looked at Lucien, trying to understand. “If you want to take care of other people, you have to learn how to take care of yourself. You have to be honest with people, and you have to be honest with yourself.”

Lucien laughed shortly, and coughed. “I’m…I’m not in any danger. I just got into a small mess, a…a squabble, and it’s nothing. I just…You’re right, sir. I’m not careful. But it wasn’t a danger, just…nothing.”

“Knowing Luce, doctor, it was just some bloke taking a few hits at him for messing about with his sister.” I stood up, lifting Blarney back up onto me shoulders. “That’s the most danger he ever gets in, honest. Luce and I are old chums, and y’know, he’s always been too good-lookin’ for his own good. Always getting into trouble about that. I mean, what can we do about it? He can’t help it, and God knows most of the ladies don’t mind, for all that he’s scrawny and pale and he’s got big teeth.” I grinned at the doctor. “So onto the prescription then. What you got for us?”

“Well, it is the influenza,” Dr. Maxwell said, looking at each of us in turn. “I brought the proper medicine, but I’d best tell your maid what to do with it.”

Lucien looked blank, and I nodded. “Helene handles most things. All right. Good. Let’s go to the kitchen then.”

“Very well. Good-bye, Lucien.” Dr. Maxwell shook Lucien’s hand, smiling in a fatherly sort of way at him. “Mrs. Maxwell and I hope to see you again sometime. Take care of yourself.”

“Yes, quite, you too,” Lucien replied, still looking a tad embarrassed. “Thank you, sir.”

Dr. Maxwell followed me into the kitchen, where Helene was arranging candied fruit on a freshly-baked-and-frosted cake. She looked up when we came in. “Will Lucien be all right?”

“I think so, if you all take care of him and he takes care of himself,” Dr. Maxwell said, smiling, and taking the small medicine bottle from his bag. “It is the influenza. Make sure he takes two teaspoons of this twice a day, starting today. Keep on going with it, until the medicine runs out. He’s sure to be better by then. If his condition changes for the worse, you know where to find me, and I will come immediately.”

“Oh thank you, Dr. Maxwell!” Helene took the medicine bottle, her eyes shining out with joy. “We were so very worried about Lucien! I will make sure he takes his medicine whether he likes it or not!” She looked very determined. I didn’t envy Lucien there; I could just see her forcing medicine down his throat.

“Very good,” the doctor said, holding in a laugh. “I thought you’d be the one to handle it.”

Helene beamed. “I have the money for you.” She reached for some notes piled neatly on the table, but Dr. Maxwell shook his head.

“No, there’s no need for that. I won’t take payment for helping Lucien. Tell him it’s a favor.”

Helene looked ready to insist that he let her pay him, but I took charge. “Well, ain’t that grand of you. Blimey, what an excellent fellow. Of course, we won’t make you pay if you don’t want to. Don’t worry about it. You’ll be off now then?”
“Of course,” he said, and Helene lead him to the door, over-doing her thank-you’s, while I picked at Helene’s candied fruits.

“Aha! Vous voleur!” The door had just shut behind the doctor, when Helene dashed back into the kitchen and smacked my hand. “Bientôt vous serez si grand, vous ne pourrez pas se déplacer et alors je rirai!”

“I don’t even know what you said,” I reminded her, around a mouthful of candied fruits.

“Get out! I need to give Lucien his medicine, and I need to finish this cake! Sortez!” She shooed me out of the kitchen, and I let her, so I could go back to the parlor and take a nap.

I came back an hour or so later to find her in a better mood, as I’d hoped. She was sitting calmly at the table, sharing a piece of cake with Grimoire. She smiled at me, and told me to help myself to some cake, and to be quieter because Lucien was sleeping. She washed her dish and skipped out of the kitchen with Grimoire, humming cheerfully. It was a nice change, to have Helene in a good mood.

I did help myself to a couple of pieces of cake. I figured I might as well eat more than my usual share; Helene didn’t eat much and Lucien was too sick for sweets. After I finished, and Blarney had licked the plate clean, I headed back to the parlor to get some more sleep.

For a moment, I didn’t know what Helene was doing, kneeling by the sofa I slept on as she was, and when I noticed the notes around her that she was counting, I wondered for a moment where she’d gotten so much money. It was when she looked up with a mix of surprise and guilt in her face that I understood what was going on.

“You little thief! What the hell are you doing? Get your bloody hands off of that!”

Helene gathered the money hurriedly into her arms and stood up. “It is not fair! The first few days we lived here I used the bit of money I had to buy things for us all! And ever since then Lucien has been supporting us with his money! You cannot hoard all your money and expect everybody else to support you! It is time you share!”

“No! Damn sharing; put that money down, you little brat!”

Helene shook her head hard. “Non!”

“If you don’t drop it now, I’m warning you, Helene, don’t think that just because you’re a cute little lassie from France that I won’t make you be sorry for it. I mean it.”

“No!” She was positively defiant. “We need money! Lucien cannot get money for us until he is better, and we will go hungry if I do not use your money!”

“Then let’s go hungry! I’ve done it before! I don’t care! Get your bloody hands off of my money, you thieving little beast!”

I grabbed her arm, and she shrieked as if I’d stabbed her. She stomped down on my foot and I let go, more surprised than injured, and she ducked under me arms and ran for the door. I cursed, and grabbed at her again as she reached the doorway. My fingers accidentally caught in her hair, and she screamed, elbowing me in the stomach. She wasn’t very strong at all, and I recovered in a second, catching her before she made it fully into the hall.

She lost her balance as I got a hold on her and we both tumbled down, me on top, and money flying about us. Helene was squealing in French, and struggling under me, as I tried to pry her arms off my money. But she didn’t let go; she had what was a near death-grip on the load of it.

“Let go, you wicked child, or I swear, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life!”

Helene shrieked, as if she truly believed I would do exactly so, and kicked me hard. I gasped, and let her go. She jumped up and ran for it, leaving me cursing and gasping on the floor. I jumped up as soon I was somewhat recovered and dashed after her. She’d stopped halfway down the hall, then screamed and ran with renewed vigor as I roared a few choice swears and went for her.

She blew open Lucien’s door as soon as she reached it and didn’t hesitate before jumping onto Lucien’s bed and diving under the covers. I ran in after her, cursing and half-ready to pull her out. Lucien was sitting up in bed, managing to look horrified and confused at the same time.

Helene was still squealing, burrowing under the covers, and money was everywhere. I was yelling and cursing, half-intending to drag her out of the bed and shake her upside down till she dropped the money.

I think Lucien surprised everyone when he suddenly shouted, “Just shut up!”

I surprised myself a bit by actually shutting my mouth. Helene quit squealing like a stuck pig and peeked out of the blankets, staring wide-eyed from Lucien to me. Grimoire poked his head out, his green eyes narrowed at me. Misère pulled himself out of the blankets, looking even more irritated than usual somehow, his feathers ruffled.

“Now, what do you wretched people want?” Lucien asked, sighing, with his face in his hands, as if everyone was causing him some sort of great inconvenience.

Blarney reminded me that we actually were probably causing the bloke some inconvenience, seeing as he was sick with the flu and we had invaded his bedroom. That would have all amused me much, if I hadn’t been so furious with Helene about the money.

“Tom est devenu fou et veut me battre à la mort!” Helene wailed.

“Whatever she said, she’s lying,” I growled, glaring at her till she hid under the blankets again. “She’s a wicked whelp and deserves to be beaten to death.”

“She said you want to beat her to death,” Lucien said wearily, leaning his head against the headboard. “Damn it, Tom, she’s just a child. Can’t you leave her alone?”

“She’s a thief!” I cried.

“Oh, well, that’s ironic,” said Lucien sharply, sending me a nasty look.

“He has a huge hoard of money that he keeps hidden in the parlor!” Helene declared, bursting from the blankets and thrusting the money in Lucien’s face. “I want to use it since we are nearly penniless, but Tom is chasing me and calling me a thief!”

“What?” Lucien turned to me. “What’s wrong with you? Just let her have it! Do you want to starve?”

“Not particularly. But I don’t want to be robbed either.”

“Oh, and the people you steal from like being robbed, do they?”

“Well, maybe not, but I’ve been saving that money for near six years, and I don’t want to spend it yet.”

“You are a miser!” Helene said, pointing at me.

“You’re a demon child!” I retorted.

Lucien sighed loudly. “Listen, Thomas. Please just be quiet and let her borrow the money.”

“All right then.” I crossed my arms. “She can borrow it if she pays me back within a year.”

“Je paye la dette en alimentant votre gros visage!” thundered Helene, shaking her tiny fist.

I could guess what that meant. “In British money,” I specified. “Not food. Or by dealing with my presence.”

“I’ll pay you in money if you will just leave my room,” Lucien said seriously.

“Will you?” I was surprised. “You’ll pay me back in exactly a year?”

“Give or take a few months, yes.”

“I suppose I can accept your whore money,” I said slowly. “Can I charge you interest as well, starting a year from today?”

“Do whatever you want, as long as whatever you want includes getting out of my room and letting me recuperate in peace,” he said, with another heavy sigh.

“Do you want to know how much interest that is?”

“I don’t even know how much money that was.”

“A lot. I’ve counted it recently. I’ll loan it all to you people. And you’ll pay me back in a year, Luce, with interest if you go a day past October the twentieth, 1889. That’s a hell of a lot of money.” I paused. “Come to think of it, this is all to my advantage. I get the better deal here. It is a deal then, Lucien.”

“Yes, it is. Get out of my room.” Lucien turned to Helene. “Get out of my bed. And take his bloody money with you.”

Helene obeyed, magicking the money neatly into piles that levitated after her as she ran off. I followed her, magicking for myself some of the sweets strewn on Lucien’s nighttable into my pocket.

Glossary:
Bientôt vous serez si grand, vous ne pourrez pas se déplacer et alors je rirai - (French) Soon you will be so large, you will not be able to move and then I will laugh
Ça alors - (French) My goodness
Ferme-la - (French) Shut up
Je paye la dette en alimentant votre gros visage - (French) I pay the debt by feeding your fat face
La grippe - (French) The influenza
Lucien pauvre - (French) Poor Lucien
Non - (French) No
Oui - (French) Yes
Quel porc vous êtes - (French) What a pig you are
Sortez - (French) Leave
Tom est devenu fou et veut me battre à la mort - (French) Tom has gone mad and wants to beat me to death
Vous voleur - (French) You thief

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