Fear Her Wrath II: Crucible of Glass

Chapter 2

Chemist's Lane wasn't exactly an auspicious address. It was on the north end of Chilltern Banks, getting close to the abandoned steelworks known as the Black Kilns that once provided thousands of working class jobs in the Fen. The general aesthetic was broken windows and boarded up doorways, with a touch of urban blight. There used to be an apothecary's shop here, back when the streets of the Fen were still cobbled and the police gave reckless driving citations to horse-drawn carriages. Like a lot of places, the name stuck around a long time after its namesake.

Honestly, I had no idea what we were doing here, and I had a bad feeling that Nick might be leading me into some kind of trap. I really hoped this wasn't the second fatal mistake I would make in one night. As I scanned the rows of crumbling tenements, I spotted a building with a faded "112" just above its entrance. I slammed on the breaks and skidded to the curb.

"Well, we're here," I said, mostly to myself. "Now, let's see if we can find this... doctor."

I lifted Nick back onto my shoulders and ascended the stoop, which had one railing missing. The wooden doors of the tenement were unlocked, and one of the narrow frosted glass windows was cracked. There were no signs of anyone having lived here in a very long time. Without believing it would actually help, I glanced at the faded room numbers on the mailbox just inside the door, and was surprised to see a small golden nameplate engraved with the following:

"Dr. Edwyn Lily. Apartment 203."

"Second floor," I said, looking up at the moldering stairs with trepidation. "Almost there, Nick."

I was starting to get tired of carrying this grown man on my shoulders, but I trudged my way up the steps with all the determination I could muster. The second floor landing was just as desolate as the entrance, with a few scraps of carpet still clinging to the wooden floorboards and every door but one boarded up. The remaining door was, of course, the office of Dr. Edwyn Lily, as a brass plaque declared in bold black letters. I thought about knocking, but Nick's condition wouldn't allow for the usual formalities. Luckily, the door was unlocked, and I found myself in a small, dingy apartment that had been converted into an old-fashioned doctor's office. A stove in the far corner gave heat to the room, and the walls were decorated with medical charts and small black-and-white photos of Marbrose City. There was a writing desk, a sofa and chairs, and a shelf stacked with pulp magazines and faded back-issues of Judge and Photoplay. A single dusty window looked out onto the deserted street below. Despite the unusual decor, I still felt awkward about barging into this place—fifteen years as a doctor's daughter hadn't cured me of the feeling that a doctor's office was a sacred space. As I closed the door softly behind me, a warm, pleasant voice addressed me from the far end of the room.

"Welcome. Do sit down."

Edwyn Lily wasn't what I expected from an underworld doctor. He looked more like an eccentric high school science teacher, with a forest green jacket, brown corduroy pants, and a polka-dot bow tie that accentuated his smooth bald head and angular face. He wasn't tall, but he was so thin and wiry that he seemed taller than he was.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to come to me," said Dr. Lily, who was washing his hands in a large metal basin. A pair of fine silk gloves was folded neatly on the table beside him. As he turned to face me, I caught the slightest flicker of surprise as his eyes fell on Nick Tomassi.

"Curious," he said, passing off his momentary surprise as bemusement.

"No kidding," I said, lowering the unconscious Nick onto a battered leather sofa, which I figured must be the usual place for patients awaiting treatment. "He told me to bring him here. And before you ask—."

"Dr. Lily asks no questions. I find they make business unnecessarily complicated."

His way of speaking struck me as weirdly formal and erudite, but without being stiff. I stepped aside as he leaned over Nick Tomassi, who was bleeding out all over the furniture.