Lord Day and Lady Night

15. Fighting Dirty

"Why, pray, do I need a 'crash course'?" Narrowing his eyes, Lord Patrick Day scrutinized the innocently smiling girl in front of him. He didn't particularly like the expression, specifically the word "crash". "What we are planning on doing are covert activities, correct? It is not as if I would have to meet people and fool them into believing I am an East End native. We are planning on infiltrating a secret facility. The people there will hardly get the chance to scrutinize me."

"They will if we wanna question dem." He saw Amy inspect him from the side. "Dat's unless ye're prepared ta kill dem all?"

His Lordship stumbled, nearly planting his face on the pavement.

"I thought not." The smile Amy gave him was somewhat like the smile an adult might give a naïve child.

She really does live in a different world from me.

Why, all of a sudden, did it seem as if that thought hurt?

He swallowed.

"So...what is it you are aiming for?" he enquired to distract himself. "I doubt I can become a native in an afternoon. What are we going to do?"

"Simple. Remember what I said before? If ye're gonna run around da East End, it ain't enough to just look like a native. You got to walk and talk like one. We can forget about the looking part for now, since we'll be in disguise. But what if ye wanna say somethin' with one of da gangsters in da same room? We've got ta fool dem, make 'em think we're from a rival gang. Yer fancy-pantsy Oxford accent don't exactly scream 'East End street rat'! So we gotta do something about dat!"

She rubbed her hands.

Patrick felt a cold tingle of dread travel down his spine. The kind the hero of a gothic horror story might feel, just before the vampire jumped around the corner and buried his fangs in their neck, sucking out their very life's blood.

"You don't mean...!"

"Aye!" Amy gave him her broadest, lewdest, most devious smile. Her "I'm a hussy and proud of it"-smile. "I'm gonna give you a-low-queue-shen lessons!"

***

"How long? How long until Miss Amy is coming over?"

Patrick closed his eyes, then slowly opened them again. Unfortunately, he had not awakened from this bad dream in the process.

When Amy had suggested that they meet up at her place for lessons in half an hour, he, with the admirable manners of an English gentleman, naturally had to respond, "Come alone to the home of an unchaperoned young lady? I couldn't possibly!"

But, looking at the eager face of his young sister, the chaperon-to-be, perhaps it hadn't been such a splendid idea to invite her to his sister's place instead.

"She'll be coming soon," he answered. And with luck, I'll think of some excuse to get you out of the room before then. He cleared his throat. "Why don't you go and prepare some tea, so—"

Ding-dong.

"She's here! She's here!" Leaping up from the sofa, Angeline rushed out into the hallway.

"—we can welcome our guest," Patrick finished his sentence for the empty room.

No one answered.

In fact, no one came for quite a long time.

A really long time.

"What in the name of...?" Muttering under his breath, Lord Patrick Day marched forward and pushed open the door. Out in the corridor, his baby sister and Amy were huddled together over...something.