The Lasts and the Hall of Mirrors by Tabitha Scott

Author:Tabitha Scott [Scott, Tabitha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-02-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12: The Weapons Rack

Two of the Sisters of Mercy came to pick up Sister Margaret, one to drive her car, while Sister Bertrude drove the two girls and Sister Margaret to the city.

“This is good for us, Sister, anywhere along here will do.”

Bertrude pulled the car into a parking spot on the curb. “Thanks for looking after Meg, girls, God go with you,” the middle aged sister offered as the two girls exited on O’Connel Street.

Precipice and Clara walked on a bit, toward the side street that led to the souterrain.

“Will Sister Margaret be okay, Precipice?”

“I think so, Clara.”

“Will she still meet us? We need to help Old Straw.”

“It’s two days from now. We’ll see.”

The girls made their way back to their underground home, following the way to the alley and then down through the sewer.

“A lot has happened in the last day or so. Are you alright, Clara?” Precipice asked as they made their way in the caverns toward the hidden doors that guarded their home.

“I don’t like adventures, Precipice,” she replied, and then a moment later, “but I’m glad we helped Sister Margaret, I like her."

Precipice smiled. “Yeah, she’s alright. You handled that knife well, too. How about you open the doors?”

Clara smiled, they were at the doors, and calling her magic, she opened the first lock.

“The one thing we need to talk about is not telling everyone about our magic.”

Clara hesitated at the second door, but only for a second. “It wasn’t just me, we told Southside, too. Those three men will remember what they saw.”

Precipice knit her brow as Clara opened the second door. “I hadn’t considered that. There were drugs involved though, so maybe nobody will believe them, maybe they won’t even believe what they saw.”

“I don’t believe it!” Clara yelled. “Look!”

She was pointing to the wall where a new wooden rack was holding the swords and knives they had salvaged from the old pots.

“Oh, that looks great,” Precipice reacted. “Túathal made good use of those pallets of wood we brought down here.”

Then as they looked around they saw that there was also a roughly made table with stools, and a bookcase that now held some of the girls’ few possessions, their books and Clara’s dolls.

“Oh wow!” The girls exuded delight.

“We’ll have to thank him, Precipice, this is great.”

“Aye, let’s call him now.”

The girls went out through the two doors into the souterrain tunnel.

“Túathal!” Clara yelled out at the top of her voice.

“You need only have whispered.” The ancient wrath appeared from nowhere, a wry grin on his lips.

Before he had even finished, Clara had her arms wrapped around his waist and was hugging him. “Thanks for the bookcase, and the stools and table, and the rack for the swords and knives,” she told him.

“You’re welcome, young Last. However, I see blood on your sister’s sleeve, I think it is not her own. Have the two of you engaged in battle?”

Clara backed away to stand by Precipice. Her head was downcast.

“It were three louts, one of them was a drug dealer from Southside,” Precipice explained.

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