Chapter 148: Chapter One Hundred-Forty-Eight: Vats

//CLARA//

The tannery shivered under the merciless winter.

Gary led the way, with Hattie a step behind me, her eyes darting to every broken window. Then, Gary stopped dead, shoving a hand out to force us into the deep recess of an abandoned loading bay.

"Down."

I blinked against the stinging frost, peering around the edge of the rusted iron frame.

The tannery sat fifty yards ahead. Three men were pacing the perimeter.

One of them stood by the rotting main door. Another was peering through a shattered lower window, a crowbar resting casually over his shoulder.

A cold spike of adrenaline shot straight through my stomach as I turned to Gary.

"If this is the safest place to hide the ledger," I hissed, "then why are there already people circling it like it’s a carcass?"

Gary frowned.

"Please don’t blame me. I don’t know either. I don’t think I can trust my memories. They’re... slippery. Plus my head is splitting down the middle. And I’m guessing based on ghosts."

A wave of guilt crashed over me.

Right. Gary had no idea how deep and fucked up we were in this situation. He was doing his best with fragments of another man’s life, and I was punishing him for it.

"I’m sorry."

I meant it.

"But we’re not turning back. So unless you have a better idea than walk in and hope they don’t notice us, start talking."

I peeked back around the corner. The man with the crowbar had just disappeared inside the shattered window, and the man with the pocket knife was walking toward the far side of the building, his back turned to the alley.

The third guard was lighting a pipe near the corner, his attention entirely occupied by a stubborn match.

Then a terrible, stupid, dangerous idea bloomed.

"Where did you hide it?" I demanded.

Gary blinked, shaking his head slightly as if trying to clear a fog. "What?"

"I am going inside," I said, steeling my decision. "Where did you hide it?"

"Cl—Eleanor, don’t be stupid," Gary hissed, locking his fingers around my wrist. "Look at them. You can’t take those men down alone."

"Who said anything about taking them down? I just need to slip in undetected."

He was silent for a moment before letting out a long, ragged sigh as he finally conceded to the stubbornness he knew he couldn’t fight.

"The second vat from the western wall."

His eyes unfocused as he pulled the memory forward.

"There’s a false bottom under the cedar lining. But the floorboards in there are rotted through. If those men are inside tossing the upper levels, one loud noise and they’ll be down on you in seconds."

"Then I won’t make a noise."

My mind was working at a terrifying speed.

"You stay here with Hattie. You’re too tall, and you’re limping from that fall from the cart. If you move across those cobbles, they’ll see you instantly. I’m small. I can slip through the side drainage chute by the foundation."

"That’s suicide," Gary protested. "If they corner you in those vats, there’s no way out. You’re diving straight into the fire."

"Better than sitting here like ducks waiting to be shot."

Before he could pull me back, I dropped to my knees and crawled out of the loading bay.

The slush was freezing against my bare palms, the cold biting through my gloves.

Filth—actual, honest-to-God street filth—soaked through my skirts, and I could feel it seeping into places I refused to acknowledge.

This is absolutely disgusting.

The guard with the pipe turned his back to nurse his flame.

I didn’t think. I just ran, my boots slipping on the frozen ground and threw myself flat against the damp brick foundation of the tannery. The wall was wet, slimy, probably coated in something I didn’t want to name. I pressed my cheek against it anyway.

If I survive this, I’m burning my skin. Assuming tetanus doesn’t kill me first.

The drainage chute was a narrow, iron-grated square near the ground, the bars rusted through by decades of chemical runoff. I stared at it, then at my hips, then back at the chute.

"You have got to be kidding me," I whispered. "Next time, I’m letting Gary do the dirty work. He can suffer."

I kicked the iron with the heel of my boot. It gave way with a dull, muffled thud that sounded like thunder in my ears.

I froze. Held my breath. Listened.

The whistling winter wind swallowed the noise.

Thank you, nature. You owe me one.

I squeezed through the gap headfirst, and the brick tore at the shoulders of my dress.

"This is fine," I muttered into the darkness. "I’m fine. Everything is fine. I’m just crawling through a hole in the ground like a rodent."

I tumbled into the absolute blackness of the cellar.

The unmistakable musk of dead mice, old oil, and something much worse hit me instantly. I gagged, my hand flying to my mouth.

"Oh, God," I wheezed. "That’s not air. That’s a war crime."

I scrambled to my feet, my boots squelching in mud that felt far too thick to be just dirt. I didn’t look down. I wasn’t going to look down. Some things were better left unknown.

Above me, the floorboards groaned violently under heavy footsteps.

"Check the rafters again!" a muffled voice shouted from the first floor. "It’s here somewhere!"

I crept up the rotting wooden stairs, my hand sliding along a wall that felt slick with mold.

Great. Toxic spores. Just what my dress needed.

When I reached the top, I peeked through the cracked doorframe into the main processing room.

The space was massive, dominated by a row of giant, circular wooden vats that looked like sunken hot tubs from hell—minus the relaxation and plus a century of biological horror.

The floor was a complete safety hazard, a literal labyrinth of missing planks and gaping holes that dropped straight back down into the dark cellar.

Twenty feet away, two men were violently tearing apart an old desk, splintering the wood with a crowbar. They were terrible at stealth, but unfortunately, they had muscle on their side.

The second vat from the western wall was directly in their line of sight. To get to it, I had to crawl across an exposed beam, completely out in the open.

Because of course I did. Why would this ever be easy?

I lowered myself onto my stomach, slipping onto the thick timber beam. I slid forward, my chest pressed flat against the wood, every muscle in my body trembling with the strain of keeping silent.

Below me was a fifteen-foot drop onto iron spikes used for hanging hides, and ahead of me was the vat.

If I fall, I get turned into human shish kebab. No pressure.

A floorboard creaked sharply behind me.

"Hey, look over there," one of the guards muttered.

I froze, my eyes closing as the cold sweat turned to ice on my skin. I pressed my forehead against the wood and stopped breathing, silently bargaining with the universe.

"What?" the second guard asked.

"Thought I saw a shadow move by the vats."

"It’s just the rats, you idiot. Keep digging. If we don’t find this ledger we’re all dead men."

Wow. Validated by a nineteenth-century thug. Officially demoted to the status of a giant tannery rat. Good to know.

I forced myself forward, reaching the edge of the second vat, and tumbled over the rim into the dark, wooden cylinder. The air inside was freezing. I dropped to my knees, my fingers frantically tearing at the rotting slats at the bottom. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

I pried at a loose seam until a panel finally gave way.

Beneath it, wrapped in a grease-stained piece of oilskin, was a thick, heavy book.

The Ledger.

My fingers wrapped around it, a gasp of victory escaping my lips, but the sound was instantly cut short.

"Well, well, well," a rough voice boomed from above.

I looked up to see the guard with the crowbar standing on the rim of the vat, looking down at me with a jagged, yellow-toothed grin. He had followed the drag marks of my muddy skirts across the beam.

"Look what we got here," he shouted, gesturing to his partner. "A pretty mouse digging some dirt."

Before I could move, he reached down, his massive hand locking around the collar of my cloak, and hauled me out of the vat like a sack of grain.

"Let go of me!" I screamed, kicking wildly, my boot catching him dead in the shin.

He grunted, throwing me onto the solid section of the floorboards. The impact knocked the wind clean out of my lungs, making my vision go white for a split second. Instinct—or maybe just pure desperation—had me tucking the ledger deep beneath the mud-soaked folds of my skirts.

The second guard walked over, staring down at me with a slimy grin.

"Oh, what a catch," he murmured, his eyes tracking up my body with sickening appreciation. "Boss is gonna pay a fortune for this."

"You fucker! Don’t you dare come closer!"