Chapter 17
Chapter 17
It was just gone nine o’clock in the evening on the 29th of August, 1925. While Newt and his friends were busy at Eatons, Mr. Meyers was dining with the French Ambassador - the real one, not Murdoch pretending, and Mr. Graves had gone off somewhere to plot and scheme.
Deep in the belly of The Ward, at The New Salem Society, supper had long since ended. The soup bowls had been washed and put away. The pot was scrubbed, the utensils polished and made ready for the Sunday luncheon. Pamphlets had been distributed to the children for early-morning proselytizing on Sunday.
The unfortunate absence of Reverend Winters did not derail the Society’s mission - Ma led the congregation in their typical Saturday night post-supper services. She read scripture, and preached with all the fury and fire of the Reverend. She cast judgemental eyes on the gathered children and few adults that came to their services. There were more that usual of the latter this evening, perhaps people were curious after the explosion earlier in the day.
Credence did not hear a word of the services, so caught up was he in his thoughts.
By some miracle, Credence had managed to slip back into the New Salem Society unnoticed. Mary Lou Barebone was focused on clean-up.
Credence was determined to find the child that Mr. Graves so desperately sought, and to do that would be difficult enough. The last thing he needed was Ma breathing down his neck. He looked about the gathered children...he instantly dismissed any child that did not come to the Society regularly...it had to be a regular for Mr. Graves to have visions of the child in relation to Ma. He examined each child and dismissed them one by one in his mind’s eye.
None of these children even remotely exhibited the raw power that Mr. Graves had described. They felt so...ordinary. He felt himself begin to panic.
Credence felt eyes on him. He glanced around the room nervously, praying that Ma hadn’t yet caught sight of him. His gaze fell on Modesty who was staring at him in her normal flat, unblinking countenance.
Suddenly everything clicked.
Modesty.
He slipped from the room unnoticed as the services ran on, and made his way to the bedroom he shared with his siblings, heart hammering loudly in his chest. This was it. He was so close.
He stopped before Modesty’s bed, and took a breath, hesitating. Could this truly be his ticket to freedom?
Modesty, who, of the three of them, was the one who shared Ma’s hatred and obsession with witches. Modesty, who frightened him, always watching, always staring.
It made sense. No one else was close enough to Ma. No one else was young enough. No one else unsettled him so very much. Surely the crawling, uneasy feeling he felt when she looked at him could be latent magical power?
He had to move quickly before Ma found him. He’d have to lure Modesty away from Ma, and then call Mr. Graves. He would pack Modesty’s belongings, and his own and they’d be gone before they knew it. Preferably before the end of services. He wished he’d payed closer attention to know what they were up to. They’d sneak up the fire escape to the rooftop to his hideaway and then take off among the chimneys. He'd tell her it was a witch hunting game. He’d call Mr. Graves using his special talisman, and they’d be free! Free of the life of misery they were living. And he’d ask Mr. Graves if they could take Chastity along too.
Mr. Graves was a nice man, a powerful man, surely he’d help protect Chastity from Ma’s fury?
Credence quickly packed his meager belongings into his pillowcase.
He then grabbed Modesty’s pillow, and slipped it from its case. He searched through her chest of drawers, rifling through her clothes of grey, black and brown. He threw some of her clothes on her bed and began to stuff them in the pillowcase.
Next, he bent forward to search beneath her bed, where he knew she kept her most prized belongings. He found a solitary doll, a small length of pink ribbon, and a handful of coins.
“What are you doing under my bed, Credence?”
Credence started, hitting his head forcefully on the underside of his bed. He dropped the coins. They fell with a plunk and scattered, rolling about the floor. He had been so focused on his task, that he had not heard the door opening behind him.
The service had ended, he could hear the shuffling of worshipers leave from the front door. The anxiety started to build. Already his plan was falling apart. He didn’t know how he’d get Modesty out without a distraction.
“Nothing, Modesty. I was just looking for…”
“Stealin’ is a sin Credence. The Good Book says so, ‘Thou shalt not steal,’ Credence. You’re a sinner Credence. You’re stealin’ and stealin’s a sin!” She did not shout but her voice carried loudly.
“Please, Modesty, not so loud, I don’t want Ma to hear! I wasn’t stealin, I was packing...you and me, we’re leaving for a long trip. For an adventure. We’re leaving this place. We're hunting for witches.”
“Why are you lyin’ Credence?”
“Modesty please! Mr. Graves wants to take us away from here...’
“WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON IN HERE?!” shouted Mary Lou Barebone as she slammed open the door.
Credence nearly died on the spot. He trembled in fear watching his hopes melt away like snow before the hot spring sun. He had been so close to freedom. Now, Mary Lou Barebone towered over him like a fire-breathing dragon. Her eyes were filled with hate and violence. Credence whimpered.
“Ma! Credence was being naughty, Ma. He’s stealin’ and lyin’ and sneakin’” said Modesty in a sing-song voice.
Miss Barebone spun around and looked at Credence, her expression one of pure hate. Credence flinched back, cradling his head in his arms, and he began to sob. He was so close to escape, and now, now Ma would surely kill him.
Ma lunged at him, and pulled him up by the hair.
“You worthless weakling. You devil spawn,” she punctuated each sentence with a blow to Credence’s face. “Son of a witch!”
Modesty gasped and began to cry.
“MA! He wanted to take me away. He’s a witch. He wanted to take me to the devil! He wanted to kill you and take me away from here for a long time, he said. He’s been sneaking out. He’s been meeting with that Mr. Graves man.”
Ma grabbed Credence by the shoulders and shook him hard.
“IS THIS TRUE, BOY!?” she roared.
Credence couldn’t speak. Silent sobs wracked his body and he shook his head.
“How DARE you deny it. You ARE a witch, boy. And a sodomite! I heard it myself from that drunkard! You’ve sneaking off with that Mr. Graves! Taking my daughter to include in your wicked ways!”
She attacked Credence with renewed anger.
“IT WAS YOU, WASN’T IT!” she roared, raining fists down on him, “YOU SOLD THE REVEREND TO THE WITCHES, YOU JUDAS ISCARIOT!” She threw him to the floor where he crumbled bonelessly. Miss Barebone was spitting mad, ready to kill. Her face red, her eyes narrowed, as she roared, “You COORDINATED with those witches to SABOTAGE our preaching this afternoon!” She grabbed the rod she kept by the window specifically for punishing. She wheeled around, towering over his prone form. "YOU KILLED ALL THOSE PEOPLE, DIDN'T YOU!"
Credence pressed his face against the wooden floor, sobbing, praying to be anywhere else, to be gone. To be dead.
Mary Lou Barebone bent down and pulled Credence’s head off the floor by his hair. “You will never get out of here,” she hissed cruelly into his ear, “I will kill you boy, send your soul back to the Devil where it belongs!”
Modesty watched on transfixed, head cocked to the side as Ma unleashed her fury on Credence.
Then the wind rushed and everything went black.
* * * * * * *
It was well past ten. Inspector Brackenreid sat staring at his telephone wondering where the blazes everyone was. His work shift had long since ended, but still he sat, anxiously waiting for news. He’d heard neither hide nor hair of Murdoch, Watts, Crabtree or Dr. Ogden since the afternoon; the radio silence was driving him up a wall.
His copper’s instincts screamed that something wasn’t quite right. He’d phoned Margaret just before supper, to inform her he’d be working late. At eight, he ran to the canteen for a quick roast beef sandwich.
First he’d been worried, then he got upset...but now the worry was seeping back in. Thomas Brackenreid was a man of action. He did not like sitting at his desk with his hands tied when there was clearly something big afoot. He could feel it in the air.
He picked up the book he'd been trying to read and put it back down again, unable to concentrate.
“Higgins!!” He shouted. He made his way out of his office and to Henry, who had fallen asleep at his desk. Henry jumped to his feet, and saluted, “Sir?”
“No word yet?”
“No, Sir.”
Brackenreid huffed.
“Back to it then. Glad we can pay you to catch up on sleep.”
“Right, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” said Higgins, slouching back down into his seat. He covered his eyes with his helmet and settled himself back to sleep.
Brackenreid stormed over, and ripped the helmet from his head. “I was being sarcastic, Bugalugs!”
They were interrupted by the sharp ring of the telephone. Before Higgins could answer, another phone began to ring, then another.
Brackenreid’s stomach sank as he heard rapid footsteps and an urgent “Sir!” in his direction.
“What is it, Constable Jones?”
“Sir, another Bombless Bomb! In the Ward. The New Salem Society!”
A fist of cold dread closed around Brackenreid’s heart. He hoped his lads were okay.
“Jones, Higgins, gather the constables, all hands!” then shouting at the room at large, “SOMEONE TRY TO GET BLOODY MURDOCH ON THE LINE!”
“Sir!” said Higgins.
“HIGGINS, what part of ‘gather the constables’ did you not understand?”
“But Sir -” he pointed to the entryway.
Bloody hell. The last thing he needed...Bloody Terence bloody Meyers.
He allowed himself a sotto voce slew of profanity that would make a seasoned sailor blush.
Meyers strolled in, dapper berk, in a silk top hat, tuxedo and wingtip shoes.
“Terrance Meyers,” said Brackenreid, letting the syllables of his name drag out in distaste. Tosser, he added in his mind. “It’s a bit late for a social call.”
“Ah, Inspector, I was wondering if Detective Murdoch was about? Some urgent business.”
“I was wondering about Murdoch’s whereabouts myself. Would you care to let me in on this ‘urgent business’?.”
“I would love to, Inspector, but this is a matter of-“
“The International Statute of Secrecy,” said Brackenreid with raised eyebrows, a smug look on his moustached face.
Meyers looked as if he’d swallowed a lemon.
“How did you-“
“Confidential ,” he said. It was petty, he knew, but the satisfaction was overwhelming, “Let’s just say, I’ve been briefed. And what with this new attack at the New Salem Society-”
“There’s been a new attack?” Meyers gasped.
“You’ve been out of the loop, haven’t you? What were you partying the night away?” Brackenreid asked smugly. Then he grew serious. “I have the sinking feeling that my Detectives, my Constables, and possibly my Coroner might be in a great deal of trouble. Now, I’m no wizard, or fortune teller but I always trust my instincts...I don’t care about your intrigue and games of spy and seek, but when you endanger my lads, you’ve got me to answer to. So you’re going to help me get them back safe and sound.”
Meyers spluttered. Brackenreid ignored him with a dark smile.
“Shall we?” asked Brackenreid, and not waiting for an answer, he roughly grabbed Meyers’s shoulder and frog-marched him to the door,
* * * * * * *
Credence sat huddled in his rooftop sanctuary. Despite the oppressive heat that didn’t break with the setting of the sun, he was shivering and sobs wracked his body. The pain from Ma’s beating, though intense, was nothing compared to the pain and guilt that tormented him at that moment.
What had he done?! He’d killed Ma. And with the building in the state it was, he likely killed Chastity and Modesty too. He was certainly destined for hellfire.
He sobbed harder.
He was a murderer. Mr. Graves was a law-enforcement officer. Mr. Graves would have to arrest him and have him hung for murder, and he deserved it. He wanted it to end. He didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. Didn't want to suffer anymore.
With trembling hands he pulled out the talisman that Mr. Graves had given him. He pressed it between his fingers. Within seconds, he heard a sharp crack, which he’d come to associate with the appearance and disappearance of magicals.
“Credence, my boy- What is this? What’s happened?” Mr. Graves quickly stalked over to Credence.
The boy couldn’t answer. He only continued to cry. The man who called himself Graves was losing his patience. He grabbed Credence roughly by the scruff of his neck.
“It’s Modesty,” Credence whispered desperately. “It must be.”
"Modesty? Modesty's the obscurial? Your littlest sister?"
Credence could only nod dumbly.
“Where is she, boy?”
Credence was so overcome he couldn’t speak. He could only cry. He pointed at the destroyed chapel.
“Did she do this?” He asked excitedly.
Credence shook his head and cried harder. Graves did not care. Not when he was so close. He did not need this useless half-blood squib any longer.
“Your lies will not protect her. She doesn’t need your protection. Where is she? I need to save her from Miss Barebone.”
“Ma is dead,” Credence managed to squeak out.
“I don’t care about your useless mother. Where is the obscurial?”
Credence was too overcome to answer.
“Answer me, you pathetic, useless weakling!” he roared, giving Credence a shake.
The words cut Credence like Ma's rod. When Credence didn’t answer, Graves laughed cruelly.
“I should have known. I should have thought before involving such a pathetic worthless boy like you. Your mother may have been a witch, but she is dead. Has been long dead, and you...you are nothing boy. A squib - powerless and weak. You deserve nothing better than this life of misery, but your sister, she is special.”
The betrayal hit Credence like a knife to the heart.
“You, you told me you’d teach me, train me to be your protégé, your son.”
Graves laughed coldly, “You are unteachable. Worthless. A waste of life.”
He let go of Credence, who collapsed.
“I trusted you,” whispered Credence, “I thought you were good…”
“I have news for you boy - there’s no good and evil. Just the powerful and the weak. And of the two, you’re the latter.” Credence grabbed Graves’s leg and whispered, “Please.”
But Graves aimed a kick at Credence who flinched back. He laughed again and made his way to the fire escape. Credence was trembling with misery and rage.
The man who called himself Graves did not notice at first as the boy’s features blurred and the smoke began to pool. He did not notice as the cloud rose up to engulf Credence.
He did notice when Credence let out a visceral roar of raw pain and anger. He glanced back quickly just in time to see the explosion as Credence became the obscurus. He barely had a chance to cast a powerful Protego as the churning storm cloud charged at him. The shield charm held, but the fire escape directly above and below him was shredded down to ribbons and metal filings. Graves fell through the air, and hurried to cast a quick Arresto Momentum to slow his fall.
He should be worried, but instead, he laughed like a madman.
“Credence!” He called, his voice a cheer.
But Credence was beyond hearing. The storm cloud of repressed rage, fear, guilt, and hate sped off, bouncing from building to building facade, smashing walls, shattering windows, and raining destruction down on the Ward.
The man who called himself Graves had made a serious error, but still he laughed with glee at the raw power he saw. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he turned on himself and vanished with a resounding CRACK.
* * * * * * *
“Good Lord ,” said Crabtree in shock.
The devastation at the scene was total and complete.
What was left of the New Salem Society appeared as if it would be done in by the slightest breeze. Two of the four exterior walls had been completely demolished. Pamphlets and books were strewn amidst the rubble that spilled into the streets and alleyways. George noticed a doll that had been torn in half and sprawled desolately amidst the debris. He shook his head sadly.
“I fear we might be far too late,” said Newt nervously. He cautiously picked his way through the debris to the gaping hole that was once the front entrance.
“Are you sure it’s safe, Mr. Scamander?” Asked Murdoch, “It doesn’t look structurally sound.”
Newt slipped his wand from his pocket, and waived it at the ruins.
“That should hold for a bit at least,” he said, sounding as if he was assuring himself as well as Murdoch. Then he slipped inside. The others followed.
The scene inside was even worse.
“Chastity!” cried Julia, and she ran to the girl who lay half-buried under the debris.
The girl looked deathly pale. Her eyes were open, unseeing, her neck was twisted at an odd angle. Her hair pooled behind her head, like a halo in the dark
Julia knelt before the girl to check for a pulse, and when she found none, she gently brushed her hair from her face and slipped the poor girl’s sightless eyes closed.
Julia turned to look at them, her eyes glistening with tears. Murdoch, Llewellyn, and George removed their hats. Newt bowed his head. Murdoch crossed himself and whispered a quick prayer for the unfortunate girl’s soul. All deaths were tragic to witness, but the death of a child was always particularly difficult. It was such a sin - a young life cut short so abruptly.
Newt looked utterly devastated.
“Was it the obscurus?” asked Queenie.
“I don’t think so,” said Newt, “Not directly anyway - she doesn’t have the telltale markings. I think she was unfortunately at the wrong place at the wrong time…”
Julia nodded sadly, “It appears that she was crushed by falling rubble.”
Newt shook his head, overwhelmed with guilt and sadness. He squared his shoulders, then waved his wand. The gold stardust-like-substance glistened through the room before falling to the floor in patterns. He examined it quickly, then cancelled the spell with a wave of his left hand. With renewed determination, he made his way up what was left of the stairs.
The smallest bedroom on the second floor was mostly destroyed. The door off the landing had been torn to shreds. Only a small section of floor remained, the rest of the room had been blasted apart, leaving a gaping hole open to the dark night.
Llewellyn and Tina had slipped upstairs along with Newt. Tina had her wand drawn. Llewellyn brushed his hand against Newt’s in what he hoped was a comforting way. Newt managed a half grin of appreciation before giving his hand a quick squeeze, grateful for the contact.
Newt entered what was left of the bedroom. Tina gasped in shock. Mary Lou Barebone lay sprawled on the floor, her face contorted in hate and fear. Her face and hands were covered with the lightning-like markings of an obscurus attack.
“The obscurus got to her,” said Tina. Various emotions played across her face. She didn’t like the woman, but she hadn’t wished her a fate like this.
Llewellyn spotted something that made his stomach turn. Out of habit, to preserve fingermarks, he slipped a handkerchief from his pocket to pick up the rod she held in her right hand.
Tina muttered “lumos” and the tip of her wand erupted in light.
She sucked in a sharp breath. Miss Barebone must have wielded the rod so heavily that it cracked and splintered. More sickening still was the blood that coated it, glittering red in the wand light.
“She must have beaten the poor child until she snapped," said Tina, her voice breaking.
“Poor dear," said Llewellyn gently... “I wonder if the boy Credence is alright…” Then paused. He thought he’d heard something. He turned back to the door and made his way over. Tina and Newt frowned in confusion, but then, they too heard the desperate shuffling and sniffling noises coming from the closet.
Llewellyn opened the door, and leapt back in surprise.
“MODESTY?” he cried.
Newt was instantly at his side, and slipping his wand back into his pocket.
The little girl was crying silently and rocking herself. Her lamp-like eyes were wide in shock as tears poured down her face and her lips moved silently with no words coming out. The entire front of her dress was covered in blood.
“She’s appears to be shock,” said Llewellyn.
"So much blood!" said Tina.
“She’s likely to have been injured by falling debris,” Llewellyn responded, slipping off his suit jacket. He draped it carefully over Modesty's shoulders. She did not react. It was as if she could not see them.
“Modesty, can you hear me? What happened, love?” asked Newt gently, trying his best to examine her for gaping wounds. She had a cut on her head, but it didn’t look too serious. In his experience, head wounds tended to bleed profusely.
Modesty's eyes swam in and out of focus, but she finally looked at Newt.
“Credence,” she choked out then shut her eyes and burst into silent tears. Llewellyn glanced at Newt and Tina.
“Credence?” he asked.
“I don’t understand. He’s far too old to be an obscurial,” said Tina.
But Llewellyn's brilliant mind was working in overdrive. He was piecing things together. He could see it all lain so plainly before him. Credence at City Hall totally untouched by the dust and debris. Their conversation - he mistook the boy's guilt over the death of the newspaper man for shock. He thought of the boy, always flinching and trying to disappear, of how Mary Lou Barebone was particularly horrid to him. She must have known on some level that he was magical and hated him for it. And he, poor boy, had to hide and repress that part of himself living in a place where it would surely be met with hatred and violence.
“It all fits,” said Newt clearly thinking along the same lines as Llewellyn, “Just because we've no recorded cases of obscurials reaching past the age of ten doesn't mean it's impossible. It could certainly explain why it’s so powerful.”
“What should we do?” asked Tina desperately.
Newt turned to Modesty, and said gently, “Modesty love, where did Credence go. Is he alright?”
Modesty continued in her silent fit. Still, she raised a shaky hand, and pointed out into the night. Tina, Newt and Llewellyn exchanged a glance. Newt and Llewellyn stood and made their way over to the edge of the floor and looked out into the night.
A trail of devastation and destruction led away from the New Salem Society. Shattered windows, chunks of brick walls smashed to pieces, and overturned rubbish bins stretched out into the night.
“Credence,” said Llewellyn sadly, his voice a note of mourning. If only the boy had trusted him, opened up to him. Maybe they could have spared him this suffering.
“We have to find him. I fear this may have set him off, past the point of no return.”
“What can I do to help?” asked Llewellyn urgently.
“Let’s get Modesty downstairs,” said Newt softly. “She likely needs medical attention, and she won’t react well to magical medicine, I don’t think. She’s already undergone tremendous trauma tonight. Miss Barebone may not have been a good person, but she was still Modesty’s mum. And as far as she knows, she just witnessed her brother kill her mum using witchcraft, something she’s been taught to hate and fear all her life.”
“I’ll get her,” said Tina softly. She turned and made her way back to the Modesty's closet. Modesty cried out and shrank back.
“Witch! Witch!” she shrieked, then slipped into hysterics.
Newt strode over and knelt before her as he would a frightened animal. He made soft soothing noises, but did not reach for her right away, giving her time to acclimate to his presence. As he sensed her slowly calming, he ever-so-gently reached out a hand to her shoulder. At first she flinched but then she relaxed slightly into his touch. The shrieking cries were slowly replaced with silent sobs, and her breathing grew more regular.
Newt said softly, “Modesty, I’m going to help you out of here, and then, we’ll get to you a doctor to make sure you aren’t hurt. Does that sound alright?”
She didn’t answer, but he didn’t expect her to. He carefully slipped his arms around her and pulled her towards him. Her frail body weighed almost nothing. He cradled her close as the silent sobs wracked her body. She didn’t move to embrace him, just passively allowed herself to be lifted up and out of the closet, eyes screwed shut to avoid seeing the devastation in her bedroom.
Newt carried her downstairs quickly but carefully, flanked by Llewellyn and Tina.
Murdoch, Julia, George and Queenie had moved some of the rubble in their absence. Chastity lay in the middle of the room as if sleeping.
Murdoch looked up at him, “Modesty? -”
“She’s not the obscurial,” said Newt quickly. Queenie gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.
“It was Credence,” said Llewellyn softly, awkwardly scratching at his stubble with his unoccupied hand. “It appears Miss Barebone was beating Credence…” he showed Murdoch, George and Julia the bloody rod. “It was too much for him. He snapped. Miss Barebone is upstairs, dead, covered in the markings we've come to associate with obscurus attacks. Poor Modesty was witness to the entire thing. We think she may have also been injured in the destruction - half the upstairs is blown to bits.”
They turned to look at the girl carefully cradled in Newt’s arms. Julia noted Llewellyn's green plaid jacket carefully tucked over her shoulders.
“We were hoping, Doctor, with your knowledge of medicine and psychological health, that you could evaluate Miss Barebone - make sure she’s alright. Perhaps prescribe treatment for her,” said Newt gently.
“Of course!” said Julia quickly, as she stood and approached them, “I’ll take her. I can patch her up and see what else she needs.”
Llewellyn leaned close to her and whispered, “She was a little…” he paused awkwardly “Something seemed not quite right about her even before tonight’s events - we thought it was that she was the obscurial, but-”
“Abuse can do terrible things to a person's psyche,” said Julia sadly, “She could have subconsciously created a persona to protect herself from the horrors of her day-to-day existence. I will know more once I’ve evaluated her.”
Llewellyn nodded thoughtfully. He placed the bloody rod on the ground.
“How should we proceed, Mr. Scamander - if Credence Barebone is the Obscurus, we will need to find him…” said Murdoch.
“Is he still alive?” asked George quickly.
“He was not long ago - there’s a trail of destruction leading away from this place. I hope if we follow it, we will find Credence.”
Newt handed Modesty off to Julia carefully. “Are you okay to carry her, Doctor?”
“Of course,” said Julia, gently.
Newt lovingly brushing the girl’s hair from her face. He said softly, “This is my friend, Doctor Ogden. You met her earlier today, I’m not sure if you recall. She’s absolutely lovely and brilliant. She will make sure you’re okay.”
Modesty did not even acknowledge his words, she was too far gone in delirium and panic, but Dr. Ogden smiled at Newt gently. He was a good soul and so intuitive when it came to caring for those in need. It was hard not to smile at Newt Scamander. She’s even caught Llewellyn, the stoic philosopher-detective, smile at Mr. Scamander.
Suddenly Queenie gasped.
“We have to get out of here. You especially need to get out of here -” she said wheeling around to Tina and Newt.
“What do you mean?” asked Tina.
“The Canadian Magical Parliament will be aware of the situation by now. Aurors will probably descend on this place in moments. You are both wanted by the CMP. You both need to get out of here immediately!” said Queenie.
Tina and Newt exchanged glances.
“What about you, Queenie?” Asked Tina, “And the rest of you - it certainly won’t be safe for Muggles.”
“It’ll be easier for two people to slip away rather than a large group. Besides, we have to get Modesty to safety...We’ll be less at risk without you here. Go on, go after Credence. We’ll join you as soon as we can. I’ll know where to find you.”
Newt glanced at Llewellyn, who nodded fervently. “Go!”
Tina and Newt slipped out of the New Salem Society into the darkness of the night.
Queenie gave them a moment’s head start before she ushered the rest of them out.
Llewellyn felt very uncomfortable leaving Chastity and Miss Barebone in the rubble.
“We’ll make sure they’re treated with proper dignity later, Bunny. Our priority now is getting Modesty out and then tracking down Credence,” said Queenie, reading his thoughts.
Llewellyn nodded uncomfortably. Something felt very wrong.
She guided them down an alleyway, towards where she remembered the main road to be. She hoped they’d be able to hail a cab and get Julia and Modesty to safety.
They’d made it halfway down, when a dark figure stepped out from a shadowy doorway.
“Miss Goldstein, you and the Ambassador and his attachés are certainly a long way from the King Edward Hotel. Did you get lost?” asked Samson sarcastically.
Queenie tried to meet his eyes with a confidence she did not feel, while trying desperately to think.
He laughed, and said, “I see you’ve not only failed to obliviate the Muggle but are taking him along on your Toronto adventures. And you acquired a stow-away.” he glanced at Modesty in Julia’s arms, but kept his wand fixed on Queenie.
“Mr. Samson, Sir...we”
“Save it. I ran into Meyers and the real ambassador earlier. I know your sister is a traitor who’s been helping that Scamander try to overthrow the Statute of Secrecy. I never dreamed that someone as dumb and beautiful as you could be so devious. You must have helped them escape execution. It won’t happen again though - I’ll bring you in and your sister and Scamander - what is he her lover? I’ll personally activate the killing chair. It’ll be a shame executing a pretty little thing like you…but I'll look forward to it. You think you can pull one past me, dearie? First I’ll obliviate your Muggle accomplices...and then I'll make you pay.” Queenie pulled out her wand, totally unsure of what to do. He grilled cruelly and advanced on Queenie, readying his wand to strike…
...to be interrupted by a sharp tap on the back, and the gruff sound of a throat being cleared.
Samson spun around only to be met with a pair of fists, which happily made acquaintance with his face. He dropped to the floor, like a sack of shrivelfigs, knocked out cold. Queenie let out a single un-ladylike “HA!”
A triumphant Brackenreid rubbed his fist and kissed his knuckles.
“I love knocking arrogant little sods down a peg.”
“Sir!” said George in awe.
“God save the King,” said Brackenreid. He winked at George, who stared at him open-mouthed.
“You! You...You read my book, Sir?!”
Murdoch looked between them in disbelief, “Is now really the time??”
Brackenreid ignored him, “I needed something to occupy my time as I waited in agony for news of my lads.”
“Sir! Thank you!” said George appreciatively, his face glowing with happiness like a small sun in the darkness.
“However did you find us?” asked Llewellyn.
“The phones have been ringing off the bloody hooks reporting “bombless bombs” in The Ward around The New Salem Society. I’d be a piss-poor copper if I didn’t come directly here to look for you lot. I remembered this alley from last time. Now what happened here?”
“Sir, Mary Lou Barebone and Chastity Barebone are dead. The building is half demolished, and Credence, the obscurus has fled. Scamander and Auror Goldstein are chasing after him,” explained Murdoch quickly.
“Dr. Ogden has Modesty here, she’s been severely injured. We were trying to get her to hospital, before we catch up with Newt and Tina,” said Queenie.
Brackenreid glanced at them all. “I overheard that tosser’s threats - treason, execution...those are not words I like to hear, and I reckon Meyers won’t like them either. He is here, by the way, he arrived with me and the lads. What the blazes is going on?”
“Sir, Graves - he’s lost it. He’s framing Tina and Newt for treason, getting his aurors to hunt them down. He tried to have them executed without a trial,” began Queenie, speaking at a rush.
“And he tried to have Detective Llewellyn's mind wiped Sir! By that brute Samson - forget obliviate - he’d have obliterate him...He’s after the boy, Credence. We have to stop him!” finished George quickly.
The Inspector looked from one to another and thought Good God, there’s two of ‘em.
“It’s best you lot go help Scamander and Goldstein. I’ll try to smooth things over here, but Doctor - first, I’ll escort you to a car to get you and the lass to safety.”
“Thank you, Inspector,” said Julia. He helped her along the alley in the dark before shouting over his shoulder at the rest of them.
“Get going, before anyone else sees.”
* * * * * * *
Newt and Tina were moving quickly through the night, up and down alleyways, following the trail of destruction.
“I’m sorry you got mixed in all of this Tina. I know how hard it is to be an outsider in the world. A woman in the Auror office - it’s not unheard of, but it’s hardly common-place. You’ve been working so hard to get where you are, and now, because of this, because of me...you’re a fugitive.”
Tina looked at Newt sharply as they came to another dead-end.
“Did Queenie give you a talking-to?” She looked at him. He squirmed.
Then she began to scale the fence.
“Not really," said Newt quickly, "I mean, she mentioned how much you had to struggle to get where you are, but it’s pretty obvious, seeing those absolute apes that work in the office -” He pulled himself up and over with relative ease. His gangly frame made it easy. He reached out a hand to help her down.
“It’s not your fault, Newt. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If there's anyone to blame, it’s Graves. He knows me better than this. He once told me I was his most trusted Auror - how could he possibly turn on me like that? Even if he thought we could be traitors - I can’t believe he would sentence us to execution without a trial! It's a total dereliction of duty! A miscarriage of justice!"
“I don’t think he’s himself Tina.”
“How would you know? You've never met him before...What does that even mean?”
“I've heard of him though- he's always been described as just and fair. Besides, Queenie told me she can’t hear his thoughts anymore. His behaviour has changed. He’s grown colder, meaner and more violent. Something is not right…”
He glanced at her face as they turned a corner. He saw the pain there, just below the surface. And he understood.
“I know this is very difficult Tina. I know how much you care about him. I’m so sorry.”
Tina closed off. He could see the moment the wall came down. He could see her physically struggle as she pushed those feelings down.
“He’s not the man I thought he was,” she said finally. They continued on in silence.
* * * * * * *