Page 73 of The Business of Blood
By the time the mob tipped my cab over, I was too terrified to be angry at the driver anymore.
Too often, a woman’s word of caution was patently unheeded by a cocksure man. Because of this, I found myself crumpled against the inside door of my coach, which now rested on the cobbles.
I’d been uneasy when we’d passed the small groups of livid men with union signs. The last time the Labourer’s Union and the Fair Traders clashed in Hyde Park, there’d been casualties.
That had been four years ago, at least. Before I’d come to London.
As we clopped along, I’d spotted signs for the Social Democratic Federation and marked the strong presence of the Irish National League.
When the poor stormed the West Enden masse, nothing good came of it.
And when the Irish wore their colors, even in this age of advanced enlightenment and ceasefire treaties, there could be no doubt they were going to war.
I’d unlatched the window and called into the diminishing rain, “Mightn’t we take the long way to Scotland Yard? I sense trouble.”
“Naw. Just a few rabble-rousers on their way to Trafalgar Square, miss,” the cabby had tutted at me. “In’nt that where you Irish riot these days? We’ll stay along the river and be perfectly safe unless you want to join your countrymen.”
When a crowd became a mob, their violence was indiscriminate. I had no desire to be anywhere near such an occurrence.
“I’d rather we just turn around and go back to Chelsea,” I’d pressed. “I’m not political, and I fear that this could quickly become dangerous.”
“No easy feat in these cramped streets,” he’d snapped. “If you want to go back, get out and walk.”
I’d been too frightened to leave the safety of the carriage at the time, but now I wished with every bone in my body that I had done so when I’d had the chance.
A murderous energy had vibrated in ocean-like ripples through the humanity in the streets, and the closer we clattered toward the House of Lords, the thicker the throng became. They bumped the carriage at first, like a shark testing a fisherman’s dory. Then they pounded on it, shouting the vilest threats.
I could hear the panicked screams of the horse, and the curses and warnings of the driver as he swung his whip, hoping to dislodge the hangers-on.
Of all the days for one of Aunt Nola’s outlandish predictions to be accurate.
Despite my misgivings about divinity, I’d closed my eyes and whispered a silent prayer of thedear-God-please-let-me-survive-thisvariety.
The next time I’d peeked out the window, they’d been dragging the driver away and working at unlatching the horse from the carriage.
Where are the police? I’d frantically wondered as the coach had begun rocking with the violence of an Atlantic sea gale.
A rock the size of my fist broke through the left window. It would have landed in my lap had I not scrambled onto the seat, using my bent legs as shock coils, stabilizing myself as best I could with my arms outstretched, braced against the walls.
Once the carriage tipped to the left, the fall seemed to take an eternity. Long enough for me to clutch at the plush seat covers.
The impact with the ground threw me forward, and I cried out in pain as my hip landed hard on the door handle. Glass crunched beneath my weight.
I looked up as a canopy of mutinous faces and hands grasped at the door, which had now become the ceiling. Daylight dappled through their fingers until enough of them swarmed the coach to hide the golden spires of parliament from view.
They were going to get into the cab. And once they did, they’d tear me apart.
Desperate, I searched for a weapon. I had my knife, my pick, and my umbrella. None of which would save me from a violent horde.
Still, I took my blade from my pocket, opened it, and held it at the ready. In my left hand, I grasped my umbrella, preparing to poke out a few eyes if I had to.
The window cracked beneath the weight of so much force, giving me just enough time to open my umbrella before the glass shattered. Shadows of shards slid off the thick fabric, ripping it in places.
Better it than my flesh.
A victorious roar echoed through the mob as my umbrella was torn from my grip and disappeared.
When they couldn’t fit through the window, someone managed to pry the door open.
