The 7th of London by Beau Schemery

poured the steaming black liquid into Sev’s cup. “Purchasing a contract is just a polite way to say ‘acquiring slaves’.”
    “Slavery?” Sev sipped at the dark liquid and pulled a face.
    “Cream and sugar will make it less abrasive.” Jack chuckled, indicating the little silver bowls. Sev poured cream into his cup and watched as the white liquid bloomed in the black. Then he spooned some sugar in as well. His next sip was much more pleasant.
    Midnight smiled as Sev drank. “They don’t call it slavery. They refer to it as ‘contractual servitude’,” the villain explained.
    “Is that what I saw that day at Beauchamps’s? The line o’children?” Sev asked.
    “I very much doubt that, Seven,” Midnight answered, sipping his own coffee. The liquid remained black. “I’ve known Bernadette for some time. We’ve worked together. Her girls aren’t slaves, and she wouldn’t promote others being sold into slavery.” Sev shrugged, unconvinced. “Bernie’s business practices are beside the point. We need to discuss your preparations.”
    “Charm school,” Sev added, smirking.
    “In a manner of speaking,” Jack agreed. “You will also need to learn to defend yourself.”
    “What?” Sev barked, indignantly. “I can take care o’meself!”
    “You’re a bruiser, my friend, and no mistake,” Jack stated smoothly. “But there are more refined, efficient ways of fighting. You’re good, but you can be better.”
    Sev couldn’t argue with that, remembering Midnight’s display a few nights ago. “Fair enough. Anythin’ else?”
    “You’ll need to learn the layout of the palace, escape routes.” Jack ticked off on his fingers. “Can you read?” Jack suddenly asked.
    “Aye,” Sev answered. “Not very well, but enough.”
    Jack nodded. “You’ll have to keep that a secret.”
    “What else?” Sev asked. Jack sat in silence. Sev could tell Midnight was mulling something over. “Just tell me, Jack. I can take it.”
    “Can you, Sev?”
    “Aye.”
    Jack sighed. “Killing may be unavoidable. Can you do it silently?” Sev tried to suppress his shock. “Can you kill at all?” Sev drained the last of his coffee. The liquid was tepid, and he shuddered at the dregs. “Sev?”
    “I’ll do what needs t’be done,” Sev answered. Jack studied his face. “If there’s no other way,” Sev added.
    Jack nodded. “Silently?” Midnight pressed. Sev scowled but nodded slowly. The villain studied Sev, who sat resolute. “Good.” Jack finished his own coffee. “Let’s get started.”

6

     
     
    S EV spent the next two weeks training intensively, manners and behavioral study in the mornings, while his afternoons were filled with physical and combat workouts. Midnight taught Sev the ins and outs of society life, how to talk, what to say, and when to speak, while Jack’s man, Xiang gave Sev a crash course in all things domestic—cooking, cleaning, serving, and what would be expected of him. Jack delighted in showing Sev new and inventive ways to incapacitate people, eventually instructing the young man on how to utilize whatever was close at hand to permanently deal with an attacker: knives, forks, serving trays, and even shoelaces. Sev was constantly surprised by Jack’s ingenuity and seemingly endless well of depravity, especially because Jack could be so proper, warm, and polite. It was like Midnight was two people sometimes.
    Xiang helped in the afternoon as well, teaching Sev how to fight without weapons. The Chinaman called it wushu . The fighting style was fast and efficient. Sev was surprised numerous times when the smaller man used Sev’s own momentum against him, tossing him around like a rag doll. By the third day, Xiang had been pleased enough with Sev’s progress to invite one of Midnight’s large doormen to spar with his student. Sev incorporated what he’d learned to wipe the practice mat with the bigger man.
     
     
    O N THE fourth day, after Jack’s charm lesson, Rat