Evie's words hung in the air, sharp with the thrill of unexpected opportunity. The distant sounds of the gang fight – shouts, the sickening thud of cudgels, the occasional crack of a primitive firearm – provided a chaotic soundtrack to their decision. Henry looked uneasy, his gaze darting between Evie and the brawling figures at the front of the warehouse. "Clara's orders were clear, Evie. Observation only. This… this is a significant escalation."
"Clara also expects results, Henry," Evie countered, her eyes already scanning for a viable descent route. "And that carriage," she gestured with her chin towards the loading dock, "is about to move. Those crates felt important to our… witches. I'm inclined to trust their instincts on this. We get a closer look, identify the cargo if we can, and we're gone before anyone's the wiser. The Blighters at the rear will be distracted, likely drawn towards the main fight."
Hermione exchanged a quick, worried glance with Hasel. Evie's logic was sound, in a reckless sort of way. The gang fight provided the perfect cover. But the risks were undeniable. If they were caught…
"What do you think?" Hasel murmured to Hermione, keeping her voice low. The cold, unsettling thrum from those crates was a siren song, a mystery begging to be unraveled. It reminded her too much of the dangerous artifacts they had dealt with in their own time.
"The potential intelligence gain is significant," Hermione conceded, her analytical mind weighing the pros and cons. "If Starrick is moving something that resonates with that kind of… negative energy, Clara needs to know. But Evie is right, we must be discreet. Our priority is information, not confrontation."
"Then we're agreed," Evie said, not waiting for a formal consensus. She was already moving, her lithe form slipping towards a series of drainpipes and ledges that offered a precarious path down to a lower rooftop, and from there, to the alleyway flanking the rear of the warehouse. "Stay close, try not to make a sound, and let me take the lead. Henry, you keep watch from up here. Signal if you see any Templar reinforcements or if the situation at the front changes drastically."
Henry nodded, his expression a mixture of anxiety and reluctant excitement. "Be careful, all of you."
The descent was faster, more urgent than their earlier climb. Adrenaline sharpened Hasel's focus, and even Hermione moved with a newfound swiftness, her Sticking Charms proving invaluable on the slick, soot-covered surfaces. Evie, a blur of motion in the grey light, reached the alley floor first, her eyes immediately scanning for guards.
"Two Blighters near the carriage," she hissed, gesturing for Hasel and Hermione to join her in the shadows of a recessed doorway. "They look nervous, distracted by the fight. The driver is in his seat, looking impatient."
The closed carriage was larger than a typical hansom cab, its paintwork dark and unremarkable, clearly designed for inconspicuous transport. The rear doors were closed, but not, Hasel noted, visibly locked with any heavy padlocks. The crates, now partially obscured by the carriage itself, still pulsed with that faint, disturbing energy.
"We need to see what's inside those crates," Hasel whispered, her gaze fixed on the carriage. "Even a glimpse."
"Too risky to try and open them here," Evie countered. "But perhaps… one of you could get close enough to the carriage itself? Listen? See anything through a crack?"
Hermione considered this. "A well-placed listening charm might work, if I can get close enough without being seen. Or perhaps a discreet Alohomora on the carriage door, just to see if it's truly unsecured."
"The listening charm is less risky," Evie decided. "Potter, you're better at sensing these… things. You try to get a feel for the cargo from a distance. Granger, with me. We create a minor diversion, draw those two Blighters away from the carriage for a few moments. That should give you the opening you need."
Hasel nodded, her heart pounding. This was it. Their first real test as part of a Rook operation.
Evie, with a predatory glint in her eye, picked up a loose cobblestone. "Wait for my signal." She exchanged a look with Hermione, then, with a silent count on her fingers, hurled the cobblestone down the alley, away from the warehouse. It clattered loudly against a stack of empty barrels.
The two Blighters guarding the carriage jumped, their heads snapping towards the sound. "What was that?" one of them growled, his hand instinctively going to the cudgel tucked into his belt.
"Probably just rats, you oaf," the other grumbled, though he too looked uneasy. "Go check it out. I'll stay with the goods."
As the first Blighter reluctantly moved to investigate the noise, Evie and Hermione slipped from their hiding place, moving with surprising speed. Evie, a shadow in the gloom, circled around a stack of crates, while Hermione, using her smaller stature to her advantage, darted towards the side of the carriage furthest from the remaining guard.
Hasel, meanwhile, focused all her magical senses on the carriage. The cold, unsettling thrum was stronger now, making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. It wasn't just one object; it felt like several, each with its own distinct, unpleasant signature. She could almost taste the wrongness of them, a metallic, bitter sensation on her tongue.
Hermione reached the side of the carriage, pressing herself flat against its wooden panels. Her lips moved silently, her wand, concealed in her sleeve, no doubt channeling the listening charm. Her eyes were wide, focused, absorbing whatever sounds or impressions she could glean from within.
Suddenly, the Blighter who had gone to investigate the barrels shouted, "Oi! There's someone back here!" He had clearly found nothing, but his suspicion was aroused.
The remaining guard by the carriage tensed, his hand tightening on his cudgel. "What is it? See anything?"
Evie chose that moment to act. She emerged from behind the crates, a blur of motion. The Blighter, still peering down the alley, started to turn, a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he registered her sudden appearance. Before he could fully react, or raise an alarm, Evie's arm shot out, the pommel of her hidden blade connecting with a sickening thud to the side of his head, just behind the ear. The man grunted, a choked sound, his eyes rolling back, and crumpled to the ground in a silent heap.
"Granger, now!" Evie hissed, already moving to drag the unconscious Blighter further into the shadows.
Hermione, startled by the sudden, brutal efficiency of Evie's takedown – a chilling echo of the violence she'd witnessed and participated in during the war – flinched internally but forced the reaction down. There was no time for hesitation. She seized the opportunity. She reached for the carriage door handle, her fingers brushing against the cold metal. With a whispered, almost inaudible "Alohomora," she tested the lock.
There was a soft click. The door was unlatched.
Her eyes met Hasel's for a fleeting second – a silent question, a shared risk. This was beyond their mandate. But the lure of the unknown, the need to understand what Starrick was so intent on acquiring, was too strong.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione pulled the carriage door open just a crack, peering inside. Hasel, moving closer, tried to see past her.
The interior of the carriage was dark, but not entirely. A faint, sickly luminescence emanated from several small, ornately carved wooden boxes, similar in size to jewelry caskets. There were perhaps half a dozen of them, nestled in straw. And from each one, Hasel felt that same cold, disturbing resonance, amplified now, almost nauseating in its intensity.
"What are they?" Hasel breathed, her voice barely a whisper.
Hermione's face was pale, her eyes wide with a mixture of fascination and revulsion. "I don't know," she whispered back. "But they feel… ancient. And incredibly dangerous. Not like the Pieces of Eden Henry described, not that powerful, but… tainted. Corrupted."
Before they could investigate further, a shout from the rooftop broke the spell. "Evie! Templars! A patrol, coming down the main street! They've seen the commotion at the front!" It was Henry's voice, tight with urgency.
Evie, having secured the unconscious Blighter, swore under her breath. "Time to go. Now!" She was already moving towards the alley entrance, her senses on high alert. "Granger, Potter, with me! We can't be found here."
Reluctantly, Hermione closed the carriage door, the soft click of the latch echoing in the sudden silence. They had seen enough. Enough to know that Crawford Starrick was dealing in objects of a dark and perilous nature, objects that resonated with a magic that felt alien and wrong.
They melted back into the labyrinthine alleyways of Lambeth, Evie leading them with a desperate, practiced speed, the sounds of the approaching Templar patrol growing louder behind them. Their first reconnaissance mission had escalated quickly, but they had survived. And they had a chilling new piece of the puzzle in the war against the Templars. The shadows of 1888 London, it seemed, concealed far more than just mundane villainy. They hid secrets that could unravel the very fabric of reality, secrets that Hasel and Hermione were now inextricably, terrifyingly, a part of.