Kill-Devil and Water by Andrew Pepper

shot before he saw the barrel of Maginn’s pistol raised towards the night sky. Carefully Pyke took aim and squeezed the trigger; he couldn’t see immediately, but he could tell from the gasps of the crowd huddled in the doorway of the bookshop that he’d hit the target. Later, he would hear how the stovepipe hat had flown from Maginn’s head and how the journalist had stood there, rooted to the spot, too frightened even to blink.
     
    That was when he saw the glint of metal and heard a click. As he turned around, there was a flash of exploding gunpowder and momentarily Hunt’s cadaverous face was lit up, his hiding place in a smaller alleyway revealed. Too stunned to move, Pyke felt a rush of air through his ears as he waited for the shot to tear him apart. It never happened. From less than five yards, Hunt had missed his target. Pyke sucked air through his clenched teeth, tasting the acrid sting of gunpowder at the back of his throat.
     
    The pistol clattered on to the cobblestones and Pyke saw that Hunt had sprung from his hiding place and was running away. He decided against pursuing him.
     
    Back inside the shop, Pyke looked for Maginn but couldn’t see him. He found Jo and Felix talking with Godfrey. Most of the crowd had left by now, perhaps as a result of the argument and the duel, and Pyke tried to play down what had just happened. He wondered whether any of them had actually seen the hidden shot that had been fired, or knew how close he’d come to being killed. Perhaps Godfrey did; he was much too effusive in his praise of Pyke’s bravery. Jo and Felix said very little, and when it was suggested that they call it a night and go home, Pyke offered to hail them a hackney carriage on Piccadilly.
     
    Outside, in the gaslight, Pyke noticed that his hands were still trembling. He looked up and down the darkened street for any sign of a passing cab and noticed Maginn stumbling into a side alleyway. Godfrey had seen Maginn, too, and placed his hand on Pyke’s arm. ‘Come back with us to my apartment.’ But Pyke could feel the anger he’d been trying to repress billowing up inside him. Maginn had challenged him on a point of principle, but all he’d really wanted to do was give Hunt the chance to shoot him dead. There was no honour in that; no honour in shooting a pistol at another man’s back from five paces. Suddenly he despised the Cork man for all his piousness and his false desire for ‘satisfaction’. Pyke found Maginn in the alleyway; he was fumbling at his breeches. A frightened prostitute was trying to free herself from his drunken grip. Maginn had knowingly colonised the moral high ground and now here he was harassing a street-walker. The hypocrisy was too much for Pyke to bear. Maginn raised his hand to slap her, but Pyke caught it, pushed the woman to one side and swung his fist into Maginn’s face, dislodging two teeth in the process. Spitting blood, Maginn tried to defend himself but Pyke landed another blow, this time to the side of his head. Maginn fell forward and Pyke brought his knee up to the man’s face. The prostitute disappeared farther into the alleyway. Pyke wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his frock-coat. Maginn was lying on the ground. That should have been the end of it but Pyke’s thoughts turned to Mary Edgar, who had been cut up and left to rot by the side of the road, and then to Emily, who had been killed by a single rifle shot to her neck. He took a deep breath and kicked Maginn hard in the stomach, then again. He heard a noise and turned round to find Felix standing there, speechless, his face white with terror.
     
    ‘Felix.’ He paused, not knowing what else to say. Maginn, still on the ground, gave a muffled groan.
     
    Godfrey and Jo stepped into the alleyway and saw Maginn lying at Pyke’s feet, with Felix trembling in front of him.
     
    Pyke looked down and noticed that the ends of his boots were glistening with Maginn’s blood. He wanted to make his son