Page 28 of The Viscount of Shadows

Chapter 10

Claudia returned to The Piggeries once again, as her subject was drinking in the Black Moon Pub with his companions in vice. They have been in there for over an hour, and hanging about the area any longer would draw suspicion. Tonight, she wore a messy, short brown wig, another fake nose, and a scar. The Galway sisters had a good mix of disguises, and Claudia found she enjoyed playing a role while undercover.

Pulling her tattered shawl tighter, she headed toward Bangor Street. It wouldn’t hurt to converse with some of the prostitutes to ascertain the lay of the land. There were gas lamps on some of the streets, but only a few were lit. The muted illumination cast an unnerving glow across the cobbles. The fog was thick tonight, rolling along the roads like a creeping marauder. Finding a group of women standing at the head of an alley, she sidled up next to them.

Just as Claudia was about to speak, an older woman gave her a hard shove. “Hie off, this be our corner. You don’t want Himself to find you.”

“Who you on about?” Claudia said in a low voice, using her Irish accent. “Does Jaysus run this territory?”

“I wish it were Jesus and all, at least he were kind to whores. This bloke—you don’t want to cross,” the woman replied. “Now, sod off. Don’t be hanging about here.”

“Tell me who I should be lookin’ out for,” Claudia demanded.

The women scattered, disappearing into the shadows. They had skittered away so fearfully; Claudia knew the man they had been speaking about was heading toward her. Icy needles prickled all along her spine, causing the hairs on her neck to stand on end. Only one man caused this reaction of dread.

He grabbed her arm roughly. Standing directly behind her, he leaned in, his gin-soaked breath skimming across her exposed neck.

“Who are you, bitch, one o’ mine?” he barked. The man spun her around, and Claudia came face-to-face with Jedi Danaher. It took all her inner fortitude not to react with disgust—or fear. Not that she exactly feared him. She never had, but she did not want to tremble before him. Enough people had done that, and no doubt still do.

“No, sir,” Claudia replied in an even tone. “Just passin’ through. I’ll nip along sharpish. If you let me go.”

Time had not been kind to Jedidiah Danaher. He looked older than his mid-forties, not that she knew his age. A large scar bisected his left brow, ending at his upper hairline. It was ugly, puckered, and mottled, as if someone had done a botched job on the stitching or the injury had not been appropriately treated. It was as if someone had laid the left side of his forehead open with a hatchet. Another scar, this one thin, began at the corner of his mouth and traveled partway down his neck. Yet, enough of the boyish handsomeness was still visible—on a face with empty, dead eyes and a cruel mouth—might appeal to certain women.

“You want work? You got the look of a whore.” He brushed aside her hair with his free hand. “Not a complete hag,” he rumbled as the tip of his finger ran along her cheek near the fake scar. Claudia silently prayed it stayed in place and that he didn’t grab her hair or the wig would come loose or fall off. She remembered he liked to grasp the hair and pull, as he had done that to her mother.

“I ain’t done much whorin’. I was a yanker some time back. Sir.”

Jedi pushed her away. She will have bruises on that arm and no mistake. He was still a horrendous lout—and a miserable bastard.

“What the feck is a yanker?” he demanded, still looking her over.

“I pulled on cocks, yanked them—you know, friggin’—nothin’ more.” Claudia spoke the truth. When she and the girls needed extra money, Claudia would frig a man to completion for a few shillings. It had been disgusting work, but it was either that or starve. If there was one thing Claudia could claim from those horrible years on the street, it was that no man ever violated her. Or penetrated her. And no man ever will unless she allows it.

Certainly not this one.

At least Jedi never touched her during their eighteen months under his rule. Although he allowed them to stay in the pathetic two-room hovel at the end of a lane, he was rarely there.

Thank God.

The first night back in The Piggeries, Claudia sought out where she and her mother had lived. All she found was an empty lot.

“Well, go on, then. Yank it, bitch.” He started to unbutton his trousers. “If you’re good enough, you’ll work for me right on this corner. Half of all earnings go to me. Protection and the like.”

“I’m not lookin’ for this kind o’ work.”

With the quickness of a predatory jungle cat, his meaty hand closed about her neck. “Then get gone, and don’t return. This is my territory, yeah?” He squeezed, causing her to gasp.

“Yes, sir,” she croaked as his fingers tightened further.

He released her, and Claudia turned to depart. Oh, how she was tempted to whip out her knife, stick it deep in his middle, and gut him like a fish from the Bethnal Green market. But Jedi grabbed her arm again, causing her to wince inwardly.

“I know you, I’m sure of it,” he hissed dangerously in her ear. “And I will puzzle it out, no mistake. So don’t show your face here again, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He freed her again, and instead of running, Claudia sauntered away with her head held high. In the distance, she heard a decided snarl, and Claudia smirked in response. Yes, she understood Jedi. The bully was quite put out that she hadn’t cowered in his presence. But now she may be compromised from coming into this rookery again. The disguises will have to become more elaborate.

Seeing that horrid excuse for a man brought up old recollections that Claudia would rather forget. And she had a large enough stockpile of dreadful memories to haunt her dreams for the rest of her life without adding her time living in The Potteries. But she had learned it was best to face one’s tribulations head-on.