AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And the men on them are drunk or sleeping. Or the very sort we need to watch out for,” Kartik warns.
“You fink I’m daft?” Toby says, challenging him.
“Kartik,” I warn.
“Fine.” Kartik relents. “Gemma, the money.”
I give him the small purse with five pounds inside. It’s all the money I’ve got, and I’m loath to part with it. He hands it to Toby, who opens it, counts the coins, and packs it into his pocket.
“Now,” Kartik says, “what did you discover about Mr. Doyle?”
I look from Kartik to Toby and back again. “He’s the one we’ve come to meet?”
“Toby makes himself useful as an errand boy sometimes. He knows how to barter knowledge for money.”
Toby smiles as big as life. “I can find out anyfin’. On my life.”
“But this meeting was to be with the Rakshana,” I protest. I want my money back.
“First, we gather information, so that we know where to strike,” Kartik explains. “If we called a meeting, they’d have us caught for sure. I was one of them. I know.”
“Very well,” I grumble.
Out on the Thames, the boats sway with the current. There’s something soothing and familiar about it.
“They’re pullin’ ’im in, all righ’. Got a ’nitiation planned for ’im and ever’ fin’,” Toby says. “Don’ know ’ow much they’ve told ’im, though.”
“And is Fowlson the one who brought him in?” Kartik asks.
Toby shakes his head. “Fowlson’s ’is minder. Somebody at the top asked for it. A gen’leman.” He points to the sky. “High up.”
“Do you know who?”
“Naw. Tha’s all I know.”
“I want to find this gentleman,” I insist.
“Fowlson reports to ’im. ’E’s the one ’oo knows.”
Footfalls echo in the fog behind us. They’re joined by a jaunty whistle that makes my blood run cold. Kartik’s eyes narrow. “Toby.”
The filthy boy offers a shrug and a sad smile as he backs away. “Sorry, mate. ’E give me six pounds, and m’mum’s dreadful sick.”
“Well, well, well, what ’ave we ’ere? Back from the dead, brother?” A pair of black boots shine under the lamp’s light. Mr. Fowlson emerges from the shadows, flanked by a large man. Coming up the other side of the wharf are two of Fowlson’s hooligans. Behind us is the Thames. They’ve got us cornered.
Kartik pushes me behind him.
Fowlson smirks. “Protecting your lady love?”
“What lady?” Kartik says.
Fowlson laughs. “She may be done up in trousers and coat, but it’s the eyes. They don’t lie.”
“Give me your word as a brother that you’ll leave her alone,” Kartik says, but I can see the fear pulsing at his throat.
Fowlson’s lips curl with hate. “You left the fold, brother. There’s no honor between us no more. I don’t haf to promise you nuffin’.” Fowlson pulls a knife from his pocket. He flicks it open and the blade gleams in the weak gaslight.
I scour the banks of the Thames, looking for anyone who might hear my screams and offer aid. But the fog is rolling in thicker. And who would come rather than scatter at such a ruckus? Magic. I can conjure it if need be, but then he’ll know for certain that I’ve been lying about no longer having it.
