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Almostcertain. And he needed to be absolutely certain.
After a few minutes, Jarvis saw the familiar green roof of the building. He started circling the perimeter, hoping to see someone, anyone, on the premises, who was watching out for the children, but all seemed empty.
Jarvis frowned. Either they’d already dealt with the problem, captured the thugs, and forgot to share it with him, or nobody was looking out for the place. Perhaps every damned Shadow was at Kensington’s wedding.
He kept stalking the perimeter but saw nothing suspicious.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps and then slurred cursing.
“Hasten your step! We need to hurry. Can’t believe we signed up for this horse dung!”
“Shut your gob and keep walking, Harry. ‘Old ‘im tighter. Don’t want ‘im to fall on ‘is ‘ead, now do we?”
“The Chief doesn’t care!”
Jarvis tiptoed closer to the voices. He saw two tall men outlined by the moonlight. One of them had a small child slung over his shoulder. He was holding him by the legs, his head was dangling upside-down behind his back.
Jarvis’s entire body tensed at the picture before him and he gritted his teeth. A fight, at last. Just what he needed. He knew he could take on two thugs. So he unsheathed his sword, leaned his shoulder against the tree, and waited for them to come closer.
The thugs continued arguing and swearing loudly as they walked. They finally came upon Jarvis but were too engrossed in their argument to even notice him.
Jarvis cleared his throat. The bandits froze and directed their gazes toward Jarvis.
“A lovely night for a walk, wouldn’t you say, gentlemen?” Jarvis asked.
The bandits exchanged a glance. Then one of them put two fingers to his lips and whistled loudly.
“He’s here!” another one shouted.
Jarvis frowned. What in the world was going on?
He didn’t have time for second guesses, however. He lunged and put a sword to one of the bandit’s throats.
“Hand me the child or die.”
The bandit slowly lowered the child to the ground. The latter immediately crawled toward one of the trees and burrowed beside it. At the same moment, the thug pulled out the rifle and directed it toward Jarvis.
Jarvis didn’t wait for the shot to fire. He slashed the wrist holding the rifle, then turned on the second one and hit him in the head with the butt of his sword. The bandits fell, one silent, another groaning and holding his wrist.
Jarvis rushed to the child, picked him up, and was about to run back to the orphan house when a few more silhouettes appeared from that direction.
“Damn!” Jarvis cursed and took off in the opposite direction.
He really didn’t know where he was going, but it didn’t matter. He needed to get out of the trap.
“Get ‘im! ‘e ran that way!” The thug shouted behind him, and Jarvis hurried his steps.
More bandits were in pursuit.
Jarvis ran, panting, weaving from street to street, trying to outmaneuver the thugs, but it was no use. It seemed like they were everywhere.
How many of them were there?
Probably not a lot. But they had the advantage of knowing these rookeries a lot better than Jarvis did. The only way for him to escape would be from the rooftops.
As the idea took root in his mind, it didn’t let go. Jarvis stopped, placed the child on the ground, and the boy immediately tucked himself into a corner. He probably thought that Jarvis would kill him.
Jarvis slowly came toward him and lowered himself to his haunches.
