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A third snorted. “Goodness me, you are all as superstitious as fishwives. He is a man, as we are, nothing more. I thought you were men of logic?”
“But… thestories, Mackintosh,” the first voice interjected. “Thestories. Did you not hear about—”
Dorian turned sharply, silencing them with a fierce look of annoyance. He recognized the gentlemen there as a trio of forgettable lords, who were no doubt thrilled to see a genuine pariah in the flesh. He made sure to give them one of his best glowers, to truly spook them. Sure enough, they all blanched and discreetly marked themselves with the Holy Trinity to ward off his evil.
“Good evening to you, gentlemen,” he said, as a finishing touch. “I hope you brought your carriages, as I have an awful feeling there may be a storm on its way.”
The three lords looked as though they might collapse in fear as Dorian turned back to his friend. “I am going to take some fresh air, Hudson. Do try to behave yourself.”
Hudson wafted a disinterested hand as two of the prostitutes descended upon him, giggling flirtatiously. “I came in your carriage, remember, do not depart without me.”
“I promise I will not.” Dorian took his cue to leave before the prostitutes attempted to fawn over him, too. They would only end up receiving the sharp end of his tongue and getting offended, which would ruin his friend’s enjoyment before it had even begun. Indeed, ladies were the one thing that Dorian never competed against Hudson for.
That is better…He breathed deeply as he wandered away from the entrance to the gambling hall and set out into the city’s labyrinthine streets. The change of atmosphere and the steady thud of his shoes on the flagstones struck his hazy mind with an instantly sobering effect. The reason he walked alone in the dark alleys of East London was not the soothing breeze.
He was on the prowl for danger to stir up the adrenaline that made him feel truly alive again. And these were his hunting grounds.
