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the swinging t-shirt, blinked its beady eyes, and launched itself at the cage wall nearest Finch.
Hugh let loose with a startled bellow and sprang forward on instinct, tugging Finch into the
safety of his arms and away from certain death.
Finch gasped. The dustpan went flying. Three scraps of shredded paper rained down on them
from above.
“Mr. Drake!” Finch intoned breathlessly. “What are you doing?”
“Saving your life! The plague-ridden thing nearly ended you.”
The plague-ridden thing in question clung to the bars of its cage and watched them with glossy
black eyes. Its body was mostly white and its head mostly a soft grayish brown, although spots
of the opposite color dotted its flank and face. In an act both repulsive and terrifying, it nibbled
on the metal bar in front of it as if it were trying to escape. To make matters worse, a second
creature emerged from a box on the bottom of the cage and scaled the bars with unnerving
ease. This one was entirely gray with a small amount of white on its belly, and it had terrible
pink hands with the smallest, most disturbing white claws Hugh had ever seen. A long, scaly-
looking tail dangled behind it, then darted between the bars and curled like it was prehensile.
Hugh shuddered.
“Sir?” Finch inquired. There was a hint of a smile on his face and a curious glimmer in his eyes.
“Are you really that afraid of the ladies?”
“Those are beasts, Finch, not ladies.”
“They’re rats, sir. Delightfully intelligent creatures with personalities bigger than some people.
I can assure you, you’re quite safe.”
Hugh would have felt safer bumping into a bronze bastard in a dark, deserted alley, but he
noticed the glint in Finch’s eyes and relented. Finch was to be trusted. The man never led him
astray.
“Come.” Finch took his hand and brought Hugh to the cage, close to where the beasts were
waiting. Once there, he took a small resealable container from the top of the cage and pried
off the lid, revealing a stash of chocolate chips. “Take one.”
“Thank you.” Hugh did, and ate it. “Not bad, but nothing to write home about.”
Finch sighed. “Sir, the chocolate is meant for the ladies. Take another and don’t eat it this time.
There. Good. Now, hold it out to Elizabeth.”
