Malcolm marched into the tavern, already focused on things besides the minding of children. Penny came in behind him but sidled off to the side to watch his flank. She really was quite good at gauging a situation to her best advantage. He never felt ill at ease with her at his back.
Unwashed faces turned toward him suspiciously, their porters and meals forgotten for a moment. Most went back to their lives, but a few continued to stare at Malcolm’s dark form. They marked him as a stranger.
He ordered a pint and leaned against the bar, filling a narrow space between cramped shoulders. He debated how to broach the subject of a missing woman and a maniacal demigod. He decided just to listen. Conversations picked up again, creating a low buzz. He sipped his warm beer and tried to listen in on various dialogues. Unfortunately, the whispers were too soft or the discussion too benign.
Malcolm glanced behind him to check on Penny. To his surprise, she sat at a table with a bunch of fellows, grinning broadly. They leaned close, eager to listen to her. They all burst out into laughter. Malcolm scowled. It shouldn’t bother him, but it did. She was in her element. Despite her brilliance, she was one of the working class and they recognized their kin. He took his pint and headed over to her. The men around her quieted at his approach.
“Nothing here for you, mate,” snarled one of them who looked older than his father.
“There you’d be wrong,” was Malcolm’s dark reply, his eyes darting toward Penny.
Her head tilted with exasperation and her mouth quirked. “Stand easy, lads. He’s with me.”
Disappointment swept through the small contingent and they all sat back. She waved a jaunty farewell and slipped her arm through Malcolm’s, leading him back toward the bar.
He asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been here before?”
“Because I haven’t.”
“They seemed awful friendly toward you,” he muttered.
“It’s because I don’t glower.”
“What are you implying?”
“That you glower.” Penny laughed.
He changed his expression even though he knew it was too late. “It’s gotten me what I needed before.”
“Maybe, but there’s no need of it here. Those blokes are happy enough to talk. Besides that, I’m a woman, not some dark Scottish ghost off the moors. Far less threatening.”
“What did you find out?”
“There’s a new island.”
“What do you mean?”
“A new island. It just appeared a few months ago. Off the coast of Allhallows. None of the sailors or rivermen remember it being there before.”
“Bloody hell. Only one person I know can make an island.” Malcolm spotted a man with a dark tattoo on his neck seated near the front of the bar. A frown emerged when he thought another eager bloke was eyeing Penny. Then he realized the man was watching him. When the man noticed Malcolm’s attention, he turned back to his drink.
Penny swigged down the last of Malcolm’s beer. “What do we do now?”
“We go check it out.”
“Without the others?”
“They’re in India. No idea when they’ll be back.”
“Just us two against Gaios? Four, if you count the girls. I’m not sure I like those odds.”
“I don’t plan to fight Gaios. Just find Jane and get her away.”
“That’s a poor bet.”
“If we don’t find her, we head back and wait for Simon.”
“Sure this isn’t your guilt talking?”
“We’re running out of time.” That was all he said. There was no point in explaining or discussing. They had one choice.
The tattooed man rose and slipped out the front. Malcolm stood and pulled Penny with him.
“Where we going?” she asked.
“That man was a bit too interested.”
“What man?”
“He’s already out the door. Tall man with a tattoo on his neck.” They stepped outside in the fog-shrouded daylight. People bustled eerily around them.
“I don’t see him.”
“There.” Malcolm pointed out the fellow shoving into the crowd.
Across the street, Charlotte leaned halfway out of the coach window and waved. Malcolm glared at her, indicating that she should stay out of sight. She made a face and retreated inside, almost.
Penny had eyes on their quarry and Malcolm raced to catch up to her as she weaved quickly through the throngs of people. The tattooed man led them toward the docks where two other men joined him. They spoke with brief agitation before continuing on.
“You know,” Penny pointed out, “he could have just disliked your choice of beer. People are peculiar in this part of London.”
Malcolm grunted. “He didn’t look at us until we started talking about this island of yours. That’s enough for me.”
Penny shrugged. “Any lead is a good lead.”
Malcolm pulled her behind some crates at the wharf as the trio of men paused in front of a ramp. A sixty-foot steam launch was moored below them. On either side were affixed massive paddle wheels. Malcolm brought his spyglass up. He spotted about fifteen men on board. Crates were being loaded in the hold. “That’s the same boat I saw at Westminster that spirited the Baroness and Ferghus away.”