He grinned. “No worries. These are the only nuts I’d offer you.”
“Give us the tackle box and we won’t report you to the authorities,” Stevie said.
Bertram smiled while continuing to chew. “You won’t do that, my dear. If he were willing to get the authorities involved, he would’ve done it instead of hiring two third-rate knights.”
Stevie squared her shoulders. “We’re not third rate.”
“Definitely not,” I chimed in. “Second rate, maybe, but not third.”
Bertram’s hand darted to his pocket. Acting on instinct, I grabbed his wrist and jerked it toward me. Cards spilled from his hand and collected on the ground in a small heap.
“Sorry, I thought you were reaching for a weapon,” I said. I stared at the items on the pavement. “Look, I don’t know what you are, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say it isn’t a wizard.” A real wizard didn’t need paraphernalia to perform magic.
Stevie scrutinized him. “You’re human.”
His face reddened and he stooped over to hurriedly collect his cards. “I’m a magician. Magic is right there in the name.”
“A magician is nothing more than a trickster. You have no actual magic,” Stevie accused.
“You’ve never heard of chaos magic, my dear?”
“Nice try. There’s no such thing,” I said. Bertram was clearly a grifter.
“Just because we haven’t seen evidence of something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Have we learned nothing from the Great Eruption?”
“Stop trying to distract us,” Stevie said.
He stuffed the pack of cards in the front pocket of his trousers. “If the vampires believe I’m a wizard, then I don’t need to register as a potential tribute. I’m excused.”
“So you taught yourself enough tricks to pass as a mediocre wizard?” I asked.
“My father taught me. It worked for him.” Bertram shrugged. “Sleight-of-hand was his specialty and he taught me from a young age.”
I crossed my arms. “Let me guess. You started with pickpocketing and branched out from there.” A modern-day Oliver Twist.
“More or less. Magic is a survival skill for me, same as for you, I imagine.”
“Except my magic is real,” I said.
Bertram gazed at me with a wistful expression. “Who’s to say what’s real and what isn’t? Before the Eternal Night nobody would’ve believed vampires were real, yet they were.”
“That’s different. They were in hiding. Your magic isn’t in hiding. It doesn’t exist.”
Stevie nodded. “What she said.”
A sad smile formed on his lips. “My mother didn’t like lying either. She registered like a dutiful citizen. On my sixth birthday, her number was chosen and she became a tribute.” He gazed into the distance. “She never came home.”
“And that’s when your father decided you’d become a magician too?” I asked.
Bertram nodded. “Seemed like a sensible decision at the time. Still does.”
“What happened to him?” Stevie asked.
“Oh, he died, but of natural causes. And he died knowing he’d done the best he could for me, which I’m sure made leaving me all that much easier.”
It was impossible not to think of my mother. She’d felt much the same. She hated to leave me, but she died knowing she’d given me all the tools at her disposable to help me survive.
“You have to stop stealing, Bertram,” Stevie advised. “The next knight who’s sent to find you might not be as understanding.”
He dragged a hand through his white hair. “What’s a man like me to do? I’ve been practicing my brand of magic my whole life. I have no other marketable skills and I need to lay low to avoid detection.”
I related to his predicament more than he knew. We both worked to hide our identities from vampires. At least I had actual magic on my side.
He popped a few more nuts into his mouth and chewed. “I considered becoming a knight once upon a time. Joining a worthy banner.”
“What stopped you?” Stevie asked.
“I’d say it’s the fact that he’s not a wizard,” I said.
“I don’t care what you are,” Stevie said. “Just hand over the tackle box and we’ll be on our way.”
Bertram regarded us. “You swear you won’t turn me in to the authorities?”
“We avoid dealing with vampires whenever possible,” I told him.
“Fine. I’ll hand over the box if you promise not to report me or stop me from earning a living.”
“I’d rather not make any deals. Just because I work for Judd doesn’t mean I approve of you conning other people.” Stevie looked at me. “How about you, London?”
I kept my gaze on Bertram. “Before I decide, I have one more question. Why didn’t you take the fishing rod?”
Bertram squinted at me. “Because it was easier to take the tackle box. It had a handle.”
“Bullshit. You had the chance to grab both and you only took one. Why?”
His gaze dropped to the ground but he remained silent.
“I’ll tell you why,” I continued. “You didn’t want that child to suffer and you knew if you took it, he might starve to death. Yes, you stole, but you also showed compassion.”
“I knew it would be easier for him to find bait on his own than fish, especially with an enchanted rod. I’m a thief, not a monster,” he added softly.
Gods help me, I liked Bertram. I was getting too soft for my own good.
“Give us the box and we’ll leave you alone,” I said.
Relief softened his weathered features. He hurried to a bag that rested against the nearby wall and retrieved the tackle box from it. I hadn’t even noticed the bag before. The color blended with the wall, which was likely a deliberate choice.
He handed the tackle box to Stevie. “Apologize to the man for me, will you? And his son.”
“You could do that yourself,” I said.
“I think not.” He offered a wan smile. “And if you ever need to book a magician, you know where to find me.”
Stevie took the tackle box by the handle as we walked away. “I’ll take this to Judd right now.”
“Good idea. I’ll see you later.”
She frowned. “Hey, where are you going? Euston is this way.” She pointed.
“I’m not going to Euston. I’m going to Mayfair.”
Stevie’s eyebrows shot up. “No. Absolutely not, you maniac. You can’t be serious.”
“If I don’t stop them, there’ll be more casualties. Who knows how many people have already been killed by them?”
“Do you seriously think the authorities won’t investigate the death of multiple vampires? You’d make yourself a target.”
She was right. There was a certain amount of risk involved. On the other hand, the kind of vampires that lived in a den weren’t a priority for the current regime. My trail would be cold by the time anyone got around to investigating.
“This is too risky even for you. Besides, it’s Britannia Day, remember? They’re vampires. They’re probably celebrating across town with the rest of them.”
“Not these vamps.” I knew their type. They weren’t joiners. They were opportunistic leeches. “Which makes it the ideal time to strike. They won’t be expecting it and there’s less chance of the authorities responding quickly to any emergency calls.”