I resisted the urge to reach out and smack the loudly arrogant fool trying to convince his companions. I did not know if it was my paranoia or if London really was bubbling over with suspicion and fear of something more than human responsible for the crime. But either way, I knew I’d feel safer if we found our friends soon.
The air was still and almost warm, but Sebastian and I huddled together as we walked toward Hyde Park Corner, faces down, hoping to draw little attention. The streets were filled with the usual morning crowds—the ton in carriages on their way to Rotten Row, bakers finishing the last of their morning sales, young men on their way to apprentice and clerkships. Nothing inherently suspicious, but I remained full of dread. I glanced up every few feet and everywhere I looked, I saw a potential threat, a potential ally of Captain Goode’s waiting for us, waiting to finish the job started at the ball.
We were almost at the park when Sebastian stopped midstep, jerking me back. I turned to see what had finally arrested his attention after these three days. The answer was pastries.
In the dusty window of a pastry shop, a police notice was posted for a tall, dark-haired, high-cheekboned young man last seen fleeing from the scene of the Belgrave Ball three nights earlier.
A sketch of Sebastian’s face filled the page, a caricature made of his deep-set eyes and thin lips. He looked vicious, monstrous. But he was still recognizable. A lump filled my throat, and I swallowed it down like a stone. In all my worries about Captain Goode and in the rumors flying across the city, I hadn’t thought that the police would be looking for Sebastian. I surveyed the street. One, two, three, four, five of the notices decorated building walls and lampposts, and those were just what I could see from where I stood. Which likely meant hundreds if not thousands were plastered across the city.
“Why, it’s … it’s ridiculous,” I said shortly, looking between Sebastian and the warrant that looked too much like him. Why didn’t he have a scarf he could pull up over his face? A hat to pull down? The man didn’t even have a blasted hat to wear!
I turned him to me and pulled the collar of his coat up around his ears, wishing for the hundredth time that he was less tall and striking. He did not respond, did not look nervous, just utterly defeated.
“We will find our friends.” I stared at him, willing him to believe it. “We will find our friends, find Captain Goode, and make him confess.”
He still said nothing. I continued walking, gathering his arm in mine and pulling him down slightly so he was hunched over, hopefully disguising him somewhat.
“The plan is still the same,” I said, wondering why I was even bothering. Sebastian did not notice, let alone care, what I was saying.
My eyes darted around till I felt almost sick. My heart was beating uncomfortably by the time we reached the park entrance. Any person could stop and notice Sebastian, could cause a scene and ruin everything.
As soon as was possible, we turned off to smaller paths, winding quickly toward the south. “Good morning,” a male voice said. A well-dressed stranger approached us on the path, tipping his tall hat. Was his scarf tied a little too tightly? Did his eyes linger too long?
“I— Good morning,” I muttered back, tightening my hold on Sebastian’s arm. I tensed as the man passed us by, my lips painfully caught between my teeth until I realized he wasn’t here for us.
“They will come today,” I said, eyeing the sword of the Achilles statue ahead. “Catherine and Mr. Kent will see the Agony Column and know what it means.”
Sebastian’s arm moved slightly then, and I realized I was still gripping it far too tightly. I began to slip my arm from his to stretch my stiff fingers, but he reached out and clutched my hand. Even with our powers returned to their normal levels, he refused to put any distance between us. I turned to catch his eyes on mine, as bleak and broken as a dead tree in winter. His tongue darted out and wiped the smallest drop of blood from his chapped lips.
I squeezed again, leaving my aching fingers in his. His breath warmed my skin slightly, his head so near my shoulder. How tired he must be. How tired we both were.
The statue of Lord Byron loomed ahead, fittingly, in such a remote corner of the park. Surrounded by trees, Byron sat high above us, chin held arrogantly in his hand, passing judgment on those of us who dared to continue living after he and his brilliance had passed on.
Cautiously, we approached. Sebastian’s eyes did not seem to see anything, but mine were straining to look for signs of danger and signs of hope. The only figure I could make out was an older man smoking on a bench some distance away. There was a carriage on the road just outside of the park but not another soul in sight. Damn and double damn. As grateful as I might be that no one was here to spot Sebastian and accuse him of the murders, it was yet another blow that our friends were not here to meet us. I needed to see my sister, needed it more than I needed to breathe.
A slight breeze provoked a chill, and as I pulled my cloak tighter, I chanced a quick glance behind me and felt my hopes fall even further. Two men were on the path behind us, one with a tall hat. The man who had greeted us not five minutes ago.
“We’re being followed,” I told Sebastian, tightening my grip. I veered us north on a path away from the Byron statue.
He said nothing.
“We have to go,” I said, filling in his side of the conversation. We had to get them off our trail before returning. We couldn’t lead them to our only meeting place. I prayed we hadn’t already given away the secret with that brief pause.
Steering Sebastian down another path, I continued to sneak looks behind us. Our pursuers had increased their pace. Wonderful.
Why, oh why, had I chosen a statue in Hyde Park of all places! The entire point of Hyde Park was to see and be seen. And now it was going to get Sebastian arrested.
And suddenly, our luck got even worse. For entering the park from the opposite direction of our two pursuers was a pair of policemen, their proud, bright uniforms gleaming in the morning sun.
As they quickly closed in, I could make out a sheaf of police notices held in one man’s hand.
“Oh blast. Oh blast,” I muttered, trying to calculate my options. Could we duck off the path and run? But the murmurs behind me were equally suspicious and growing louder. I chanced another look behind—the man in the hat was indeed pointing at Sebastian. And now we were coming up on the policemen. The only saving grace was that they were not paying us any attention whatsoever. If Sebastian wasn’t going to help (and he wasn’t), it was up to me to decide. And I decided to brazen it out.
Just before we crossed paths with the police, I reached for something absurd to say and pulled out the catty purr of the worst debutantes I had encountered during my Season.
“It’s simply terrible, John! She copied my hat entirely! I had not even worn it yet! Can you imagine such a horrid creature to treat me so? And I considered her my greatest friend! You know how I feel about my haberdashery!”
Sebastian did not pay my change in character any mind, but most important, neither did the police as they continued past us.
Safe, for now. I continued my nonsense for another second in case they turned their ears to us, but I also moved us forward at a quicker pace, increasing the distance between us.
“You! Wait!” The shout came from behind us at just the right moment for the police to have crossed by the suspicious men following us. Blast and damn and bloody damn.
We kept moving, exiting the park where the police entered, crossing the street to a narrower, empty one. I chattered about something earnestly at Sebastian, hoping maybe the men were yelling for someone else out there. But their boots clicked determinedly closer and closer, echoing off the brick buildings around us. Should we run? Or pretend to know nothing? Play mute? No, they had already heard me speak.
“Oy!” A hand reached out and turned Sebastian around, swinging me with him.
“Well, I never!” I twittered, fluttering my hand nervously. “What on earth is the meaning of…”