Page 49 of Across Space and Time

Jack gave him a loving kiss. “Be safe,” he whispered to Hugh as he pulled his top hat on over his horns.

“You too,” Hugh said softly, reaching up to adjust the collar at Jack’s throat. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Jack replied, kissing him once more. “I shall find you at Eden.”

Hugh nodded, and then Jack slid out the open bedroom window and dropped down into the street below, leaving Hugh alone to make his way to the Penny Lane Pub. Hugh crouched in the shadows in the stinking alley, waiting for Anthony to arrive. He still wasn’t sure if this idea was going to work, but it was the only plan that he had for getting into Eden. And if he didn’t get in, at least Jack would, so they could figure out what was going on.

A few young men and women began to trickle in through the back door, one or two faces that Hugh recognized from The Bull and Parasol. Eventually he spotted Anthony, walking alone. Anthony gestured him silently over, and they slipped inside the back door of the pub, sitting down at one of the tables there.

There was an assembly of men and women inside, and Hugh felt like he might be a bit overdressed, considering what some of them wore. But as long as he didn’t stick out, he figured he would just be another face in the crowd.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” said a man from the door. “My name is Mr. Green. I will be your guide for this evening. Thank you for being here.”

‘Mr. Green’ wore a bowler hat and a plain, brown suit. “We shall be departing for the gathering shortly. Once we arrive, we will have outfits for you to wear.”

“Where are we going?” one of the young women asked curiously.

“I’m afraid the location is secret,” Mr. Green said. “Our guests are sworn to secrecy, and you are as well. You will be blindfolded for the journey until we arrive at the location. If that bothers any of you, you are free to leave now.”

Glances were exchanged between the assembled revelers, but no one left. The amount of money that some of them must have received probably tamped down any overriding concern.

Mr. Green smiled. “Excellent. We will go out to the carriage, and once you are all seated, my assistants will put on the blindfolds.”

He led them out the door to where two long wagons pulled by two horse teams waited, not unlike the mariah the police used when transporting criminals, though black fabric covered the few windows so no one could see in or out.

Two assistants were helping people into the wagons. The first one was a big man with red hair and a nose that looked like it had been broken several times in his life. The other one was a ferret-faced man with large, gray muttonchops, and Hugh’s blood ran cold when he recognized him instantly. It was Sergeant Reardon! He turned to Anthony, his heart thundering so loud in his throat he could barely speak. “Shit. That man with the gray hair is my sergeant!”

“Are you fucking serious?” Anthony asked, his own voice low as he glanced over at him. Reardon was helping several of the ladies into one of the wagons, and Hugh didn’t have to look very closely to see that he was taking an appreciative look at each one as he did. He felt sick. This was a terrible idea, and he was about to have his cover blown.

Anthony suddenly shoved Hugh into the line of people waiting to get into the other wagon before he trotted over to where Reardon was giving a push to the ample bum of one of the women he was assisting. Hugh lifted his arm like he was scratching his head to try to block his face as best he could as Anthony suddenly trailed his fingertips over the front of Reardon’s coat. He said something in a low voice that Hugh couldn’t hear, but the sergeant’s eyes traveled down to look at the fingers, then back up to Anthony’s face, giving him a wicked grin that made Hugh’s stomach roil inside of him. He ducked his head a bit, taking the hand of the large, red-haired man that he luckily did not recognize to help him up into the back of the wagon. He sat down on a bench next to one of the other boys, a young man with red hair and freckles across his pale cheeks that looked like he might still be a teenager. He gave the boy a reassuring smile, and the boy gave him a tight-lipped one in return.

The redhaired man stepped up into the wagon with a handful of black fabric in his hands. He went around to each person, wrapping the fabric securely around their eyes. Hugh watched him approach the little redhead. The boy reached out a hand and grabbed Hugh’s wrist. Hugh placed his own hand over the boy’s and kept it there; the assistant didn’t say anything about it, tying the black fabric around the boy’s eyes before turning to Hugh.

His brain screamed at him that this was a terrible idea, that he was going to die, that he needed to run and not look back. But Jack was counting on him, and he would not be able to find out what was happening if he didn’t do this. So, Hugh just nodded and held still as the assistant slipped the blindfold around his eyes and tied it securely. He could only see the tiniest bit of light peeking from the bottom, but not enough to be able to tell where they might be going. Next to him, the boy was trembling a little, and Hugh gave his hand another squeeze.

One of the benches creaked, and Hugh guessed that the assistant had sat down, because the carriage suddenly began to roll. He swallowed down his nervousness, wondering if Jack was experiencing the same thing wherever his meeting place was. Would anyone dare to approach to blindfold Spring-Heeled Jack? He imagined a black cloth over Jack’s eyes but the intense, red flames of them still burning through the fabric like lamps in the night. “Are we allowed to talk?” he asked, directing it to the general vicinity of the assistant.

“Sure,” the man grunted.

Hugh gave the boy’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “My name’s Hugh,” he said softly. “What’s yours?”

“Morris,” the boy said, his voice even softer.

“Glad to meet you, Morris,” Hugh said. “Just hold onto me until we get there, all right?”

“Okay,” Morris agreed, and his fingers tightened further around Hugh’s wrist. Hugh didn’t want to accidentally say something to throw suspicion onto himself, so he just sat and held the boy’s hand.

The carriage moved along at a fast clip, and Hugh occasionally caught sounds from the streets they passed. He tried to take a guess where they might be, but there had been several turns, and nothing that he could hear gave him a good clue as to where they were. So, he simply sat. The ride took about twenty minutes before the horses slowed to a stop. Hugh waited, trying to see anything under the sliver left from his blindfold, but he could see nothing helpful.

After another minute, the carriage doors opened. “We have arrived,” said what he thought was Mr. Green. “Mr. Blue will escort you out of the carriage one by one and take you inside. Once everyone is inside, you will be able to remove your blindfolds.”

Mr. Blue must have been the big redheaded assistant, Hugh thought. He heard the man get up and help one of the passengers down, then moved to the next one. There was a soft murmur of voices outside, and Hugh guessed there was a system to escort the blindfolded guests with maximum efficiency. Mr. Blue tapped Hugh lightly on the shoulder. “Stand up,” he said, his voice not unkind but holding no room for shenanigans.

Hugh patted Morris’s hand, and the boy reluctantly let go of him. He rose to his feet, and a large hand kept his head bowed so he didn’t knock it on the carriage roof. Mr. Blue led him over to the carriage entrance, where he could feel a slight temperature shift. Though whether they were still outside on the streets or inside some sort of building, he could not be sure. “Step down,” Mr. Blue said as someone else took Hugh’s hand from the ground. Hugh carefully put his foot on the carriage’s step, using the hand to brace himself, and then stepped onto the ground.

“Right this way, please,” came a pleasant male voice from whomever the hand belonged to, and another hand touched the small of his back to guide him. It was not Reardon’s voice, at least, which was reassuring. He followed the prompting. “Watch your step,” the voice said. “The floor slopes.”

Hugh remembered what Anthony had said about going down a ramp into a possible underground area. His heart picked up a little in his chest as he carefully walked down the incline. It was not very steep, though it was decently long. He counted 127 steps before the voice said, “The next step is level,” and the hand holding his adjusted a little to steady him. The floor did even out, and he was walked along what he assumed was a short corridor, the light outside of his blindfold growing gradually brighter with each step.

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