Page 44 of Of Fate and Phantoms
It was a good question, and the answer didn't make me feel proud of myself. "Because I didn't want to be reminded of what I became after my father threw me out of the house."
Tick's jaw flopped open. "You got a father?"
"He's dead now, but yes, I had one."
"What'd he throw you out for?"
"It's a long story for another day, Tick."
He pulled up his knees and hugged them fiercely. "I can't remember my father."
I looked to Mink. The sneer had vanished and he seemed uncertain. "Take my offer," I urged. "It's simply a matter of gathering information, reporting back things you hear. You'd be surprised at what you already know that could be useful to us. We must find a very bad man, someone who may harm the queen and her family."
"Bloody hell," Tick muttered. "Come on, Mink, we got to help Charlie if it'll save the queen's life. It ain't British to refuse."
"I'm in a position to help you now, Mink, and Iwillhelp you." I pushed the sack back to him with my foot. "I'll return tomorrow for your answer."
"Wait," he said. "Was it you who left us the coat a few weeks back?" He picked up one of the blankets on the mattress. No, it wasn't a blanket. It had arms and buttons. It was a familiar black woolen great coat. I hadn't seen Lincoln wear it since my return from the north. He must have left it here while I was away. "Not me," I said. "My friend outside."
I climbed the stairs and opened the trapdoor. Finley wasn't there. I bit the inside of my lip as I slid aside the boards leading to the street, hoping not to see the lad in Lincoln's grip. Lincoln wouldn't take kindly to being spied upon, and Finley was the bold, inquisitive sort.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I spotted Lincoln leaning one shoulder against the wall opposite, his ankles crossed as if he didn't have a care in the world. Only his sharp gaze gave away his alertness. Finley stood in a replica position beside him, his gaze on Lincoln, not me or the street. He copied Lincoln's pose, right down to the frown and slight nod in greeting as he spotted me. I bit back my smile.
"I see you've found yourself a friend," I said.
"He wouldn't leave." Lincoln pushed off from the wall and so did Finley. Lincoln stepped toward me, as did Finley. Lincoln stopped and turned a flinty glare at the lad. Finley tried to copy it but it lacked intensity.
"Mink's got food for you," I told him. "And warm clothes. Tomorrow, there'll be money too, if you can get him to agree to help us."
Finley's eyes grew wider with each word. The mention of money sent him sprinting across the lane and sliding open the boards. He slipped through like a rat into its hole.
Lincoln and I headed out of the lane side by side.
"Any trouble?" I asked.
"Just the lad."
"He's no trouble, just mischievous."
We walked a few steps in silence and I thought the matter dropped until he said, "Was he mocking me?"
"I think he was trying to be like you."
"Why?"
"Because you're big and powerful and have a commanding air about you. What boy wouldn't want to emulate that? Especially one in such a hopeless situation as he is." I glanced up at the sliver of sky visible between the roofs. It seemed so much grayer here, lower and heavier, even though it was the same sky over Lichfield.
Lincoln rested a hand on the back of my neck, under my hair. "Was coming here a mistake?"
"No. Not at all. I thought it would be horrible, but it wasn't. I'm glad I came."
He dropped his hand away but not before skimming his fingers against mine. "Did they agree to the plan?"
"Not yet, but I think they will. The old leader would have, but he's dead. I'm not sure how trustworthy he would have been anyway. He would have double crossed us as soon as someone flashed a coin in his face. Mink will be more reliable and loyal, if we can get him on board."
We exited the lane and walked through the streets. No one accosted us or tried to steal from us. We looked like two regular men—or a man and a lad—with nothing worth stealing. No toff wore clothes like we wore or kept hair this long.
Gus waited outside Kings Cross Station where we blended in with the crowd and a coach didn't look out of place. Lincoln settled the blanket across my lap. I drew it to my nose and breathed in the scent, as Mink had done. It didn't just smell of lavender, but of Lichfield itself, somehow.
