Page 95 of Of Fate and Phantoms
"The kind that sees him move out of here and into a nice place in Bloomsbury."
"You don't know where he got his money from?"
"No, it ain't my business no more."
"But you must hear the gossip from the others."
"They're just guessing, like me. Now go away before one of the pack sees you here and tells King. I don't want no trouble."
We headed back into the yard. The children were still there, warming themselves by their meager fire, their intent gazes watching us until we exited their domain altogether.
No one bothered us as we walked briskly along the greasy streets. Even ruffians knew to leave three tall, well built men alone. Once outside the slums, we caught a cab to Bloomsbury, getting out around the corner from King's place. The air wasn't all that much cleaner than in the Old Nichol, with soot clogging the sky and settling onto skin and hair like black snowflakes. But the buildings were in better condition and larger, the streets wider and cleaner. People huddled into warm coats as they hurried past, not threadbare jackets, and no one eyed us with desperation and wariness here.
"If the pack is there, we can't just burst in," Lincoln said as we turned into Rugby Street. "We'll wait and watch. After they leave, we'll go in and retrieve Harriet."
"But what if she's in danger?" I asked.
"I doubt she is. Gawler seemed to think King would treat her with respect, in deference to her station, and I believe him. He had no reason to like King and paint him in a good light to us."
"True," I hedged. "I hope Mink's in there, too. Perhaps he followed the trail here, as Harriet did, out of curiosity." But I doubted it. Mink wouldn't do that. He was much too careful to wander about alone in search of a mysterious shifter.
We stood on the corner of Rugby Street, and Lincoln pointed out King's place. "He rents rooms on the third floor. According to the landlady, Widow Griggson, King is a nice gentleman who keeps to himself. He often goes out at night, but he's quiet when he returns. When his friends come over, they're respectful and cause no problems."
"You had quite a conversation with her," Seth said.
"She thinks he's a writer using a pen name, and that's where he got his money."
"Quite the conversation," I said. "I'm impressed."
"She was lonely and I was nice."
Seth and Gus exchanged smirks behind Lincoln's back.
"There." Lincoln nodded at the window where a man appeared in profile, smiling. "That's King."
A slender man with an unremarkable face and a receding hairline laughed at something someone said then disappeared from view. We waited several minutes. A light rain began to fall, enough to make the roads slick but not run with water. A moment later, Harriet stood in front of the window. My heart leapt in relief.
"There she is!" I said. "She looks well."
Harriet glanced up at the sky and wrinkled her nose. She spoke to someone behind her then King and another woman appeared too. They also looked to the sky. The woman shrugged and crossed her arms. Harriet looked uncertain. King laughed again and placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. He seemed to be appealing to her, and her arms lowered. She glanced at the sky, nodded and moved out of sight.
"They're discussing the weather," Lincoln said. "But I don't know why."
"Why does any Londoner discuss the weather?" Gus said with a shrug. "Because it's rotten."
"We're too visible here all together," Lincoln said. "We need to split up." He eyed me and I suspected he was considering whether I ought to be there at all.
"Why not go in and simply talk to them?" I asked. "We can ask Harriet if she wishes to stay."
"Aye," Gus said.
Seth shook his head. "And ask King if he goes out pretending to be the prince consort? We won't get a straight answer. I think we need to bide our time and watch him, catch him in the act, perhaps. Harriet seems fine, and there's no rush to return her to Gillingham."
"True." I glanced at the window where Harriet now stood with her back to us. She seemed perfectly at ease. "Very well, let's watch for a while."
We separated and moved along the street. I huddled into a doorway several houses away, but the owner came out and asked me to move. I found another doorway, deeper and more protected, but the cold still managed to penetrate all my layers of clothing and seep into my bones some two hours later. I was thoroughly wet and my teeth chattered so loudly that I didn't hear Lincoln approach.
"All right?" he asked, giving me a warm pie.
