Page 79 of Of Fate and Phantoms
"I don't think she wants to be cautious," Alice said, breathing heavily as she drew up alongside me. Doyle urged the horses forward in a walk.
"Stay back," the man shouted, shoving the parcel of meat down his shirt. "Don't come near. What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you," Harriet said, her voice full of wonder. She held up her hands, to show him their size again. "I want to talk to someone like me."
Chapter 11
The man'sbristly black whiskers and bushy crop of hair hid much of his face and gave him a fierce countenance. Together with his muscular build and quick, assessing gaze, it wasn't difficult to envisage him as a wild animal. He edged closer, cautious yet curious.
"Blimey," he murmured. "But you're…"
"A woman?" Harriet offered.
"A toff. Ain't never seen a toff one of us."
"Us?" Her voice quavered with barely contained excitement.
"Aye."
"Where do you all live?"
"Here and there." The man stopped approaching as if he suddenly realized he was too close. He remained vigilant, his gaze darting from us to the coach and back to Harriet. He didn't trust us, but I couldn't blame him—I hadn't trusted anyone searching for me last summer either. "You can't have it," he said. "It's mine. I ain't sharing."
"Can't have what?" Harriet asked.
He crossed his arms over the bulge at his chest where he'd tucked the parcel. The butcher had disappeared.
The horses shifted, rattling the harness. I glanced at Doyle and the boys, sitting rigid on the driver's seat. Finley gripped his knees, his knuckles white, and Mink looked as if he would dive off the coach at the first sign of trouble. The light from the carriage lamps glinted off the metal of a pistol in Doyle's lap.
"We don't want your meat," I said to the man. "Keep your food."
Harriet sniffed the air, her nose twitching like a dog's on the scent of a rat. "Lamb?"
"Mutton," he said. "I paid for these bones. They're mine. Ask the butcher."
"My friend spoke the truth," Harriet said. "We don't want your meat. We just want to talk."
"What about?"
"I have so many questions." She lowered her voice, perhaps so Doyle and the boys couldn't hear. If I'd stood as far away as the man, I wouldn't have heard her, but he seemed to hear perfectly.
"What's your name?" I asked before Harriet could get her questions in.
"Gawler, miss."
Not King, then. "My name is Charlotte," I said, "and this is Alice and Harriet." I didn't want to use surnames or titles. Those could be easily traced. If I'd learned anything over the last few years, it was best to exercise caution when it came to identities. "Harriet is curious about you," I said. "She knows no other shifters, you see, so when we heard about you—"
"How'd you hear?"
"We heard of body shifters living in the area years ago, so made some inquiries."
"You made inquiries? Are you mad?"
"About hands," I clarified. "We asked about someone with big hands, not about a shifter."
My answer mollified him somewhat. He nodded at Harriet. "There are six, including me."
"And you all roam through the East End?" I asked. "In a group?
