It took almost an hour of sneaking through shadows and taking detours before he reached the abandoned building. It was one of any number of abandoned buildings in the area, but this one was almost always empty. It was so decrepit, the wooden beams so rotten, that only the most desperate slept here. One side had caved in, and Aidan climbed in through a window on the side still standing. The building creaked and groaned when he stepped on the floor, and it always made him nervous. The whole place could fall at any moment. The stairway had already collapsed as had part of the first floor. Water dripped in a continual plop plop, and it smelled as though something died.
“Jenny!” he hissed.
No answer.
“Are you here? I’m sorry. Jenny!”
Still no answer. Aidan clenched his fists and plucked up his bravery and walked carefully across the uneven floorboards. He reached a door wedged half open and squeezed through. It might have been his imagination, but he’d been able to fit through it easier the last time he’d been here. Inside, he moved along one wall, trusting his sense of touch more than anything as it was pitch black, until he felt where the floor took a steep shift down. Aidan moved to his hands and knees and peered into the hole in the floor. “Jenny?”
“Wot?” came the response. A moment later a small flickering light illuminated the hole in the floor and what might have once been a cellar underneath. Using the light, he wriggled into the hole, holding onto the edge until his feet dangled just a foot or two from the floor. Then he let go and turned to face Jenny. She didn’t say anything, just retreated into a small antechamber in the back. Aidan had speculated it might have been a wine cellar at one time as it had any number of shelves lining the small space. But the wine was gone, and Jenny had made use of the shelves to store her treasures. Aidan’s gaze roved over one shelf that held a scrap of lace, a broken mirror, and a ladies’ brush for cosmetics. Another shelf held part of an earring, whose jewel made of paste glittered in the candlelight. There were other bits and bobs, nothing of any real value, just trinkets that interested her. Aidan noted that she’d placed the new find on the last shelf.
“Listen, I’m sorry I got upset.”
She shrugged. “Yer ‘ungry. I shouldn’t ‘ave traded the bread.”
He wanted to say, no, she shouldn’t have traded the bread, but how could he ask her to deny herself the only beauty in the world she possessed? These useless pieces of rubbish were beautiful treasures to her. They gave her a comfort he couldn’t understand, and if that was something she needed, how could he take it away?
“I’m not so hungry anymore,” he said and glanced at her.
A slow smile spread over her face. “Liar.”
He settled back against a wall of the cellar and slid down to sit, hands wrapped around his knees. “Maybe you can help me forget.”
“How?”
But she knew how. Whenever she was sad or he missed his mother, they’d come here and she’d pretend she was a famous explorer who had unearthed these priceless objects. She’d make up stories about her adventures and the pieces she’d found. “This is my newest find,” she said, picking up the pewter piece. “I found it while exploring the jungles of Greece.”
He didn’t bother to tell her that Greece didn’t have jungles. He just let her talk about how it was the cap to a bottle that held a magical potion, a gift from the gods of Olympus. After a while, she blew out the candle and came to sit beside him. He lay down, his head in her lap, and she stroked his hair and made up more stories about fabulous places they’d never go. And a long time
later, she lay down too, and he wrapped his arms around her, and he thought he was almost happy.
III
He was following her. He’d been following her for the last quarter hour, and no matter what she did, she couldn’t lose him. She was late meeting Aidan behind the Brown Bear, and she’d be later still because she didn’t want to lead him there. It was bad enough he was after her. She didn’t want Aidan in any danger.
“Oh, Jenny, my love!” he called, his voice sickly sweet and thick with drink. Sometimes he was in a good mood when he was drunk. And sometimes not. She couldn’t predict what he’d do or whose side he’d be on from one moment to the next. And she didn’t want to try.
A couple of years ago, Jenny had made the mistake of stopping in to see her ma. She told her to stay away. Her father planned to do her in.
It didn’t matter why. The trespass was probably something in his mind. But he’d do it if given half a chance.
She started down a dark alley, made more shadowy because of the stone supports built to shore up the buildings on either side. It was either the alley or emerge into the open, where her father could easily catch her. At the end of this short lane was a wall she could climb that led to another warren of alleys and her best hope for losing him. Drunk and a good sixteen years her senior, she didn’t think he’d be able to manage the climb.
“There ye are!” came his voice, and Jenny jumped at how close he was. She turned and moved sideways toward the wall.
“I can’t talk right now, pa. I ‘ave to be somewhere.”
“Looking for yer fancy man, are ye?”
“ “E’s not a fancy man. ‘E’s as poor as the rest of us.”
“Talks like a fancy man.” Her father stumbled toward her, and Jenny resisted the urge to run. If she ran, he’d start running too. “Did ‘e put a babe in yer belly yet?”
“No.”
“And ‘e won’t neither. Not after I’m done with ye. Little ungrateful bitch.” He lunged for her, and Jenny couldn’t resist any longer. She ran, reaching the wall in a matter of seconds and scrambling up it.
But she wasn’t fast enough. Richard Tate’s hand clamped on her ankle, and he yanked her down. Before she could punch or scratch at him, his fist slammed into her shoulder. He only missed her face because she dodged to the side. She went down like a sack of flour and looked up as he raised his booted foot to bring it down on her face.
But a blur flashed over her and whatever it was—a giant bird?—landed on her father and they both crashed to the ground. It took Jenny a moment to realize it wasn’t a bird but Aidan. She’d stolen a long black greatcoat, which he’d taken to wearing in all sorts of weather, and it had flapped out behind him like a great crow’s wings when he’d jumped from the wall. Why had he been on the other side? How had he known she needed him?
She pushed up and winced at the sharp pain in her shoulder. Aidan had the advantage for the moment, since he’d landed on top of her father and taken him down. Aidan could definitely defend himself in a fight, but most of the ruffians about had some sense of self-preservation. They’d run if they were outmatched. Richard Tate would fight to the death.
Even as she thought it, her father kicked out, and Aidan doubled over, clutching his belly. Her father rose to his feet. “Good. Now I ‘ave both of ye.” He grasped Aidan’s hair and yanked his head up.
“No!” Jenny yelled.
Aidan’s fist darted out from his midsection and plowed into her father’s face. He stumbled back and Aidan planted a booted foot in the center of his chest, pushing him over. Jenny felt a rush of excitement run through her. They were winning. Aidan had her father down. She stood, and Aidan looked back at her. “Want me to kill him?” he asked, breathing heavily. She noticed he’d withdrawn the dagger he always kept with him from his boot.