Chapter Eight

C hapter E ight

T he look on Lucy's face was utterly priceless.

It was to be expected, given that the girls Hunter mentioned were actresses. But also…

Well, courtesans, for lack of a better word, but also some of the finest unofficial operatives England had.

This place of Tilda's, this compound of back rooms of theatres, was no brothel, and there was nothing untoward happening in any of the rooms they were seeing.

None of the girls gave Hunter and Lucy a second look as they walked through, which ought to signal to her well enough that this was not that sort of establishment, but it was also simply a place of business. The girls were used to random comings and goings of men and women, and everyone had something to do, so why should there be distractions?

"We just walked in through the most unobtrusive side door of the most boring building I have ever seen anywhere, and now there are corridors upon corridors of rooms and costumes and chaises and boxes…" Lucy was muttering, her nerves clearly getting the better of her.

They had found her in the middle of a dark London street in the middle of the night after a foiled abduction, and this was what she was nervous about?

Curious creature.

Hunter could feel her hand at his sleeve, and he suppose he ought to be grateful that she was not clutching his hand in her own like a child.

He was not at all nervous and moved freely and confidently along the corridors of ladies, costumes, and doors. He was here at least every other week, usually, and was far more focused on finding a place to sleep for a few hours than anything else.

Including Lucy's rambling.

"At least it's clean," she whispered as they walked.

Hunter found himself looking around to see what she was seeing, or not seeing, as it were. No cobwebs, no gaping holes in the walls or floors, no mysterious stains on wallpaper. It was tidy and orderly and, although lacking decoration, seemed a rather well-tended place.

Through her eyes, this must be bewildering.

She would have no idea where they were.

"Trick?"

Lucy jumped beside him and fully clutched his arm, while he simply looked around and broke out into a grin as a familiar face came towards them.

He started laughing. "Callie? What in the world are you doing here?"

A tall and remarkably pretty woman with pale golden hair was suddenly flinging her arms around him and laughing in sheer and natural delight. "I knew it was you! Nobody strides around with that kind of determination and pride except you!"

"Pride?" Hunter retorted, setting her down. "I am incredibly humble. Praised for it, in some circles."

Callie, one of his oldest friends from the underbelly of London, slapped his chest. "Oh, stuff it, you know exactly what you are."

He chuckled and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll ask again—what are you doing here, Callie?"

She beamed. "I finished my training, and my first official assignment is to work under Tilda. Not as one of her girls, but as her apprentice."

"That's bloody marvelous, Cal!" Hunter all but gushed. "I'd heard, of course, that you went into the service after Gent's house, but nobody tells me anything."

"Perhaps if you took yourself out of the slums every now and again," she suggested in a rather drawling tone. She winked then and looked at Lucy, sobering. "Ah, and who's this?"

Hunter turned slightly, placing his hand on Lucy's back. "This is Lucy. She happened upon Briar and me last night when someone tried to abduct her. So she's in my care until we find her father's new home and return her to safety."

Callie's eyes widened and she looked at Hunter quickly. "Have you told the League? You know how they keep tabs on everything."

"One of my runners went to them first thing this morning," he assured her with a nod. "Haven't heard anything yet."

She returned his nod and cast her eyes back to Lucy. "My name is Callie, since Trick isn't going to do proper introductions. We've been friends for ages and ages. Don't worry, you're safe here."

Lucy cleared her throat very softly. "Why don't you have a code name like Trick and Briar?"

Callie's smile was swift and wide. "I do have one, Trick just doesn't know it. My name is Willow."

Hunter hissed, forgetting belatedly that, thanks to her now completed training, Callie would have a new name. She was right, he really did need to emerge from the darkness of his assignment every now and then, if for no other reason than to keep abreast of such information.

He knew what he needed to know when he needed to know it, but this was something he really wouldn't need to know for an assignment. It was just something that he would want to know for future reference, really. And no one gave him anything for the future in the life he led.

He would be lucky if he had a future, with the life he led.

"I'll call you Willow, then," Lucy replied with a brief bob of her head. "Just in case. I don't know what any of you do or what any of this means, but I'm learning that you cannot be too careful with whatever it is."

Callie's smile turned slightly rueful. "Very true." She looked at Hunter quickly. "Are you both here to see Tilda?"

"Yes, but also because I need a safe place for Lucy while I sleep." He shrugged a little sheepishly, knowing that Callie would have nothing to say on the subject, but Tilda most certainly would.

She would have a great deal to say, in fact.

And from the look Callie was now giving him, he could tell she knew that as well.

"You'd better follow me, then," she told them both with a quick wave. "We're between fittings for the opera, so it's a good time."

"I trust that Tilda would tell us directly if it weren't a good time," Hunter said on a laugh. "Or me, at least. She might like Lucy."

"Does she not like you?" Lucy asked him, keeping her voice down. "Why are we here if she doesn't like you?"

Callie laughed merrily. "Tilda likes almost everyone. It just depends on the day and the given circumstances if she likes you at the time. And she adores those who are in awe of her, which is almost everyone, and those who flatter her, which is almost everyone who actually knows her and what she is capable of."

"She sounds terrifying," Lucy murmured.

"She is," Hunter and Callie said together, both without much concern.

Lucy made a soft sound of acknowledgement, which only made Hunter smile. He could understand her concern, in a way. They were likely confusing her with the way they spoke about Tilda and the way they described her, but she was one of the most unique and eccentric people Hunter had ever met. Any attempt at a true description would be lacking and incomplete, as Tilda surpassed what was able to be described. She had to be seen and experienced to be believed.

All would become clear soon enough.

As clear as any encounter with Tilda could ever be, at any rate.

Callie led them down the main corridor, then down the final side corridor to the left, passing racks of dresses bearing the sort of elaborate finery one usually saw on the opera stage. They passed two ajar doors, the rooms clearly used for fittings, and then stopped at the third door, which was only cracked.

She knocked three times in quick succession, then waited.

There was a dramatic sigh from within the room. "Come."

Callie pushed the door open and strode into the room with a confidence that Hunter had never quite seen in his friend, and it made him smile. "We have visitors, Tilda."

The dark-haired woman turned in the chair at her desk, the light in the room illuminating the slightest sheen of silver dotted throughout her tresses. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the door. "Come in, whoever you are."

Hunter moved farther into the room so he could be seen clearly and plastered the most apologetic expression on his face he could. "Good day, Tilda."

A light of recognition lit her features for a moment, then she frowned. "Trick, what have I told you about coming here in the middle of the day? I am far too busy to accommodate whatever it is you need this time."

"If it were for that, I would know better, Tilda, dear. I do apologize." He gestured for Lucy to join him. "But alas, this is for another sort of matter entirely."

Lucy came to his side, biting her lip and looking at Tilda with the sort of terror and helplessness that usually revealed itself in the woman's presence.

Tilda pushed up from her chair slowly, a small smile on her lips. "My, my, my, what have we here, Trick?"

"This is Miss Lucy Allred," Hunter said softly, nodding in encouragement, though Lucy wasn't looking at him. "She is lost. Well, not precisely, but she was—"

"She can tell me," Tilda overrode, cutting him off with a quick hand in the direction of his face. "Tell me your story, Miss Allred."

Lucy bobbed her head in a nod that was practically a curtsy. "I was coming back to London between terms. I'm a teacher at Miss Masters's. My father sent a coach for me, and it was to take me to his new house, which I did not have an address for. And suddenly I was dropped off in a dark and unfamiliar part of London, the coach left me without unloading, and two men tried to abduct me. Trick intervened and saved me, thinking I was Briar, and then Briar showed up. Both of them took me to Trick's flat for the night while he looked for my father, and we still don't know where my father is or lives, and I'm stuck."

She had started to speak more quickly by the end, rambling again, and she ended with a shrug.

"Oh my," Tilda murmured, folding her arms and tapping her upper arm with a finger repeatedly. "So much to digest in one little story. I'll have questions of more detail in a minute, once I've finished processing it all. But firstly, Trick, why are you here? You know I have no messenger contacts, and I am hardly in a position to know someone's respectable father."

"He's not that respectable," Lucy said quickly, surprising Hunter enough that he snorted softly.

Tilda's lips quirked in a slight smile, but she only looked at Hunter pointedly.

Oh right. His reasons.

He cleared his throat. "I don't think it would be a good idea for her to stay in my flat again tonight, given the neighborhood. And I have a patrol, so I wouldn't be there to watch her. Would she be able to stay with you?"

"Of course, there is plenty of space and we could ensure she has a change of clothing, as it sounds as though her belongings departed in the runaway coach." Tilda looked Lucy up and down with her usual calculating expression, then returned her attention to Trick. "But that is hours away, so why now? What do you need at this very moment? And do not tell me it is nothing, because I know you, and it is never nothing with you. You are a ‘four steps ahead' sort of creature, and I do not like not knowing a plan when it involves me."

Hunter shook his head, grinning helplessly. "I adore you, Tilda."

"Yes, I know," she quipped without much reaction.

He rubbed the back of his head, feeling as though he were about to tell his mother or his most terrifying aunt something he was embarrassed about. "I did not sleep last night, which wouldn't be a problem, except now I'm going on patrol tonight. So I need sleep, at least two hours, if I can manage it. And Lucy needs to be safe while some of the League's people and mine try to locate her father. So… would you mind?"

Tilda blinked once, then again. "You want me to be a glorified nanny to a Society chit who doesn't know London's left from its right? Whose only trip to the arse-end of this city was an accident of fate? Who is so proper and polite that she'll call me madam and do whatever I ask out of an innate desire to please a slightly older woman in authority?"

Hunter clamped down on his lips for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, actually."

There was a long, slow beat before Tilda all-out beamed at him. "Why, of course! I would be delighted! I do have some additional fittings to do today, but that shouldn't get in anybody's way. Have you been to the opera recently, Lucy? You don't mind if I call you Lucy, do you? Formality is such a waste of breath. The rehearsing opera will be stunning, simply stunning, so you must make an effort to see it when the shows start. But I've also just finished the costume for Love's Labor Lost at the Theatre Royal, and they have decided not to do modern dress for this one, which delighted me, of course. And if you're quite accommodating, Lucy, I shall fit you up with a few ensembles before you're off in the morning. But what to do with an entire day of you? Have you fed her, Trick? Willow, would you be a dear and make sure we have a hefty meal for supper? Luncheon will be as planned, but we should have a proper supper."

"What is she doing?" Lucy asked Hunter in a slow undertone.

"Rambling," he told her with some satisfaction, setting his hands at his hips and trying not to laugh. "She's clearly very excited about you being here."

"Why?" Lucy shook her head, exhaling shortly. "I'm just a lost high society chit, like she said."

Hunter gave her a bemused look. "Do you know how often she gets to be with normal people? And you're pretty, so she'll be perfectly delighted to dress you up however she likes. She does have impeccable taste, so you will look lovely, and I trust she'll find something you can walk around London with me in as well."

Tilda was pacing the room now, talking to herself rapidly. "Green would be glorious, but red… Oh, she would slay a man in red. Gold, even. Ooh, with spun gold throughout… Is it worth the funds for such extravagance? I'll make it worth the while…"

"Need anything from me, Tilda?" Hunter called out playfully. "Or shall I just…?"

She immediately waved him off. "No, no, go find a quiet corner and nap, you naughty chump. I'll talk with you later. I am sure we'll have something to discuss once I've got all my ideas for Miss Lucy out of my head and am clear once more. Better yet, take one of the empty rooms along the route. But if I catch you sleeping on my costumes again, so help me, Trick…"

He held up his hands in surrender as he backed out of the room. "I did that once, and I learned my lesson. Never again. Just a few hours of rest and I'll be back for a cup of tea. Two sugars for you?"

She dismissed him with flicks of her fingers, her frown pursing as though she were fighting a smile.

"Wait," Lucy said hastily, taking quick steps towards him. "Where are you going?"

Hunter jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "To sleep, remember? Very tired, patrol later… You'll be fine."

"Don't you dare leave me here with her alone," Lucy hissed, her eyes widening.

"You aren't alone with her," Hunter said. "You also have Callie. Sorry, Willow."

She shook her head rapidly. "You said she killed someone."

"She isn't going to kill you," he assured her with a laugh. "Neither is Willow. You're about to have a wonderful time."

"Do not patronize me, Hunter," Lucy ground out almost viciously. "She is terrifying, and you need to stay here."

He slowly shook his head, still smiling. "I need to sleep. And you need me to sleep. So take a breath, smile, and have fun. I'll see you in a little while." He waved and backed all the way out of the room before turning and strolling down the corridor away from her.

"Trick!" Lucy called in a fairly restrained voice, considering the reverberation in the place. "Trick! Come back here!"

He ignored her and began whistling to himself, knowing exactly which room he was going to use for his nap, if it was available. He knew, from experience, that the chaise in there was plush and comfortable, and that it was not a room used for anything he might find unappetizing for his sleep. He'd been here enough times to test out all of the acceptable furniture, and when he needed a decent sleep…

Well, he didn't usually get decent sleep when he was here because somebody he knew needed something from him and/or a new clue turned up and he wound up lying on whatever furniture, thinking too much. So he needed to hurry to the room before he was found and that happened again.

Sleep was crucial if he wanted to have a decent patrol tonight. He had functioned for longer on less sleep, but tonight was too important. He needed to explore those gaming hells with his assets and try to uncover the traitor among them, if he could. Or find a path to him. Find a link somewhere. Get some insight into this murky mess of factions and guns and betrayal. His assets only knew that he would pay well if they got intelligence that led somewhere, and that he would look the other way on their minor crimes, if not help them get away with it, as the case might have been at times. Nothing where someone was hurt, of course. But he had allowed the occasional robbery from time to time.

His eyes began to ache, a telltale sign that he would sleep very hard when he permitted himself to, and he was more thrilled about that than he was of the idea of Lucy getting fussed over by someone who loved nothing more than fussing over pretty people.

Despite her fears, Lucy would be safer than she knew in Tilda's company and in this place, and she would enjoy herself more than she believed as well. He would wind up hearing all about it when he woke, and it would undoubtedly be entertaining, but nothing would surprise him. He had seen and heard it all with Tilda over the years, and the best course, he had learned, was to expect nothing and be prepared for anything.

She had seen him suitably trussed for every single assignment of his entire career, thinking of details he would never have considered that had proven to make all of the difference in one way or another. She had kept secrets that could have gotten her killed. She had hidden people whom the entire city was on the hunt for. She had met royalty and dressed those of the highest ranks as well as those of the lowest, and somehow, she treated everyone in exactly the same fashion.

He was slightly in love with Tilda, if he were to be honest with himself, but only in the sense that one might love a goddess who had bestowed kindness and favor. She was old enough to be his mother, though he would never tell her so, and admitting any sort of feelings for her would earn him a slap in the face and a stabbing in the back.

Literally. He'd met someone who'd experienced it.

No, Tilda was one of the secret marvels of the world, and he would have need of her later. His patrol tonight, for one.

Exploring gaming hells for the elusive Mr. Martin, formerly of the London League office, while also sniffing out any potential Faction sympathizers, if not actual operatives on English soil.

Wouldn't that be something? To tie up all of these issues in one neat little patrol…

Realistically, he would find nothing. It would be an evening of information gathering, very little of which would be useful, and he would have to figure out how to keep the men happy and attentive to his interests when he couldn't pay them for a success.

But he'd sleep for a while and see what ideas occurred to him after he woke.

With a deep yawn, he pushed into his chosen room, which was blessedly empty, and collapsed onto the settee, already close to sleep before he could exhale a deep, relaxing breath.