They were soon on their way, the journey made in silence. Barnabus suspected Brogan’s mind was as uneasy as his over what they’d find upon arrival.
At the flat, Brogan unlocked the door and let them both in. They followed the sound of voices to the sitting room.
A young girl, likely thirteen years old, lay on the sofa, pale and listless. Near her sat Vera with her arm around the shoulders of a boy likely five years the girl’s junior, who was standing beside her chair. Gemma laid a cool cloth over the girl’s forehead. Mr. Sorokin, of all people, knelt on the floor beside the sofa, holding the girl’s hand and watching her with concern.
Mr. Sorokin looked up as they entered. “Do you have your doctoring bag?”
“I do.”
That pulled all their eyes to him. His gaze lingered on Gemma. She looked weary but not afraid. With his mind at ease on that score, he moved toward his young patient. He took Mr. Sorokin’s place, kneeling beside the sofa. He felt the girl’s wrist, searching for a pulse. “Tell me what you can of her condition.”
“She’s been feverish a couple days,” Mr. Sorokin said. “And today she’s had no energy, no strength.”
“Fever’s been rising since arriving here,” Gemma said. “The cool cloths ain’t helping overly much.”
Barnabus felt her face. Shewasquite warm. He checked her neck for swelling. “Has she mentioned pain in her throat?”
The little boy nodded, his expression heavy with worry. “Mentioned her throat, she did. I ain’t seen her sick like this.”
Barnabus pulled from his doctoring bag a vial of powders and gave quick instructions to Vera on how to prepare them for the girl.
“A honey tea would soothe her throat,” he added. “I suspect she’s not been eating on account of her throat hurting. Butnot eating and drinking has left her weak. A weakened body struggles to fight off illness.”
“We’ve been struggling to stay dry and warm lately,” Mr. Sorokin said. “That likely hasn’t helped.”
Barnabus shook his head. “It likely hasn’t. If you aren’t opposed to the idea, you ought to stay here with her for a few days. She’d be warm and comfortable. The powders should break her fever, and the honey tea will alleviate her throat pain. Get her eating again, drinking water and weak tea, and she’ll recover quickly.”
“She can use the room I’ve been in,” Gemma said. “The room stays warm, and the pallet’s comfortable.”
“I can take her upstairs,” Brogan said. “We’ll see her settled.”
The girl opened her eyes enough to look at Barnabus. “Mr. Sorokin says you’re the doctor who saves people from the bullyboys.”
Barnabus nodded. “I do what I can to save people from whatever’s troubling them, whether it’s the sniffles or the snatchers.”
She smiled weakly. “People talk about you. Most think you’re a hero.”
He could guess which ones didn’t. Being despised by people who hurt the vulnerable was, in his estimation, a badge of honor.
Brogan carefully lifted the girl from the sofa and followed Gemma out of the room and, no doubt, up the stairs. The little boy followed them. Vera had already left to see to the powders and tea Barnabus had prescribed.
He and Mr. Sorokin remained in the sitting room. He didn’t know the man well—not at all, really—but he knew the vital role he had played in safeguarding these children. They were, without question, Licorice and Olly, the two urchins who needed protection from the Mastiff.
Mr. Sorokin had often provided Brogan with informationabout what was happening in the quiet corners of London, what was whispered about among the poor and struggling. No one was entirely certain how he managed to hear so much, but the DPS believed he’d built a network almost accidentally, having provided aid to so many who then remained loyal to him even years later. A network as vast as the one the Dread Master claimed. Barnabus couldn’t shake from his mind the possibility that this man might very well be their mysterious leader.
“Have you heard any word of the Kincaids?” Barnabus asked. “Gemma is in danger from them.”
Mr. Sorokin sat on the sofa. “They undertook a resurrection two nights ago, but it didn’t go well. They were caught out and had to flee, though one of them was captured by the blue-bottles. They left behind some of their tools. They’d brought in some extra hands, seeing as they’ve more work than usual, but those hands have proven unreliable.”
Which meant Gemma was likely in even more danger than she had been. Her hands knew the work. And the Kincaids knew it.
“Sometimes it seems the Mastiff has pulled so many into his web that we’ll never untangle it all.”
“That is the feeling in the dim corners of South London too,” Mr. Sorokin said. “They feel his presence everywhere. And he isn’t doing his work alone.”
Barnabus nodded. The Mastiff had the Raven and the Protector, Mrs. Smith, countless others. And even with all that, they’d received repeated warnings that something bigger was coming, something even more dangerous.
“You were pulled into his schemes with the Russian ambassador.” Barnabus kept his voice low but spoke fast, knowing there likely wasn’t going to be much opportunity for discussing this once the others came downstairs.