Fletcher had often said that if Parkington would start writing penny dreadfuls, he’d stand him for membership in the DPS in a heartbeat. The man was fearsome and focused. He was alsodedicated to the cause of the vulnerable. A good person in every sense.
“Thank you,” Barnabus said.
The other constables had Claud locked into the transport wagon they’d brought. Parkington hopped up on back, riding there as they drove off.
“The Mastiff said the Kincaids are looking for you specifically,” Fletcher said. “Either they’re holding a grudge, trying to stretch us too thin to keep up with their efforts, or looking to get to Gemma through you.”
“Or they’ve simply gained a liking for ‘snuffing out’ people,” Barnabus said.
“It’s time for you to go invisible,” Fletcher said.
Barnabus shook his head. “I need to keep looking for Gemma. I can’t simply hide away, twiddling my thumbs while—”
“The Dread Master gave me instructions that if your life were in danger, you needed to go invisible.”
The Dreadfuls didn’t often send someone into such complete hiding—going invisible, as they termed it. If the Dread Master was insisting he do precisely that, the situation must be more dire than he realized.
“To headquarters, then?” he asked in a whisper.
“No. To a safe house.”
“I won’t risk bringing the Mastiff’s people to any of the places where I’m hiding the women and girls we’ve rescued. Especially with Serena hidden in one of them. She risked her neck trying to warn us. I—”
“Not one ofyoursafe houses,” Fletcher said. “The Dread Master’s.”
Chapter 25
Barnabus wasn’t overly happy with going invisible, but he understood. Everything was in chaos and disarray. Word of the attack on Martin would reach the rest of the DPS soon enough, and they’d all be both more afraid and more determined. They would rally to the effort of safeguarding the rest. Until they could bring down the Mastiff, until they could remove that danger, they needed to focus on their enemy, not on protecting Barnabus.
So he went along with Fletcher, following him through roundabout ways, back alleys, under arches, behind buildings. He knew they were taking a circuitous path in order to reduce the chances of being followed. Indeed, Fletcher continually checked for exactly that. So did Barnabus. Through the long journey, neither of them said a word. Fletcher didn’t waste a single bit of energy with his usual strutting and sauntering. He was focused and solemn.
Fletcher entered a small dwelling at the back of an alleyway, closing the door behind them both. Barnabus knew London well, yet even he was lost, having taken so many turns. Down a narrow corridor they went, and through another door made to blend in perfectly with the weather-beaten wall it sat in. This safe house was better hidden than any of the ones Barnabus had.
The door closed heavily behind them. Fletcher lit a candle, having known precisely where to find both it and a match. They walked down the narrow corridor to a third door. Fletcher unlocked it and pushed it slowly open.
Lantern light burned inside.
“Is someone else here?” Barnabus asked.
“Apparently.” Fletcher met his eye. “Whoever it is had to’ve been sent by the Dread Master and had to’ve been given a key.”
They stepped inside.
Stone sat in a chair on the far side, watching as they entered. Stone. That made perfect sense. If he was indeed the Dread Master, he could easily enter a hiding place known only to that man.
Stone spoke to Fletcher. “Is Doc needing to go invisible?”
Fletcher nodded. “The Mastiff’s called for his head. Best we know where he is and that he’s safe.”
“There’s certainly room enough,” Stone said. “We’ll need food brought, though. The larder’s nearly empty.”
Fletcher’s eyes darted to Barnabus, then quickly settled on Stone. “Why has the Dread Master plopped you here?”
A question meant to misdirect Barnabus’s possible suspicions, perhaps?
“To act as guard,” Stone said.
“Guard for what?” Fletcher asked.