Tarnished Knight - By Bec McMaster Page 0,17

the trapdoor. The light gleamed on the wet-shine of a pair of frightened eyes. Slowly he reached down and offered her his left hand. The flesh one. Right now, if she saw the cold metal of his mech-hand she might think him a Slasher.

A minute ticked by. Rip stayed still, letting her make her own judgements. Finally Meggie reached up and wrapped her small fingers in his own. As he dragged her out, she looked around but Rip caught her face and pressed it to his shoulder. Moonlight gleamed through the window, just enough to highlight the splashes of blood on the floor and the body beneath the rug.

She didn’t need to see that.

“’ush, luv,” he whispered, stroking her hair as she cried into his shoulder. It was the most he could spare her, after burying his own mother at the age of eleven.

***

Meggie had descended into misery, sobbing against his shoulder as if she couldn’t hear anything he said. Rip wrapped her in a blanket and took her to the one person he knew might be able to help.

The Warren was quiet this time of night. Rip knocked on Esme’s door, feeling the little girl cling to him tighter, as if afraid he was going to let her go. The instant trust left him feeling slightly uncomfortable – and infinitely tender.

Footsteps crossed the floor and Esme opened the door, her dark hair in a loose braid and a robe dragged over her nightgown. As soon as she saw him, that cool veneer swept over her features, then she saw the little girl in his arms.

“Oh,” she murmured, hands coming up to stroke Meggie’s hair. “What happened?”

Slashers, he mouthed.

Esme’s eyes softened in distress. “Here now, sweetheart,” she murmured, stroking the red curls out of the girl’s face. “What’s your name?”

“Meggie,” he replied, looking down at the warm weight. “Meggie, this ‘ere’s Esme. She’ll look after you whilst I--”

Meggie’s grip tightened. “No. Don’t leave me!”

Rip’s hand paused on her hair. “I need to find your mother. I’ve got to go, sweet’eart. Esme will keep you safe.” He stroked the fine red curls. “You ‘ave to let go, darlin’. The quicker I can get goin’, the more chance I got o’ findin’ ‘er.”

He wouldn’t give her false promises.

He could feel Esme watching him. “You don’t mind?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she replied, reaching out.

Rip turned and eased the child into Esme’s arms. She was good with children. Of course, it helped that she always smelled faintly of baking biscuits, cinnamon and spices. If anyone could look after the frightened little girl, it would be her.

The warm scent of Esme’s skin drifted past his nostrils as her arms brushed against him. Taking Meggie, Esme buried her face in the child’s red hair and hummed under her breath. “It’s all right, little one. If anyone can find your mother it will be John.” Soothing the hair out of the little girl’s face. “Even the Slashers are afraid of him.”

A hint of pride in the words. Rip stared at her, wondering if she even knew how much her voice had softened. His fingers jerked, wanting to reach out and touch her, to ask what was so bloody unforgivable. No point though. She’d flinch away no doubt. No. His rough hands weren’t for her.

“Got to get goin’,” he said.

Green eyes met his. “Of course.” As the silence stretched out between them, Esme’s lips parted but the words never came.

“Righto,” he muttered, taking a step back from her. With a sharp nod, he turned around and shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling his chest tighten with despair. Hell.

“Rip!”

Rip paused and glanced over his shoulder.

“Be careful,” she called, then hesitated. “You watch your back tonight. You know what the Slashers are like. I don’t want to have to… to be washing the blood out of your shirt in the morning.”

With a gruff nod he started down the hallway. Time to wake Blade. This was no longer something for one man to deal with.

CHAPTER SIX

“You ought ‘ave told me sooner.”

The same words he’d heard Blade repeat for the last hour. Rip’s jaw tightened as he bent low and heaved the sewer grate out of the cobbles, his biceps straining. “Thought I could ‘andle it.”

And he hadn’t been able to, after all.

Blade put both hands on either side of the open grate and dropped his body through. Leaning the grate covering against the wall, Rip knelt and followed him. Darkness swallowed him whole as he landed with a splash.

Undertown

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