discovered the demon? Or perhaps drained dry like poor Mrs. Noble?”
“Mr. Talent is a shifter.” Poppy glared out the window as if she too were overcome with distaste. “His blood is extremely valuable, as it allows a demon to change appearance with the ease of a shifter. As Mr. Talent is one of only five known shifters in Europe, he is very rare.”
“Gods. I had no idea. I simply assumed he was one of many.”
Poppy’s eyes went cold with anger. “Talent took risks flaunting his nature. There are always those who would hunt down a shifter and use them. Which is why there are so few left alive.”
“No one deserves to be used against their will,” said Mary with sudden anger. She ducked her head, and the brim of her bonnet hid her expression but her gloves stretched tight against the knuckles of her clenched fist. “There are no better trackers than a GIM, Inspector Lane. I will not fail.”
After leaving Mary and their baggage at Ranulf House, Poppy gave the coachman directions to Fleet Street market, of all places. “One of the entrances to the SOS headquarters is there,” she explained to Winston. “There are others close by, but this one will garner less attention.”
The coach let them off at the market. A light breeze caught the pervasive stench of moldering water, garbage, and cooking and carried it off. People crowded the sidewalks, creating a general din of laughter and conversation. St. Paul’s dome shone against the grey sky. He hefted the satchel they’d brought along more securely over his shoulder and then offered Poppy his arm.
Daylight dimmed as they turned a corner and came alongside the Fleet river canal bridge. There the River Fleet slipped beneath London on its subterranean course. Poppy stopped by a service door and, blocking the door with her body, quickly pushed a series of numbers into the punch lock. Despite the worn and rusted appearance of the door, the lock clicked with well-oiled ease. She glanced over her shoulder as she pushed the door open. “This way.”
The scent of mildew and fetid air washed over them as they stepped inside the dark space. Winston blinked, waiting for his sight to adjust to the dimness, since the only light came from behind them and the small pinholes from the sewer grates. Foul didn’t begin to describe the smell. The rumble of street traffic and the dripping of water echoed in the underground tunnel. Without further ado, Poppy nudged him inside.
“It isn’t the most pleasant of entrances, I’ll grant you.” She pulled a slim cylinder from one of her many hidden pockets, and with the flick of a knob, yellow light shot from its end. It was an electric torch. He’d heard of them; hell, he’d even seen a rendering of one, but nothing as elegant as the model she held.
“Hold a moment.” He took the torch from her and studied it. The thing was heavy, an effective weapon if need be. The light it exuded was strong enough. Certainly better than nothing. “It’s brilliant.”
Poppy allowed a quick smile. “The SOS is privy to technological advancement that the public doesn’t see. We have a team of inventors who are quite clever. Our top inventor built several prototypes this year. I’ve been testing this one.” She moved them forward, and Win duly pointed the torch toward the ground before them to light the way. “It doesn’t last long, unfortunately, so we’ll have to be quick.”
She guided them along a narrow walkway that hugged the underground section of the river. Now that they had a bit of light, he could see that the tunnel was about twenty feet in diameter and lined with bricks. It extended in both directions, allowing the river to flow beneath London proper. A small craft was moored at a bend in the tunnel. “We are going on that, I presume?”
“Yes.” Her steps were quicker now, her countenance an eerie green in the weak light. “This tunnel leads directly to our headquarters.”
They were silent as she stepped into the craft and lit the lantern hanging off the prow, and he untied the mooring rope. The boat rocked precipitously as he stepped in, and she pushed off, using the long pole provided. Win widened his stance and, taking the pole from her, acted the part of gondolier.
“Something about that encounter with the demon bothered you. What was it?” He had questions on top of questions but he knew peppering her with them now wouldn’t