“It will do no good to think about that beggar’s cryptic words. If we have any hope of learning the Horse and Hen’s secrets, we must keep all our wits about us.” Hannah gentlybumped Eoin’s arm with her fist, and he suspected that she would have linked elbows with him if she wasn’t dressed as a lad. It amazed him how quickly she’d deduced the reason for his shudder.
“Wits! Wits! Wits!” Pan cried from Hannah’s shoulder. She’d insisted on bringing the noisy pet in case they required a distraction. Even the levelheaded Sophia had recommended taking along the bird.
Ignoring the grating cries, Eoin jerked his head in assent to Hannah’s advice. He couldn’t think of his mother and his sister as ghosts or even as shadowy figures from his own faint memories. No. He had to retain the hope that he would meet them and offer whatever assistance they needed. He could never change what they had endured, but he could improve their futures.
If they were alive…
This time when they passed the bawdy houses, Eoin made sure to stay to the center and keep his head down. It wasn’t as if Hannah, dressed as a lad, could save him as easily as she had last time—and he had little faith in a parrot flying to the rescue despite Hannah’s and Sophia’s assurances of the feathered creature’s skills.
Eoin glanced surreptitiously toward the set of stairs leading to the Horse and Hen’s cellar entrance. Sure enough, a large man loitered at the bottom, his gaze flicking not-so-subtly over every passerby. Short of storming the door, it didn’t appear as if they could manage to get inside. Hannah had been right to suggest that they once again try their luck on the main floor and hope that their current disguises and ripped, soiled clothing made them look like regular patrons.
Eoin shifted his gaze away from the fellow. Hunching his shoulders, he slunk forward. How he wished he could compresshis body into a normal size and blend in. With any luck, people would be more focused on the lime-green bird perched on Hannah’s shoulder.
“Oi!” The deep voice boomed down the alleyway, echoing off the cracking plaster of the half-timbered buildings.
Eoin’s muscles tightened, and he sorely wished he’d learned how to use his considerable bulk to defend himself. Luckily, he was a handy enough shot, and he’d hidden a pistol under his workman’s clothing.
“You! There! You’re late!”
Eoin whirled around to find the burly fellow waving him over to the cellar steps of the Horse and Hen. Eoin started to glance around to confirm, but Hannah tugged his sleeve.
“This is our chance,” Hannah whispered softly so only he could hear. “Just play along.”
Eoin started cautiously walking forward, but Hannah poked him gently in the ribs. “Swagger. Look confident. You must appear tough. Live up to those bruises.”
Eoin tried his best to strut. He even clenched his fists in order to swell his biceps. Unfortunately, he felt utterly ridiculous and not the least bit intimidating. He half expected the guard to burst into guffaws.
He didn’t. Instead, the sentry’s light brown eyes flicked assessingly over Eoin. Then he glanced over at Hannah, his gaze dismissive. “Who are you? The young lads are almost done. And why the bird?”
“The youth’s with me,” Eoin said gruffly, immediately sensing that this brute wouldn’t pay Hannah much mind. He didn’t want a squabble to erupt when they were so close to their goal.
“And the parrot? A good luck charm?” The left corner of the man’s lips turned up into a sneer.
“Yes,” Eoin said with more confidence than he had. He couldtell that the man found Pan’s presence absurd, but then, so did Eoin. He couldn’t think of a legitimate reason to drag a talking bird into whatever situation they were about to encounter.
“Balderdash. You either have skilled fists or you don’t.”
What the blazes did fists have to do with anything? Hopelessly confused, Eoin grunted. Beside him, Hannah shifted. She clearly wanted to speak, but she must have thought better. She didn’t even huff out an annoyed sigh.
“Argh. I suppose it doesn’t matter much to me,” the sentinel ground out. “Just bring the bloody creature. There’s no rule against it, although Ursus might not be so welcoming.”
Ursus? The Latin word for bear? That was an unusual name, especially in a derelict alley. Did thieves employ nicknames from dead languages?
The sentry chortled as if he’d made a grand joke. Eoin simply grunted again, and Hannah remained silent.
Still chuckling darkly, the fellow opened a surprisingly thick door, which seemed more suited to a castle’s keep than the entrance to a tumbledown cellar. The metal hinges groaned, only adding to a faint sense of doom.
Eoin stiffened his shoulders as he ducked under the low-slung doorframe. He wasn’t typically a fanciful man. Screeching metal shouldn’t send shivers skittering along his spine, but it did.
“Something’s wrong.” Hannah spoke in a low tone as she followed him.
Eoin nodded as he reached down to touch the handle of his pistol. This time, he was grateful for his bulk. If trouble arose, he could shield Hannah.
The outdoor steps had been stone, but those beyond the door were wooden. The oak creaked beneath Eoin’s feet as the scent of stale ale and body odor wafted through the air.Another scent tickled Eoin’s nose—a metallic one. Eoin didn’t recognize it, but his body did. The hairs on his arms rose, and his heart pounded.
“Blood.” The ominous word hung in the air as soon as Hannah spoke it. Eoin’s nerves weren’t helped when the guard shut the door behind them, plunging them into darkness. The thud of the wooden bar echoed down the gloomy, rickety staircase.
They were locked inside with only their firearms and a foul-mouthed parrot for defense. Shouts and jeers arose from the darkness below. A crowd—and a barbaric one by the sound of it—was gathered.
