“Be alert,” Jamie said. “Are you armed?”
“I’m not sure if I’m insulted or pleased he’s so worried for us, considering we have been in more dangerous positions than this in our lifetimes,” Toby said to Anthony.
“You’re both soft now. I have to watch out for you,” Jamie replied.
The jab he received in his side from Anthony made him grunt. “You may be more athletic than Toby and me, but in no way are you more intelligent.”
They moved as though they had nowhere else to be, and yet all three were aware of everything around them.
The street they turned up was little more than a crooked lane between leaning tenements, their upper stories sagging so close they almost touched. What light the moon offered was swallowed by the overhanging eaves. The air was thick with scents Jamie had no wish to identify.
Laughter spilled from one of the doorways, the high-pitched giggles of a woman mingling with the gruff voice of a man.
“It’s at the end there.” Jamie pointed. “Huckle told me about the light.”
A red lantern burned faintly above the lintel, its glass filthy but the glow easy to see in the dark night. The door itself was scarred, half-hidden in shadow.
“The Crimson Serpent is hardly a name to inspire lust,” Anthony mused.
“No, but it does inspire intrigue and danger,” Toby added.
“Be careful,” Anthony said before he and Toby slid into the shadows and disappeared.
Jamie walked on, senses open, and aware of every move around him. Reaching the building, he looked up as a shrill whistle filled the air.
In the window above him stood two women, their pale rouged faces peering down at him.
“Hello, lovely. You look like a fine gentleman!” one called down. “What you got a taste for? We can meet all your needs.”
“You’re too kind,” Jamie called up to them. “I shall come inside and see what takes my fancy.”
“You’re a big boy. I’m sure you could handle the both of us, and we might actually enjoy it.”
This produced raucous laughter from both ladies.
“I shall do my best,” Jamie said.
He rapped on the door with his gloved knuckles as the ladies continued to hurl bawdy comments down on him.
Jamie could feel a constant undercurrent swirling around them. Desperation, hunger, and menace. This was no Mayfair dalliance, no gilded boudoir with velvet curtains. Here, vices were raw and unchecked, in a place where men disappeared and no one thought to ask why.
The door swung open, and there stood a tall thin man with a moustache that could only be termed sinister. With not a stitch of hair on his head, he was dressed in black like them, but unlike Jamie and his three friends, he was sure this man had not an ounce of civility in his body. Eyes as black as the sky above them, his face was narrow. Jamie knew what evil looked like; he’d seen it in many forms. It came off this man in waves.
“I wish to enter,” Jamie said.
“Have you frequented the Crimson Serpent before, sir?”
“I have not.”
The man eyed him thoroughly, and then stepped to one side.
“Please come in.”
He did, stepping into the entrance. Inside, the light was little better. Jamie took in the heavy crimson drapes and the darkened floor beneath his feet. To his right loomed a huge gilt-framed mirror, its surface dulled by grime, while flickering candles cast weak light over stained plaster and peeling wallpaper that had once been a garish red.
“If you’ll come this way,” the man said.
Jamie’s boots thudded on the hard floor as he followed him, and the sounds of music and the rumble of voices grew louder as he moved deeper into the house. He was ushered into a small parlor that held a chair, a fireplace, and little else.
