The slightly crumbling church had been added to many times and boasted a variety of roofs, each of which could be used to gain a higher purchase. Jasper waited on a newer, flat section built off the side of the original nave and bisected by the deeper shadow cast by the spire against the nearly full moon. He paced the edge of the roof, coat drawn close against the chill autumn wind, hoping to be seen. The moon slid across the sky in a slow arch. The shadow of the spire slid across the rooftop. Doubt began to fill him.
“Looking for someone, Mclintock?” a low voice called from the deep shadow of the spire.
Jasper squinted but could see nothing in the inky blackness. “Lefthook?”
“It’s hardly likely to be anyone else.”
Jasper let out a relieved sigh. “You aren’t easy to find.”
“Should I be?”
Normally, their banter pleased him, but knowing Madelina was locked away somewhere robbed him of humor. “I need your help. Desperately.”
“Oh? Another auction? I’ve heard nothing.”
Jasper followed the voice but didn’t step into the deeper shadow. If Lefthook was a gentleman, as Jasper suspected, he might be someone Jasper had met. Hence, the reason Lefthook kept to the darkness cast by the spire. He wouldn’t want Jasper to come too close.
“A girl’s been kidnapped. Lady Madelina Greydrake.” Silence met that declaration. Jasper hurried on, “I know you don’t usually concern yourself with the nobility, or even the gentry, but you must help. I’m at my wit’s end. She must be found.”
“Why do you think the young woman is missing?”
Did Jasper imagine the strain in Lefthook’s voice? Jasper lowered his own. Secluded as the rooftop felt, he couldn’t risk anyone overhearing. “Because her aunt came to me and said she’s missing, and Madam Dequenne issued a ransom for her.”
This met with another silence. Jasper resisted the urge to enter the shadows, to find the man, and shake acquiescence from him. Every moment Madelina spent in Clementine’s clutches was a moment too long. “Please, I’ve looked everywhere. Sought information from everyone I can trust. Either no one knows where she is, or they’re all too afraid of Madam Dequenne to tell me.”
“Have you told her brother?”
“Madam Dequenne specifically forbade informing the marquess, on pain of harming Lady Madelina.”
Something moved in the shadow of the spire. “Come. Follow me. We can’t talk here.” More movement, and a grating squeak. “Come. Don’t fall in.”
Barely discernable, a lighter square appeared on the rooftop, then disappeared and reappeared as something came between Jasper and the light. He moved to it, then stopped at the edge and tapped with his foot. He almost toppled into a hole.
“I said, don’t fall in,” Lefthook called from somewhere below.
Jasper bent down. After a moment, his eyes adjusted well enough to see ladder rungs. Somewhere far below, light filtered through. He went around to the other side of the trap door and started down.
“Close the door behind you,” Lefthook said, below him. “There’s a latch. Lock it.”
Jasper climbed down several rungs, then reached out and levered the door closed. He patted about until he found the latch and secured it before climbing down. A few moments later, he stepped off the ladder.
“This way.”
Lefthook, little more than a shadow, led him along a dim hallway. Light seeped in through cracks in the floor. They took another ladder, then a narrow staircase. The room at the bottom of the staircase held a single lit candle. Lefthook passed it and moved to the wall, where he pulled aside a tattered curtain to reveal a stout wooden door. He took an object from his coat. A moment later, a lock clicked and the door opened. Jasper followed him through.
“A moment,” Lefthook murmured. For the first time, he didn’t alter his voice.
Though the words were muted, they sparked a hint of familiarity. Still, Jasper couldn’t grasp from where.
Lefthook reapplied his tools to the lock and soon it clicked again. He led the way from the room down a long hall but stopped halfway. Another curtain revealed another door. This one opened to a stairwell leading downward, light visible at the bottom. Soon, they stood in a catacomb that ran the length of the church, carved of stone and lined with candle-punctuated sarcophagi. Lefthook took up a lantern and lit it from one of the candles at the base of the steps, then led the way between the rows of dead.
At the far end, he stopped and turned back. Jasper followed his gaze. Just enough light filled the crypt to ensure they would see anyone who entered, and they were likely too far from the stairwell to be overheard. He could appreciate why Lefthook chose so grim a place.
“You said Madam Dequenne forbade you from informing the Marquess of Westlock that his sister has been kidnapped?” Lefthook asked as he set the lantern on one of the sarcophagi.
Jasper nodded.
“Then we already have a problem.” Lefthook reached up and pulled off his mask and hat.
