“Is this your mother’s?”
“I thought it would add to our story.”
“What story?”
“Well—”
***
They stood in the shadow of BathAbbey as the tower bell struck ten. The gothic architecture loomed above them.
“Do you think he’ll come?” Mira whispered, pulling the collar of her coat tighter around her neck.
“Hard to say,” Byron said. “There aren’t many people out, so it should be easy to spot him.” He checked his watch. “If he isn’t here in twenty minutes, we’ll head back.”
“Why do you think he chose here as the rendezvous?” she asked. “Do you think that the thieves meet somewhere around here?”
“I doubt they would meet this close to an Abbey. Too much guilt every time you walk by. Monty was smart in choosing it for us, though. Plenty of shadows to hide in, and since we look nothing like young hooligans ready to throw rocks at the stained glass, no one will think we’re doing anything nefarious.”
“We are lurking, rather.”
“Well, that’s only because of the shadows.”
A dark carriage stood across the way. She wouldn’t have paid it any notice, except every so often a person would attempt to hire it and the driver would wave them off. It struck her as odd, as they stood there in the cold waiting for Monty. Fifteen minutes passed, Mira’s toes were quite frozen, and the carriage driver had waved off four potential fares. She was about to mention how odd it was to Byron when a man with Monty’s build approached and the thought flew out of her head. The man’s voice confirmed his identity.
“Sorry ‘bout the delay. Had to borrow a prancer and couldn’t find a place to hold it.”
“You stole a horse?” Mira asked.
“Borrowed.” Monty emphasized the word. “If I prigged it I would have said so. It hurts you don’t trust me. I’m not in the horse stealing game, never was, never will be. Now do you want me to take you there or not?”
“By all means, lead the way,” Byron said, gesturing out.
Monty nodded, walking past the carriage towards one of the northern roads. “What were the names you decided on?”
“Ernest and Rita Norman,” Mira said.
“Ernest?” Monty raised an eyebrow, looking back at the two of them. “You’re using a false name, and you chose Ernest?”
“Seems fitting,” Byron said.
“I suppose.” Monty shrugged and kept moving.
“Where are we going?” Mira asked.
“To one of the tunnels.”
Mira swallowed. “Erm. Tunnels? You mean . . .”
“Under the city. Bath’s been built over multiple times. There are tunnels all over. Connecting businesses. Hidden vaults built for structure back twenty or thirty years ago. You saw the construction over near the pump house? They’re unearthing things from Roman times. Building it out so people can come and see it.”
“Yes, I believe I heard about that,” Byron said. “Didn’t Liza mention it?”
Mira nodded. “They’re building a museum, aren’t they?”
“That’s what they say. But the workers are only in there during the day, see? At night, it’s a free meeting spot. The gang stay out of the areas that are being actively worked on. Don’t want to accidentally leave a mark somewhere where one of them archaeologists will see.”
He moved out of the moonlight, into an alleyway. A man dressed in workman’s clothes and a thick coat stood before a set of descending stairs.
