“I am sorry,” Jonathan rounded on Thomas once they were halfway down the hall. “I do not need your help,” he hissed.
“I think you do,” Thomas said, his voice and, indeed, his entire mien instantly changing to one of deadly seriousness.
Thomas reached for the hem of his sleeve on the hand that held out the glass of water and pulled it back, revealing a tattoo of a snake on his forearm. A snake coiled into the shape of a heart. The symbol of The Zagreus Den.
It did not make Jonathan feel even slightly better.
“What have you thrust me into?” he demanded, grabbing the front of Thomas’s shirt and turning him to slam him against the wall, spilling the water. “What sort of game have you and your friends made me and Charlie a pawn in?”
“A game with the highest stakes,” Thomas replied calmly, setting the glass down on a small table by his side. “Stakes that I am certain your boy has already discovered.”
Jonathan’s anger dissolved into far less tangible, but still potent, emotions. “I understand, too,” he whispered. “I understand that Lord Fabian is a prisoner in this sick world of slavery and seduction you’ve unwittingly pulled me into.”
“You were already a part of it, whether you knew it or not,” Thomas said, meeting Jonathan’s eyes with an unwavering confidence. “Your photographs have provided a catalog of merchandise for years.”
Jonathan’s mouth dropped open. “I’ve only ever taken photographs,” he argued. “I never kept any of those boys or sold them, only their images.”
“They’ve been easy enough to find on the streets,” Thomas said, “once their images were circulated. The Den has tried to reach all of them before Cleveland Street could, but we have not always been successful.”
“What are you talking about?” Jonathan demanded, gut churning with dread and guilt.
Thomas sighed. “This is neither the time nor the place to discuss these things,” he said. “But whether you are fully aware or not, you are as much a part of what has been happening here as any of the rest of us.”
“What is happening here?” Jonathan demanded. “Did Brutus and Titus send me into a trap?”
“Not at all,” Thomas answered. “They were honest about the task they sent you to complete. We require documentation of the men Hammond has been attempting to recruit to?—”
He was not given a chance to finish. One of the doors opened at the far end of the hall, and Jonathan’s father stepped out.
Jonathan let go of Thomas and reeled back, reaching for Charlie. His old fear of his father eclipsed any of the new fear for the mind-bending circumstances he’d fallen into.
His father jolted to a stop as soon as he spotted the confrontation in front of him, his eyes going wide, as though he hadn’t expected any of it. As he approached, he schooled his face into a calmer expression, but the alarm was still there.
“Have you recovered from your illness?” he asked, everything about him wary, and likely for a thousand other reasons besides Jonathan’s state of health and fitness.
“I have not,” Jonathan said. He sent Thomas a glance, then grabbed Charlie’s hand to tug him along toward their rooms. “If you will excuse me,” he said, glancing back to both his father and Thomas. “I must take to my bed. And in the morning, I need to secure a carriage to take me and Charlie to the station.”
If Thomas really was on their side, as he seemed to be claiming, then he would find a way to help Jonathan and Charlie escape from this mad place.
Thomas stood a bit straighter, looking at Jonathan as if he was disappointed in the decision to flee instead of joining whatever cause he believed he was fighting for.
Jonathan was done with people being disappointed in him. He was done with being used as a tool or an excuse in other men’s games. As he strode into his room, shutting the door firmly behind him and Charlie, all he wanted to do was to get as far away from lies and deceit as he could so that he could hide away with Charlie forever.
Chapter Eighteen
Charlie struggled to make sense of everything that had been said since they’d met Margaret climbing out the window. It seemed like she had made her flight years ago, though it could not have been more than half an hour. Certainly not enough time for the maid to fetch any sort of policeman or constable. Which meant there was no choice but for him and Jonathan to stay where they were and take their chances on their own.
“Pack up everything,” Jonathan said with a stony face, locking the door and heading straight for the table where his equipment was already neat and tidy. “I have no idea how we’ll manage it, but we need to leave this place as soon as we can.”
“How?” Charlie asked, rushing to help take all of the exposed plates down from the shelf where they were waiting.
Jonathan pinched his face and shook his head. He was exhausted, Charlie could tell, and struggling with choices he’d likely never had to make before. He was in the midst of his entire world collapsing around him.
Charlie knew how that felt.
He finished moving boxes of plates to the table, but instead of putting them straight into the satchel that sat waiting there, he turned to Jonathan, gripping his arm.
Jonathan froze as if Charlie’s touch were electric. Two seconds later, he let out a breath and sagged, turning to lean against the table.
