The last thing Charlie expected was to fall asleep in a jostling, speeding carriage as it whisked him through the dark to some unknown place. He’d seen a man killed, two of them, each shot in the head. He’d come close to death on the streets of London, but that would have been a slow death, a quiet one.
He would never recover from seeing death roar with quick, merciless violence.
It still might come for him and Jonathan. That thought would not leave his head as the carriage hurtled them through the night. Hammond expected them to spend the night in their room, then to come downstairs to face whatever reckoning he had planned for the morning.
What would Hammond do when he and Jonathan were nowhere to be found? There was as good a chance as any that he would send the shadowy guards from Fairford House to seek them out in London and murder them.
No, they would murder Jonathan. Charlie would be taken away, like Fabian, possibly drugged and sold like chattel.
All of those things should have kept him rigid with terror as they fled. But the world was quiet, but for the turning of thecarriage’s wheels, the creak of its springs, and the vague sound of the horses’ hooves out front. Charlie pressed against Jonathan, sharing his warmth in the chilly night. Jonathan kept his arm firmly around Charlie, his hand solid at the back of Charlie’s neck.
It was too much for Charlie to resist. He tilted his head toward Jonathan’s shoulder, twisted his body slightly so he could cling to him, and with nothing but the indeterminate sounds of the carriage around them, he nodded off.
Jonathan must have fallen asleep, too. Some time later, Charlie had no idea how long, both of them jolted awake as the carriage came to a stop. It dipped and swayed, and then the driver appeared at the door.
“We’re on the outskirts of Swindon, sir,” the driver said quietly before knocking and opening the door. “It’s not yet dawn, so I could drive on, if you’d like.”
“Hmm?” Jonathan struggled to right himself from where he’d slumped against the side of the carriage. Charlie scrambled to sit straight as well.
“Dawn is coming,” the driver assured them. “I could take you to the station in Swindon and you could purchase tickets for the first train of the day.”
“Yes,” Jonathan said, rubbing his eyes. “Anything that will get us to London faster.”
“Very good, sir,” the driver said, then closed the door and mounted his seat again.
The carriage rolled on at a more sedate pace than their flight the night before. It was still dark inside the vehicle, but the edges of dawn light spilling across the horizon streamed through the windows, giving Charlie enough light to see by.
Neither he nor Jonathan was in much of a mood to talk. They went about sorting their things, which did not take long, since all they’d brought with them were the satchel of photographicplates and the carpetbag filled with lenses and a few items of clothing. By the time the driver rolled up to the edge of the station platform, they were ready to move.
“I am sorry I have nothing to spare to pay you with if we are to buy tickets,” Jonathan told the driver as he helped them down, nodding to the station office.
The driver shook his head and held up one hand. “I am employed by The Zagreus Den, sir. They will compensate me accordingly.”
He took a moment to show Jonathan and Charlie the tattoo of a snake curled into a heart on the back of his forearm.
Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. He’d trusted Mr. Thomas because of his tattoo, and seeing that same image etched into the driver gave him confidence that they really had been saved.
Jonathan was less certain. He remained silent as they headed into the station office, which was only just opening. He purchased two first-class tickets, which Charlie considered a dubious extravagance when Jonathan had just said he could not pay the driver, while the ticket seller watched them with suspicious eyes. Charlie didn’t like it. The man would remember them and would tell someone about them, if Hammond thought to question ticket sellers at train stations.
“Would you rather we sit in second-class, where everyone might see us?” Jonathan asked when he noted Charlie’s disapproval.
Charlie let go of his disapproval at once. Jonathan was right. A first-class compartment would keep them concealed from the world for the duration of their flight.
They had to wait nearly an hour for the first train. Luckily, there was an old woman selling tea and cakes on the platform, so they purchased a small meal to stave off hunger.
They bought a few more treats on the train later.
“I shouldn’t spend this money,” Jonathan said grimly as he sipped weak tea. “There’s no telling what waits for us in London. If Hammond has somehow managed to send word ahead of us to whomever he’s associated with in London, we could be flying out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
Charlie didn’t want to think about it. Instead, he hunkered down into himself as he took up the seat at Jonathan’s side, hands clasped around his teacup.
“You can still leave me, you know,” Jonathan said quietly after too much silence had passed.
Charlie stiffened and stared at Jonathan in alarm.
“I’m a failure,” Jonathan sighed, bowing his head. “Hammond is many things, but he was right about you being more intelligent than me. I am nothing but a fool who has hurt people without realizing it.”
“You are a man who was unprepared for the world,” Charlie said, his heart hurting to see the man who had changed his life suffering. He knew what it was like to be cast out into the world without preparation.
