Gemma pushed out a breath. “He was doing something else, then. Something he oughtn’t be.”

“What is in this building?” Móirín asked, her voice pitched low, her gaze searching.

“I don’t know.” Gemma looked away, out at the street and the people passing. “But he was terrible far from Southwark.”

“Is it too dangerous for you to be here?” Stone asked. “We’ll sort out another job if need be.”

She shook her head. “This ain’t his usual haunt. I’ll keep my eyes peeled, but I ain’t ready to toss it yet.”

“Do you think we ought to send word to Barnabus?” Móirín asked.

“I’ll drop a word in his ear,” she said. And, in the meantime, she’d sort out how quickly after getting Mr. Sorokin’s papers she could flee London altogether.

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Gemma made the return journey to the Donnellys’ flat quickly but carefully that night; she and Baz were meant to have supper there again. She saw no familiar faces and no symbols written in ash. That didn’t mean they weren’t there. The people or the messages.

She needed to keep herself on this side of the ground until Mr. Sorokin’s papers gave her an escape. It was a peculiar thing, striving to stay alive just long enough to be declared dead. And it was disheartening to have no other goal than to simply not die.

What else could she do but bide her time? No one had ever defied the Kincaids and lived to tell the tale, except for her and Baz. Her tale weren’t finished being told yet, and she didn’t mean for it to end with him paying the price for her disloyalty to her family. The best way to manage that was to do as little as possible so no one took the least notice of her.

She hated feeling useless. She hated being useless.

Gemma stopped at a costermonger’s cart and bought herself an apple. She suspected the Donnellys weren’t so plump in the pocketbook as they’d like to be. A quick bite on her way to their home would fill her stomach a bit so she’d not be tempted to eat more than she ought of their offering.

She ate as she walked, and she walked as she formulated a plan. Might she do a spot of good in the fortnight or so before she piked off? Something at the Donnellys’ flat, maybe? Or a word of encouragement to Stone in the matter of his secret sweetheart connection? Maybe something to help Baz with his rescue efforts?

It wouldn’t change where she came from or the trade her family had forced her into for a time. But she might tip the balance a little and leave things better than she’d found them. That was worth something.