Chapter 28 #3
At the low, rumbling voice, Finn turned to the blacksmith—Mr. Keane. She remembered him from her first séance. With his brawny figure and patched eye, he resembled a pirate.
“Do you know how long, Mr. Keane?” Owen asked. “We’re worried Tansy might have gotten lost.”
“She’s been gone a quarter hour, I’d say.” Lines formed between the smith’s slashing black brows. “Young girl like that shouldn’t be on her own at this time of night. I assumed she had a chaperone. Otherwise I would have—”
“It’s not your fault, sir.” Owen must have noticed Simon’s stricken expression, for he added, “Nor yours, lad. The important thing is that we find her now.”
“I’ll help,” Mr. Keane said. “Duffy will too. I’ll fetch him from his stall, and we’ll start a search.”
“We would be most grateful,” Owen said.
With a tight nod, Finn started off. Owen, Simon, and Nell fanned out, each calling Tansy’s name. They scoured the village green, going through the stalls. At some point, Owen had recruited his kin and some of the other villagers, and now there were multiple search parties combing the fair.
But there was still no sign of Tansy.
“Perhaps she returned to Pell House?” Owen suggested. “We ought to check. The others will continue looking here.”
Frantic with worry, Finn followed him into the quieter streets that led home. The darkness was deeper, relieved only by moonlight and lit windows.
Tansy knows better than to fly on her own. What if something’s happened to her?
She and Owen took turns calling for Tansy. She had begun to lose hope when a muffled whistle emerged. A Hawk’s call in a time of need.
Finn whirled, squinting at the darkness. “Did you hear that?”
“It came from over there.” Owen pointed at a gap between buildings. “We should—”
Finn was already dashing over. Owen caught up with her, and they flanked the opening to the alley. Peering around the corner, Finn made out the back of a carriage. Standing next to it was a hulking silhouette—a man…grabbing a small figure by her plaits.
“Shut your gob, brat,” he hissed.
He backhanded her.
Seeing scarlet, Finn charged him at full speed. She went in low, aiming for his knees. The element of surprise worked in her favor. She heard him grunt as he toppled sideways, hitting the ground.
She landed hard on top of him, yelling, “Run, Tansy!”
Before she could say more, the bastard reversed their positions.
“Stupid bitch,” he spat.
He closed his hands around her throat. Choking, she fumbled for the blade hidden in her boot, but he was thrown off her. She sat up, wheezing for air, and saw Owen had the bastard against the wall. He was pummeling the daylights out of the villain, his fists flying.
“Ffnn.”
The muffled sound came from Tansy, who stumbled over. Fresh rage crashed over Finn when she saw the gag in the girl’s mouth and the rope binding her hands.
Quickly, Finn freed her.
“There are two others,” Tansy gasped.
Sure enough, a pair of brutes appeared at the mouth of the alley.
Shoving Tansy behind her, Finn pulled out her dagger. She braced, ready to take first blood when the blackguards suddenly stopped short—and banged their heads together?
“Bastards.” Mr. Keane emerged behind them, removing his blacksmith’s hammer from his belt and swinging it with casual menace. “Pick on someone your own size.”
The brutes took one look at Mr. Keane and bolted—straight toward Finn and the carriage waiting behind her.
Blade poised, she shielded Tansy, but the cutthroats charged past her and Owen without a glance.
They hauled the man Owen had knocked unconscious into the vehicle, one leapt into the driver’s seat, and the carriage sped away down the alley.
Owen sprinted to Finn. “Is everyone all right?”
“Yes,” she said. “We’re fine.”
“We can still catch them. Mr. Keane, will you and Mr. Duffield accompany the ladies home?”
She saw that the dashing draper stood beside the blacksmith, a lamp in hand.
“It would be our honor,” Mr. Duffield said.
He crouched so that he was eye level with Tansy. When he took out a handkerchief, Finn nearly warned him that Tansy did not like being touched by strangers. To her surprise, Tansy remained still as he gently dabbed at the cut on her lip.
“My poor, brave dear,” he murmured.
“I lost one of my ribbons.”
Tansy’s voice quivered as she held up her braid, pointing at the unadorned end.
“I shall find you another,” the draper promised. “But first, you could use some tending to.”
“We’re fine—” Finn began.
“Go with them,” Owen ordered.
Apprehension trickled through her. “Where are you going?”
“To summon the magistrate. The sooner I go, the better. Those blackguards must be identified and brought to justice.”
She already knew who the brutes were: Carver’s men. He’d sent his thugs, no doubt, to deliver a warning. If Owen captured them, her identity and mission might be revealed.
I cannot allow that to happen.
“There is no need,” she blurted.
“No need?” He growled. “They were about to kidnap Tansy. That bastard had his hands around your throat.”
Seeing the tempest in his eyes, she knew there was no point arguing.
Instead, she chose the most expedient stratagem—and collapsed in a swoon.