she even impressed herself.
Her grin faded, though, as she recalled one close call. It had only been because she’d become distracted by that girl again. Thinking of her, Tiki scanned the faces of the travelers hurrying between trains. More than once today, she’d glanced over her shoulder and seen her. Her beauty was striking, almost haunting. She had pale skin and blond hair, giving her an ethereal appearance. The graceful curve of her neck, the effortless way she moved, drew Tiki’s eyes back to search for her time and again.
Tiki’s eyes locked on a slim figure standing at a nearby bookstall.
There she was again.
She wore a flowing green cloak, and her blond hair hung in perfect ringlets down her back. As Tiki watched, the girl glanced over her shoulder and gazed directly at her. Tiki was startled by the challenging look in her eyes.
Was she another pickpocket? She wasn’t dressed as though she scrabbled for a living. Tiki pushed off the bench and hurried toward her. She was going to find out why the girl was following her.
“S’cuse me,” Tiki called to the girl. “Do I know you?” She was close enough now that she could see the blue green color of the girl’s eyes, reminding her of the sea in summer. But there was something in the other girl’s expression, in how her eyes were fixed so intently on Tiki, that was unsettling. Her mouth curved slightly, as if she were enjoying an entertainment.
“Not yet.” The words were barely a whisper, but Tiki heard them as if she had shouted. Then the girl turned and stepped into a crowd of people and was gone.
“Nah, I don’t think I knows you, boy,” the bookseller said to Tiki. He scrunched his eyebrows down as he answered. “Who’s you lookin’ for?”
Tiki glanced at the bookseller in surprise, then darted after the girl, craning her neck this way and that, searching the crowd. But the girl with blond ringlets was nowhere to be seen. Uneasy, Tiki stepped back to the bookstall, where the vendor watched her with curious eyes.
“S’cuse me, did that blond girl buy anything?”
The bookseller crooked an eyebrow at her. “What blond girl are you talking about? I ain’t seen no blond girl.” His bemused expression turned into a frown. “Is this some trick so you can snitch something? Get out of here.” He waved his hand at her. “Ye’re not going to pull a fast one on ol’ Dickie Betts.”
Tired from her long day and suddenly wary, Tiki hurried from King’s Cross and headed home. More than once she looked over her shoulder.
The lamplighter had already lit the streetlamps by the time Tiki returned to Charing Cross. As she drew closer to the station, hail started pounding down from the skies in a sheet of white, bouncing off the cobblestones as if thrown by some angry deity. She looked up in surprise at the unexpected onslaught and was immediately rewarded with the painful sting of the small ice chunks pelting her face. She yanked her jacket over her head and raced toward the entrance.
Several bobbies stood under a protective overhang, swinging their sticks and talking. Tiki decided not to chance catching their eye and veered over to the far side of the building to follow the alley to the entrance through the maintenance tunnels.
As suddenly as the hail started, the deluge stopped. Long shadows stretched between the tall buildings. Sometimes people slept in the darkness of the alleyway, when they had nowhere else to go or were too drunk to get there. Tiki could see an occasional silhouette of a body stretched along the cobblestones, sleeping or passed out. She counted her blessings again that Fiona and Shamus had taken her in and let her share the old clockmaker’s shop two years ago. At least they didn’t have to sleep outside in the elements, like these poor souls.
She was almost to the door that led into the maintenance tunnels when a hand clamped around her arm and yanked her backward. Only a sliver of light cut through the darkness of
Her grin faded, though, as she recalled one close call. It had only been because she’d become distracted by that girl again. Thinking of her, Tiki scanned the faces of the travelers hurrying between trains. More than once today, she’d glanced over her shoulder and seen her. Her beauty was striking, almost haunting. She had pale skin and blond hair, giving her an ethereal appearance. The graceful curve of her neck, the effortless way she moved, drew Tiki’s eyes back to search for her time and again.
Tiki’s eyes locked on a slim figure standing at a nearby bookstall.
There she was again.
She wore a flowing green cloak, and her blond hair hung in perfect ringlets down her back. As Tiki watched, the girl glanced over her shoulder and gazed directly at her. Tiki was startled by the challenging look in her eyes.
Was she another pickpocket? She wasn’t dressed as though she scrabbled for a living. Tiki pushed off the bench and hurried toward her. She was going to find out why the girl was following her.
“S’cuse me,” Tiki called to the girl. “Do I know you?” She was close enough now that she could see the blue green color of the girl’s eyes, reminding her of the sea in summer. But there was something in the other girl’s expression, in how her eyes were fixed so intently on Tiki, that was unsettling. Her mouth curved slightly, as if she were enjoying an entertainment.
“Not yet.” The words were barely a whisper, but Tiki heard them as if she had shouted. Then the girl turned and stepped into a crowd of people and was gone.
“Nah, I don’t think I knows you, boy,” the bookseller said to Tiki. He scrunched his eyebrows down as he answered. “Who’s you lookin’ for?”
Tiki glanced at the bookseller in surprise, then darted after the girl, craning her neck this way and that, searching the crowd. But the girl with blond ringlets was nowhere to be seen. Uneasy, Tiki stepped back to the bookstall, where the vendor watched her with curious eyes.
“S’cuse me, did that blond girl buy anything?”
The bookseller crooked an eyebrow at her. “What blond girl are you talking about? I ain’t seen no blond girl.” His bemused expression turned into a frown. “Is this some trick so you can snitch something? Get out of here.” He waved his hand at her. “Ye’re not going to pull a fast one on ol’ Dickie Betts.”
Tired from her long day and suddenly wary, Tiki hurried from King’s Cross and headed home. More than once she looked over her shoulder.
The lamplighter had already lit the streetlamps by the time Tiki returned to Charing Cross. As she drew closer to the station, hail started pounding down from the skies in a sheet of white, bouncing off the cobblestones as if thrown by some angry deity. She looked up in surprise at the unexpected onslaught and was immediately rewarded with the painful sting of the small ice chunks pelting her face. She yanked her jacket over her head and raced toward the entrance.
Several bobbies stood under a protective overhang, swinging their sticks and talking. Tiki decided not to chance catching their eye and veered over to the far side of the building to follow the alley to the entrance through the maintenance tunnels.
As suddenly as the hail started, the deluge stopped. Long shadows stretched between the tall buildings. Sometimes people slept in the darkness of the alleyway, when they had nowhere else to go or were too drunk to get there. Tiki could see an occasional silhouette of a body stretched along the cobblestones, sleeping or passed out. She counted her blessings again that Fiona and Shamus had taken her in and let her share the old clockmaker’s shop two years ago. At least they didn’t have to sleep outside in the elements, like these poor souls.
She was almost to the door that led into the maintenance tunnels when a hand clamped around her arm and yanked her backward. Only a sliver of light cut through the darkness of
Similar Books
