Fate's Kiss by Elysabeth Grace

Author:Elysabeth Grace
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-73335-631-2
Publisher: Midsommer Publishing

15

Gabriel watched the approaching constable. He had scented the man’s fear long before he came into view. If only the man of law knew exactly how much his fear was justified. Gabriel’s mood had been foul since . . . the mating with Anne. A sudden shift in the air, a familiar odor floating down to the street had him darting into a nearby doorway. As the constable neared, Gabriel saw the confusion on the man’s face and then a superior look descended. Clearly, the constable assumed Gabriel’s action was based on fear. Little did the fool know.

“Here now.” The constable halted a few steps away from where he stood. “Here man, what are ye about? Looking to thieve these poor people? Show yourself and state your name.”

Gabriel’s aristocratic temper bristled before he reminded himself that no one looking at his patched trousers, mud spattered shirt, and scuffed shoes would mistake him for a man of substance. There was another reason he wasn’t about to obey the addlebrained constable. One. Two. Three.

The noise and stench of a chamber pot being emptied was drowned out by an explosion of furious curses. Gabriel stepped out of the doorway and hurriedly backed away from the drenched officer who had whipped off his hat and waved it wildly. He watched with amusement as the constable looked up and angrily shook his fist at the woman leaning out of a window. Insults flew between the pair as Gabriel deftly avoided the excrement-riddled constable and strolled down the cobblestoned alley and into a bustling Charing Cross.

The crossroad teemed with people who nervously glanced over their shoulders to track the known thieves and pickpockets moving among the throng. As he sauntered purposefully through the crowd, Gabriel sensed he was being followed. Not that it caused him alarm. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to teach a lesson in what it means to engage an undead.

Turning right onto Green Street, Gabriel paused and stared at a nearby building. Where was Old Meg? The moment he set foot in the alley, she normally came out on her stoop. The old woman’s link to him would have given warning of his approach. Her hearing was also sharp as a honed knife and she would have heard his footsteps. For those who made the small alley home, Meg was more effective than the constables at frightening those intent on doing harm.

As if on cue, she stepped from the mud colored brick house and onto the street. The hair on the back of his neck settled when she waved him over.

“Why yer skulking in the shadows, Devil? Come give old Meg a shilling and she’ll give you more pleasures than those fancy skirts in Holland’s League. Although, if your prick is diseased and about to fall off, you can just pay me for my gossip about the Duke’s visit to Covent Garden.”

Sally “Meg” Brewster was neither old nor all that she appeared. A lace cap concealed a shock of pale blond hair threaded with silver.

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