Puddles in the Pavement by Inka York

Author:Inka York
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781915708106
Publisher: Inka York

16

Bel’s Tragic Crush

The dirty man chuckled. “I was getting a bit too dramatic there, wasn’t I?”

Uriel and Bel looked at each other in confusion.

“I do not believe in the concept of too dramatic,” Uriel drawled.

“Drama has no limits,” Bel agreed. “Nobody believed Wish was taken at first, but I expect the rumours are running wild by now. Did you meet him?”

The man nodded. “He’s all festering darkness… no remorse.”

Uriel hummed in agreement. “Wasn’t his name linked to those two ladies who… you remember, the murderer sent back a patch of dress, Bel?”

Bel sighed deeply. “I remember. One was Dartmouth’s daughter.”

“That might’ve been enough to set the wolf on Wish’s tail, but the wolf serves his justice for those the law fails,” the man said. “Those whose word can’t be weighed pound for pound in pockets deep or otherwise, those who can’t afford bribes and favours. He’s particularly incensed on behalf of prostitutes—male, female, or… perhaps you don’t know Alexis Bold.”

“Who doesn’t know Alexis Bold?” Uriel sputtered.

Bel had spent many afternoons lazing in the decadent company of Alexis Bold, plucking fruits from their talented fingers and allowing himself to be sucked boneless. Not once had he been able to make his way home without the aid of a coach and horses. The look on Uriel’s face informed Bel he wasn’t the only one.

The dirty man smiled. “When Bold went missing, the wolf scoured London until they were found safe and sound in some man’s bed. Prostitutes are… his people.”

“Interesting,” Uriel said.

“Indeed,” Bel agreed. “But we aren’t here because we happened to be on Vandelin’s arm when he was taken. We’re here for a rescue.”

The man sighed with relief. “Good. There are at least twenty girls in this house, most of them underage, all of them under duress, here to serve the basest desires of the pond scum the duke invites to his hunting parties. I’m sure the wolf doesn’t know they’re here. You need to get them out.”

They were going to need reinforcements. But who? Bel pondered. Gabriel was right out. Jeremial was likely up to his eyeballs in hostages of his own to rescue. Nobody had seen Lucifer in at least a hundred years. Raphael would come, but he would come with questions, lice, and probably scurvy. Zach would come, but he’d come when he felt like it. Michael was the obvious choice; he lived for drama.

“That’s not who we’re here for,” Uriel told the man.

“Then you’re here for Harbledon’s butler?”

“Gideon has been kidnapped?” Bel blurted, tempering his outburst when he felt his brother’s eyes on him.

“I knew it,” Uriel muttered. “Oh, how tragic.”

“Shut up, you specious ponce. There are a thousand arses in London I can bounce chestnuts off.”

“He was pretty though.”

“And quite accounted for if you recall,” Bel said with a sigh. He turned back to the man. “Please continue.”

“He’s in a locked room in a tower on the west side of the house.”

“Anyone else we should know about?” Uriel asked.

The man looked at the ceiling as if he were trying to recall the comings and goings of Barrow and the God-Wolf.

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