A Scandal in Battersea (Elemental Masters #12)(72)
It was evident that this cabby knew every backstreet in London like the lines of his own hand. He didn’t send the horse into a careening gallop—that would be bad for the horse in these conditions, not to mention foolhardy with regards to pedestrians—but he kept the beast at a brisk trot and occasionally broke into a canter when he cut down a particularly quiet lane. It was an agony, every moment that passed in which she hadn’t been able to tell Robin or Memsa’b that the monster was abroad made her more frantic to get home. She kept reflexively checking the pendant watch around her neck. Florin or not, Nan hadn’t really had much hope for speed, but this young man pulled the cab up in front of their door in roughly half the time she had expected. Nan flung herself out of the cab and let Sarah pay the driver; she ran in the front door and up the stairs, pausing only to unlock the door and throwing herself through the door as soon as she got it open. “Durwin!” she cried as soon as she got inside. “It’s an emergency!”
Durwin darted out of the bird room, skidded to a halt at her feet, and saluted. “Yes, milady!” he replied. “I be ready! Gi’ me yer orders!”
“Get to Robin Goodfellow immediately. I felt that—that presence that Amelia and I felt in her visions—hunting in the real world when we were in the theater. It vanished as soon as I sensed it, and I think it felt me and knew I had identified it. But I am sure it didn’t stop hunting for a little thing like that; I’m positive it just went somewhere else to hunt. Once you’ve informed Robin, tell Memsa’b the same, and that I am sure Amelia will need her tonight and that she must glean whatever information she can when Amelia has a vision. Then come back, quickly, especially if you have any messages.” Nan paused for breath, and before she could say anything else, Durwin saluted again.
“Tell the Great One the monster is a-hunt in Londinium. Tell the Lady the same. Come back with messages,” he replied, as brisk as any Army messenger.
“Yes!” she exclaimed, and before she could say anything else, he vanished. She collapsed into a chair, feeling breathless and drained. A few moments later, Sarah came running up the stairs.
“Durwin?” she asked, looking around as if she expected to see him still there.
“Is gone. He’s . . .” Nan cast her hands in the air. “. . . amazing. One would think he’d been a messenger all his life. Now . . . I suppose we wait.”
“That’s the hardest part,” Sarah replied and motioned to her to get up. “We might as well get out of our things and hang them up to dry.”
Just as they’d done so, there was a tapping on the door, and Mrs. Horace called, “I’ve got your supper, if you’ve a mind to it. I ’eard you running up the stairs. Is everything all right?”
Nan opened the door, and their landlady bought in a tray laden with covered dishes. “We just wanted to get in out of that snow and into the warmth, Mrs. Horace,” she lied. “We practically perished of cold in the cab. The play was terrible,” she added, by way of a distraction.
“Oh, it’s no night fit for man nor beast,” Mrs. Horace agreed, setting the tray down. “I’ve more than half a mind to go to bed early where it’s warm and cozy, so I thought I’d bring up your supper as soon as I heard you come in.”
“That was lovely of you, thank you,” Sarah told her. Somehow—Nan was not sure how—Sarah managed to chitchat with their landlady in an absolutely natural manner until Mrs. Horace was quite sure they were all right. When she had satisfied herself, Mrs. Horace beamed at them and took herself briskly out. Nan closed the door behind her with relief.
“I don’t think I can eat a bite,” she fretted. “I—”
“Durwin, reporting with messages, milady!” said a voice coming from behind her at about the level of her knee.
She whirled. There he was, solemn-faced and earnest. She could have kissed him. To have him back—at least now she could be certain that anyone who could do anything about the situation was on alert.
“What have you got for us, Durwin?” Sarah asked, before Nan could gather her wits.
“The Great One’s been told, milady, and he’s rousing those who can bear Londinium to make search tonight. And the Lady of the Manor’s been told, and Roan as well. There’s more, that the Great One told me to tell ye. Just in case the thing might come a-calling, on account of the Seer being able to get a look into its realm and all, the Great One’s setting a guard on the Manor. All Four Elements are on the watch.” He peered up at Nan anxiously. “Do ye think it might come here? My sword’s yours, milady.” And to prove his point, he pulled a sword that was probably the size of a letter-opener out of a sheath at his belt.
Nan shook her head. “I think it was anxious to escape notice,” she replied. “It’s powerful in its own realm, I don’t think it’s all that strong in ours yet. And in any case, it would be looking for me where I sensed it—at the theater. We’re quite far from there.”
Durwin’s face wrinkled in an expression of deepest concern. “All the same, milady, if ye’ll take the word of a hob what’s seen a thing or two, ye shouldn’t attract its attention. It’s a magic thing, according to the Great One, and ye’ve got no magic. My sword’s yers, and I can call on more to help us at need.”