Caroline has made her choice: instead of leaving for Hampshire, she hops off the train and

stays in
London. Only a few minutes later she hears a man whistling the tune that her mother sang to her when she
was a child… can this mysterious man help her uncover the truth…?

I tug at the corner of the man’s shirt, hoping that he notices my presence in spite of the bustling
noise of the city and that he stops in his tracks. “Mister, wait!” I repeat, somewhat louder. It takes him one
more step to feel his clothes being pulled. His movements slow down until he stands still, halfway to a
profile from where I gaze; his head turns to look over his shoulder. I meet his eyes, and let go of his
clothing. His hat is shielding the upper half of his face, and furnished whiskers join above his lips in a
messy moustache. Though I can only see the inner end of his eyebrows, I know that he is frowning. Is my
interruption unwelcome…? Maybe he is in a hurry…?

“How can I help you, miss?” he asks gruffly, though in a polite tone, turning fully to face me. His
accent bears no trace of Cockney, as I expected it would from his less than pristine frock coat.

I stammer a little. I can hardly tell if it is due to the adrenaline or to this impression I have that I am
disturbing him. Either way, I had better get straight to the point. “Excuse me, sir, I heard you whistling just
now, and I would like to ask you about the tune––“

Though the features of his face seem to relax from my explanation, I can see him glancing from side
to side. He cuts me short. “What about it?”

I am obviously trying his patience already. Dear Lord, why is it so hard to ask the question I’m dying
to get an answer to? “My mother used to sing it to me when I was a child. I haven’t heard it in years…
would you, by any chance, have known my mother?”

I gulp, but the sound is drowned beneath the overwhelming drumming of my heart. The man seems
to notice my reaction, and furrows his brows again. “I’m afraid I can’t answer this question unless you tell
me who your mother was, miss. I know an awful lot of people––“

“R-Right! Her name was Lavinia… she was an actress at the Ruby Opera House theatre.”

His expression changes at my words. I hold my breath as I watch him shift uncomfortably, a glimmer
of some emotion I cannot identify in his eyes. “Yes, I knew her, but we cannot discuss this in the middle of
a crowd.” He glances sideways again; I do likewise, but see nothing conspicuous. He lowers his voice
when he speaks again. “Follow me, and try to act as naturally as possible. We are being watched.”

I bite my lip as he turns around and resumes his path. Torn between relief, excitement at having
found a lead, and dread of the unseen dangers he is alluding to, I wait a little for him to distance me––so it
does not look like we are traveling together––and put on my best act to tail him as discreetly as I can
through the crowd. Though I keep my eyes fixed on him, my focus shifts between my thoughts (who was he
referring to? Criminals? The police? The Blood Clan…? No, I am being irrational) and my surroundings, as
I try to locate the places he is taking me through. Past the whereabouts of the train station, the streets get
less suffocating, but narrower and more crooked, with regular turns and twists at crossroads. Soon my
guide becomes easier to notice as one of the only patches of black among wooden and brick buildings, and
as I let go of the fear of losing him I find my thoughts drifting to how he might have known my mother. Had
he given her the cue before she stepped off the stage, as a fellow actor? Or was he a friend of my mother’s
from a more distant past…? Could he be–– well, if he is, mother would not associate with the Blood Clan,
would she? She married a human, I doubt she got along with monsters like Madam A; so if this man is a
vampire, he is probably like Vincent. Speaking of whom–– he too had warned me about being watched…
 As the trip goes on and on my anxiety starts growing. I thought the stranger would simply take me to
a less crowded area; but the streets are now almost deserted, save for an occasional passer-by, and the
buildings are foreign to my knowledge of the city. From the poor conditions I understand that we have
reached the Eastern District. My grip on my suitcase tightens; I glance around and slow down. I shake my
head mentally, and reason with myself––I cannot let irrational fears get in the way of a serious lead. It is
daytime, nothing in the man’s behaviour has given me cause for alarm (if anything, it is the opposite: he
sounded wary, on his guards, maybe even afraid)… and anyway, what else can I do? I do not know the
place. Even if I did, I have no other place to search; I do not even have a place to stay anymore, since Aunt
Petit thinks I am on the train to Hampshire. Nobody knows where I am either; should he mean to harm me,
I am done for… I cannot even reach for my father’s dagger, as it is safe in my suitcase and I cannot open it
without betraying my fear. However, surely it is only my imagination running wild! I can hear him whistling
my mother’s lullaby again. It soothes me somewhat, and reminds me of what I could learn in a moment––
and, surely, after he has told me everything he knows, my worries will seem so laughable in hindsight…

After a few more minutes, he stops in front of an alleyway, and for the first time since we left the
station addresses me. “This way. We’re almost there. I hope I did not give you too many troubles with all
the detours, but I needed to make sure we lost the one watching us,” he explains, with much more kindness
in his voice than previously. Has his mood changed? Or… it seems as though he has felt I am afraid, and is
trying to reassure me.

“You did well,” I reply, trying to sound as composed as possible.

Glancing around one more time to make sure that we were alone, he turns into the alley. In the
street I am in, there is no one in sight; but I startle as I notice a lone crow on the ground. It croaks. A reply
soon echoes, and as I look up, I notice a murder of crows up a nearby chimney.

“This way, quickly!” the man repeats, snapping me out of my trance. What should I do…?

 Follow him
 Hesitate

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new server in the category “2-1: Back to the Shadows” will appear with the second part of the chapter.