Augustus was leading both Digby and Lady Claudette through the darkness of Marseilles. It felt odd, having friends he would absolutely trust in a situation like this.
Too many years in his youth, one foolish lad against the world, but he also had learned self-sufficiency at that time as well.
Neither of his companions had any training in the arts. Nor did they desire to rectify that, much to his surprise. But Digby brought with him a force of personality that made him a bulwark against which all things would recoil. And Lady Claudette had already overcome an abundance of hurdles cast into her path to carve out her own life independent of being the youngest daughter of a wealthy English duke.
There were some folks who had no idea that Claudette Faulkner was Lady Claudette. Worse, he had the intimation that she had created at least one pen name for the sake of publishing some of their more lurid adventures under the guise of fiction.
Worst, by leaving out certain bits that a casual reader might consider impossible happenstance. When Augustus still bore some of the scars.
But they were here, and he would have it no other way. Unimpeachable witnesses, if nothing else.
Marie-Rose had stayed not all that far from Lady Claudette’s hotel, at least as a crow flies. Socially in a different place, being at the bottom of middle class, as such things went, while Lady Claudette and Digby had been closer to the top.
Augustus had chosen the Imperial specifically to cater to a certain clientele on his arrival, then stayed in place while hunting.
He mentally whistled, and the tiny, terrible pixie demon with all the teeth appeared as they approached an alley that would debouch out on the streets opposite Marie-Rose’s southwest-facing room. The tiny thing glowed slightly, but Lady Claudette knew better than to try taking a picture. She had wasted enough film before finally admitting that Augustus was right on the topic.
How many priests and politicians would have seen him burned at the stake, were there photographic evidence of his doings?
“Did the man return to that place?” he asked, nodding.
“He did,” the pixie replied in that quiet, unearthly chorus of a voice.
“And did he remove the mask while in flight?” Augustus continued.
“Indeed,” the pixie nodded.
“Was there a woman underneath?” Augustus pressed.
That was the question he would have missed asking, and the pixie probably would not have volunteered the information. They were still linear creatures, when bound up thus.
“Yesssssss,” it hissed merrily.
Augustus nodded. Marie-Rose, most likely. And he would find out shortly. For better or for worse.
“Would you like to go hunting with us?” Augustus asked his little friend.
“Indeed.” The pixie’s smile was all teeth.
Lady Claudette gasped, but she’d not seen it prior. Digby had and was made of stern stuff. Even when confronted by lesser demons who might prove to be allies of convenience.
As long as you never made the mistake of trusting one unbound.
Augustus turned to his two human friends.
“I propose a direct approach,” he said. “Literally charging in and taking the woman into our own custody for now, while we sort out certain truths before escalating to the sorts of ugliness that Whitehall no doubt expects of me in this situation.”
“Can it be contained?” Digby asked.
“Hopefully, we will have surprise on our side, Captain.” he replied.