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and bullied her friends into hiring additional servants. Of course that meant Merrick had been forced to tell her the whole messy tale.
    Naturally, she’d chastised him for not doing something about the plight of the group of children who’d helped him—which he’d meant to do—especially given that one of them was a latent Knight, and that the vampyre who’d escaped had likely gotten a good look at two of them at least. With that in mind, he’d spent all of Friday night trying to find the urchins, which was like hunting for a specific drop of water in a very large pond. Wapping was full of street children, and the part of Merrick’s heart that hadn’t been hardened by a decade of hunting monsters, both human and otherwise, wished it was within his power to do something for each of them.
    He did, though, he reminded himself—every time he removed a vampyre or other predator from the streets, he was doing his part. Somehow, standing here in the middle of a narrow Wapping street, it didn’t seem like enough.
    Until one of the urchins tried to snatch his watch.
    Merrick neatly dodged the rather amateur attempt, but did manage to “accidentally” drop a handful of pennies and ha’pennies onto the ground as he did. Besides assuaging Merrick’s conscience a little, the coins kept the child—and two or three others—occupied while Merrick strolled into the Wigged Pig Tavern. The unprepossessing red brick structure was labeled by a painted wooden sign bearing a rather good rendition of a porcine barrister. When he’d gone into the neighborhood watch house with Dugan to talk to the local chaps, he’d discovered that this was the most likely place for a wily lad named Tommy to be found of an afternoon. Apparently the boy was not just a potential Knight, he was also a cardsharp. Merrick bet having heightened senses and reflexes came in handy for that enterprise.
    Cigar smoke and the sour reek of stale beer assaulted his nostrils the moment he entered the dim confines of the tavern, though they were more pleasant than the filth outside. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he took in the crowd—maybe twenty in all. Some were local merchants, stopping in for a bite of luncheon, while others were sailors, down from the docks on shore leave. There were also a few older men, engrossed in a game of draughts that was probably a daily ritual. A couple of doxies lingered in one corner, giving Merrick’s expensive coat a keen eye until he shook his head. He watched for a few moments while at one table in the front corner, Tommy steadily fleeced a pair of sailors in a game of cards.
    Merrick walked up to the bar and ordered a pint, then took it over and pulled out an empty chair at Tommy’s table. “Mind if I join you?”
    One of the sailors shrugged and threw his cards down onto the table. “You can ’ave my spot,” he grumbled. “I’m broke.”
    “Aye.” The other shoved his last ha’penny across the table to Tommy. “Might as well ’ave this now as later, lad. Ye’ve the devil’s own luck today.”
    “Thank’ee, gents.” Tommy shot a suspicious glance at Merrick. “Pleasure doin’ business wi’ ye.” Up close and in daylight, the boy’s features appeared even younger than they had in the dark. He was a handsome young man, sandy-haired with keen blue eyes, and features that were just now developing into the strong, sharp lines they’d obtain in manhood. He was tall for a street child too—once he was done growing, if he was well fed, he might match Merrick’s height, or even surpass it, though now he was still three or four inches under six foot, and far too lean.
    The sailors moved off as Merrick tossed a handful of coins on the table. Tommy shuffled the worn deck of cards. “What’ll it be, guv? Gin rummy? Five card draw? Vingt-et-un? ”
    “Dealer’s choice.” Merrick settled back in his chair and sipped his ale. “How’re your friends doing? Run into any more vampyres lately?”
    “No.”