Oliver nodded. Since Gus had surmised they were not “John and Mary Smith,” it seemed silly to continue using the pseudonyms with him.
“And will you pass along my concerns to your superiors at the Yard? I fear a Cadre attack would have far-reaching consequences. The innocent of the vampire population are especially at risk. They must live in the shadows now because the reputation of the Cadre terrifies the public. There is little human understanding for those vampires who simply wish to continue their lives in peace.”
Oliver squinted. “I am afraid I do not follow. Who are these innocent vampires?”
Gus removed his spectacles and rubbed his eye. The little man suddenly seemed weary. “You are aware of the Soul Consistency factor among the shifter population? That a peace-loving person in human form is also nonviolent in animal form, even if that form is predatory?”
Oliver nodded. Soul Consistency was a theory that had recently been proven in multiple studies; it was the very heart of Emme’s arguments. Although the scientific community had known of its verity for years, politicians continued to cast doubt on it to maintain control and take advantage of shifters and their sympathizers.
“The same factor applies to many who have been turned.”
Oliver raised a skeptical brow. “Soul Consistency applies to vampires?”
Gus nodded, solemn.
Silence stretched between them.
Oliver finally asked, “How do you come by this information?”
“I know many personally. They have nobody to speak on their behalf. I quietly assess and observe, but I need help. I thought, given your situation and experience, that perhaps you and Miss O’Shea . . .”
Oliver sat back in his chair with a sigh. “Miss O’Shea will take this information and run with it,” he muttered, adding, “once her ankle heals, I suppose.”
Gus smiled. “Please, allow me to assist you this week. I know the city well, and I have many contacts. I will act as your personal valet and man of affairs. In years gone by, I was a solicitor. All I ask is that you grant me permission to quietly spread the word that you are willing to speak with your brother.”
Oliver assessed him carefully. Gus might genuinely wish to help, or he could be a Trojan horse. Perhaps Emme might be willing to read his aura, check for any hint of deceit. “I am not certain meeting with Lawrence will yield any results. We were never close.”
Gus opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“Speak, man.”
“Sir, would you have described Lawrence as a good sort? Was he kind?”
Oliver’s jaw tensed. “Lawrence was a dissatisfied sort. Unhappy with his lot in life and resentful of any whose circumstances were better than his own.”
“Vampirism heightens emotions that already exist, enhances traits one possessed in life. What you say of your brother makes sense.” Gus rubbed his neck. “Lawrence Reed is not a good man, sir. He is among the most dangerous I’ve ever met.”
“You’ve spent time with him? Often?”
“Not often, but enough. As I said, the innocent have no voice, and I quietly search for allies. They are, regrettably, few and far between.”
Oliver finally nodded. “My priority is Miss O’Shea and ensuring her safety for the duration of the Summit. I hesitate for you to hint that I wish to see my brother because I will not have Emme put in harm’s way. Should you come across further intelligence, however, pass it to me, and I’ll see it is fed into the right channels.”
Gus nodded, relief showing in his face. “It is more than I hoped for, sir. Thank you.”
They were interrupted by the same severe nurse who had prevented him from entering Emme’s examination room. “Miss O’Shea has been treated for a severe ankle sprain and multiple bruises but insists she must leave, despite the doctor’s recommendation that she stay overnight.” She sniffed and looked at Oliver in clear disapproval. “Miss O’Shea says she is to be remanded to your care.”
He debated telling the woman that Emme’s body was bruised because of an insane dive from an airship, but doubted even that would wipe the look of condemnation from her face. Oliver picked up Emme’s carpetbag and nodded to the nurse. “Have you instructions for her care?”
“I gave them to the lady herself, who can read.”
Oliver eyed her evenly. “I am well aware of her literary acumen. As her temporary caregiver, I would like to be apprised of any medical instructions you may have.”
The nurse sniffed. “She has instructions and will share them if she wishes. We are securing a rolling chair for convenience in transporting her where stairs are a complication, and crutches she may utilize when she feels ready.”
“Has she been medicated?”
“Did you not hear the screaming? The doctor prescribed laudanum, but she refused. She is insisting she does not need it and never will. Claims she has no time to waste in a lethargic state.”
Oliver’s lips twitched. “Time will tell.”
“Indeed.” She paused, examining him. “Perhaps I’ll give you the bottle. Come along. Has she a maid or a female relative nearby?”
“I’ll secure the services of a maid at the hotel.” He followed the nurse, and Gus followed him. Her stride was surprisingly brisk, and he doubled his stride to keep up.
“Inform the maid that the cast on Miss O’Shea’s foot is not to become wet. It’s been bound with bandages soaked in plaster of Paris. They’ve hardened but must remain dry. The cast is small, but not enough to fit inside a boot.”
“Madam, supposing the swelling recedes?” Gus asked, trotting alongside Oliver.
She stopped, and they nearly bumped into her. “Who is this?” she demanded.
Oliver swallowed. “My valet.”
“Tell your valet that the physician attending Miss O’Shea is a sixty-year veteran of the profession. I should think he knows how
