Elizabeth Craig huddled deeper in her cloak against the harsh March winds blustering along the wharf. She peered back over her shoulder repeatedly as Duncan steered them along the wooden planks. No one knew them here, but that didn’t stop the sense of dread from snaking up her spine and neck. Elizabeth felt like she just stepped foot into a Roman coliseum and lions snarled at her heels.

England itself was an unknown entity. That coupled, with the mass of people swarming the docks, had her gripping Duncan’s hand tighter.

Duncan squeezed her hand in return, offering what comfort he could, and drew her closer to his body. He seemed unaffected by the cold English spring. She glanced at him, offered a slight smile, and continued to move away from the crowded docks and toward the bustling London streets.

“Are you sure Lord Preston is safe?” she asked, careful to keep her voice low as they skirted a family with a large following of animals.

Malcolm, Lord Preston, the steamship’s owner had given them safe passage from Australia to India to England, and had reluctantly accepted the only thing either she or Duncan had to barter: a handful of English pounds and a beautifully jeweled box passed down from her ancestors.

She didn’t know what the symbols elegantly carved along the box meant, that knowledge was lost long ago, centuries before her great-grandparents were shipped off to England’s penal colony, but it was the only thing of real value she possessed.

Elizabeth never would have offered, except both she and Duncan realized Preston’s role in their world. She couldn’t explain it, and on the long voyage here Duncan had also been hard pressed to put into words his feeling. However, Preston had to take the box, be it Fate or Destiny or what have you, it was the path the box was intended to take; and so they relinquished their sacred trust into the hands of Lord Preston.

They never let on the true value of the box and allowed whatever magickal force guided them to guide the box into the right hands.

“He is,” Duncan said, glancing down at her.

Abruptly shifting directions, they walked along back streets, heading in the general path Preston told them to go. The British Museum and a magicker Preston suggested would be able to help, Arabelle Bahari.

A slight smile softened his tanned face, creased the lines around his vivid blue eyes. Despite the danger of their situation and the long weeks on Lord Preston’s ship, desire pooled low in her belly, warming her. She was constantly amazed that with only a look Duncan could do that to her.

Make her want him so desperately.

“They wouldn’t dare go after Preston. The box is where it should be,” Duncan added, tugging her hand as he guided her through the maze of warehouses.

She knew he had no more idea of where they walked than she, yet somehow he seemed to steer them further from the wharf and deeper into London. Whoever followed them, not that they knew for sure that someone did, wouldn’t care about Preston.

As a peer, he had more protection than a pair of fourth-generation Australians, convicts by their very association. Still, Elizabeth wished she knew who tracked them.

And she hoped Duncan knew where he was going.

Lord Preston had given them specific directions to the magicker community he knew of, but with all these twists and turns, those directions were shot to hell. Opening her senses, Elizabeth tried to locate others.

“Did Lord Preston say it was this way?” she asked diplomatically as they entered a warehouse. Hiding in the shadows as workers unloaded the carts, Duncan pushed her behind a pile of freight.

Huffing at his actions, Elizabeth swatted his hand away from her shoulder and stood next to him. She didn’t see anything unusual, nor did she sense anything. Still, it was better to be cautious. They’d escaped one set of Witch Hunters; she had no desire to die at the hands of another set.

The warehouse was dim, even with the activity from the dockworkers. But as far as she could see, they all worked, busy with loads, ledgers, shouting here and there. None looked as if they stalked two fugitives.

“Yes,” Duncan whispered in answer to her previous question. “He said ten blocks over we should start seeing signs of other magickers.” Scanning the area, he retook her hand, fingers cold as his other hand caressed her cheek. “I guess they’ve gotten better at hiding because I don’t sense anything.”

“Or the Hunters have killed them all,” Elizabeth voiced what she knew they both thought.

“Lord Preston said he was last in London two years ago,” Duncan stated. “Two years is not enough time to kill so many. That news would have spread the world over like wildfires.”

“Perhaps we should risk it,” Elizabeth offered. “I mean we don’t know for sure we are being tracked. We’ve passed by hundreds of people and before we reach the museum we should pass by hundreds more.”

“I haven’t sensed one magicker among them.” Duncan peered around the crates for a moment. “If there’s a gypsy tracking us, we must stand out like beacons to them. We need to confuse them by moving through other magickers. But, I don’t want to endanger the very people we hope will help us.”

Nodding, Elizabeth tugged on Duncan’s hand. “Let’s explore a bit more.”

The moment she turned to head down the cobblestone road, the sight of a red and black clad hunter laughing with another man as they exited a pub greeted her. She didn’t sense any magick from him, but he could be working with another. She pulled Duncan to a stop.

Without a word, he threaded her hand through his arm and veered to the left, away from the Hunter. “Ignore them,” he said as they walked along the street.

Opening her senses as far as possible, she searched for a gypsy Tracker, but still found nothing.

“I understand,” he said, caressing her cheek. “I’m concerned as well. But we’ve run thousands of miles and since Australia haven’t encountered any additional problems.”

“You’re saying I’m just being paranoid?” She smiled up at him, trying to relax. But she’d done so on the steamship, and now with so many others surrounding them, felt the old fears surface.

“Cautious,” he said. “Let’s head for the museum. We haven’t any other choice.”

Elizabeth nodded, and allowed him to lead her on the convoluted route to The British Museum.