”Malcolm …” She felt as though the blank windows many of them without glass-were staring at her like malicious eyes.
”These seven streets are the most dangerous place in all London. Watch our backs until we’re well out of here.”
From out of the gloom in the dank alleyways, rough men in tattered clothing watched through narrowed eyes. Margo kept a sharp lookout and wished they could break into a run. You’ll cope with this on your own as a scout. This is the career you asked Kit Carson to give you.
At the moment, Margo would almost have traded this for another beating at her father’s hands.
Almost.
Then she saw furtive movement in the shadows, the glint of steel
The man who grabbed her from behind laid a straight razor at her throat. She froze,, a scream dying in her throat. Two other toughs materialized in front of Malcolm. Margo realized with a shock, They’re younger than I am!
The feel of sharp steel at her throat left her trembling: Margo’s attacker tightened his arm around her waist. “Lookit, ‘ee don’ even shave yet.” The boy’s breath was foul. “’ow bouts I teach ‘im?”
The other boys grinned. Their straight razors glinted evilly. Malcolm had gone very still, trapped between them.
”’and over the tike, mate, an’ mibey we let ‘im shave ‘is own self?”
While Margo tried to sort out what, exactly, he’d demanded, Malcolm reached for the money pouch at his waist.
”Quick, now,” the boldest said. He dropped his gaze from Margo to watch Malcolm pluck at his purse strings.
Margo moved instantly. She grabbed her assailant’s wrist, twisting toward him as she shoved the wicked straight razor away from her throat — then grabbed a handful of his crotch and crushed.