“Wait a moment,” said Addison, his snout twitching. He trotted away, nose to the wooden boards. We followed him across the jetty and down a little unmarked ramp that was ignored by the tourists. It led to a lower dock, below the street, just at water level. There was no one around; it was deserted.

Here Addison stopped, wearing a look of deep concentration. “Peculiars have come this way.”

“Our peculiars?” Emma said.

He sniffed the dock again and shook his head. “Not ours. But there are many trails here, new and old, strong and faded, all mixed together. This is an oft-used pathway.”

Ahead of us, the dock narrowed and disappeared beneath the main jetty, where it was swallowed in shadows.

“Oft used by whom?” Emma said, peering anxiously into the dark. “I’ve never heard of any loop entrance underneath a dock in Wapping.”

Addison had no answer. There was nothing to do but forge on and explore, so we did, passing nervously into the shadows. As our eyes adjusted, another jetty resolved into view—one altogether different from the sunny, pleasant one above us. The boards down here were green and rotting, broken in places. A scrum of squeaking rats scampered through a mound of discarded cans, then leapt a short distance from the dock into an ancient-looking skiff, bobbing in the dark water between wooden pylons slimed with moss.

“Well,” Emma said, “I guess that would do in a pinch …”

“But it’s filled with rats!” said Addison, aghast.

“It won’t be for long,” Emma said, igniting a small flame in her hand. “Rats don’t much care for my company.”

Since there didn’t seem to be anyone to stop us, we crossed to the boat, hopscotching around the weakest-looking boards, and began to untie it from the dock.

“STOP!” came a booming voice from inside the boat.

Emma squealed, Addison yelped, and I nearly leapt out of my skin. A man who’d been sitting in the boat—how had we not seen him until now?!—rose slowly to his feet, straightening himself inch by inch until he towered over us. He was seven feet tall at least, his massive frame draped in a cloak and his face hidden beneath a dark hood.

“I’m—I’m so sorry!” Emma stammered. “It’s—we thought this boat was—”

“Many have tried to steal from Sharon!” the man thundered. “Now their skulls make homes for sea creatures!”

“I swear we weren’t trying to—”

“We’ll just be going,” squeaked Addison, backing away, “so sorry to bother you, milord.”

“SILENCE!” the boatman roared, stepping onto the creaking dock with one enormous stride. “Anyone who comes for my boat must PAY THE PRICE!”

I was completely terrified, and when Emma shouted “RUN!” I was already turning to go. We’d only gotten a few paces, though, when my foot crashed through a rotting board and I pitched face-first onto the dock. I tried to scramble up but my leg was thigh deep in the hole. I was stuck, and by the time Emma and Addison circled back to help me, it was too late. The boatman was upon us, looming overhead and laughing, his cavernous guffaws booming around us. It might have been a trick of the darkness, but I could’ve sworn I saw a rat tumble from the hood of his cloak, and another slip from his sleeve as he slowly raised his arm toward us.

“Get away from us, you maniac!” Emma shouted, clapping her hands to light a flame. Though the light she made did nothing to chase away the dark inside the boatman’s hood—I suspected not even the sun could do that—it showed us what he held in his outstretched hand, which wasn’t a knife, nor any weapon. It was a piece of paper, pinched between his thumb and a long, white forefinger.

He was offering it to me, bending low so I could reach it.

“Please,” he said calmly. “Read it.”

I hesitated. “What is it?”

“The price. And some other information regarding my services.”

Quaking with fear, I reached up and took the paper. We all leaned in to read by the light of Emma’s flame.

I looked up at the giant boatman. “So this is you?” I said uncertainly. “You’re … Sharon?”

“In the flesh,” he replied, his voice an oily slither that made my neck hairs stand on end.

“Good bird, man, you scared us half to death!” said Addison. “Was all that bluster and cackling really necessary?”

“My apologies. I was napping and you startled me.”

“We startled you?”

“For a moment I thought you really were trying to steal my boat,” he chuckled.

“Ha-ha!” Emma said, forcing a laugh. “No, we were just … making sure it was moored properly.”

Sharon turned to examine the skiff, which was simply roped to one of the wooden pylons.

“And how do you find it?” he asked, the dull white crescent of a grin spreading beneath his hood.

“Totally … ship-shape,” I said, finally jimmying my leg free from the hole. “Really good, um, mooring.”

“Couldn’t have tied a better knot myself,” said Emma, helping me to my feet.

“By the way,” said Addison. “The ones who did try … are they really all …?” He glanced at the dark water and swallowed audibly.

“Never mind that,” the boatman said. “Now you’ve woken me, and I am at your service. What can I do for you?”

“We need to hire your boat,” Emma said firmly. “By ourselves.”

“I can’t allow that,” Sharon said. “I always captain the boat.”

“Ah, too bad then!” Addison said, turning eagerly to leave.

Emma caught him by the collar. “Wait!” she hissed. “We’re not done here.” She smiled pleasantly at the boatman. “So, we happen to know that a lot of peculiars come through this …”

She looked around, searching for the right word.

“… place. Is that because there’s a loop entrance nearby?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sharon said flatly.

“Okay, yes, of course you can’t just admit it. I completely understand. But you’re in safe company with us. Obviously, we’re—”

I elbowed her. “Emma, don’t!”

“Why not? He’s already seen the dog talk and me make fire. If we can’t speak honestly …”

“But we don’t know if he is,” I said.

“Of course he is,” she said, then turned to Sharon. “You are, aren’t you?”

The boatman stared at us impassively.

“He is, isn’t he?” Emma asked Addison. “Can’t you smell it on him?”

“No, not clearly.”

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter, so long as he’s not a wight.” She gave Sharon a beady-eyed glare. “You’re not, are you?”

“I am a businessman,” he said evenly.

“Who’s well accustomed to meeting talking dogs and girls who make fire with their hands,” said Addison.

“In my line of work, one meets a wide variety of people.”

“I’ll cut to the chase,” I said, shaking water off one foot, then the other. “We’re looking for some friends of ours. We think they might’ve come this way within the last hour or so. Mostly kids, some adults. One was invisible, one could float …”

“They’d be hard to miss,” Emma said. “They were being held at gunpoint by a gang of wights.”

Sharon crossed his arms into a wide, black X. “As I said, all manner of people hire my boat, and each relies on my absolute discretion. I won’t discuss my clientele.”

“Is that so?” Emma said. “Excuse us just a moment.”

She took me aside to whisper in my ear.

“If he doesn’t start talking, I’m going to get really angry.”

“Don’t do anything reckless,” I whispered back.

“Why? You believe that humbug about skulls and sea creatures?”

“Yes, actually. I know he’s a slimebag, but—”

“Slimebag? He’s practically admitted to doing business with wights! He might even be one!”

“—but he’s a useful slimebag. I have a feeling he knows exactly where our friends were taken. It’s just a matter of asking the right questions.”

“Then have at it,” she said crossly.

I turned to Sharon and said with a smile, “What can you tell me about your tours?”