“So what’s their plan then, d’you think?” Gallowglass asked, glaring through the curtains at the figures out on the Embankment.
“No clue,” St. Cyprian said, pouring tea into Andraste’s cup. “I wouldn’t spend too much time worrying over it. The Ripper, nasty as he is, can’t get in here, or at least not easily. This house has been ringed about by defensive wards and spells a-plenty, over the years.”
He looked at Andraste. “Ordinarily, your presence would be enough to give him a crack to squeeze...