Rodney Skinner adjusted his amber goggles in a workshop in the East End. He was a ghost wrapped in linen; around him, stolen metals and copper tubes lay in heaps.
He had been a thief until he had found a chemist’s secret. In that moment, he became the most dangerous man in London because he was nothing at all; the man with no shadow.
A message from Mina Harker sat on his workbench. She offered a pardon and a place in the League. Skinner scoffed, the sound muffled by his bandages. He knew the Crown wanted a spy they could not see. He did not care for heroics, but the London fog was turning into something unnatural.
Even the invisible needed allies when those who had once been scared of him, were suddenly terrified of something else far more sinister. That is not acceptable.