Rousing from a deep sleep, Trinket squinted against the sunlight spilling into her room through the curtains and let out a soft groan as she rolled over to glance at the clock.
Ten o'clock.
She closed her eyes again, still exhausted from her late-night adventures with Booker. It felt like she could sleep the entire day away.
Wait.
She opened her eyes once more and checked the clock a second time.
Ten o'clock.
Ten o'clock?
Sitting up with a gasp, she threw off her covers and jumped out of bed. How could she have overslept? What kind of maid didn't get up to make her employer tea and breakfast?
"Stupid wolf," she mumbled as she hopped on one foot in an attempt to lace up her boot.
As soon as she was dressed, she tore out of her room and raced down the stairs, hoping she'd still have a job after her carelessness. Maybe Booker was too preoccupied with his work to have noticed her absence just yet.
Alas, the moment she turned into the hallway to sneak into the kitchen, Booker stepped out of the laboratory. He caught her by the waist as she raced by, stopping her in her tracks. "Whoa, slow down, my dear."
She spun around to face him, slightly taken aback by his bold gesture. "I'm so sorry I overslept, Mr. Larkin. I'll start breakfast right away."
He smiled and loosened his grip, leading her into the parlour. "Not to worry. I went out to the bakery early this morning and bought fresh crumpets, so there's no need to trouble yourself."
"You didn't have to do that, I—"
"I know, I know, but I assumed you'd be tired after our little outing last night. Here, sit."
The teapot and two teacups were set on the table before the settee, along with a tray of baked goods. "This is quite unexpected," she said.
He sat next to her and helped himself to a crumpet. "I'm not completely helpless in the kitchen, you know."
Furrowing her brow, she tried not to stare as he lounged on the settee beside her like it was perfectly normal to be taking tea with his maid. This was not how a servant-employer relationship was supposed to go.
She cleared her throat self-consciously. "Again, I'm so sorry for oversleeping."
Booker waved her apology away and handed her a crumpet. "So we made some headway last night."
"We did?" she asked as she hesitantly took a bite of the pastry.
"Yes. We discovered that the Wolf seems to lurk about in thickly inhabited areas. As you suggested, this could mean it was bred in captivity."
"Does that make things easier?"
"Perhaps. We've also learned it's hungry and will keep returning to where it can find food."
Placing her half-eaten crumpet on the table, she leaned over to pour the boiled water into the teacups. "And you intend to be sure it finds food."
Booker accepted the cup she offered him and grinned. "Oh, I do indeed."
She added honey to her tea and sipped it thoughtfully. "If you had a trap of some sort, you could bait it."
"I was considering that, but I worry it would be rather conspicuous. Could attract the attention of the police or even the Mice. Too much of a risk."
Tapping her fingers against the rim of her cup, she considered what other options there could be. "You want to capture it alive, correct?"
"It's preferable. I feel I could learn more about it if it were still breathing. However, it would be difficult to transport a living, snarling wolf with a mouth full of metal. Dead may be our only option."
"Couldn't you use drugs?"
He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"Couldn't you create a sedative and find a way to shoot it at the Wolf as you would a bullet? Something that would put it under without killing it? Then you could drag it down to your laboratory and go from there."
Booker considered this option, tilting his head and pursing his lips with a look of approval. "That's not a bad idea. I could come up with a device to do that. And I certainly have the drugs for it." He turned back to her and gave a soft smile. "Clever thinking, Trinket."
Uncomfortable with his thoughtful gaze, she cleared her throat and returned to nibbling on her crumpet. Well, at the very least, it seemed she wasn't going to be dismissed from her job. It made her wonder what the maids before her had done to lose their positions. Whatever it was, it had to have been rather terrible.
~
When they had finished breakfast, Booker insisted they go out to see how people were reacting to the commotion they had caused the night before while chasing after the Wolf.
"It's good to find out what others are saying," he said as he opened the door for her. "Keeps you in the know, even when you already know."
The city was certainly abuzz with gossip. Shopkeepers chatted up their customers, urchins whispered to one another excitedly, and gentlemen and ladies from the suburbs engaged in tête-à-têtes with night flowers.
There were various versions of the tale. Some said the police had broken up a vicious gang fight. Others claimed it was a thief who had been breaking into houses in the suburbs. Then there were some—mostly the street workers and those who frequented the Clocktower—who wondered if it had been the Wolf again. Booker was pleased with the chaos he'd created, but he feigned ignorance as he asked questions and joined in on the theorizing.
Trinket tried to cover a yawn as Booker inserted himself into a group of servants arguing about how many police officers the Wolf had attacked. Why was she so tired even after staying in bed so late? It wasn't like she was unaccustomed to sleepless nights.
No sleep for the wicked.
A fly buzzed by her head, and she swatted at it absentmindedly, too exhausted to worry about whether it was real or not. But when it came back with a swarm of friends, she sighed and forced herself to ignore them. In an effort to distract herself, she scanned the crowds around her.
And then she saw her.
Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes locked onto the familiar woman. No. It couldn't be. She had to be another hallucination. She had to be.
But when the ghastly woman met her gaze, something like recognition dawned on her face. Tugging at the coat of the gentleman beside her, she nodded in Trinket's direction.
Panic seized Trinket's chest, and she quickly turned away and prayed it wasn't real. It couldn't be her. She couldn't be here. This couldn't be happening.
Thought you could run.
That you could hide.
But you'll never escape.
"What's your name, girl?"
Every muscle in her body stiffened at the sound of the sickly sweet voice. She turned slowly and dared to look the woman in the eye. Everything about her was the same. Plump. Pasty. Sloppy. There were even crumbs still stuck to the corner of her mouth, her brightly colored lipstick smudged in a failed attempt to wipe them away.
There was no doubt about it. This was her. The heartless orderly who haunted her dreams.
The Lipstick Woman.
But was she real? Or was this her mind tormenting her again?
"Did you hear me, girl?" the woman snapped. "What's your name?"
No one was looking their way. Maybe it was a figment of her imagination. Perhaps if she just ignored her she'd—
"Looks too clean to be her," came a voice from behind the woman.
Trinket's gaze flickered to the speaker, and she clutched her chest when she realized who the woman's companion was: a bald, bulky, ape-like man. She well remembered the feeling of his thick fingers on her skin when he threw her against the wall by her room in the asylum. And the delightful sneer on his face as he watched her cut her knuckles scrubbing floors that would never come clean.
The Ape Man.
"There is such a thing as a bath," the Lipstick Woman said. She eyed Trinket carefully. "Though she is a far cry from the pathetic creature that slipped through our fingers. Where do you live, girl?"
The woman got right in her face. Her breath stank like spoiled milk. Trinket stepped away, scrambling for a response that wouldn't end with her being dragged back to Elysium.
But before she could utter a word, someone snaked an arm around her shoulders and drew her to their side. "Can I help you, madam?" Booker asked, his cold stare settling on the Lipstick Woman.
The fat woman pulled herself up to her full height, which really didn't amount to much. "Wasn't talking to you, sir."
"No, but you were addressing my assistant rather rudely, so I thought to intervene. What can I do for you?"
"Assistant? Assistant in what?"
"You're quite the busybody, aren't you? Best be careful here. Folks who stick their noses where they don't belong are often found in pieces."
The Lipstick Woman narrowed her eyes at Booker. "Was that a threat?"
He grinned. "No, just a neighborly warning."
She scowled. "I'm no neighbor. Only reason I'm in this scumhole city is because some little bangtail cost me my job." Her attention returned to Trinket. "Blonde, flat-chested bit of skirt like this one here. Isn't that right, Clarence?"
The Ape Man's brow furrowed in pained concentration as he studied Trinket. "I think so. They all start to look the same after a while."
"Well, I'm sorry to hear about your predicament," Booker said without a hint of sympathy in his voice. "But this young woman couldn't possibly be the person you're looking for."
Raising an eyebrow, the Lipstick Woman gave a grunt. "That so?"
"Indeed. This dear girl has been working in my household for no less than five years."
The Lipstick Woman looked Trinket up and down. "What is it she does for you?"
"Now, now, it's not polite to discuss that kind of work in public."
Booker waggled his eyebrows and flashed a suggestive grin that made the nasty orderly reel back in disgust. Her eyes flickered to Trinket one last time before she jerked her head at the Ape Man. "Vile city, this is," she mumbled as they wandered away and disappeared into the crowd.
Trinket released a slow breath, her shoulders sagging under Booker's protective arm. That had been too close.
"Well, she was lovely," Booker said. "Just the sort of person I'd want taking care of me when I'm in a fragile mental state."
"How'd you know?"
"Please, Trinket, I'm a brilliant doctor. It wasn't that difficult to figure out."
Even as he spoke, she continued to stare out into the sea of people around her. Would they come for her again? To exact revenge? Or to take her back to Elysium?
"Come on, let's go have a cup of tea," Booker said, guiding her towards the Clocktower.
Nodding wordlessly, she followed along. Even so, she still glanced about at the crowds anxiously, certain this wouldn't be the last she'd see of the orderlies.
It was unusually quiet in the Clocktower, but there were more inebriated folks than she would have expected in the morning. Booker brought her to a small table in the corner and ordered some tea and bread. When the serving girl left them with their food, he turned his attention to Trinket.
"Seems strange that they'd come after a single escaped patient," he said.
She shrugged and stared down at her tea. "I'm a bit surprised myself, especially after so much time has gone by."
"Perhaps it's a coincidence, then."
"It would be an uncanny coincidence that the two orderlies who were on duty when I escaped are the same ones who've shown up in the city I've found refuge in."
"Well, remember, she mentioned looking for work. Could be that she and her friend there were dismissed after losing you and have been on the road in search of employment. Tinkerfall and Kineworth are practically neighbors, so it would make sense they might end up here."
It was tempting to believe, but she didn't want to let her guard down.
"All the same," Booker continued as he chewed on a bite of stale bread, "a little extra caution won't hurt. I'll have Gin keep her ear open for any word on them."
She let out a soft breath. "Thank you. I appreciate it. Truly, I do."
"Anyhow, about last night. It turns out the man who saw us in his backyard is the one who alerted the police. Claimed some ne'er-do-wells were trying to break into his wife's jewelry box. He managed to fight us off valiantly, by the way. His words."
Putting aside her thoughts of Elysium, she furrowed her brow. "He didn't mention the Wolf?"
"He did not."
"But he saw it."
"Probably didn't want to look like he was buying into the tall tales of a demon wolf terrorizing the city. The police refuse to believe the creature is anything more than a rabid dog or run-of-the-mill wolf that escaped from a circus."
She scoffed. "No one wants to think things could be out of the ordinary."
Grinning, Booker took another bite of bread. "How boring their lives must be."
"So the police didn't get a good look at us, then?"
"Seems not. They described the thieves as a very feminine young man and a gangly pauper attempting to dress above his station. I have to say, I think 'gangly' is a tad harsh."
She smiled. "Well, it was dark."
"True. I can at least comfort myself with that."
After about an hour in the alehouse, they dared to venture back outside. The Lipstick Woman and Ape Man were nowhere to be seen, but Trinket was careful to stay close to Booker. She wouldn't be surprised if the former asylum workers tried to take her by force.
They eventually wandered into the stationer's shop, and the shopkeeper gave a warm greeting as they entered. His face fell when he recognized them. With a curt nod, he returned to arranging stationary in the display window. He evidently had not appreciated the way they'd wasted his time during their last visit.
Booker busied himself with looking through paper and ink while he listened in on two well-dressed ladies who were whispering excitedly to each other. Trinket migrated to the window, her eyes darting back and forth as she scrutinized each passerby, searching for any familiar faces that might be searching for her.
Had they tracked her here to Tinkerfall? Or had it been dumb luck? Was their hunt for her fueled by vengeance? There were so many possibilities, and every one of them terrified her. What if someone found out about her? About why she had been sent to Elysium? About what she had done?
What if Booker found out?
Liar
Monster.
Murderer.
Loud stomping disrupted her thoughts, and she turned around to find the stationer trying to crush a mouse under his foot. He wasn't quick enough, though, and the rodent escaped into a small hole in the wall. Muttering a curse, the stationer returned to his register as Booker approached.
"Don't you have a cat for that?" Booker asked, staring at the mousehole.
"I did until it died," the stationer said irritably, refusing to meet his eyes.
Trinket joined Booker, and the two exchanged a glance. "Died?" he repeated.
"Yes. Killed by a stray dog, I suspect. Found pieces of it by the back door. The police should really do something about these strays." The stationer peered over his glasses at a beggar girl outside the shop window. "And I mean all the strays."
Rushing by them both, he threw open the door and shouted at the girl as he tossed a crate her way. Luckily, she managed to dart into the road before it struck her. The stationer stormed into the shop in an even fouler mood than before and refused to acknowledge Booker and Trinket's presence. Back at the display window, he busied himself with the stationary while muttering about mice and strays.
Meeting her eyes, Booker raised his eyebrows and nodded towards the exit. They hurried past the fuming stationer and slipped out the door.
As they stepped outside, Trinket searched for the little girl, but she seemed to have disappeared. "Poor thing," she said softly as they made their way down the street.
"She's one of many," Booker said.
"And I feel for them all. To be treated like rubbish. It's deplorable."
"Oh, but what would our society be without class distinction?"
"Certainly a more tolerant one."
He smiled. "Alas, it seems to be human nature to classify everything, doesn't it?"
She turned to him with a frown. "As a scientist, I suppose you would know best, wouldn't you?"
"About classification or about human nature?"
"Both."
His smile grew. "Indeed, I know quite a bit." He eyed her thoughtfully. "Although I must admit, I'm always pleasantly surprised when studying human nature. Once I think I have people figured out, they throw me something new to chew on. Anyhow, I believe I've gathered enough information for today. Shall we head back?"
Steering her in the direction of home, he began rattling off his ideas for the sleeping gun, which was his name for the creation she'd suggested. She tried to listen, but most of her thoughts were on the Lipstick Woman and the Ape Man. Where were they? Would they be staying long? Did they intend to settle down here in Tinkerfall? Every new question brought with it more anxiety until she had to force herself to stop obsessing over the matter lest panic set in.
Once they were back home, she attempted to keep her mind off her worried thoughts by cleaning the washroom. Donning her smock and pinning up her hair, she boiled some water and poured it into a bucket, mixing in just a little lye. The smell of the cleaner sent a shiver down her spine, the memory of stinging knuckles in a feverish hallway adding to her nostalgic distress. Scrubber in hand, she lugged the bucket up to the washroom and set to work on the lion-footed porcelain tub.
Nevertheless, even as she scrubbed and cleaned, her mind raced. Would the Lipstick Woman and Ape Man find her? Could they track her to this house? Did they really believe Booker's story? And why had he so readily covered for her? Did he value her work so much that he was willing to hide a fugitive? And if he knew what she had done in her past, would he still want her here?
Who would want you?
Especially after learning the truth.
Monster.
Killer.
Waste of—
The ringing of the bell downstairs interrupted the voices. Dropping the brush back into the bucket, she wiped her hands on her smock and got up off the floor. The bell rang incessantly as she hurried down the stairs, and when she finally opened the door, she found Gin smiling up at her, obviously pleased with herself.
"Good day, my lady," she said, tipping her bowler and bowing as if she were a gentleman.
"Hello, Gin," Trinket replied, blowing a strand of loose hair out of her eyes. "Are you looking for Booker?"
"Sure am."
Trinket stepped aside. "Come on into the parlour. I'll fetch him for you."
Gin skipped into the parlour and sat herself on the edge of the settee, but she was like a spring, ready to bounce back up at any moment. Her entire body radiated excitement. She must have discovered something crucial to the Wolf case
Knocking on the laboratory door, Trinket listened for Booker's footsteps before stepping aside to let the door open. He appeared at the top of the stairs, his eyebrows raised in query.
"Gin's here," she said. "And based on how she's about to jump out of her skin, I think she has good news for you."
His eyes lit up, and he hurried into the parlour. Before he could even greet Gin, she leapt to her feet and exclaimed, "Boy, do I have something for you!"
She bounded over to him and handed him a scrap of newspaper. Booker scanned it quickly, his eyes widening as he read. Trinket had to resist the urge to peek over his shoulder and see what it was.
He looked up from the paper and focused on Gin. "Where did you get this?"
Her grin took up half her face. "Happened to see an out-of-towner reading it at the train station. Snatched it up before he boarded. Didn't even notice it was gone."
"When?"
"Just a few minutes ago. Rushed right over here to show you."
Booker looked the paper over once more and then passed it to Trinket. The headline said in big, bold letters, "Wolf From Baron's Private Zoo Still Missing." There was a photo of a well-dressed man standing by a caged wolf. The accompanying article described how a wolf that had been part of a Broadfall baron's personal menagerie had gone missing nearly two months earlier and had yet to be recovered.
Her heart stopped.
Broadfall?
"All the way from Broadfall," Booker said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "That's a good three, four hours away. How on earth could it have ended up here?"
"Maybe someone is better at bribing people than you," Gin teased.
"Or maybe he brought it with him," Booker mumbled.
Swallowing hard, Trinket handed the article back to him to stop herself from reading that name over and over again. It didn't seem to matter, though, as it continued to echo in her head.
"So you think this Broadfall wolf is the same one?" Gin asked.
Broadfall.
Booker looked at the photograph again. "It's difficult to discern many details from a grainy photo, but it seems like too much of a coincidence for a wolf to show up here not long after one goes missing in Broadfall."
Broadfall.
Trinket shook her head and focused her attention on Booker. "How is this going to help you?"
"Like you said before, if it is a beast that's been bred in captivity, it may be easier to lure it in with the promise of food and shelter," he said.
"You're not going to lure it into the house."
He paused for a moment and raised his eyebrows. "Hadn't thought of that."
"Booker, no. That would be dangerous. And destructive."
"Yeah, Booker. Think of your maid," Gin said with a grin. "What a mess that would be to clean up."
"No, no, I suppose it wouldn't work," Booker said, waving the idea away. "But maybe I could make use of a different sort of shelter."
Was he going to break into someone else's house? She wouldn't put it past him.
"Thank you, Gin. This has been most helpful," Booker said. He glanced down at the article again. "In more ways than one."
"Always glad to be of service," the urchin said.
"Would you care for some tea, Gin?" Trinket asked, desperate to distract herself from thoughts of Broadfall.
"Nah, I got an important card game to be at, so I should get going."
"I'll see you out, then."
"Ah, actually, I'll see her out," Booker interrupted, gently guiding Trinket back into the parlour. "I have some other business to discuss with her."
He flashed her a smile and motioned for Gin to follow him. The front door closed, and Trinket slowly lowered herself onto the settee. Clutching her soiled smock, she concentrated on slowing her racing heart, but to no avail.
Broadfall.
The voices began to laugh hysterically, and she covered her ears and hummed her song to drown them out.
Of all the towns it could have been, why that one? Why the one place that haunted her almost as much as Elysium? Why did it have to be the scene of her most unforgivable sin?
Why did it have to be Broadfall?