As the morning wore on, the blood began to dry. Trinket and Booker changed into more presentable clothing and retired to the parlour where they sipped at tea and dined on crumpets and jam. Daphne joined them after some insistence from them both, and together they discussed the autopsy.

"I'm assuming the poison was injected through the bite," Booker said as he traced the rim of his cup.

Trinket leaned back on the settee beside him. "But you have no idea what kind of poison it was?"

He shook his head. "I pored over every toxicology book I could find, but there was no mention of anything that would make a person bleed internally. Well, at least not as badly as the old man did."

Daphne sat up in the armchair and started picking at the air with her fingers. She then mimed placing something into her tea and twirled her hand over the cup.

"True, maybe it was an original mixture," Trinket translated.

"Perhaps," Booker murmured. He sighed and placed his cup on the table. "I could really use Frieda's expertise right now."

At the mention of his old friend, a thought occurred. "You don't think she's involved, do you?"

He turned to her. "What do you mean?"

"Is it possible she and Benedict have teamed up in this game? You were all friends in the past, and it would certainly explain the poisoning."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "No, if Frieda were involved, she would have made herself known already. Subtlety is not her method of operation."

Daphne tapped her neck with two fingers and shrugged, knitting her brows together.

It took a moment for Trinket to decipher her gestures. "How is the vampire injecting the poison?" she tried.

Nodding, Daphne turned her expectant gaze to Booker.

He hesitated and pursed his lips. "Honestly, I'm not sure. Perhaps she has some sort of needled syringes embedded into her jaw?"

"That sounds horrible."

"Although, the puncture wounds were rather large for needles."

"They could have been like the ones you use to draw blood from corpses."

Booker's eyebrows lifted. "Yes, that's certainly a possibility."

As they all sat in silent contemplation, the bell began to ring. Daphne set her tea aside and went to answer it. Booker leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he stared at the fireplace.

"If only the old man had gotten a better look at his attacker," he said. "Then we could be putting forth more effort into finding Benedict's latest creation rather than playing this guessing game."

Daphne returned with Gin by her side. Both Trinket and Booker rose to their feet at the sight of the urchin. The young girl never appeared without some interesting tidbit.

"What news, Gin?" Booker asked.

She frowned slightly. "Well, I don't know if it's news exactly, but there's a whole lot of commotion down at the market."

Booker's eyes lit up. "Another body?"

"Booker," Trinket scolded, and he instantly wiped the glee from his expression.

"No, not a body," Gin said. "It'd be easier if you just came and saw for yourself."

~

Chaos. Utter chaos.

It was the only way to describe what was happening in the market.

"Strings of garlic! Only five pence apiece!"

"Holy water! Blessed this morning! Fresh holy water!"

"Mustard seeds! Come get your mustard seeds! Tiny and plentiful, impossible to count!"

Street sellers whom Trinket had never seen before were advertising the oddest products. What was even stranger, though, were the crowds around them. People were practically throwing money at the sellers, some buying several of the same product. Between the shouts from the sellers and the frantic bargaining coming from their customers, the market was in a frenzy.

"Why are they so eager to buy these things?" Trinket asked as she watched two young women hurry by, each wearing a string of garlic like a necklace.

"I hear they're charms," Gin said.

"Charms? For what?"

"Vampires," Booker said, his voice flat as he took in the surrounding excitement.

Trinket turned to him. "Vampires?"

Rubbing his forehead, he nodded. "Yes. Garlic is a popular apotropaic for warding off the undead."

"How do you know that?"

"Even I indulged in fairy tales at one point in my childhood."

"I don't know about fairies, but this vampire rumor has all of Tinkerfall in a panic," Gin said.

"Rumor?" Trinket repeated.

Gin nodded. "Ever since they found that bloke all bloodied with those bite marks on his neck, people've been up in arms about it. At first they thought it might've been something you did, Booker, seeing as he was one of your patients. But now they've gotten spooked. They think there's a vampire roaming about the city."

"That explains the strange behavior at the Clocktower," Trinket said.

"Bloody ridiculous," Booker mumbled.

The fear in the people's eyes was very real, and they gripped their garlic necklaces and vials of holy water as if they were the only things keeping them from completely falling apart. Did those selling the items truly believe in the power of their products, or were they only looking to make an extra shilling? Perhaps a bit of both.

Trinket turned back to Booker. He looked like he was on the verge of losing his composure. He took in the scene before him with a mixture of frustration and disgust. When his eyes caught on a police officer passing by with a tiny bottle of holy water, he threw his hands up into the air and scoffed.

"I give up!" he said. "This city is filled with imbeciles. Let them all waste their money and nerves on this ridiculous folklore."

He spun away and stormed back towards home, muttering curses under his breath as Gin and Trinket watched him leave. "What's the matter with him?" Gin asked.

"He's running on very little sleep," Trinket said. "It was a late night and an early morning. So he's a tad moodier than usual."

"Great, a moodier Booker. That's all we need."

Trinket smiled down at the urchin before scanning the market again. "It is somewhat disheartening to see street sellers taking advantage of people's fear like this."

There was a long pause before Gin spoke. "It's not real, right?"

Trinket tilted her head. "What's not real?"

The urchin's eyes wandered up and down the crowds, and she swallowed hard. "This whole vampire thing. Vampires aren't real, right?"

Remembering the state of the dead man from the night before, Trinket had to admit that his death did seem rather supernatural. But Booker's scientific influence had rubbed off on her, and she was certain there had to be a more reasonable explanation. Or as reasonable as modified humans could get.

"No, they're not real," she said.

Gin let out a long breath. "Good, cuz I really hate the smell of garlic. I don't think I'd fancy wearing it around my neck.

Trinket chuckled softly. "I'm glad you're so easy to convince. They, however . . ."

She nodded to the crowd still scrambling to get their hands on something to protect them from the monsters they believed were haunting the streets.

"Booker will find a way to prove them wrong. He always does," Gin said. "Does he think it's his friend who did it?"

Trinket started as she turned to the urchin. "You know about his friend?"

"I wasn't listening in on him," she said vehemently. "I overheard the Mice talking about it."
"The Mice?"

"Yep. They were talking about how Scales wants to find him before Booker does."

What did Scales want with Benedict? Did he hope the scientist could turn members of the Mice into monstrous beings in order to strike fear into the heart of the city? Weren't they frightening enough without animal parts? Or maybe he wanted to get his hands on another creature like the Wolf. Whatever he wanted, it couldn't be good. And though she doubted Benedict would agree to team up with anyone but Booker, she worried about what Scales would do to him should he refuse.

"Why were you eavesdropping on the Mice?" she asked, pushing aside her worries about Scales' intentions.

Gin shrugged. "Figured I could get useful information for Booker, seeing as he and Scales are so at odds with each other lately."

The idea of the little girl putting herself in the path of danger to please Booker worried Trinket. "I don't know how safe it is to be meddling with their affairs," she said. "And I doubt Booker would want you risking your life like that."

The urchin waved away her concern. "No one ever notices me. I'm real good at hiding and being invisible. Besides, I haven't learned anything Booker doesn't already know. It's just stuff the Mice gossip about at the Clocktower or during game nights."

"Do you listen in on Scales' conversations?"

Gin shook her head firmly. "No. I know not to mess with him. Booker might be stupid enough to do it, but I'm not."

"Well, at least one of you has brains."

Trinket jumped and turned to find Scales standing right beside her. How much had he heard? Had Gin signed her own death warrant? Fearing the worst, Trinket's hand found the urchin's shoulder, and she gripped it tightly as they backed away. The normally intrepid young girl had gone silent and did not resist as Trinket pulled her closer.

Scales grinned at their terror. Trinket straightened up and tried to paste on an indifferent expression, but her hands shook nonetheless.

"You're a nosy rat, aren't you?" Scales said, pointing his elaborate walking stick at Gin.

The urchin refused to flinch, but Trinket could feel her stiffen.

Shrugging, Scales tucked the walking stick under his arm. "Not that you're much of a threat. It doesn't take a whole lot of cleverness to eavesdrop on drunken underlings. Anyone with ears can hear those morons running off their mouths."

Gin bristled at the implied insult, but she remained still and silent.

"That's why, every once in a while, you need to—" Scales held out his hand and curled his gloved fingers into a fist, squeezing it tight, "—make an example of one or two of them."

"Is that how body parts end up in butcher shops?" Trinket asked, surprised at the strength in her voice.

Scales smiled triumphantly. "Liked that, did you? I had considered the tea shop seeing how often you and Larkin frequent it. But then a little bird told me you've lost your tea-buying privileges."

She held back a gasp. How had he found out about that? Who had he been talking to? Emma? Though she seemed a nice girl, Trinket had to keep in mind that she mixed dangerous drugs as a side business. The chances of her selling them out were higher than she liked to believe.

"So I thought the butcher shop would cause enough of a stir to catch your attention," Scales continued.

"Well, I think you made your point," Trinket said.

"Clearly I haven't since Larkin still insists on getting in my way."

"The Wolf is dead and there have been no more corpses. This little game seems to be over."

He gave a crude laugh and turned his eyes to her. "Is that the best you've got?"

"What do you mean?"

"'This little game seems to be over,'" he repeated, pitching his voice an octave higher in imitation of her. "Adorable the way you're trying to get rid of me. It'll take a lot more than that, my dear strumpet."

Setting her jaw, she met his gaze. "You know my name, Scales."

He lifted his eyebrows as if impressed she dared to speak to him in such a way. "Indeed I do. Trinket." He spoke her name like a threat, and she was beginning to regret her decision to address him so boldly. "And I also know that this sudden vampire attack is connected to the Wolf and the corpses. Which means I'm very interested."

Both Trinket and Gin fell back several steps as Scales flashed them a wicked grin.

"And you know what else I know?" he went on, taking a step towards them. "I know that Larkin knows who's responsible for these monstrosities. And I know he's trying to keep me from him. But you know what Larkin doesn't know?"

He continued to close in on them until they hit a lamppost. Leaning in, he raised an eyebrow, a vicious smirk playing on his lips.

"I have absolutely nothing to lose. And he has everything."

Lifting his hand, he trailed a finger down Trinket's cheek, sending tremors through her entire body.

"And that will be his undoing," he whispered, his hot breath hitting her face like an inferno.

"You seem awfully well-acquainted with emotions and undoing for someone without a heart," she said, meeting his eyes.

His expression faltered, but only for a second. He pulled away and replaced his frown with another smirk. Tipping his hat, he gave a mocking bow and made his way further into the market. After a few steps, he cast a glance over his shoulder.

"Send my regards to your employer," he said. "And my dear Trinket, we must stop meeting like this."

She watched him swagger off into the crowd, disappearing amidst the chaos. Letting out a long breath, she slumped against the lamppost.

"Geez, Trinket, I can't believe you talked to him like that," Gin said, turning to face her.

Running a hand through the strands of hair that had come loose from her braid, Trinket shook her head. "I'm not sure what came over me."

Leaning against the lamppost, Gin grinned up at her. "I think you've been spending too much time with Booker. He's rubbing off on you."

"That can't be good. One of us has to be reasonable."

"I don't know, I kinda liked seeing you all brave and sassy. Seemed to impress Scales, too. Though I'm not sure that's exactly a good thing."

Trinket looked back at the busy market, trying to catch a glimpse of Scales. But he had already faded into the chaos. Cautious as a serpent. As dangerous as one, too. He certainly lived up to his reptilian name.

"We should head home," she said at last. "Booker has likely worked himself up into a fit, and I'm suddenly feeling that the streets aren't all that safe."

"Are they ever?" Gin said with a short laugh.

They turned away from the booths and street vendors and made their way back home. "I wonder what the Mice want with Booker's friend," Trinket said, her mind still on her conversation with Scales.

Gin shrugged. "Can't be anything good." She eyed Trinket warily. "You'd better watch your back, by the way."

Trinket's eyes darted to the urchin. "Me?"

"Yeah. You've made an impression on Scales. He used your name. That's sort of a bad sign."

Oh, how she regretted not keeping a lower profile.

"I mean, it was bound to happen, what with you promenading all about the city with Booker," Gin added. "But I'd be careful still. It's not below Scales to kill a woman to get what he wants."

A pit settled in Trinket's stomach as she remembered Mrs. Wotton's butchered body. She nodded her understanding. "I'll be more cautious."

"But I mean, I'll watch out for you. So you're not alone. And I'm pretty sure Booker would go on a killing spree if something happened to you."

Trinket frowned. "I certainly hope not. But to be fair, I think he'd do the same thing if something were to happen to you."

"See, that's where we're different. If some jerk offed me, I'd want them dead." Gin paused, knitting her brows together before adding, "But not if it meant Booker would get hurt."

Smiling, Trinket put her arm around the urchin and pulled her close as they walked. "I don't think we're really all that different, Gin."

Rather than resist the affectionate gesture, Gin sank into her embrace. "I actually take that as a compliment."

Trinket chuckled and looked up just as they were passing by the window of the general store. She was about to turn her gaze back to Gin, but something in the store caught her eye.

A flash of blonde.

She stumbled and forgot herself for a moment. Staring without any sense of decorum, she drew closer, trying to see the young woman inside the store. She was weaving through the aisles, ducking behind other customers and slipping into the shadows. It was impossible to get a good look at her face when she moved so quickly.

There was a shout inside the shop. A young woman—not Fidelia, but perhaps someone else who worked there—ran towards one of the aisles. The young blonde woman made a break for the door, cradling something under her arm. The other girl grabbed at her, catching her around the elbow. The blonde girl tried to wrestle out of her grip, but the shopgirl held on tight.

"What the heck?" Gin said from beside Trinket, standing on her toes to get a better look at the commotion.

Trinket's eyes were still trained on the two girls as they struggled with each other. A crowd was forming around them, so she couldn't get a glimpse of the blonde girl's face. Then a scream pierced the air, and the crowd was pushed aside as someone bolted out the door.

The blonde girl.

Poised to chase after her, Trinket stopped when she heard anguished sobs coming from inside the store. She turned and found the shopgirl crumpled on the floor, cradling her arm as blood seeped through her fingers.

No, it couldn't be.

Rushing inside, Trinket knelt beside her and moved her hand away from the wound.

Two puncture wounds. Just like before.

The vampire had struck again.