The sun was still in the sky as they made their way to the Clocktower for an early dinner. Regardless of the time of day, Trinket couldn't help but feel that the streets were far safer with Booker by her side. Granted, he was often the one leading her into danger, but she believed her odds of survival were much higher when they were together.

"Lord, this vampire paraphernalia is disgusting," Booker said as they passed by a woman wearing three strings of garlic around her neck.

"Well, the sooner we prove to them that it's not a vampire, the sooner it will all disappear," Trinket said.

"We have to catch her first."

Trinket chewed on her lip. Should she tell him about her suspicions? Perhaps she should wait until they were in the Clocktower. Or maybe not. Maybe she should wait until she was absolutely sure it was true. It wasn't as if she had any tangible evidence, anyhow. She could be completely wrong.

Oh, how she hoped she was wrong.

The alehouse reeked of garlic and salt, and she and Booker had a difficult time finding a seat where the smell didn't make them sick

"Please tell me the stew isn't garlic," Booker said as a serving girl approached their table.

"Cook's special," the girl said with a nod.

He groaned and dropped his head on the table. "We'll just have cold meats and bread, thank you," Trinket said to the girl.

"This city has lost its charm," Booker said when the girl had left, his voice muffled as he remained facedown on the table.

Trinket's mouth quirked into a crooked smile, and she leaned forward, resting her chin on her arms. "Oh, Mr. Larkin, Tinkerfall is still the twisted, crime-ridden cesspool you first fell in love with."

He lifted his head and gave a soft smile. "But their superstitions are so disillusioning."

"No one's perfect, right?"

His eyes wandered back and forth, and she suddenly realized how very close their faces were. "Well, some are closer to perfection than others," he said.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she imagined drawing a little closer to his lips. Just close enough that she could—

No! What was she thinking? Clearing her throat, she sat up straight and averted her eyes. Booker did the same, though he seemed a tad disappointed.

"So, other than the snake, was your trip to Broadfall uneventful?" she asked, trying to still her racing pulse.

"Oh, yes. Same stuck-up town as before. I couldn't imagine wasting my life somewhere so dull."

It was difficult to picture Booker settling down in her hometown. At this point, it was difficult picturing herself there. But dwelling too long on Broadfall made her chest tighten and her stomach clench anxiously, so she quickly moved on to a different subject.

"Have you heard from Jewkes about the butcher?" she asked.

"No, but while I was waiting for the steam engine, I heard talk that they're putting the shop up for sale. So I'm thinking his future is not looking too bright."

Her heart sank. "The poor man. There was no reason for him to get wrapped up in this mess."

"Yes, well, the Mice don't really care if innocent people die in their pursuit of intimidation."

The serving girl returned with their meal as well as two cups of tea. "Speaking of the Mice and intimidation," Trinket said, helping herself to a piece of bread.

Booker eyed her from over his teacup. "What about them?"

"I ran into Scales last night."

He placed the cup back down, a line forming between his eyes. "Last night? Did he come to the house?"

She hesitated. "No, it was out in the center."

"The center? What were you doing in the center? And at night?"

"My own investigation. I wanted to see what I could find out about the vampire."

It wasn't a complete untruth.

"All alone?" Booker asked, swallowing a mouthful of tea and nearly choking.

"Yes. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, so I didn't want to wake Daphne."

He took a deep breath and drummed his fingers against the table as he looked about the room. Though it was faint, she could hear him chattering his teeth. Was he upset?

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes, yes, sorry, just . . ." He blew out a breath and ceased his fidgeting as he widened his eyes. "Just felt my heart stop for a minute there. Sorry."

She cocked her head. "Are you ill?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Perhaps that snake bit you without you realizing it."

Shaking his head, he took a sip of tea. "No, it's nothing like that, just . . ." He wandered off again but gave his head another shake. "Nothing. Please, go on. You went out at night and ran into Scales?"

His behavior was still suspicious, but she continued nonetheless. "Yes, he caught me unawares."

"And?"

"He's quite interested in this vampire."

"Well, he didn't need to tell you that for me to know."

"And he made something like a threat."

This time he really did choke on his tea. She reached out to help him, but he raised a finger as he coughed into his napkin. When he could speak again, he turned to her with watering eyes and said in a hoarse, strained voice, "Threat?"

She nodded. "Several, in fact. One about chopping me into pieces to get you to talk."
Booker's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

"And then he mentioned doing something similar to Gin. I'm afraid I may have reacted rather emotionally and made it clear to him that such a threat was effective. Now I'm worried that he actually will go after Gin. That's why she was at the house with me today."

Closing his eyes, Booker pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh.

He's mad.

You really did it this time.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault. I put her in danger. I'm so sorry."

"No, no, it's not your fault." He released his nose and opened his eyes. "Anyone can see that we care for Gin. Scales was just trying to get a rise out of you."

"But would he follow through with his threats?"

"He's capable of anything. At the moment, though, he doesn't have any good reason to use such a valuable arsenal. It would be a waste. So I don't think we have too much to worry about. Yet."

His words were only slightly comforting. But she decided to drop the subject, as he was becoming more agitated with each passing second. "Well, aside from that, there wasn't much that you missed," she said, choosing not to mention her close call with the lecherous men for fear it would truly send him into a fit.

"So you didn't find out anything about the vampire during your late-night excursion?"

The worry in his eyes convinced her to keep her suspicions to herself until she was completely certain she knew who the mysterious blonde girl was. "No, nothing. It seems that when you go away, you take all the excitement with you."

He gave a smile and picked at a piece of bread. "Is that your way of saying I was missed?"

She tilted her head to the side. "Do you really need confirmation that you're important to this city?"

He lifted his eyes to her. "It wasn't the city I had in mind."

His gaze was piercing, and it left her rather breathless. No wonder he didn't imbibe, with eyes so intoxicating. "Yes, Booker, I did miss you," she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

Something gentle flickered in his eyes. "Glad to hear it"

There was a long silence, and the bawdy songs and wafts of garlic surrounding them seemed to fade away. Booker leaned forward, his intense gaze drawing her in. His fingers brushed against her hand, hesitant at first, but then becoming bold as they laced themselves with hers. She very much liked the feeling of his skin against her own, and she found herself longing for more than just his hand.

"I'm so happy you came into my life, Trinket," he said, his voice soft and yet ringing as clear and loud as a bell in her ears.

"I'm grateful you let me stay," she replied.

He hesitated again and licked his lips while staring at her mouth. She held her breath. What would come next? What was she hoping for? Oh, she knew, but was it right? Was it proper? It was Booker, of course it wasn't proper. But she didn't care. Her eyes just kept wandering back to those lips of his, waiting, hoping for them to draw closer.

Before any hopes could be realized, they were interrupted as a body came crashing into their table. The moment was shattered, along with their dinner and tea. They jumped to their feet and backed away from the mess that now separated them.

"Oy! You'll be paying for that, you will, you lousy drunk!" shouted a stout serving woman as she hauled the inebriated man to his feet and dragged him towards the door.

"Mr. Larkin, I am so sorry," said the serving girl from earlier as she offered him and Trinket rags to wipe the tea from their clothes. "Let me replace your meal. It'll be on the house."

"No, no, that's fine," Booker said as he peeled a piece of meat off of his jacket and tossed it to the floor. "I think we were just about finished, anyhow. Right, my dear?"

Trinket nodded and forced a smile as she turned to the serving girl. "Thank you, though. Your generosity is much appreciated."

The girl wrung her hands and glanced about the room. "At least let me clean your clothes. Or replace them if need be. I—"

"It wasn't your fault," Trinket reassured her.

The girl averted her eyes. "Well, I'm afraid that man is my brother, so—"

"Then it is your brother who should be sorry, not you," Booker said. He fished something from his pocket and pressed it into the girl's hand. "Here. In case they try to place the blame on you. Have a good night."

The girl stared down in astonishment at the coins he had given her. Before she could object, he nodded towards the door, and he and Trinket made their way outside. The stout serving woman had tossed the drunk onto the street where he lay very close to a pile of what Trinket assumed was his own vomit. They skirted around him and headed home.

"That was very kind of you, what you did for that serving girl," she said to Booker as they walked arm in arm.

"Yes, well, I've had some good influences on me as of late," he replied as he waggled his eyebrows at her.

She laughed and turned her eyes downward. Her mind wandered back to that moment right before the drunk had interrupted them. The intensity of Booker's stare had been nearly paralyzing, and just remembering it almost took her breath away.

"Booker?" she said.

"Yes?"

"Were you about to say something earlier?"

"What do you mean?"

"Before our unexpected guest dropped in. You seemed like you were about to say something." Or do something, but she didn't mention that for fear it would send her pulse racing again.

Booker stared at the road ahead, his brow furrowed and his eyes distant. He stole a glance at her, and his cheeks actually turned a light shade of pink. Swallowing, he parted his lips to speak but then stopped. Pressing them into a tight smile, he let out a long breath and gave her arm a squeeze.

"Only that I am very happy to be home," he said.

She returned his smile, but there was a sting of disappointment in her chest. What had she expected him to say? Well, she knew what she'd hoped he would say. Or rather, what she'd hoped he'd do. But maybe it was for the best. Maybe this fantasy she had been entertaining was better off staying just that. A fantasy.

Still, she couldn't resist drawing closer to him as they made their way home. A tiny flicker of hope wavered in her heart as he tightened his grip on her arm.