Daphne had already let Gin in by the time Trinket and Booker returned upstairs. The urchin was scratching the back of her neck as she entered the foyer, and for one horrific moment, Trinket feared she had been bitten. But when Gin saw them emerge from below, she removed her hand.

No blood.

Trinket let out a relieved breath.

"Did you find her?" Booker asked as he made his way over to Gin.

She shook her head. "Lost her somewhere on Finch Street. Don't know if she turned into a bat or just ducked into one of the alleys."

He rolled his eyes. "My bet would be on the latter."

"She's fast," Gin added. "I could barely keep up with her. Think she might've seen me trailing her. Kept zigzagging all over the place."

"Were you able to get a good look at her?"

"Afraid not. All I saw was blonde hair. Although I think she was pretty skinny, too. Course, if she's stealing from stores, she's probably starving, so that'd account for that."

"But she didn't bite you, right?" Trinket asked, still worried that the urchin may be hiding an injury.

"Nah, I didn't get close enough to get bit."

"Well, I thank you for your efforts," Booker said.

"Of course," Gin said. "So how'd that shopgirl make out?"

"I treated her as best I could. Only time will tell now."

"She gonna turn into a vampire?"

He frowned at the urchin. "Please don't tell me you're falling for this ludicrous, as well."

"I'm just wondering why else you'd be treating her unless it was to keep her from becoming a monster."

"Poison," Trinket explained.

"Venom, to be more precise," Booker said.

Raising an eyebrow, Gin looked between them. "What the heck are you talking about?"

"This latest experiment was not fashioned after some fairy tale creature like a vampire," Booker said, pacing into the parlour. "She was created with a snake in mind."

"A snake?" Gin repeated as she and Trinket followed after him.

"Yes. It explains the bite marks and the bleeding. Some snakes inject venom into their victims to disable or kill them before consuming them. Or sometimes simply to escape a predator."

"And venom would make a person bleed from every orifice?" Trinket asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorpost.

Booker continued to pace up and down the parlour, tapping his fingers against his lips. "Perhaps. I don't really know that much about snake venom."

"Wow, something Booker Larkin doesn't know everything about," Gin said, widening her eyes in mock surprise.

Trinket chuckled at the urchin's sarcasm, but Booker was too lost in his thoughts to notice their teasing. "This makes so much more sense," he mumbled to himself.

"Hmm, snake, huh?" Gin said, sitting on the arm of the settee. "No wonder Scales is so interested."

This caught Booker's attention. He stopped his frantic laps about the parlour and fixed his eyes on Gin. "Scales? What about Scales?"

"He showed up after you left," Trinket said.

His face fell. "And?"

"He made it clear that he was just as interested in this vampire as he was in the Wolf and the corpses."

As Booker swallowed hard, his eyes wandered across the room, distant and distracted.

"What would he do with a vampire anyhow?" asked Gin.

"I don't think it's the vampire he's interested in," Trinket said. "Or at least, she's not all he's interested in. I think he's searching for the person who created her."

She turned her eyes to Booker, taking in his clenched jaw and fidgeting fingers. "Boy, that friend of yours sure is popular," Gin said to him.

"So it seems," he mumbled.

"But he's your friend, so we really don't have to worry about him teaming up with the Mice, right?"

Booker didn't respond at first, and his hesitation made Trinket uneasy. "No, I don't think Benedict is interested in teaming up with them," he said at last, though the troubled look in his eyes was not reassuring.

Daphne cleared her throat from the hallway, drawing their attention to her. She pinched her thumb and forefinger together and lifted them to her lips as if sipping tea.

"I'm afraid I have no time for tea," Booker said, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. "There's much reading and research to be done. Thank you, again, Gin. If you hear or see anything, please let me know."

He slipped out of the room and up the stairs in such a hurry that Trinket feared he'd trip over his own feet. She and Daphne exchanged a worried glance, and even Gin knit her brows together as she watched him disappear upstairs.

"Gin, would you at least like some tea?" Trinket asked, turning to the urchin. "We have some crumpets, as well."

Shaking her head, Gin rose to her feet and headed back to the front door. "Nah, I think I'm gonna go skulk around and see if I can't figure out where that vampire girl went."

"Be careful, please," Trinket said as she saw her out. "Don't corner her or let her feel threatened. Try to keep your distance."

"I know, I know."

"The same goes for the Mice. Tread carefully if you still insist on listening in on their conversations. Mice bite just as hard as snakes."

Gin's mouth quirked into a lopsided grin. "Yeah, you've been hanging around Booker for too long. You're starting to sound like him."

Smiling, Trinket gave the urchin a playful shove before she scampered off into the street. As she watched her disappear around the bend, worry built in her chest, and her heart raced. That little girl was going to get herself into some serious trouble one of these days. Hopefully she'd be smart enough to weasel her way out of it.

Trinket let out a sigh and closed the door. Daphne was still standing in the hallway, and she lifted her eyebrows as she met her gaze.

Trinket glanced up at the stairs and bit her lip. "Do you think we could warm those crumpets up from earlier?" she asked as she turned back to Daphne.

~

The door to the library was slightly ajar as Trinket approached it with a tray of tea and crumpets. Slipping inside, she found Booker sitting at the large table, surrounded by piles of books. He was bent over a rather hefty tome, fingers tangled in his dark hair as he gazed down at the pages. She cleared her throat, not wanting to take him by surprise. But he was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice her presence until she placed the tray beside one of the piles of books.

He jumped and let out a relieved sigh when he saw it was her. "Ah, Trinket. Sorry, I didn't hear you come in."

"I thought things must be truly serious if you had no time for tea," she said, pouring a cup and handing it to him. "But I figured I'd bring you some anyhow. Just in case."

Smiling, he accepted it. "Thank you."

She pulled out a chair and sat beside him, glancing over at the book he was reading. "Snakes. Not wasting any time, I see."

"Time is a terrible thing to squander," he said as he took a sip of tea.

Though he tried to speak with levity, there was clearly still something weighing on his mind. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes darted about the room anxiously.

Trinket leaned in closer. "Booker, would Benedict actually consider teaming up with Scales?"

His eye twitched as his grip on the teacup tightened. Placing it on the table, he fidgeted with the saucer before meeting her gaze. "I don't know. I mean, I like to think he has higher standards than that, but . . ."

She swallowed, his hesitation making her nervous. "But what?"

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. "But Benedict gets bored easily."

"So you think he'll get bored with you and want to move on to someone else?"

"Perhaps. Or maybe Scales will present him with a challenge he can't pass up."

"What do you mean?"

"I can only imagine that Scales is interested in Benedict because he wants him to create some ungodly, superhuman lackeys. Monsters to strike fear into the hearts of the people of Tinkerfall."

"Would Benedict do that? I mean, if he knew the reputation of the Mice, surely he would think twice."

Heaving another sigh, Booker propped his elbows up on the table and stared down at his teacup. "I don't know. Honestly, if the job was intriguing enough, I think he might go for it."

The idea of someone as twistedly brilliant as Benedict working for the Mice was horrifying. "But I thought he was trying to find you. Isn't that why he's creating these things in the first place?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps I'm not what he was hoping to find."

The worry in Booker's eyes was heavy and dark, crowding out his normal confidence and arrogance. Resting a hand on his arm, Trinket drew his attention back to her and offered him a gentle smile. "Scales has nothing on you, Booker. I highly doubt Benedict would choose him."

He forced a weak smile. "I suppose we can only hope. In the meantime, I need to solve this new game he's started." He glanced down at the book still open before him. "Starting with what sort of snake this venom came from."

"Do you need any help?"

He shook his head. "I'm sure you have other matters to attend to. You don't have to waste your time with me."

"My time is never wasted when spent with you, Booker."

Her words again drew his attention. Something playful and thoughtful danced through his eyes. "Even if I force you to look through old newspapers that make no mention of wolves or barons?"

Laughing softly, she nodded. "Even then. Besides, I'm always guaranteed to learn something new when I'm with you. No matter the task."

"Nothing useful, though."

"With the ridiculous situations you get us into, I doubt that any information we gather could be useless."

Still smiling, he turned his eyes back to the book. "You're a good sport to put up with me."

She watched as he scanned the words on the pages before him. Putting up with him was not exactly how she would have phrased it. Yes, he was infuriating and reckless and even at times insensitive. But there was nowhere else she would rather be than by his side. He treated her more as a partner than an employee. He made her feel useful. Valuable, even. All that time in Elysium, she had felt like a pimple on society, something to be locked away and forgotten. Someone without hope, without a future. But for the first time in a long time, she was finally beginning to envision a future for herself.

A future with him.

Sensing her gaze, he again lifted his eyes to her, and when they met hers, a spark of electricity ran through her. Not an unpleasant shock, but a tingling sensation of excitement. Booker straightened slightly and swallowed hard. Had he felt it, too? Was he feeling the same anticipation and curiosity?

Lost in his intoxicating eyes, she felt herself being pulled towards him, as if by some strange, magnetic force. But before she could give in to it, something flashed before her eyes. A familiar face twisted in pain.

Merrill.

She drew back, her heart pounding in her throat. The image was gone in an instant, and it was again Booker sitting before her. But the guilt and fear that came with the memory of Merrill remained.

You'll do it again.

Clearing her throat, she pushed the plate of crumpets towards Booker. "You should probably eat something," she said. "Knowledge and tea will only take you so far before you starve to death."

His face fell as he, too, cleared his throat. Was that disappointment in his eyes?

He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on the pastries before him. "Yes, and that would be rather embarrassing for a doctor, wouldn't it?"

He picked up a crumpet and took a bite, training his eyes on his book.

She forced a smile. "Exactly." Rising to her feet, she straightened her skirts. "I think I'll help Daphne with the cleaning. If I don't hear from you in a few hours, I'll assume you passed out from exhaustion, in which case I'll come check on you."

She turned and made her way to the door, resisting the urge to look back at him for fear she would see, not Booker Larkin, but the person she had destroyed.

Merrill.

Was it an omen of some sort that she kept seeing him in Booker? Was it a sign that she would do to Booker what she had done to him?

Was it a sign that she was better off alone?

Alone, alone, forever alone.

Better off dead, really.

Just die.

Squeezing her eyes shut as she closed the door, she selfishly prayed that this was not the case. Still, the guilt and fear would not go away, and in the back of her head, those vicious, mocking voices were whispering to her:

Killer.

Killer.

Killer.