The night was pleasantly cool and clear, without a single cloud to mar the stars. Still, after the relentless rain they'd had, the ground remained soft and muddy. Despite the late hour, there were folks wandering about and taking in the enjoyable spring evening while they could.

"Theo said she saw her on Baker Street, right?" Booker asked as he and Trinket walked arm in arm down the road.

"Yes, but I highly doubt she'd be there now," Trinket replied, craning her neck to peer into a passing alley. "Not after Theo approached her. She hears voices, and unlike me, she's not afraid of them. In fact, she believes they're trying to warn her."

"Warn her about what?"

"About people out to get her. She says she knows things—what sort of things, I don't know. But she insists there are people after her because of this special knowledge, and the voices tell her whether or not someone is trustworthy."

Booker threw her a sidelong glance. "What do they say about you?"

"I was someone she trusted and confided in until recently."

"Do you think you could win back that trust?"

She took a deep breath and set her jaw. "I can certainly try."

There was a group of drunks on Clark Lane, so she and Booker stayed on Gainsborough to avoid a confrontation. "Does she hallucinate like you do?" Booker asked.

"Not visually. From what she's told me, it's only the voices."

"This may sound like a ridiculous question considering the evidence, but I know she's your friend, so I'm going to ask it anyhow. Do you think she's truly dangerous?"

Hesitating for a moment, she finally said, "When she and I would talk back in Elysium, just the two of us, she didn't seem dangerous to me. Even when I talked to her recently, she seemed like the same Tory I knew before. A little twisted and dark, perhaps, but I think Elysium can have that effect on anyone.

"However, when her paranoia escalates, she becomes fearful. She sees almost everything and everyone as a threat, and the voices only add to the chaos. That, I believe, is when she's dangerous. When she's terrified and panicked."

Blowing out a breath, Booker turned his eyes forward. "So in this instance, she would be dangerous."

She nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"Well, you're a very reasonable, compassionate person, so I'm hopeful that you'll be able to get through to her."

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and though she appreciated his optimism, she wasn't so certain it was warranted.

As they turned down Finch Street, they found a group of men gathered together in the middle of the road. Booker pulled Trinket into the shadows, and they cautiously watched as the men argued loudly.

"How hard could this be?" shouted a short man with a long braid of dark hair that reached his waist. "She's just one little tart. We should've found her hours ago."

"Yeah, one little tart endowed with powers of the undead," said a larger man who had his back turned to them.

"If Scales were still here, we'd've slit her throat by now," mumbled another man whose face was obscured by a large-brimmed hat.

The short man with the long hair whacked him over the head, sending the hat flying. "Don't you let the boss hear you mumbling 'bout things like that. You wanna lose a finger?" he hissed as the other fellow stooped to retrieve his hat.

"I dunno, I think the boss is kinda scared of Scales himself," said a fourth man with a pockmarked face.

The short man took it upon himself to whack him over the head, too. "Are you lot a bunch of morons?"

"Hey, think about it," the pockmarked man said, spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke. "If he wasn't scared of him, how come he didn't just take him out, hmm?"

"If he was afraid of him, why would he let him go? Don't ya think he'd be worried he'd try to get his revenge, hmm?"

The pockmarked man scoffed as the short man stood on his toes to get in his face.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter," said the large man who still had his back turned. "All that matters is Scales ain't here, one of our own is dead, and the little varmint what did him in is out there. Now, come on! Let's spread out and look."

"Ah, hang on a second," said the short man, fidgeting with a small device in his hand. "This here garlic sprayer thing seems to be running low."

"Lord, fine," sighed the large man. "You and Coils go fill it up, Venom and I'll scope the place out again. Soon as you get it filled, though, get back out there. We're gonna find that little bunter tonight."

The short man glared at the man in the hat—whom Trinket assumed was Coils—while the other two men continued down the street. "How come I always get stuck with you?" mumbled the man in the hat.

"Hey, I ain't all that pleased to be with you neither, so just shove it," said the short man.

Something moved in the corner of Trinket's vision, and she turned in time to see a blonde figure scurry into an alley. Tugging at Booker's sleeve, she caught his attention and gestured in the direction the figure had gone. Casting one last look at the two Mice, he nodded and took her hand, stealthily leading her towards the alley.

"Oy! Is that her?" shouted one of the men behind them.

Booker winced and picked up his pace, but something came hurtling past them, embedding itself into the road just ahead. They came to a halt before tripping over what turned out to be a jagged knife. As they turned to face their attackers, Booker forced Trinket's head down in time to keep another knife from burying itself in her skull.

"Wait, I thought she was all alone," said the short man, his hands shaking as he brandished the empty garlic sprayer. "Who's that fellow with her?"

The man with the hat narrowed his eyes for a moment and gave a low growl. "Larkin," he said, reaching for another knife.

The short man grabbed his arm to stop him. "Hey, that's Scales' battle, not ours. He means nothing to us now."

"He's after the vampire, don't you get it? Of course he's our problem."

"If he kills her, then all the better."

"Moron, get off of me!"

While the two squabbled, Booker again attempted to sneak into the alley, Trinket following close behind. But the man with the hat saw them and broke away from his companion to throw another knife, this one hitting Booker in the shoulder.

Booker let out a cry and grasped his arm. "Booker!" Trinket exclaimed, steadying him as he stumbled.

Pulling the knife out, he grabbed his pistol and shot at the two Mice. They dodged his fire but returned it with their own. "Go," he hissed at her, pushing her towards the alley.

"But—"

"I'm fine, just go get her."

Though she was reluctant to leave him alone with the two Mice, she feared losing Tory if they were delayed any longer. So, giving Booker's arm one final squeeze, she darted towards the alley, leaving the sounds of gunfire and shouting behind.

The alley was empty, but it brought her through to the next street over. Emerging on the other side, she paused to take in her surroundings. Her hallucinations were acting up again in the form of shadows and fluttering insects. But she ignored them, focusing instead on searching for a sign of which way Tory had gone.

Another flash of blonde. There. Right by the confectioner.

Trinket took off again, hesitating to call out to the girl for fear that making her presence known would send her running. Rather, she carefully tailed her, watching as Tory looked down each and every alleyway and checked the locks on the doors of the closed shops. After trying to break into the coffee house with no success, she turned to the other side of the street. Something over there must have caught her attention, as she made a beeline for an alley between two abandoned buildings.

Following after her, Trinket stopped at the entrance of the alley and leaned against the brick façade of the nearest building. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for a potential confrontation. If she didn't do this right, both of them could end up dead.

She had to be careful.

When she entered the dark alley, she found Tory pulling at a board that had been nailed over the basement window of one of the buildings. She was mumbling to herself, harried, jumbled words that Trinket couldn't understand. Her friend was clearly in a paranoid state of mind. Talking to her probably wouldn't end well. Still, with the pistol Booker had given her heavy in her pocket, Trinket decided she would rather take her chances with kind words than have to resort to more dire methods.

She stepped forward. "Tory."

Releasing the board, Tory spun around, teeth bared and poised to attack. But she hesitated when she recognized Trinket. For a brief moment, her defensive stance wavered as her wild eyes turned soft.

"Tory, please, let me help you," Trinket said, taking another step towards her.

Tory's eyes regained their manic paranoia. "You're with them. You're trying to help them."

Trinket shook her head emphatically, raising her hands up. "No, I'm not. I'm trying to help you."

"Liar!"

Her shrill scream made Trinket fall back a step, but she didn't lose her determination. "Tory, the Ape Man's friends are looking for you. They want to kill you for killing him. I want to protect you."

"That's what they used to say at Elysium. 'This is for your own good, we're trying to help you.' I'm not a fool, Katherine. I've heard it all before."

"This is different, I swear. And aside from the men trying to kill you, that broken fang of yours is letting venom seep into your body. There's a chance you could die from it."

Tory lifted a hand to her mouth, her lips curling up as she touched the spot where the missing fang had once been.

"Please, I want to help you," Trinket pleaded, daring to take another step forward. She stretched a hand out towards her. "Just let me help you, Tory. It's what friends do."

Though she flinched at the gesture, Tory's eyes settled on Trinket's open palm. Staring for a long while, she finally licked her lips and raised her hand as if to accept the offer. But then, at the last second, she shook her head and started pulling at the piece of wood on the basement window again. This time it broke free, and without missing a beat, she swung it at Trinket's head.

Eyes wide, Trinket ducked, narrowly escaping a vicious blow to the head. Rather than colliding with her face, the wooden plank hit something behind her, something that let out a pained grunt and hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Glancing over her shoulder, she discovered Booker sprawled out on the dirt road with a nasty cut above his rapidly swelling eye. "Booker!" she cried out, dropping to her knees and stooping over him.

His eyes fluttered open, but he winced as he tried to lift his head. A sigh of relief escaped Trinket's lips, but another thud reminded her of the situation at hand. She looked up just in time to see Tory tear past them and race back into the street.

"Trinket, go."

Booker's voice drew her attention back to him, and she reached out a hand to brush his hair away from his wounded eye. "But you're hurt."

He caught her wrist before her fingers could graze his skin and gave it a firm squeeze. "I'll be fine. Go. Find her before the Mice do."

She knit her brows together, not certain it was a good idea to leave him alone while suffering from head trauma. But she knew he was right. "Stay here. I'll be back," she said before taking off after Tory.

The wild girl had already gotten a head start, and as Trinket ran down the street, distracted by darting shadows and swarms of moths fluttering about her head, she worried that this was a futile endeavor. But then, as she swatted at a rather insistent moth, she saw someone disappear around the bend in the road. Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply in an attempt to will away her hallucinations, she picked up her pace.

Tory was standing in the middle of the street, pressing her palms against her eyes as she let out a low groan. Was the venom taking effect? Did it work that quickly? Trinket had no idea how any of it worked, but the sight of her friend in pain sent her racing towards her.

When she reached her, she grabbed her arm. "Tory, please, let—"

Tory's head snapped up, and she lunged at Trinket, her one remaining fang aimed at her throat. Panicking, Trinket stumbled backwards and tripped over her skirts. Still holding onto Tory's arm, she brought the girl down with her as she fell to the ground. Tory's elbow crushed her ribs, and Trinket hissed at the sharp ache. But she had no time to focus on it. Tory, completely swept up in her paranoid frenzy, was gnashing her teeth, trying to get to Trinket's neck. Doing her best to hold her back, Trinket struggled with the girl who, though slight in frame, proved to be more powerful than she would have imagined.

"Please, Tory," Trinket begged through clenched teeth as she craned her neck away from the girl's snapping jaw. "I'm only—ah! I'm only trying to help."

If her friend even heard her, she showed no sign of complying. Her eyes were wild as ever, and Trinket realized she had only one option now. But though she could feel the pistol digging into her hip through her pocket, there was no way for her to grab it without giving Tory an opening to bite her.

Her mind reeled as the shadows and moths continued to harass her. All the while, that shining metal fang drew nearer and nearer. Her muscles ached, and her grip on Tory's arms was growing weaker.

She couldn't keep this up for much longer. There had to be something she could do. There had to be—

A shot rang out in the night air, and Tory cried out. The gunshot was followed by another and another. The wildness faded from her eyes as her body went limp. And then she collapsed on top of Trinket, heavy and still.

Scurrying out from beneath her, Trinket took deep, labored breaths as she stared down at Tory's lifeless body. There were three bullet holes—two in her back and one in her head. Blood poured out of them, forming a dark pool around her and making her look like one of her own victims.

Finally tearing her gaze away from Tory, Trinket lifted her eyes to Jewkes who was standing a short distance from her, pistol in hand. He was staring at the dead body, but when he sensed her attention, he met her eyes. Placing a hand on her chest, she released a long breath and gave a deep nod. A soft smile tugged at the officer's mouth as he returned the gesture. Tucking the pistol back into its holster, he approached and crouched down before her.

"You all right, Miss Trinket?" he asked, his eyes straying back to Tory's body.

Trinket, too, turned her gaze to her friend. A sharp pain tightened her chest. Tory was gone. And it didn't seem fair. True, she had been the cause of multiple deaths and injuries, but had it really been her fault? Wasn't the person who was truly at fault the one who had created her? The monster who had taken advantage of her paranoid mind?

Wasn't this because of Benedict Hawk?

Indignation built inside of her, but she tried to push it aside as she turned to Jewkes and forced a smile. "Yes, I'm fine, Constable. Thank you."

The officer removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, helping her to her feet. "I'm assuming Larkin is around here somewhere?" he asked as he led her away from Tory's body.

Trinket nodded. "He is, and I'm guessing he might need me to stitch him up."

Jewkes smiled and put an arm around her shoulders. "Don't know what he'd do without you."