Gin was not happy when Booker told her he wanted her to stay at the house for the next few days. She complained about all the gossip she'd miss out on and how everyone would think she'd gone soft and that she wasn't some child who needed to be coddled. Eventually, though, with the promise of a little extra bacon, she was persuaded to stay.

Trinket was relieved to know that the urchin would be safe under their roof, but there was still a sense of dread weighing on her chest. While Booker believed he was smarter than Scales, she was sure the ex-Mouse would find a way to exact his revenge. Something told her he was just as dangerous on his own as he was with the gang. And now fueled by rage and vengeance, perhaps he was even more dangerous.

Though still slightly irritated about being cooped up indoors, Gin followed Daphne around and helped her with the cleaning and other various chores. Trinket busied herself with preparing one of the guest rooms for her, trying her best to occupy her anxious mind. But there were a dozen thoughts competing for her attention, and frankly, she wasn't all that eager to concentrate on any of them.

Where was Tory?

How would Scales get his revenge?

Who would be the next vampire victim?

When would Booker find out about her sordid past?

"Everything will be all right," she muttered to herself as she straightened the blankets on the bed in Gin's room.

She repeated Booker's reassurance over and over, but no matter how many times she spoke the words, she couldn't seem to convince herself of their truth.

~

For dinner that night, they dined on a thick pea soup and fresh bread that Daphne had made that day. Although Gin was still putting on that she was sour about being housebound, she could not hide the delight in her expression at that first spoonful of soup.

"Daphne's a wonderful cook, isn't she?" Booker said.

Gin took another spoonful and nodded. "Much better than the green stuff at the Clocktower."

Trinket raised her eyebrows. "Yes, indigestion seems to always be on the menu there. Not exactly my taste, but someone here can't get enough."

She turned an accusing eye to Booker who feigned offense. "Are you speaking ill of my beloved alehouse? I'll have you know I have very fond memories there."

"Of the food?"

"In spite of the food, actually. And honestly, after spending hours attaching a mechanical arm to a patient in one of the tiny, dirty rooms there—without an assistant, I might add—any sustenance was welcome. Even the slop served up at the Clocktower."

"Well, aren't you happy to have a reliable, albeit saucy, assistant, then?"

Booker smiled. "Oh, you have no idea how happy, my dear."

Daphne looked between them with a knowing grin before clearing her throat and offering them more bread. Trinket accepted a piece for herself and handed another to Gin.

"The Clocktower is where we met," Gin said as she slathered butter on her slice.

"Indeed it is," Booker replied with a warm smile as he sipped his tea. "I believe you told me I was going to get myself killed."

She took a big bite of the bread. "You still might."

"And then you tried to get payment out of me for information about how I was going to die."

"Hey, a girl has to make a living, right?"

"I'm very thankful for that meeting. I gained a reliable informant that day." His eyes softened as they rested on the urchin. "And a dear friend."

Gin froze when he spoke those words, and she tried to fight back a smile. Clearing her throat, she stared down at her bowl of soup. "Yeah, well, I figured since you were dressed all nice and whatnot, I could squeeze a bit of coin out of you." Her eyes darted to him before returning to her soup. "But I guess I didn't reckon I'd get so attached. Good for you I did or else you'd be dead by now."

Chuckling to himself, Booker reached out and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. Gin made a face, but Trinket could see behind the facade. There was a glow of utter joy radiating from her, and it warmed her heart to see the little girl so happy.

All of them sitting at the dinner table like this felt right. It felt like family. And that was something Trinket had thought she'd never experience again.

Booker's eyes turned to her, and he gave her a gentle smile. She couldn't help but return it.

Yes, this was home. This city, this house, these people. It was all home. Which was why she was so afraid of something—whether it be Scales or her own past—stealing it away from her. She couldn't let that happen. She had to protect this odd life she'd found in this sleazy little city.

She had to protect it at any cost.

~

After dinner, Gin helped Daphne and Trinket with the dishes before they retired to the parlour for a game of charades. Though Gin was rather skilled, it was Daphne who blew them all away. The woman had quite the knack for expressing herself without words, so she did have a bit of an advantage. They played for hours, laughing and enjoying themselves late into the evening. When they could no longer keep their eyes open, they decided to call it a night.

Trinket showed Gin to her temporary room, already furnished with a wash basin and extra blankets and pillows. The urchin examined it all thoroughly, careful not to let her face betray her feelings. But Trinket suspected she was rather impressed, especially as she sank into the mattress and picked up one of the pillows, holding it against her chest.

"The others would be awful jealous to know I'm sleeping in this kind of luxury," she said, her fingers tracing the embroidery on one of the blankets. "Even if it's only for a night."

"Or two. Or three," Trinket added, leaning against the doorjamb.

Gin shot her a look. "Listen, I'm just humoring Booker for the night. I need to get back out there before I lose my reputation."

"I highly doubt a few nights spent in a warm house will do much damage to the reputation you've built up."

Hunching over the pillow still clutched in her arms, Gin mumbled, "And I need to look out for Booker."

Trinket furrowed her brow and joined her on the bed. "Wouldn't you be better able to protect him if you were nearby?"

Gin shook her head and looked up at her. "I protect him in different ways. By listening. And watching. And when I see someone trying to go after him, I distract them or mislead them. I mean, if it came down to it, I'd fight for him, too. But my skills are better used in more subtle ways."

With a sad smile, Trinket pushed back Gin's tangled hair and was surprised when, instead of brushing off her affectionate gesture, the urchin leaned into her.

"Someone needs to watch out for him," she said, resting her head against Trinket's shoulder. "He's all sorts of trouble, and left on his own, he'll be dead in no time flat."

Putting her arm around the girl's shoulders, Trinket pressed her cheek against the top of her head. "He's lucky to have such a good friend like you. As am I."

Gin glanced up at her, one eyebrow raised. "We're friends?"

Trinket shrugged. "Well, I hope we're friends. At the very least, I consider you my friend."

Smiling, Gin returned her head to her shoulder. "Yeah. We're friends. I wasn't sure we would be at first, but you kinda grew on me. Like mold on cheese."

With a soft chuckle, Trinket gave her a squeeze. "You're something else, Gin," she said as she rose to her feet. "If you need anything, I'm just down the hall."

Gin waved her away. "I'm used to sleeping on the street. I think I'll be fine." Her face softened a bit as she added, "But thanks."

"Pleasant dreams," Trinket said, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Heading into her own room, she began to unbraid her hair and wander over to the window overlooking the street. It was empty save for a stray here or there. Even the urchins seemed to have turned in for the night. She couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief knowing that Gin was warm and safe. If only there was some way to convince her to stay. It would give her great peace of mind to know that she was—

Someone appeared in the street. Leaning forward, Trinket caught a flash of blonde hair, and as the person glanced about their surroundings—

Tory.

All rational thought fled Trinket's mind when she spotted her friend wandering the street. Dropping her hairbrush, she ran out of the room and practically stumbled down the stairs. Her fingers struggled with the lock on the front door, and when at last she unlatched it, she threw the door open and hurried into the street.

She looked to her left. Nothing.

To her right. Ah, there, in the near distance. A young woman shuffling down the road, heading into the city center.

Lifting her skirts, Trinket broke into a run to catch up with Tory. She wanted to call out to her, but she was afraid that would scare her away. She needed to get closer so that Tory could clearly see her face and know it was her.

The girl was moving slowly, so it took little time to close the space between them. But then she took a sharp left and disappeared down another street.

Trinket picked up her pace, determined not to lose her.

When she turned onto the street, she saw no one. Panting, she hurried along, glancing down each alley in hopes of finding her. But there seemed to be nothing but food scraps and mud. Still, she searched.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

There.

She skidded to a halt when she found a blonde girl crouched down in an alley, trying to force a basement window open. "Tory!" she called out.

The girl jumped up and looked ready to either flee or attack. However, when she caught sight of Trinket, her face relaxed and she gave a smile. "What are you doing out here so late?" she asked.

Glancing about to be sure there was no one else nearby, Trinket scurried into the alley. "I saw you leaving the slums," she said, keeping her voice low. "What were you doing there? I thought you were living in an apartment basement?"

"There were too many police nosing about at that one, so I had to search for a new place. I was just wandering around, hoping to find something a little further from my last location, but everything over there was falling apart and exposed. So I decided to stick to this area. Wait, what were you doing in the slums? Don't you have a job?"

"Um, yes, I do. But my employer lives in the slums."

Tory looked her up and down, taking in her tailored dress of dark-purple satin and her rather fashionable black boots. "I don't recall any of my family's servants dressing so nicely. What sort of maid are you?"

Trinket hesitated for a moment. Was it really the right time to tell Tory about Booker? What if that led to Booker finding out more about Trinket's past? Would he ever look at her with that adoring warmth again?

Make up your mind, quick.

The voices were right. She didn't have time to hesitate. Scales was out there somewhere, seething with vindictive rage. Either she had to leave Tory out here alone and risk her falling into his hands, or—

"Actually," she said, taking a step closer, "I sort of got a promotion."

Again, Tory looked over her fine clothing. "To what? Mistress?"

"No, assistant."

Tory furrowed her brow. "Assistant to what?"

With a deep breath, Trinket took another step towards her. "My employer is a doctor. A very unusual doctor. He's something of a genius, and he's able to fix things that seem beyond fixing."

Narrowing her eyes, Tory asked, "Did he fix your hallucinations?"

"No, his talents lie with mechanics."

"Mechanics?"

"Like clocks and whatnot."

"Wait, I'm confused. Is he a clockmaker or a doctor?"

"A little of both, actually. He replaces missing limbs with mechanical ones that he makes himself. And he creates amazing inventions that can help people hear better and see better." She paused, steeling herself for the reaction that could come next. "And I think he could fix you."

Tory pulled back. "Fix me? What about me needs fixing?"

"No, no, I don't mean you, per se. Just—"

"You want him to take away the voices?"

The panic was rising in Tory's voice, and Trinket knew she was about to lose her. "No, nothing like that. I mean your fangs."

Tory's hand automatically went to her mouth as she shook her head. "Fix my fangs? But why? They're not broken."

"Tory, please, you don't understand—"

"You want to take them away."

"Listen, if you—"

"No!"

Trinket winced as her friend's voice carried through the alley and into the street. "Tory, I swear, I'm not trying to upset you. It's just that you don't understand the risk. There are—"

"These are the only things I have to protect myself! I'm not going to let anyone take them away!"

Fearing discovery, Trinket raised a finger to her lips. Tory opened her mouth again but suddenly let out a gasp of pain. She closed her eyes and massaged the bridge of her nose.

"All right, you don't have to give the fangs up," Trinket said slowly. "But my employer would really like to speak with you. He thinks he may know the man who implanted your new weapons. An old friend from his past. They've been playing this strange game with each other, and I think this friend has used you as a part of it. Like you're a clue of sorts."

Tory snapped her head up. "You've been telling someone about me? A doctor?"

Trinket shook her head emphatically. "No, no, I haven't. Not yet. But if you—"

"You, of all people, should know that doctors can't be trusted. Why are you even working for one? Don't you remember what they did to us?"

"But the man who gave you those fangs is a doctor."

She snorted. "Not a normal doctor."

"Mr. Larkin isn't a normal doctor, either. Please, Tory, if not to help him find his friend, at least come for a place to sleep. I hate thinking about you being out on the street, especially knowing what one of your last roommates tried to do to you."

As Trinket reached out to her, Tory pulled away. "You've been talking to that traitor, Theo, haven't you?"

That wild look was in her eyes again, filled with suspicion and resentment. "Traitor? How is she a traitor?" Trinket asked.

"She's been telling people about me. They want to lock me away again. To stop the voices. To keep them from talking to me and protecting me."

"No, that's not it at all. Theo is genuinely worried about you. She doesn't want you to get hurt. And neither do I."

"No!"

Her outburst made Trinket jump, and she realized that her friend was past the point of reason. Her panicked eyes darted about, her breathing quick and shallow. She kept pinching the bridge of her nose and muttering unintelligible words to herself.

Swallowing hard, Trinket made one last attempt to persuade her. "Tory, you need to rest. And eat a good meal. Please, let me—"

"No!" Tory held up a finger, twitching slightly as she closed her eyes. "No, I won't. I won't go with you. You're different."

"Different? Different how?"

"From before! You're different now. You let some doctor take control of you. You're not the same. They're saying you're not the same. You can't be trusted."

Trinket opened her mouth to speak, but Tory snapped her eyes open and shook her head violently. "No! You're with them now. You're just like them. You're helping them," she said.

Backing away slowly, Trinket held her hands up. "I promise you I'm not working with anyone who's out to get you. I only want to help."

"Liar!"

Tory grabbed a piece of a broken crate and threw it at her. Trinket managed to dodge it, but in doing so, she bumped into something behind her. She turned to see what and was met by a sneering mountain of a man. Gasping, she stumbled backwards. Tory had ceased her attack and now joined Trinket in staring up at the hulking figure from their past.

"Thought I heard a familiar tantrum," Squeeze said, stepping forward so that his large frame filled the entrance of the alley. "Who knew I'd get two for the price of one?"