"Gin!" Trinket called out.

The urchin slipped through the crowd of onlookers and hurried to her side. "Whoa. The vampire?" she asked when she caught a glimpse of the shopgirl's arm.

"That blonde girl. The one who ran off. Please find her. I think she went towards the Clocktower. But be careful. Don't get too close. And don't let her bite you."

"On it."

Gin spun on her heel and dashed off into the street.

Ripping a length of fabric from the hem of her petticoat, Trinket turned back to the shopgirl and tied it around her injured arm. "Come on, I'll help you up," she said as she slipped an arm around her waist and eased her to her feet. "I'll take you to a doctor. We need to treat that wound immediately."

Tears were streaming down the shopgirl's cheeks, and she looked up at Trinket, her lower lip trembling. "Am I going to turn into one?" she whispered.

Trinket furrowed her brow. "One of what?"

"A vampire."

She spoke the word in a horrified whisper, and those still crowding about stepped back as soon as she uttered it. As Trinket took in their terror-filled faces, she began to understand Booker's frustration.

"No, you won't. I promise," she said to the shopgirl. "Now come on, we need to get you to Mr. Larkin."

The onlookers retreated to a safe distance, their eyes following Trinket as she led the shopgirl out the door. But she hardly registered their stares. Her mind was racing. Clearly, the blonde girl was real and not a figment of her imagination. But was she who Trinket thought she was? It seemed impossible. Though since having met Booker, she was beginning to realize that the impossible was far more possible than she had once assumed.

They reached the house in record time, and after several clumsy attempts at unlocking the front door, Trinket stumbled her way into the foyer while keeping a firm grip on the shopgirl. Daphne peeked out of the kitchen, and upon seeing the blood trailing down the young girl's arm, she rushed over to help.

"Where is Mr. Larkin?" Trinket asked as Daphne took hold of the injured girl.

She pointed to the stairs, and Trinket wasted no time dashing up the steps to fetch him. She found him in the library, head in his hands as his eyes moved across the pages of the open book laid out in front of him.

"Booker," she called from the doorway, somewhat breathless from having rushed home.

He looked up at her in surprise. "Wha—"

"There's been another attack. At the general store."

Rising from his seat, he closed the book and hurried towards her. "Who was it? Are they alive? Did you see who did it?"

"The victim is downstairs. She's bleeding badly."

Grabbing hold of her arm, he rushed out the door and down the stairs. Daphne had escorted the shopgirl into the parlour and was examining her wound with a careful eye. She graciously moved aside when Booker entered, allowing him to take over.

"Exactly like the first," he muttered as he kneeled before the settee and looked over the injured limb.

"Sir, please don't let me become like her," the shopgirl pleaded, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh, trust me, becoming like her is not what you need to be worried about," Booker said, his gaze still on her bloody arm.

"Bedside manner," Trinket mumbled.

Clearing his throat, he tore his eyes away from the wound and smiled at the shopgirl. "You will not become a vampire, and I will do all in my power to keep you well," he said as he untied the makeshift bandage Trinket had made from her petticoat. "But just to make sure, we're going to tighten this a tad."

The girl let out a cry as he tied the bandage tightly above the bite marks. "My arm feels funny," she said.

"I cut off circulation to prevent the poison from traveling any further than it already has," Booker explained. Rising to his feet, he turned to Trinket and nodded towards the hallway. "Help me bring her down to the laboratory."

Taking hold of the shopgirl's uninjured arm, Trinket followed Booker to the laboratory door and waited for him to unlock it. Slowly, she led the girl down to the underground room, thankful that Booker was only steps behind her. Every time she thought she would lose her balance from the girl's added weight, he placed a steadying hand on her elbow.

When they had reached the last step, Booker pointed to the operating table. "Have her sit there," he said to Trinket.

While she helped the girl onto the cold, metal table with the dangling leather restraints, Booker scanned the shelves lining the stone walls. He mumbled to himself as his eyes passed over the jars that sat upon them. Leaving alone the glass ones housing body parts and bones, he instead selected a few ceramic ones.

"Can you stop the poison?" Trinket asked as she approached him, keeping her voice low so as not to frighten the already terrified shopgirl.

"I'm going to try," he replied, taking the top off of a jar and sniffing at its contents. "Not knowing what kind of poison is being employed, I can't exactly know what will neutralize it. And honestly, poison is tough. We just don't understand enough about it to find a sure way to halt its effects."

He grabbed a measuring spoon and scooped out a clear, almost crystal-like substance with a strong, sweet odor. He placed several scoops into a beaker and then set it over what looked like a metal candle. "What is that?" she asked as he lit a match and ignited the strange device.

He turned a knob, causing the flame to grow and engulf the beaker. "Carbolic acid," he responded, as he pulled out a long metal rod and slowly stirred the crystal substance, which began to liquefy under the heat of the flame. "Normally for a case of poisoning I would induce vomiting, but since it wasn't ingested, I'm not quite sure how to go about removing it."

Booker fetched a bottle of alcohol and added a small amount to another glass container. "So you don't use carbolic acid for poison?" she asked.

He carefully poured the liquid crystal into the container of alcohol. "It's generally used for—"

Stopping mid-sentence, he stared off at the wall. After a moment, he turned to her, and she could see that familiar glimmer of excitement in his wide eyes. The gears were turning in his head, and while she was very aware of the poor shopgirl suffering on the table behind her, she couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline in her veins as her own excitement grew.

"Snakebites," he said. "Carbolic acid is used for snakebites. Why didn't I think of this earlier? Blast this vampire nonsense! It's distracted me from the obvious. She's injecting them with venom. But which venom? There are a number of venomous snakes. I must have a book on the subject somewhere."

Trinket glanced back at the shopgirl. "As brilliant as this breakthrough is, Mr. Larkin, I'd like to remind you that we have a very frightened girl here who is bleeding profusely."

Snapping out of his daze, Booker shook his head and picked up the carbolic acid mixture. "Of course. Right. First things first."

They returned to the operating table where the shopgirl was still sobbing inconsolably. Her puffy eyes darted between them, and Trinket tried to offer her a reassuring smile.

"We're going to get this patched up right away," Booker said.

The girl's gaze flitted to the container in his hand. "Is that holy water?"

His face dropped. He opened his mouth to deliver what was most likely a rude and snarky response, but Trinket interrupted him. "Yes," she said. "We're going to coat your wound with holy water to ward off the poison the vampire injected into you. It will prevent you from becoming like her."

She ignored the flabbergasted look Booker was giving her and concentrated on the shopgirl. A hesitant smile spread over the girl's face as her shoulders sagged with relief. Turning to Booker, Trinket raised her eyebrows and jerked her head towards their patient, but he just gawked at her stupidly.

"Doctor, we'd best treat her arm before the vampire poison spreads," she said, widening her eyes slightly.

Blinking away his confusion, he cleared his throat and stooped over the girl's arm. "Sit still, now," he said. "Wouldn't want to get any 'holy water' on your dress."

He eyed Trinket, and she gave a solemn nod. Using a rag, he doused the wound with the carbolic acid mixture, making certain he did not miss an inch. He then fetched a needled syringe and drew up more of the mixture. With a steady hand, he injected it into each of the puncture wounds.

The shopgirl watched him with an intense stare. There was still fear in her eyes, but mingled with that fear was hope. Trinket felt guilty about having lied to her, but at least she'd been able to lessen the girl's apprehension.

"All right, that should do it," Booker said, setting the beaker and syringe aside. "I'll leave the ligature on a little longer, give the acid a chance to take effect."

"Acid?" the shopgirl repeated, her voice laced with panic.

"Ah, medical term for holy water. Anyhow," Booker leaned against a nearby workbench, crossing his arms over his chest, "tell me about this vampire."

At the mention of the undead monster, the shopgirl shrank back. "What about her?"

"Anything you remember about her. What did she look like?"

"It's hard to recall. Blonde, I think. Not very tall. Thin. And she had wild eyes. I think they may have been glowing red."

Booker snorted at that last part, but Trinket was too focused on the rest of the description to scold him. Blonde with wild eyes. Could it be? Could it really be her?

"And her teeth?" Booker asked.

"You mean her fangs?" the shopgirl asked.

"Yes. Do you remember what they looked like?"

She shook her head. "Not really. I didn't get a good look at them before she bit me. But they were sharp. It felt like fire igniting beneath my skin."

Nodding, he pushed himself away from the bench. "I see. Well, I recommend you not return to work. In fact, it might be best for you to stay here so I can keep an eye on that bite."

"Oh, no, my boss will wonder where I've run off to."

"I'm sure word of the attack has spread throughout the city at this point. He likely already knows."

"No, I should go back. I wouldn't want to intrude upon your kindness any longer."

"It's not intruding, my dear. I'm a doctor. It's part of my job."

The shopgirl swallowed and set her jaw. "Mr. Larkin, I really would much rather return home to my sister. I'd feel safer with her. No offense, but your house is a tad unnerving. I just want to put this whole ordeal behind me."

Booker looked like he wanted to argue, but he clamped his mouth shut and forced a smile. "Very well. If that's what you want, I won't try to convince you otherwise. Let me show you to the door."

He helped her off the table and led her to the stairs. "I can clean up if you'd like," Trinket offered.

"Ah, yes, thank you," he said over his shoulder. "Mind the holy water, though. It can cause some rather unfortunate reactions in strong amounts."

"What kind of reactions?" she asked, eyeing the mixture warily.

"Just be careful. I'll be right back."

He disappeared upstairs with the shopgirl, and Trinket very cautiously picked up the beaker of carbolic acid, holding it at arm's length so as not to risk getting even a drop on herself. She wasn't sure what reactions Booker had been referring to, but if he said they were bad, she wasn't going to fool around with it. Leaving the mixture in the sink, she grabbed a wet rag and some cleaner and began scrubbing away at the blood that had stained the table and floor. It wasn't long before she heard Booker's quick, light steps hurrying back down the stairs.

"Why do people never want to listen to me?" he complained. "I'm a doctor. Don't they think I might know what I'm talking about?"

Lifting herself back up, she shrugged. "She was frightened. She wanted to be with someone who would comfort her."

"She doesn't need comfort. She needs medical treatment."

"But I thought you did treat her."

Rubbing his neck, he paced the room. "Yes, I did, but the problem is that snakebites are very hard to treat. We still have so much to learn about them. Sometimes carbolic acid works, sometimes it doesn't."

Placing the rag on the operating table, she followed after him as he did laps around the laboratory. "You mean she could still die?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Then you should have been more insistent about her staying."

He stopped short and she nearly ran into him. Rubbing his eyes, he let out a long breath. "Honestly, even if she had stayed, I'm not sure I could have guaranteed her survival. And imagine the rumors that would start if a vampire victim actually died in my house."

There was a heavy silence as she thought about the potential fate of that poor girl. Bleeding from her eyes, her nose, her mouth. An agonizing death that would cause her even more terror than being bitten had. What a horrible way to go.

"It's a shame she didn't remember more about her attacker," Booker said, busying himself with cleaning out the beaker in the sink.

Wild eyes, wild eyes, wild eyes, wild eyyyyyyee—

"Oh, right." She joined him at the sink, lighting a candle so she could sterilize the needle of the syringe. "I sent Gin after her."

He cast her a sidelong glance. "After whom?"

"This supposed vampire. I had Gin tail her to see what she could find out."

Booker's eyes widened and his lips twitched. "Quick thinking, Trinket."

She flashed him a crooked smile. "I have my moments."

"They're more than moments."

The bell upstairs began to ring, and they both glanced up at the ceiling before meeting each other's gaze. Her smile grew as the light of excitement in Booker's eyes got brighter. "I think that's for you, Mr. Larkin," she said.

A grin spread over his face. Stooping down, he blew out the candle and took hold of her hand. "What would I do without you?" he said as they hurried up the stairs.