It took a moment for Booker's word to register in Trinket's head. When they finally did, she leapt to her feet. "You lost the snake? In the house?"

Daphne's eyes went wide, and she scurried onto the settee, looking down at the floor anxiously as she clutched the wet rag in her hands.

"Booker, how could you let this happen?" Trinket went on, all thoughts of the Mice and the bloody girl and Tory vanished from her mind.

Holding his hands up as he approached, Booker calmly reassured her, "It's fine, it's fine. We'll find it. I mean, it couldn't have gone far."

"This is an incredibly deadly snake, Booker. Two people have died from its venom despite your attempts to heal them. If it gets outside, not only will we have a man-made vampire stalking the streets, we'll have a very dangerous snake, as well."

"At least it already ate. Maybe it'll just curl up and hide or something."

She clutched at her hair, momentarily forgetting about her head wound. She released a sharp cry as pain coursed through her body.

Booker took hold of her arm and led her to the armchair. "Before we do anything, we need to take care of that cut."

She reluctantly sat down and let him examine her head. "How did it even get out of the jar?"

"I don't know, maybe I didn't tighten the lid enough in my rush to leave earlier. All I know is that when I went downstairs to get my bag, the jar was on the floor but the snake was nowhere to be seen."

Letting out a groan, she covered her eyes with her hands. "We need to catch it. Now."

"I know, I know. Just let me take care of your head. How did this happen again?"

"I was being chased by the Mice."

Something clattered to the floor, and she turned to find Booker stooping down to retrieve the bottle of alcohol he had dropped. As he stood back up, she could see the panic in his eyes.

"The Mice? Why were they chasing you?" he asked as he resumed cleaning the wound.

She shrugged. "I'm assuming Scales sent them after me, seeing as he interrogated me on my way to the station."

It sounded like he was fumbling with the bottle again, but this time he didn't drop it. "Scales?"

"Yes, he grabbed me just outside the station and threatened to take me back to his office if I didn't talk. Do you need me to hold that for you?"

For a third time, Booker had lost his grip on the alcohol. He chased after it as it rolled towards the fireplace, leaving a trail of liquid in its wake. Trinket exchanged a look with Daphne who was now sitting on the back of the settee.

"What did he want to know?" Booker asked, placing the bottle on the table and retrieving a piece of gauze.

"He assumes I know something about the vampire. He saw me going after that girl from before."

He held her head steady as he firmly pressed the gauze against the wound. "What girl?"

"Remember? The girl I saw at the scene of the old man's death? The one who had blood around her wrist and looked more terrified than anyone else in the crowd? She was there today, and something about her made me think she might be involved with the vampire. That's why I told you to go on without me. I wanted to try to catch up with her, but I only managed to find where she lived. And then—"

She stopped short.

Tory.

Booker really needed to know about her. And yet something inside kept her from telling him. She knew this was important information, but she just couldn't seem to give it up. Perhaps she needed to find Tory and talk to her first. Maybe she was wrong. Tory might not be the vampire at all. If Trinket told Booker about her now, she may get Tory wrapped up in something that she had nothing to do with.

And he'll find out about you.

About the real you.

He'll see how truly insane you are.

And then he'll toss you away.

Because how could anyone love someone as broken as you?

Her heart sank. They were right. If she let any bit of Elysium into her life—even Tory—Booker would never see her the same way again.

She couldn't let that happen.

"Trinket? What happened after that?" Booker asked, the concern in his voice growing heavier.

She cleared her throat. "And then some of the Mice appeared and chased after me. I had to go through alleys and climb over gates to escape them, and that's how I hit my head."

"And the bruises? How did you get those?"

"Well, the ones on my arms are probably from the chase, but the ones around my jaw are from Scales."

His hold on her head tightened, but when she let out a hiss of pain, he let up a bit. "What did he do to you?"

"Like I said, he questioned me."

"No, to cause the bruises."

"Oh. Well, he had a pretty firm grip on my mouth to keep me from screaming."

There was a long pause, and Booker shifted slightly as he continued to press the gauze to her wound. "I'm sorry you got pulled into this mess."

"It's my mess now, too. I was the one who ran off after that girl. I should have been more alert. I should have realized I was being watched."

"You wouldn't have run after her if I hadn't influenced you with my own bad behavior."

She turned her head to meet his gaze. "I like the influence you've had on me. This isn't your fault. Now the snake, that's your fault. But my injuries are not."

He gave a soft smile. "I just don't like seeing the people I care about get hurt."

A warm glow ignited inside her chest. She slipped her hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. Though he continued to hold her head, he managed to lace his fingers with hers, and the gesture made her stomach flutter and twist.

Daphne let out a loud gasp. Trinket quickly released Booker's hand and turned her attention to the settee where Daphne was scrambling farther away from the floor as she pointed at something under the table.

"Is it the snake?" Trinket asked, drawing her knees up to her chest.

Shrugging her tense shoulders while keeping her eyes trained on the floor, Daphne wiggled her fingers around and clutched the rag to her chest.

With bated breath, they waited for whatever was hiding to reveal itself. Booker was still holding the gauze against Trinket's head, but his grip tightened as the grandfather clock in the corner ticked away the seconds.

And then movement.

There was a sharp intake of breath between the three of them as their eyes followed the figure that emerged from beneath the table. A tiny brown body scurried towards the fireplace where it disappeared into a mousehole.

They all sighed a breath of relief.

"Blasted mice," Trinket mumbled.

"The bleeding seems to have stopped," Booker said as he removed his hands from her head. "It's not too deep of a cut, so I don't think you need stitches. You'll probably have a nasty lump, though, and your head may ache a little."

"It's fine," she said as she rose to her feet. "Let's just take care of this snake situation. If Daphne is afraid, it has to be serious."

Daphne waved her hand in the air and then placed it on her chest while shaking her head. Trinket wasn't sure what the gesture meant, but she gathered that the otherwise fearless woman was less than fond of snakes. Or maybe she was just a reasonable person who realized how dangerous this particular snake was.

"Right, right," Booker said. He tossed the bloody gauze onto the table and began pacing the room. "We need to figure out a way to lure it out."

"Food?" Trinket suggested.

He shook his head as he tapped his steepled fingers against his lips. "I just fed it a mouse. It could go for weeks without needing another meal."

"Could we scare it out? Make loud noises or something?"

"That might just make it hide in a spot where we'll never find it."

"Well, I'm not particularly keen on setting fire to the house, but this is a deadly snake we're talking about here."

Stopping mid-stride, Booker stared off into the distance. "Fire," he repeated.

She immediately regretted her suggestion. "Booker, no, I was only joking. We can't set fire to the house."

He turned to her. "No, not fire. Well, not exactly. Fire is warm. Warmth. That could be our bait."

"What do you mean?"

"Snakes are unable to regulate their body temperature. They rely on outside sources to stay warm."

"So they're attracted to warm things?"

"Yes, they often are. If we could set up some sort of device to lure the snake in and then trap it—ah, yes, this could work perfectly. But, no—blast, I'll need more supplies. I have to go to the Tinker. Are you all right to go out again?"

Trinket's body was screaming for her to stop and rest, but there was no way she could do that with a snake loose in the house. "Yes, I'll be fine."

"Very good. Let's be off."

Booker was already opening the door as she entered the hallway. "We're not leaving Daphne here to fend off the snake on her own," she insisted.

He paused, his hand still on the doorknob. "Right, right, of course. She should absolutely join us."

Trinket turned back to Daphne and motioned for her to come with them. The woman gingerly stepped onto the floor and hurried after them, grabbing her cape from the coat rack and following them outside.

The rain wasn't quite as heavy as it had been earlier, but it was still enough to drench them after a few minutes. "I'm sorry, I lost your umbrella," Trinket said to Booker as she and Daphne walked on either side of him.

"It's just an umbrella. I'll buy another one." He glanced at her anxiously. "I'm more concerned about losing you. If my umbrella had to be sacrificed in order to keep you safe, I'd gladly lose a thousand more."

Her mouth quirked into a smile, and she took hold of his arm, drawing closer to him as they walked. "You're not losing me," she said softly.

A smile played on his lips, and he removed his arm from her grip to put it around her shoulders. "Thank heavens for that."

There were no customers in the Tinker's shop as they entered. The place seemed much darker than it had the first time Trinket visited. Without the sun filtering through the grimy windows, the copper flooring and various gears lining the walls were dull and flat.

The Tinker was at his workbench that doubled as a counter, working on some strange device. When he heard the bell at the front door, he glanced up, the magnifying goggles he was wearing making his eyes look far larger than they actually were. Sliding them onto his head, he flashed the three of them a smile.

"Larkin. Fancy seeing you here," he said. His eyes flickered to Trinket and Daphne, and he began to twist his thin mustache. "And with such beautiful ladies. Good day, my lovelies."

His wandering gaze made Trinket's skin crawl, but she ignored him as she followed after Booker. "No time to chat, my good sir. I'm in a bit of a rush today," Booker said, picking gears off the walls in a hurry.

"Building something to catch that vampire, I assume?"

Booker's eye twitched, but he politely replied, "What makes you think that?"

"Well, you're Booker Larkin. You can't pass up the chance to catch and study the bizarre and grotesque."

Collecting the last of his gears, Booker approached the counter and forced a smile. "Well, you're certainly right about that."

The Tinker's face lit up. "I've been designing some tools of my own. Take a gander at this."

Despite Booker's obvious disinterest, the Tinker fetched a device from a shelf behind the counter. It looked like a fumigator, but instead of a can of poison, it had a clear beaker filled with a cloudy liquid attached to it.

"What is it exactly?" asked Booker, tilting his head as he looked over the device.

"I remade an old poison sprayer so that it has a continuous spray. That way, it doesn't need to be pumped."

"So you're going to poison the vampire?"

"In a way. See, I filled this here beaker up with garlic water. Folks can just walk around spraying a cloud of garlic mist around themselves to ward off any bloodsuckers."

Again, Booker's eye twitched. "To ward off vampires?"

The Tinker beamed, clearly proud of his creation. "Clever, isn't it?"

"Have people actually purchased this?"

"I've been out demonstrating how it works and sold at least three. Folks are desperate to keep from becoming the second victim of this nightwalker."

"Third," Booker corrected him. "And I wouldn't call it a nightwalker seeing as it's attacked people in broad daylight."

The Tinker shrugged. "Doesn't really matter to me. All I know is this is great for business. Fear can bring in fantastic revenue."

Daphne twisted her face up in disgust and glanced at Trinket who simply raised her eyebrows and sighed.

"Yes, well, as I said, I'm in a rush," Booker said, pulling out the money for his purchase. "But best of luck with all of that. We'll see how long it lasts."

"That confident you'll catch it?" the Tinker asked as he passed Booker his sack of gears and opened the register to stash the coins.

"No, just intelligent enough to realize science always has an explanation. Good day, sir."

Booker turned on his heel, and Trinket and Daphne followed behind, leaving the Tinker to his ridiculous devices.

As Trinket caught up with Booker, he turned to her and rolled his eyes. "Like I said before, if there was another tinker around, I wouldn't even bother with that moron. Anyhow, let's hurry home. I have a snake-catcher to construct."