For fear that Daphne would walk in to find her curled up in a pathetic ball by the front door, Trinket retreated to her room where she spent the night haunted by flashbacks and hallucinations. Voices whispered unintelligibly into her ear, every mumbled word filled with venom and malice. Spiders climbed the walls, and roaches scuttled across the floor, some even finding their way into her bed.

And all the while, her mind replayed conversations from Elysium. Conversations she'd had with Tory. The hushed words they would exchange while washing the grimy floors of the asylum or cooking the watery gruel they ate day and night. Words about the torture they faced from the orderlies. About their lives before Elysium. About the family and friends they would never see again.

It was a long and sleepless night.

When morning came at last, the hallucinations were no better. Roaches still roamed the room, and persistent moths fluttered their wings in her face. She rose from the bed and shuffled over to the window where she was greeted by dark storm clouds and sheets of rain pelting the glass. Hopefully Tory was somewhere safe and dry. Was she plagued by the same nightmares of Elysium? Had she experienced a similar sleepless night?

Trinket leaned her head against the windowpane and closed her eyes. She needed to tell Booker about Tory. Now that it was very clear her old friend was the vampire, she had to tell him. This was exactly the break he'd been looking for. Tory could lead him to Benedict.

Yes, she had to tell him. Today.

Ignoring the spiders spinning webs in her wardrobe, she pulled out a dress and brushed off a cockroach that had lost its brethren. She pinned up her braid, shook the mice out of her boots, and then took one last look at her pest infested room. With a trembling breath, she closed her eyes and made her way into the hallway.

There were significantly fewer hallucinations in the rest of the house. A cat sat at the end of the stairs and hissed at her as she passed by, but she avoided its imaginary claws. However, its displeased growls followed her into the kitchen.

Daphne was already cooking breakfast, and she greeted Trinket with a bright smile.

"Good morning," Trinket said, placing the kettle on the stove. "Lovely day, no?"

Scrunching up her face, Daphne cracked an egg into a bowl and tossed the shell away.

"Have you seen Mr. Larkin?"

Daphne shook her head and took up a whisk to beat the eggs into a light froth.

"Do you know what time he got in last night?"

Adding some cheese to the bowl, Daphne shrugged.

Trinket's chest tightened as her heart began to race. "Did he come home at all?"

Again, Daphne shrugged, a line forming between her eyebrows as she tilted her head to the side.

Trinket felt a pit in her stomach as she imagined all of the horrible things that might have happened to him. Had the Mice found him? Had they beat him and left him bleeding in the street? Or worse, had they taken him captive? Oh, why had she let him go off on his own like that?

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.

With her heart in her throat, she moved to race out the door and practically crashed into someone coming into the kitchen. "Lord, I hope you're not running because of a fire," Booker said, his gentle hands on her shoulders as he kept her from toppling over. "Although I see that Daphne is doing the cooking this morning, so I think we should be safe."

He flashed Trinket a teasing smile, and she let out a relieved breath at seeing him alive and unharmed. "Are you just getting in now?" she asked as she stepped aside to let him into the kitchen.

"No, I came home late last night. Or rather early this morning. Whatever time it was, it was dark and I could barely see straight. This whole needing to sleep thing is very inconvenient."

The kettle began to whistle, and Trinket rushed over to remove it from the stove. "Welcome to the human race, Mr. Larkin."

Booker slipped past Daphne to fetch some tea from the dresser, knocking into her and splattering a bit of beaten egg onto her apron. "Oh, sorry, my dear."

Daphne heaved a sigh and poured the eggs into the pan on the stove.

"I personally believe that with enough research, we can eliminate the unnecessary need for sleep," Booker continued, again crashing into Daphne as they both went to retrieve utensils from the dresser.

The patient woman handed him the tea things and returned to the stove.

"Unnecessary?" Trinket repeated, taking the teacups from Booker and setting strainers over them. "How can you think sleep is unnecessary?"

He grinned and scooped out the tea leaves. "Because it gets in the way of the things I want to do."

She shook her head but couldn't keep an amused smile from her face. Booker went to return the tea to the dresser and once more collided with Daphne. Letting out something between a groan and a sigh, she grabbed Booker by his sleeve and dragged him to the dining-room door.

"What? No, Daphne, I'm sorry," he protested. "I was only trying to help."

But she would have none of it. She threw open the door and pushed him out of the kitchen.

"At least don't deprive me of my assistant," he pleaded.

She heaved another strangled sigh and stormed over to Trinket.

"Wait, how am I in trouble?" Trinket asked as Daphne steered her into the dining room.

Holding her hands up, Daphne commanded them to stay put and went back to the kitchen.

"I'll remind you I was the maid here first," Trinket called after her as the door shut.

It opened a moment later as Daphne returned with the tea. She set it on the table with a loud clunk and shot both of them warning glances before heading back to the kitchen.

"Grace was right," Booker said as he took a seat. "I do have bossy help."

Trinket sat across from him. "Well, someone needs to keep you in line."

"I hope you were able to catch up on your sleep."

She swallowed down a knot of guilt. "I went to bed as soon as I got home."

"Just as well you didn't join me at the apartment." He handed her a cup. "I learned nothing except that a number of night flowers conduct their business in a nearby alley. Not something I wanted to hear."

She stirred some honey into her tea. "So, no sign of the girl?"

"No, nothing. I feel like we're stuck. I hate to be morbid, but a dead body might really help us out right now."

Tory. She needed to tell him about Tory. But for some reason, she couldn't get her lips to move.

Go ahead.

Tell him.

Tell him who you used to be.

Who you still are.

"I mean, I probably wouldn't find out anything new, but you never know," Booker said as he sipped his tea.

Her tongue struggled with the words like they were thick molasses. Why couldn't she tell him? This was important. He needed to know. Just tell him.

Do it.

Do it and see the way he looks at you.

Do it and ruin everything.

"But if we're stuck, I can only assume Scales is as well, so there's always that."

He'll see you for what you really are.

And then he'll never look at you with that warm affection ever again.

She clenched her teeth. No. She couldn't do it. The truth was caught in her throat. He couldn't know. He couldn't know that she was connected to Tory. It would ruin everything.

It would ruin them.

Ashamed of her?

Pathetic.

Some friend you are.

"Scales is grasping at straws as far as I can tell," she said, sipping her tea and ignoring the voices. "All he knows is that this vampire is connected to the same person who created the Wolf and the corpses."

"His interest in Benedict is concerning," Booker said.

"But I thought you were sure that Benedict wouldn't join forces with him."

"Not voluntarily he wouldn't."

"Is Benedict easily intimidated?"

"No. But he is human. And as humans, we all have our weaknesses." His eyes flitted to her, holding her gaze for a brief moment before adding, "We all have that one thing for which we would sacrifice everything."

There it was. That look she couldn't bear to lose. This was why she couldn't tell him.

Her pulse pounding in her ears, she asked, "And what would Benedict's weakness be?"

Letting his gaze linger for just a little longer, Booker finally turned back to his tea and shrugged. "I have no idea. But I'm certain he has one. I only hope that Scales does not become privy to it."

Daphne entered with the food, setting a plate in front of each of them before sitting at the table herself. She raised her eyebrows at them both as she let out a long breath.

"Are we forgiven for our intrusion?" Booker asked.

Lifting her fork, Daphne waved him away and proceeded to stuff a large helping of eggs into her mouth.

"Anyhow, I think I'll head out again today and try to see if I can't find anything new," Booker said to Trinket as he took a bite of toast. "Would you care to join me?"

She hesitated to answer. Even if she was afraid of Booker finding out her connection to Tory, she still wanted to find her. To help her. But she didn't want to find her with Booker. That would require too much explanation. However, sneaking out at night on her own didn't seem like the wisest decision either, what with Mice and disgruntled orderlies wandering the streets. Maybe if they did find Tory, she could lose Booker and talk to her on her own.

Lying to the man you love.

Class act.

"Of course," she replied with a tight smile. "I am your assistant, after all."

He gave her a warm smile that made her stomach clench as the guilt ate away at her. "Very good. Perhaps we can head out after breakfast?" he asked.

"Well, there is cleaning to—"

Daphne cleared her throat, drawing Trinket's attention to her. She slowly shook her head and crossed her hands into an X before returning to her food.

Booker chuckled. "Something tells me we've been getting in Daphne's way."

"Daphne, I can't let you do all the housework. It's not fair to you."

Shaking her head, Daphne waved her objections away and continued eating.

Turning back to Trinket, Booker raised his eyebrows. "So? Shall we take a walk after our morning meal?"

She smiled uncertainly and nodded. "Sounds lovely."

~

The rain was coming down in buckets as she and Booker huddled under a new umbrella he had purchased to replace the one she'd lost. It certainly wasn't the best day to be promenading about the center, but Booker clearly needed to occupy himself. Even if it meant trudging through ankle-deep mud puddles.

As they made their way to the mystery girl's apartment building, Trinket searched the crowds for Tory. Not that she knew what she would do if she found her. Still, she couldn't keep her eyes from catching on every blonde head that crossed their path.

"All of this vampire paraphernalia is disgusting," Booker mumbled as they passed a shop door with a garlic-lined mirror nailed to it. "The charlatans selling this junk must be laughing it up."

"How does a mirror ward off a vampire?" she asked, looking back at the odd decor.

"Vampires don't cast a reflection, and they hate to be reminded of that, so having a mirror around keeps them away. Or so the legends claim."

She turned back to him, one eyebrow raised. "For someone who thinks all of this folklore is ridiculous, you sure know a lot about it."

"One should be well read on all sorts of subjects, even the laughable ones." He hesitated and then added, "And I must admit to having recently read up on the myths."

A playful smile spread over her face. "Oh, really? Wasting precious time on fairy tales, Mr. Larkin?"

"In the face of stupidity, it's wise to be armed with knowledge."

"Are you two ducks or something?"

Coming to a stop, she and Booker turned to find Gin leaning against a lamppost, rainwater gathering on the rim of her bowler hat and dripping down the sides.

"Ducks?" Booker repeated.

"Only ducks would be crazy enough to be strolling about in this weather."

"Gin, you're going to catch a cold. Get under here," Trinket said, motioning for the urchin to join them under the umbrella.

Though she rolled her eyes, Gin complied and squeezed in between the two of them as they continued on down the street. "What are you up to, anyhow? Haven't heard about any other bodies since that shopgirl."

"No, neither have we," Booker said. "We're just combing the streets in hopes of finding anything that might be useful."

"Sounds like you're getting desperate," Gin said.

Booker let out a sigh. "A tad, yes."

Gin turned her gaze to Trinket. "Uh-oh. You'd better do something to keep him busy before he gets bored and finds trouble. Or makes it."

Trinket raised her eyebrows as Booker scoffed. "Please, I'm not some child who needs to be entertained," he said.

"There's a game night coming up," Gin said. "Maybe you could find something new there?"

"Perhaps, though I hate the idea of being crammed into a tiny room with people who have been practically bathing in garlic."

Something moved in the corner of Trinket's vision.

Her step faltered for a moment as she searched for what it was. She could have sworn she'd seen a flash of blonde. Was it Tory? Even if it was, what could she do about it? Though Booker and Gin were wrapped up in their own conversation, they would surely notice if she suddenly disappeared.

What she needed was a distraction.

As if someone had read her thoughts, a scream pierced the air, bringing the three of them to a sudden halt.

"Think it was the vampire?" Gin asked.

"Only one way to find out," Booker said, racing towards the commotion with Trinket and Gin close behind.

A crowd had gathered outside of the coffee house, but it was impossible to see what had attracted it. However, there were plenty of terrified whispers about blood and vampires. Booker began to elbow his way to the front when someone dashed out of the building and caught sight of him.

"Oh, thank heavens, a doctor," said the man as he rushed forward and grabbed hold of Booker's arm. "I think we have another vampire victim in here."

The man pulled Booker along with him, and as Trinket moved to follow, she saw a familiar face in the crowd. Wide-eyed and pale, she somehow stood out from the rest of the panicked onlookers. It wasn't just fear in her expression. There was a deeper understanding in her eyes.

And guilt.

Slipping away from Booker, Trinket hurried through the crowd to reach the girl, but before she could get to her, the frightened young woman had vanished. Trinket wove her way around the whispering bystanders until she was away from the chaotic scene. Clutching her shawl, she looked about, hoping to find some trace of where the girl had gone.

There. Footprints in the mud. They were shallow, quickly filling up with water as they disappeared down the street.

Glancing over her shoulder, she found that both Booker and Gin had gone into the coffee house. There was no time to tell them of her plan. Besides, if she failed to find the girl with the ash-blonde hair, she would have the perfect opportunity to search for Tory.

Without another thought, she followed the footprints, scanning every alley and shadow she passed. She was still tired from her restless night, and shadowy figures kept distracting her. But she was determined to concentrate.

Blonde.

Ash-blonde.

Wild eyes.

Guilt-ridden eyes.

"Victoria?"

A soft voice carried through the rain, catching her attention. She stopped and strained to listen. From which direction had it come? Had it been an actual person? Or was her exhausted mind playing tricks on her?

"Victoria? Victoria, please. It's me, Theo."

She moved towards the voice, blinking against the rain as it steadily grew heavier.

"Victoria, I beg of you, let me help. I'm sorry about Omer. I promise I won't tell the police. Just please, let me help you."

The ash-blonde girl was peeking her head into an alley, calling out to the shadows.

"Miss?"

She jumped when Trinket spoke, stumbling into the alley as she turned to face her. Her nervous eyes wandered back and forth, taking in every inch of Trinket before daring to meet her gaze.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," Trinket said.

Shaking her head, the girl replied, "No, no, you just took me by surprise."

"Are you looking for someone?"

A moment of hesitation. "My cat."

Trinket started. "Your cat?"

The girl nodded emphatically. "Yes. She got out this morning, and I'm afraid she'll catch a cold in this weather."

"Your cat is named Victoria?"

Again, she nodded.

"And it's fearful of the police? So much so that you need to promise it you won't tell them about it?"

The girl's face dropped. "I don't know what you're talking about. Why would a cat be afraid of the police?"

Biting her lower lip, Trinket took a step towards her, which caused the frightened young woman to shrink back. "I mean no harm, miss," Trinket reassured her. "Theo, I believe?"

She took in the young woman before her. Average height, average weight, medium-length hair, light brown eyes. She was perhaps the same age as her, give or take a year. But her trembling limbs and timid demeanor made her seem so much younger.

"I think I may know who you're looking for, Theo," Trinket said softly. "And I'm looking for her, as well."

Theo shook her head. "I told you, I'm looking for my cat."

"Yes, a cat with a rather mean bite."

The young woman's eyes widened all the more so. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Trinket took another step towards her, spreading her hands out pleadingly. "Please, I mean neither you nor Victoria any harm. I just want to help."

"You."

A gruff voice startled them both, and Trinket turned to find Squeeze towering over her.