The storm continued throughout the day and into the evening. After hours of Booker restlessly pacing the house and Trinket doing everything she could think of to distract him, it came to an end a little after ten at night. They were out the door in seconds, map and sleeping gun in hand.

"I thought we were just tracking it," Trinket said, eyeing Booker's weapon suspiciously.

"We are, but if the opportunity arises to capture the beast, I'd be a fool not to take it."

The city was a glittering dream. With a soft blanket of white snow covering the sewage-filled streets and collapsing roofs, the slums looked almost pretty. There wasn't a footprint or carriage track to mar the perfect landscape.

A dreamy sigh escaped her lips as she gazed at the sparkling scene. Booker cocked an eyebrow. "You're not going to start waxing poetic, are you?" he asked.

"No, I'm not the poetic type. But it is beautiful, isn't it?"

He looked about the street, his brow furrowed. "I suppose, though I personally don't much like it considering all the time it wasted."

"It makes everything look far more magical."

"I thought you weren't poetic?"

"Are you always so pragmatic?"

"I'm surprised you're so enamored of the blasted stuff. I mean, you did almost freeze to death in the middle of a snowstorm."

She shrugged and pulled her coat tighter about herself. "I know it can be dangerous and inconvenient, but that doesn't stop it from being beautiful."

A crooked smile tugged at Booker's lips. "I daresay some of the most dangerous things in this world are amongst the most beautiful."

There was a glimmer in his eye as his grin softened, and her heart skittered unexpectedly. Clearing her throat, she averted her gaze and focused on the snow-covered road ahead. "So where to first?" she asked.

He handed her the map and pointed to a cluster of X's marking recent sightings. "Let's start in the center. Seems to be where most of the encounters have taken place."

As they trudged through the streets, the city slowly came to life. With the storm no longer a threat, urchins emerged from the alleys, scooping up handfuls of snow and pelting their mates with it whilst dodging attacks from others. Men and women stumbled over snowdrifts on their way to the Clocktower, cussing and complaining about the storm as night flowers braved the ice and cold in search of work.

"Booker, darling!"

A figure waved from the Clocktower, and as Trinket and Booker drew closer, they recognized the stranger as Grace. Her fiery gaze was intently set on Booker, only flickering momentarily to Trinket before returning to him.

"Grace, how are you faring this fine evening?" Booker asked, stopping at a safe distance from the night flower.

She flashed a suggestive smile. "I could use a bit of warming up after that storm."

"I'm sure you have a queue of gentlemen waiting to partake of your services."

"Yes, but I'd gladly let you cut in line."

"I'm afraid I'm out on an important errand tonight but thank you all the same."

Lifting her nose in the air, Grace tossed her hair and said, "Well then, maybe you're too busy for the information I have."

Booker's eyes lit up. "Already? My, you work fast."

"Are you suggesting something?"

"No, not at all. I'm certain your performance is superb."

Raising an eyebrow, she retrieved a slip of paper from her cleavage and brushed it teasingly against Booker's cheek. "This was all I could get out of him. I hope it will suffice."

He plucked it from her fingers and gave a rigid smile. "Excellent. And this, my dear, is for you."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small pouch.

"You already paid me, Booker dear," Grace said, her lustful gaze now glued to the parcel in his hand.

"This is not for the service but your silence. Considering the subject matter, I think prudence is best."

Her eyes snapped back to him, and a sly grin spread over her face. "My silence is pricier than anything in that bag of yours," she said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger innocently.

He hesitated. "What's your cost?"

With three quick steps, she closed the distance between them, effectively pushing Trinket out of the way. Booker stumbled back, but Grace followed, her body pressed up against his. "Oh, just a little something more," she cooed.

"Grace—"

She held a finger up to his lips, shushing him softly. "You talk too much, you know."

Snaking her hand around his neck, she drew him in closer, her mouth only inches from his own. "I'm rather fond of just talking," Booker said, attempting to pull away.

Her grip on him tightened. "Perhaps that's because you haven't experienced the alternative."

Trinket's body flushed with heat at the woman's not-so-subtle suggestion. Clearing her throat, she took a step forward. "Excuse me," she said.

Grace's sultry façade fell, and she turned to her with more than a little annoyance. "Ah. Right. The assistant."

Not wasting a moment, Booker slipped away from Grace and linked his arm with Trinket's. "Yes, my assistant. As I said before, we're out on an important errand and really have no time to spare."

"Fine, fine, spoil all my fun," Grace sighed. She raised her eyebrows at Trinket, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Hope you kept him nice and warm last night. Wouldn't want our favorite doctor catching cold in his lonely bed, would we?"

Trinket's cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she refused to react. The night flower's smile faltered, and she almost looked disappointed.

"Goodnight, Grace," Booker said, tossing the small pouch to her.

She caught it effortlessly with one hand and tucked it into her bodice. "Enjoy your evening," she said, turning on her heel and heading into the Clocktower.

Letting out a long breath, Booker glanced down at the paper Grace had given him and then over at Trinket. "I hope you appreciate the things I do for you," he said.

He steered her away from the alehouse and unfolded the paper as they walked. "For me?" she repeated. "How do I have anything to do with her?"

"I asked her to get the dirt on your ape friend."

She missed a step and nearly tripped over her own feet. The Ape Man? "You did?" she said, catching up to him. "Why?"

"You seemed awfully concerned about him being here. I thought it might set your mind at ease." His eyes darted to her, and he frowned at her disbelief. "I can't have my assistant distracted. It will result in subpar work."

Smothering a smile, she nodded somberly. "Of course. And I do greatly appreciate your efforts. But I have to ask."

"Yes?"

"If Grace makes you so uncomfortable, why did you go to her for help?"

His eye twitched slightly, but he pulled himself up straight and cleared his throat. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Whenever she comes close to you, every muscle in your body goes tense, like you're preparing to flee."

"I highly doubt it's every muscle."

"Surely there are other people you could have gone to."

Lowering the paper, he heaved a sigh. "Are you really that uninterested in this information I worked so hard to get?"

She bit her lip. Though still curious about why Booker was nervous around Grace, her desire to know just what was keeping the Ape Man in Tinkerfall won out. "Sorry. What does it say?"

He turned his gaze back to the paper. "Apparently, your friend now goes by the name Squeeze. Joined the Mice about two weeks ago. Left his flourishing medical practice to seek a greater fortune."

She scoffed. A flourishing medical practice? Really? What a pathetic liar.

"Doesn't seem to know anything about the woman the Mice claim to have killed with the Wolf," Booker went on. "Though he did describe in great, gory detail the night they sicced the beast on her."

She furrowed her brow. Did he not realize the Wolf's victim had been the Lipstick Woman? Or was he playing dumb on purpose? No, that wasn't likely. He wasn't clever enough to know how to play dumb.

"Overall, he seems rather content with his new lot in life." Booker tucked the paper into his pocket. "I doubt he's looking for an opportunity to get his old job back."

An icy chill rushed through her veins. Perhaps he didn't want his former position back, but revenge on the person who had caused him to lose it in the first place? That seemed much more to his taste.

"So, does this give you even the slightest peace of mind?" Booker asked.

She looked up at him and nearly smiled at his earnest expression. While she wasn't convinced that the Ape Man wouldn't attempt to inflict some sort of harm on her, it brought her great comfort to know that Booker was concerned enough about her well-being to go to such efforts. Even if he did try to pretend it was only to keep her from shirking her work.

Nodding emphatically, she replied, "Yes, it does. Thank you, Booker."

"Good. Well, now that that's taken care of, come along. We have a wolf to track."

They hit every location on the map, wandering through the city center, the market, even the suburbs. But they saw neither hide nor hair of the Wolf. The snow became far less charming and beautiful as the night wore on, no longer pure and white but muddy and brown.

The clock chimed midnight on their third loop around the Clocktower. Trinket was more than ready to return home, but Booker didn't seem willing to accept defeat.

"It's not Grace that makes me nervous."

She pulled her thoughts away from images of her warm bed to focus on Booker. "Pardon?"

He stopped outside the entrance of an alley and leaned against the wall. "It's not Grace that makes me nervous," he repeated.

"Oh. I—"

"Well, not exactly."

Sighing, he tilted his head back and stared up at the sky. Trinket stood opposite him, her arms wrapped around herself to stave off the chill.

"I just . . . I mean . . ." He set his jaw and closed his eyes. "There are lines even I won't cross."

Her heart warmed at the vulnerable way in which he admitted this. "Well, I—"

"At least not again."

She snapped her mouth shut. Again?

"I have no qualms about using people to get what I want," he went on, keeping his attention on the sky. "But when it comes to . . . intimacy . . . I just . . . I refuse to use that for my own personal gain. Again."

There was a long silence. Did he want her to ask what he meant by "again"? Was he waiting for her to broach the subject? Was that something she even wanted to know?

He let out another sigh and met her eyes. "See, there was this girl. When I was younger."

She held her breath, not certain if she was ready for this sort of confession. What awful thing had he done in his past? Would she be able to look at him the same way when she found out?

"We grew up together. In the orphanage. She was not subtle in her pursuit of me. And though I wasn't interested in any kind of romantic relationship with her, I did eventually begin a . . . physical . . . relationship. With her."

Heat crawled up Trinket's neck, and she prayed her cheeks weren't as red as they felt.

Seeming equally uncomfortable, Booker fidgeted with the hem of his coat. "I did make it clear that I had no feelings for her. She claimed she didn't care. But all the same, I was never convinced I was doing the right thing."

He released his coat and tentatively met her gaze.

"There is very little that I regret in my life, Trinket. I've done many morally reprehensible things. But using her to satisfy my own needs in such a way is something I wish I could take back. It wasn't right. For either of us."

She swallowed and gripped her skirts, waiting for more.

"I won't let it happen again. And that's why I won't pay Grace in anything other than euphoria."

Furrowing her brow, she repeated, "Euphoria?"

"Opium. Her drug of choice."

"Oh. I see."

He cocked his head, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. "Don't tell me you're so against drugs that you'd rather I pay her in carnal pleasures?

"You can pay your informants in whichever way you choose, Mr. Larkin." A soft smile pulled at her lips. "I'm relieved to hear that you draw the line somewhere when it comes to your shady dealings. Although, I am a tad disappointed you're not just afraid of night flowers. It would've been quite amusing for you to have had such a weakness."

Grinning teasingly, he hooked his arm with hers, and they proceeded down the road. "Well, between you and me, Grace does scare me a little. I think she could easily rip a man apart."

"I have no doubt. In fact, with the way she was looking at me earlier, I was afraid she might tear me to pieces."

He chuckled and gave her arm a squeeze. "I could always put you back together. That is, after all, what I do."

The snow crunched up ahead.

They froze. Waited a beat. Then exchanged a hopeful glance.

Treading softly, they moved several steps forward, searching for the source of the sound. But there was nothing. Not a single soul.

Had it been in her head? No, Booker had heard it, too. It had to be real.

Another crunch.

She took a sharp breath, seeing something move in the distance. Something large. Something on all fours.

Gripping her hand, Booker inched closer. She matched his slow, careful movements, her heart leaping into her throat when she found splatters of red in the snow.

And then there it was. In the low light of the gaslamps. A glint of metal.

Teeth.

Metal teeth.

Stained with blood.