Trinket was exhausted by the time they returned home, but she was too jittery to go to bed. The shock and relief of seeing her torturer dead had set off her nerves and hallucinations. Mice scurried through the kitchen, and bees poured from the spout of the cooling kettle on the stove.

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead—

She closed her eyes and gripped the kitchen table. Her fingers slipped on something thick and warm coating the wood.

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead—

The smell of iron filled her senses and sent her pulse racing.

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead—

"What in the world did you do to that tea?"

Her eyes shot open, and she found Booker standing beside her, furrowing his brow at the cup of tea in front of her.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's green."

A soft smile pulled at her lips as she lifted the cup to her nose and let the slightly bitter scent replace that of the phantom blood. "Well, it should be, seeing as it's green tea."

"And you enjoy it?"

"Yes. It's both refreshing and calming."

He raised his eyebrows doubtfully. "May I?"

She passed him the cup, and he sniffed at it suspiciously before taking a sip. His face scrunched up as he swallowed and handed the cup back.

"It's an acquired taste, I suppose," she said.

He stuck out his tongue. "If you can call that taste at all."

"You're one to talk about taste."

"I'll stick to my black tea, thank you very much. Anyhow, aren't you tired?"

She shrugged. "Yes, but I don't think I can sleep just yet."

"In that case, would you care to help me with some research?"

"What kind of research?"

"Wolf related, of course."

"Of course. What else was I expecting?"

"So will you assist me?"

"Well, I suppose I am your assistant, so assist I must. Shall I make you a cup of tea first?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you. Meet me in the library."

He went to leave, but she stepped towards him and repeated, "The library?"

Turning on his heel to face her, he wrinkled his brow. "Yes, the library. Did I not show you the library when you moved in?"

She shook her head.

"Ah, I apologize for overlooking that little detail. The library. It's next to your room. The door is closed but not locked. Just come right in. I'll be waiting."

With that, he again turned to leave, and she set about making up more tea. Unexpected excitement hummed through her body. What would a library owned by an eccentric doctor be like?

~

Several minutes later, she made her way upstairs to join her employer. The door to the library had been left ajar, so she bumped it with her hip, her hands full with the tray of tea. As it creaked open, she got her first look at the mystery room.

It was indeed a library. A very impressive library. Never had she seen so many books in one place. The shelves reached from the floor to the top of the high ceiling, and every one was filled. The entire room almost seemed to be made of bookshelves, although there were a few bare areas with wallpaper the same color as the parlour. There was even a ladder set on wheels that allowed access to the highest shelves.

In addition to books, the room was furnished with various scholarly accoutrements. There was a large globe in one corner, a writing desk in another, and in the center, a long table scattered with a number of leather-bound books. That's where Booker was seated. He was already bent over what appeared to be a newspaper, perhaps one from the stack beside him.

She placed the tray on the table and gazed about the room in wonder. "How long did it take you to collect this many books?"

He looked up and followed her gaze, as if he hadn't noticed how large his collection was. "I've been collecting them since I was a child."

"It's amazing."

"I am a firm believer that one should have at one's disposal information on every subject known to mankind. You can never be sure when you're going to need to know about the mating habits of the iridescent earwig."

"Oh, yes, earwigs. Of course."

He smiled. "I'll admit that has yet to come up, but maybe someday." He pushed a nearby chair out with his foot, edging it towards her. "Sit."

"Why are you looking through newspapers?" she asked, and then noticed that the paper he was scanning was from two years ago. "Old newspapers at that."

"I'm searching for information on the man who cared for the wolf that went missing, the one that belonged to the Baron."

"Why the caretaker and not the Baron?"

"The Baron is useless. He knows nothing of the creature, only that it made him popular. And he was more than reluctant to give me any information that he may have had, including the name of the caretaker."

"You spoke to him?"

"Yes, I went to Broadfall a while ago."

Her heart skipped a beat as panic flooded her veins. Broadfall? He'd been to Broadfall? Her Broadfall?

"All the way to Broadfall?" she managed to say, her voice cracking slightly.

His muscles seemed to tense as he cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. I went after Gin gave me that newspaper article. The Baron was a wretched man. Refused to speak with me on the subject and dared to call me a scoundrel."

"It's a shame you made the long trip there for nothing."

"Well, it wasn't all for naught." His eyes darted to her then back to the paper. "I did find out from one of the locals that the caretaker's name was Ignatius. However, they either couldn't or wouldn't provide me with a surname."

"And he no longer lives in Broadfall?" she asked, the name still heavy on her tongue.

"No, it seems the Baron immediately fired him when his precious wolf went missing. The man disappeared, and no one is quite sure where he went."

"He had no family?"

"None in Broadfall. He was a foreigner. According to the locals, he was tall, large, hairy, and spoke with a funny accent. But he was good with the animals, especially that wolf. Said they often heard him talking in his mother tongue to the creatures in the menagerie."

"So you're hoping if you can find this Ignatius, he may be able to give you some tips on how to catch the Wolf?"

Booker nodded. "Yes, but since the townspeople couldn't help me and the Baron was being an obnoxious mule, I thought that if I looked through some of the local papers, I might find mention of him."

She glanced at the tall stack of newspapers. "Where did you get all of these?"

"I spoke with a few of the urchins in Broadfall and struck a deal with them. They collected as many as they could and got them to me. I only just received the last few the other day, but I've been so busy with moonstruck libertines that I haven't gotten a chance to look at them."

She pulled one of the papers towards herself and began to scan the front page. "So we're looking for any mention of the Baron or the Wolf or Ignatius?"

"Yes. I'm afraid I've no simpler way of going about it but to go through them all." His eyes flickered to her. "Are you all right to help? I understand if you're too tired. I have been keeping you rather busy as of late."

"Well, it is a part of my job, after all. Besides, I have my delectable green tea to keep me awake."

She grinned as he wrinkled his nose and pulled the cup of black tea towards himself. "Lovely."

The first paper mentioned nothing of the Baron or the Wolf or the caretaker. Unfortunately, her reading speed was agonizingly slow compared to Booker's. He'd gone through three papers by the time she was halfway through her second.

It didn't take long for exhaustion to take its toll on her. An ache grew behind her eyes, and the words on the paper started to blur. She blinked hard in an effort to wake herself, but that only caused the printed letters to turn into tiny beetles that swarmed about the page.

She stole a glance at Booker. His concentration was just as intense as it was down in the laboratory. She looked at the vast collection of books around her. How many of them were on the subjects of medicine and clockwork? Had he read them all? How many hours had he studied to become as proficient as he was in his profession?

His dedication was something to admire. Perhaps his interests were far from usual, but he certainly gave his all when it came to his work. And his passion was quite contagious. When she was with him, she couldn't resist getting swept away in his excitement.

Booker shifted slightly, and she quickly returned to flipping through her newspaper.

By her fourth paper, her eyelids began to grow heavy. With a shake of her head, she continued to search the articles for any clues. She had seen mention of the Baron several times, but it was only about his financial accomplishments. There was nothing about the Wolf or Ignatius.

"Are you much of a reader?"

Booker's voice jerked her awake. "Pardon?"

"Do you read?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, I'm certainly not pretending to peruse these articles."

He grinned. "I was simply inquiring about whether or not you indulge in the written word. If so, I would be remiss not to offer you access to my library whenever you'd like."

"I confess that I've never read much more than my lessons."

Booker took a sip of his now-cold tea. "That's too bad."

"Is it?"

"Indeed. I could not imagine a life without reading. Books were my only friends as a child. I read every one I could get my hands on. And believe me, there were a lot to get my hands on."

She tilted her head. "At the orphanage?"

"Before the orphanage. My mother's beau had an impressive collection. He didn't much like me, so he encouraged me to disappear into the library away from him and my mother. That's where I fell in love with books of every sort."

"I see."

"And then in the orphanage, I found a friend who shared my passion for knowledge. The lucky chap had had an even grander childhood library than I did. Shame we had to leave them behind."

His eyes were unfocused and distant as he stared down at the newspaper in front of him. Was this the friend he was convinced had set the Wolf loose? His rival? Who was he? Was he really the creator of the beast? Had he actually sent it out to catch Booker's attention?

"But I lucked out in the end," Booker said, snapping out of his daze. He gestured to his collection of books. "My current library dwarfs the one my mother's lover had, and I appreciate it far more than he ever did his."

She smiled. "A happy ending, then."

He gave a soft laugh and returned to his paper. She watched him for a moment longer before turning back to her own newspaper. Beetles continued to swarm the pages, and the words blurred beyond recognition. All the same, she forced herself to concentrate. Eventually, though, her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open.

Maybe if she closed them for a second. Just to rest for a little while.

Only for a second.