Ghostly Echoes (Jackaby #3)(24)

“Her parents were so happy. They took us to the fair and allowed themselves to pretend that everything was better. Eleanor kept up her charade for nearly a month, pretending to be normal for parents who would lock her away for telling them the truth. But then the stranger came.

“He told her that she was in danger, that he was part of a society that was interested in her gifts. He told her there were others who would want to take her away, and that they had found her. He told her that her family was in great peril. Eleanor’s mother returned home and saw the stranger talking to Eleanor. She chased the man away, threatening to call the police.

“When the clouds boiled red the next day, Eleanor saw death in the sky and she let it out, all of it. She traced the house with salt, said every incantation she could find, hung makeshift wards of chicken bones and twine around the property. It was every protection we had collected in our little cigar boxes and more. She was so afraid, my poor, sweet Eleanor. She only wanted to protect them, to keep them safe. She did everything she could.

“They saw it as a terrible relapse, of course. Eleanor knew that they were going to send her back, so she hid. She pulled me into the neighbor’s run-down shed and begged me to stay with her. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid. We should have run. We should have run away and never stopped running. I should have kept her safe, but I was a stupid, frightened little boy, and I did nothing. I told her to think how it would look if they found us. She scowled and told me I shouldn’t concern myself with how things look to others. Others are generally wrong.”

“That’s what you said to me,” I said, “the first day we met.” My interruption seemed to draw him out of his trance, and he blinked up at me.

“And so you shouldn’t.”

“What happened next, sir? How did you get away?”

Jackaby swallowed. “We didn’t. They came. They took her. It was for her own good, they said. Three months passed, and they finally let me see her again. She was bone-thin and shaking. She barely registered that I was there. She was terrified of those red eyes at the end of the hallway. The long, dark hallway—she kept repeating it. Only there was no hallway. Her room opened into a commons. Nobody understood what she meant. She wouldn’t tell me any more, or she couldn’t. During her fourth month in the asylum”—Jackaby cleared his throat—“she died. There was no medical explanation; she was simply gone.” His eyes were glossy as he stared at the tintype.

“I knew that it had happened before they told me. I knew it before they found her. I didn’t understand it, but I knew. I knew the precise moment her life was snuffed out, because in that same instant a blaze was lit behind my eyes. It was as though I had been stumbling in the darkness my entire life and someone had just flicked on a light. It was precisely as she had described it. All of it. The auras, the images, the fairies, the monsters. I don’t know why the sight chose me. The power has never passed to anyone so close to the previous steward. I like to think it was her will, though—Eleanor’s final gift to a stupid, frightened boy.”

His eyes were rimmed with red. He pushed back his chair and stared mutely at the dossier for several seconds. “Please put it away, Miss Rook.”

I slid the tintype delicately back into its envelope and closed the file. I wound the leather strap around the heavy parcel again and tucked the whole thing back inside the safe. The door clanked shut and I spun the lock. The tumblers clicked to a stop, and this time the door did not budge when I tested it.

“Mr. Jackaby—” I began.

“It’s irrelevant.” He swallowed his emotions and stood up. “There are more pressing matters at hand. I paid a visit to the Mudlark boys on the way home. Ran into them with a group of their young associates. Daniel is the boy who stumbled across Professor Hoole’s body in the sewage runoff. He and his brother, Benjamin, are enterprising boys. They apparently make a tidy living selling what they find to local jewelers or merchants. Quite a lot of worthwhile things find their way down the drain, for those who are willing to sort through the muck to find them.”

“That is both intriguing and nauseating.”

“I think you might have enjoyed meeting them. By the way, I wish you had let me know that you were planning on returning to the house directly rather than following me. I know that you are a capable young woman, but I would prefer you not wander off unescorted.”

“It wasn’t really my choice, sir.”

“All is forgiven. Anyway, the Mudlarks are well established among the assembled youngsters of the area, and there’s apparently a lot of talk recently about strange goings-on.”

“The street gangs are talking about our killer?”

“They’re talking about rats.”

“Rats?”

“And cats and dogs. It seems Hammett is not the only one whose furry friend has gone astray. The city pays for the extermination of rats, did you know? There seems to be a whole sewer-based system of commerce I knew nothing about. They pay by the head, and so several of the young gentlemen in the Mudlark’s company keep traps in convenient, inconspicuous locations. They can count on a fairly regular supply, except the traps keep turning up empty. Nearly started a few heated fights, as I understand, with one rat-catcher accusing the other, but then other animals began disappearing as well, particularly around the fringes of the city. One of the boys lost a spaniel.”