Vow of Deception (The Ministry of Curiosities #9)(21)

"I've heard of them," Lincoln said.

"I haven't." I appealed to the journalist. "What did they do?"

"They investigated the supernatural," Mr. Salter went on. "Anything unexplained, they dug deeper to find answers. Their library containing supernatural texts was extensive, I believe. A private buyer bought the contents. Anyway, the society is no longer, yet I am still investigating rumors of the inexplicable whenever something inexplicable comes across my desk."

"And do many come across your desk?" I asked.

"Very few, I admit."

"So the term werewolf simply occurred to you in the case of this latest mauling?" Lincoln said.

"It did."

"Even though a more obvious answer is the wild dog theory?"

"I question whether a wild dog attacking people in an urban area is more obvious, Mr. Fitzroy."

"Something else led you to the werewolf conclusion. What is it?"

Mr. Salter smiled amiably. "I assure you, I am not privy to any other information. Scotland Yard have not been forthcoming, which implies they know very little. They've already admitted there were no witnesses to either murder. My conclusion of werewolf was simply a guess, based on my interest in the supernatural."

A good guess. Too good perhaps?

"You say you've heard about us," Lincoln went on. "What have you heard?"

"That you are the leader of an organization called the Ministry of Curiosities."

I sucked air between my teeth. I hadn't been expecting him to say that. Lincoln gave nothing away. If he was surprised by Mr. Salter's answer, he didn't show it.

"Go on," Lincoln said, as calmly as can be.

"There's little more to tell. I am aware that the ministry keeps records of supernatural families through the ages, and that you investigate paranormal phenomena from time to time. I am not aware of very many of the particulars, however, just generalizations."

"Is that why you haven't written an article mentioning the ministry?"

Mr. Salter merely smiled.

"Don't believe everything you hear, Mr. Salter."

"If you are trying to convince me that the ministry doesn't exist, you are wasting your breath. I trust my source."

"Who is your source?"

Mr. Salter chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. He seemed quite unconcerned. Clearly his source hadn't told him how dangerous Lincoln could be. "Come now, Mr. Fitzroy. You're smarter than that."

"It doesn't matter if you tell us or not," I said with more confidence than I felt. "We can discover who told you on our own." I stood and Lincoln followed suit.

"Be careful, Mr. Salter," he said. "Don't write anything too speculative in your newspaper or you might reveal too much. There are some people who wish to keep the supernatural a secret and they'll try to silence you."

Mr. Salter shot to his feet and squared his shoulders. "Is that an idle threat?"

"I don't make idle threats. Ask your source. They'll tell you."

"In that case, let me advise you to be careful too, Mr. Fitzroy. If these murders were in fact committed by a wolf-like shifter, and you are found to be harboring one, you might find your ministry coming under intense scrutiny."

Lincoln watched him from beneath hooded lids, that fierce gaze of his never wavering. Tension made his features hard, his body rigid. I hooked my arm through his and steered him toward the door before he created a scene.

We made our way out of The Star's office and climbed back into our waiting coach.

"The nerve of him!" I snapped as we drove off. "He doesn't care about the trouble he's stirring up at all. Imagine if people believe that article. They'll panic if they think there are werewolves roaming the city."

"They will if there's another murder," Lincoln said darkly. "It'll be like the Ripper murders all over again."

"Who do you think told Salter about the ministry? Swinburn? Ballantine?"

"It's possible, but if they also suggested the werewolf theory to Salter then they're putting themselves in danger of being exposed. I can't imagine Swinburn would jeopardize his pack by inviting scrutiny."

"I suppose," I muttered, not entirely convinced. Swinburn was so slippery that I suspected him of everything at the moment. "Lady Harcourt, in revenge?"

"We only removed her from the committee this morning. But if Salter had information about her past then it's possible she exchanged this information for his silence. It wouldn't surprise me. She doesn't want to lose Swinburn."

"It wouldn't surprise me either." I looked out of the window and watched the long shadows of the late afternoon slip past. "There's also Buchanan and any number of people we've met in the past—Lord Harcourt and his wife, Miss Redding from the theater… Sometimes it seems as if the entire world knows about the ministry."

"It hasn't been a priority to keep it a secret. Just your necromancy."

I turned to face him. "Do you think Mr. Salter knows about that?"

His brow creased in thought. "He didn't mention it."

"And he didn't give me odd looks, like most do when they learn what I am." I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I suspect he doesn't know." But how long before he found out?