A Darkness Strange and Lovely (Something Strange and Deadly #2)(8)

“The newspapers were right,” Mama went on. “You were working with the Spirit-Hunters to destroy the city. That criminal, Daniel”—she spat the name—“murdered Clarence.”

A cry shot over the water. It was Allison, a gloved hand to her mouth. But did she believe my story or Mama’s?

At that moment the nurses broke off and scampered toward the hospital. I forced my attention back to my mother, praying the nurses thought her words gibberish.

“Mama,” I said, clenching my skirts with my left hand. “I told you the truth.”

“The truth! The truth?” She shoved her face in mine. “I will tell you the truth, Eleanor. A truth I was too blind and heartbroken to see. You are a licentious, lying daughter. A harlot!”

My jaw dropped, and outrage coiled in my chest. “How can you say that to me? After all I’ve done to keep our family alive—”

“By consorting with criminals? By sneaking from the house?” Mama’s eyes thinned. “You were seeing that criminal boy, were you not? You planned to run away with him, but then he and the Spirit-

Hunters left you.”

“Stop.” My voice cracked out like a whip. “You have no idea of what you speak. I could have left the city—could have abandoned you—but I stayed. I sold all of my things to pay your hospital bills because you spent our entire savings.”

“I will not listen to this!” She threw her hands over her ears.

“Then don’t listen.” I advanced on her. “But Elijah is dead, Mama. You have to accept that. I saw him die—”

“Lies! Elijah is not dead. He’s not, he’s not! I saw him today, and he was most assuredly alive.”

I stared at her, speechless. It couldn’t be. . . .

“He came to see me,” she went on, clearly pleased by my horror, “dressed in the latest Parisian fashions and wealthier than you can even imagine. Yet most importantly, Eleanor, he was alive — alive!”

No! I clutched at my chest, suddenly unable to breathe, unable to think. Marcus had found my mother, and that meant it wasn’t simply me or the Spirit-Hunters he was after.

“Oh God,” I wheezed as the gravel blurred before my eyes. I staggered to the fountain rim and dropped to a seat. Allison was nowhere to be seen, but I was too stunned—too horrified—to care or even consider.

Mama stalked toward me, puffing out her chest. “It was only a matter of time before Elijah came to save me, and he will return for me again. He has promised to take me away as soon as I help him.”

“Help him?” I gaped up at her. “Help him with what?”

She crossed her arms. “Help him find the things you stole.”

“Stole?” I repeated, startled.

“Oh, do not pretend you do not know. You stole his book—and wherever you have hidden it, I intend to find it. Elijah has promised to take me away if I do.” She stomped closer to me. “Tell me where you put it, Eleanor. Where did you hide his book and his notes?”

I backed away from her. If Marcus wanted a book, then there was only one it could be: the missing pages in a grimoire called Le Dragon Noir. The one thing Marcus hadn’t been able to take from me before he’d fled Philadelphia three months ago.

“I will find them,” Mama shrieked. “And I will return them to him, Eleanor! And then— then—you will wish you had treated me more kindly.”

I stood as tall as I could and fixed my eyes on hers. “Mama, did you say ‘notes’? You are certain he asked for a book and notes?”

She hesitated, her posture wilting slightly. “Yes. A book and notes.”

I turned away, pressing my left hand to my lips. I knew Joseph had destroyed the pages from Le

Dragon Noir—Jie told me in one of her letters that he had done so—but before the Spirit-Hunters had even left Philadelphia, they’d found an envelope of Elijah’s unsent letters tucked in the grimoire’s pages. But those messages, as all Elijah’s letters were prone to be, were filled with nothing more than random ramblings and random names. . . .

But perhaps they weren’t so random to a necromancer.

Cold gripped me. Thank goodness I had put the letters in my carpetbag. Marcus had come to

Philadelphia for Le Dragon Noir, and he knew that I could lead him to it—or at least to the letters within.

Footsteps sounded nearby. I whirled around. But it was only a male orderly marching toward us with the nurses at his heels.

Mama saw them, and her chin lifted high. “You may try to lock me in this place, Eleanor, but

Elijah will come for me.” Her eyes locked on mine. “And if you know what is good for you, you will never show your face to me again. You are no longer worthy of the Fitt name.”

Then she pivoted elegantly around and faced the Kirkbride attendant as if he were nothing more than a dance partner. “I will wait for my son in my room, thank you. My daughter is now dead to me.”

Chapter Three

“Don’t let anyone meet her,” I ordered the nurses . My blood pounded in my ears, but I clung to the moment’s excitement—for if I did not . . . if I let Mama’s words sink in . . .

“Lock her in her room. . . . I-I fear it’s the only option we have for protecting her.”

“We’ll keep her safe, Miss,” promised the hatless nurse before I turned to leave. After three months of a sluggish, dazed existence, my mother had suddenly returned to her old dragon self. My daughter is now dead to me. My only remaining family member saw me as licentious and deceitful. I would not think of it. I would push it aside with everything else, and I would keep walking with my chin high and my shoulders back.