A Darkness Strange and Lovely (Something Strange and Deadly #2)(9)

There was truly nothing left for me in Philadelphia now. So with my jaw set and my blood burning, I marched back to the street. Alone.

Yet once there, I found Allison’s carriage waiting with its door swung wide. She leaned out, her eyes rimmed with red. “Are you coming?” Her voice was thick, as if she’d been crying.

“You . . . don’t mind?”

Her lips curled back. “Oh, get in.”

I squinted, my heart picking up speed again. “Does this mean you believe me? Despite what my mother was raving about?” I wanted Allison to believe me. Needed someone else to know my story.

She sniffed. “Your mother is clearly unwell. And as ludicrous as it all may sound, your story is more believable than hers.” She waved to the seat beside her. “Now get in. ”

I obeyed, and moments later we were rolling down Market Street toward the Delaware River. I watched Allison for several moments before working up the courage to ask, “Have you been crying?”

“Of course I’ve been crying,” she snapped. “This is a lot of new information, and . . . and seeing your mother act like that. It’s just awful.” She wiped at her nose. “I know how you care about her. And

Elijah.”

I didn’t know what to say. Everything about her response was unexpected. So I gnawed my lip and waited for her to speak.

Except she didn’t. She simply stared out the carriage window as storefronts and people blurred past. I was grateful for the silence as we rattled through Philadelphia’s downtown, for despite my desire to leave all this behind, I had never expected to do so on such short notice.

I had been planning to leave Philadelphia eventually, but now it had become my duty—to protect my mother, I had to leave. Marcus wanted my letters, so it was my job to bring them to the Spirit-

Hunters.

Lost in my musings, I didn’t notice how quickly we reached the Delaware River until we were suddenly upon its panorama of puffing steamers and white ship sails. Allison still hadn’t spoken to me, but she did manage to rouse herself from her grief long enough to order her driver to take us straight to the ledger office.

While much of Philadelphia was lined with clean streets and elegant buildings, the wharves along the river were dingy and crowded.

My nerves jumped back into action. Marcus could already be here, waiting. I scanned every face for Elijah’s, for yellow eyes; but for each person who passed, I missed four. With the horses and cabs rushing about, searching the crowded wharf was nearly impossible.

Nonetheless, as we pulled to a stop in front of the brownstone ledger office, I couldn’t keep my gaze from darting around. Or my ears from straining for howling hounds.

Allison cleared her throat, and I turned my attention to her. “Thank you,” I said. “I . . . I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Perhaps one day I can repay you.”

She scoffed. “Don’t worry. I intend to call in my debt one day.”

“Of course.” I blinked, again struck by her unpredictable moods. But not wanting to waste another moment on her fickleness, I nodded once and climbed out of the carriage.

As the driver handed me my bag, Allison slid to the carriage door. “Send me a telegram from

Paris. Let me know you have made it alive.”

Now I was truly startled. What did she want from me? Friendship or enmity?

With the hope that it was the former, I said, “Yes. I promise to write.” I bowed my head. “Good-

bye, Allison Wilcox.”

She pulled back into the carriage. “Good-bye, Eleanor Fitt.” Then, with the abruptness that marked all of her movements, she yanked shut the carriage door and left.

And so it was that I found myself standing at the harbor with nothing more than a carpetbag and a drumming heart. The area stank of fish and river—that muddy smell of turbid waters—while the wind

I’d missed in the city’s center swept over me with full force.

Before me was the brownstone ledger building; behind me was everything I knew. Sure, I had read of places all over the world and dreamed of one day seeing them, but I’d never actually left

Philadelphia before. I had no idea what was out there.

But I did not look back.

As soon as I was firmly inside the ledger office, black and white tiles led me to a wall of ticket counters. However, planted directly in my path was a middle-aged woman in an olive dress that was at least five years out of style. She stood unfolding bills and counting— aloud— as I strode toward her.

Sympathy flashed through me as I circled around her. She wouldn’t get far with only ten dollars.

Worse, she was going to get robbed if she wasn’t more careful. Why, she had her steamer ticket dangling halfway out of her pocket!

With a final cringe at how loudly she advertised her naiveté, I marched to the nearest counter, where a bearded clerk waited. I dropped my bag at my feet.

“I need to buy passage to Paris.”

“Can’t go to Paris direct,” he said, his voice gravelly. “It’s not on the coast.”

“Obviously.” I glared in my best Mama impression. “But I need to go to France.”

“So to Le Havre, then.”

“How far is that from Paris?”

“It’ll be half a day’s train ride.” He consulted a booklet of timetables. “There’s only one direct steamer to Le Havre, but it’s full. Obviously.” His eyes rose to mine. “What with the Exhibition, we got foreign travelers everywhere. You won’t be able to get a cabin for two weeks.”