Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(32)

I clamped my mouth shut—apparently I’d been gawking. “I was hoping to speak with you. I have questions.”

He shot a glance toward Jie, his eyebrows jumping high.

She shrugged. “I couldn’t answer them or I woulda.”

“Ah.” The lines around his mouth and eyes softened. He ran his hand along the rim of his top hat. “I can, I believe, spare a few moments. If you would be willing to walk with me.” He glanced out the window and then back to me.

I nodded, excitement building in my chest. Curiosity is a strong fire, and once ignited, it is not easily put out.

“Please understand,” he added. “I may not be able to answer all your questions, but I will do my best.” He bowed his head and then marched through the door.

The bright afternoon sun hit the Bartholdi Fountain and shot beams of light off its bronze form. Rather than walk to Joseph’s meeting in the crowded Main Hall, we had opted to stand in the fountain’s refreshing mist.

All around us, couples promenaded arm in arm, ragged children scampered past, and many out-of-town visitors were rooted to the ground, scanning their guidebooks

I squinted and popped open my parasol. Then I set my jaw and asked my first—and most important—question. “Mr. Boyer, will you help me?”

Joseph’s gaze locked on my face, and for several heartbeats he did nothing but appraise me. Then at last he said, “I can stop the walking Dead, Miss Fitt. I can stop wicked spirits, and I can save those who need saving from the darker parts of the spirit world.” He drew his shoulders back. “I use my abilities for good by helping those who need it, and so, yes. I will help you find your brother.”

Gratitude swept over me like a cleansing rain, and my body swayed from the relief. Yet I didn’t know how to express my feelings. A firm handshake seemed absurd, and a hug was utterly inappropriate. So I resorted to a blubbery “Thank you,” tugged forcefully at my earrings, and moved on to the next question.

“Have you learned anything about the spirit my mother let in?”

“No.” He frowned. “It is strange. Such a wicked ghost, yet no sign of it since Saturday. I cannot say if that is a good thing or a bad thing, for I have no idea what it seeks or how it became so strong.”

“Can you stop a spirit like that?”

“Yes, in the same way I stop the walking Dead. I magnify an electric spark and break apart the soul.”

I nodded and turned to the fountain. I stared with unseeing eyes into its splashing waters. I still had one desperate question I had to ask—though, heavens, I was scared of what his answer might be. I inhaled deeply and forced the words to come.

“Mr. Boyer... if my brother was studying grimoires, then that was probably bad, wasn’t it?” I angled my head to watch him from the edge of my eye.

He clasped his hands behind his back. “Miss Fitt, grimoires typically teach black spells, but not... not always. A person can certainly study a grimoire without trying to master the rituals within.”

That made sense. Elijah was a scholar through and through—action was not his style. I couldn’t imagine his fascination with this type of theology being anything but academic.

I swiveled around to face him again. “So whatever my brother learned, it must have been something dangerous to attract the necromancer’s attention.”

“I have had little experience with grimoires,” Joseph said, his chin lifting, “but I can think of no other reason for kidnapping your brother. This necromancer will not let your brother leave—that was plainly written in the letter—so whatever your brother may have learned, it makes him valuable. As long as he is valuable, he will stay alive. You must remember that.”

I winced. I knew Joseph meant his words kindly, but I could take no comfort in them. What if Elijah stopped being valuable? Then what?

Joseph pulled a pocket watch from his waistcoat, and then his eyes flicked up to meet mine. “I must be going, Mamzèi.”

I wet my lips. I didn’t want him to leave. His presence made me feel safe, certain that at least one person knew what to do. I understood why Daniel and Jie trusted him so completely. He was solid.

Joseph slipped off his hat to bow, yet before he could say parting words, I rushed to speak.

“One last question, Mr. Boyer. Then I promise to leave you to your meeting and to trust your judgment without question.”

He hesitated, but only for a heartbeat. Then he waved his top hat in the air. “Ask.”

“If...” I gulped and steeled myself. “If this necromancer is sacrificing people to build his power, will you and the Spirit-Hunters be strong enough to stop him?”

Joseph’s lips compressed into a tight line. Finally, he said, “I do not know, Miss Fitt. Let us hope that we are strong enough, wi? Let us hope.” And with that he gave me a curt bow and spun on his heel toward the Main Building.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The next day, the Wilcoxes came to tea.

I had refused to don a petticoat with this gown—the flounce and ruffles gave it sufficient girth, not to mention my own liberal padding in those lower regions. Besides, the dress’s violet faille and black camel hair were simply not suited to a Philadelphia summer.

We were in the parlor, and the heat was especially stifling. The fringe of my collar scratched against my moist skin, and I knew a rash would await me later.