Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(36)

Daniel clamped his hand over my mouth and pressed me against the engine. “You’ll do no such thing.” He spoke softly into my ear. It didn’t frighten me, but had my full attention.

“For your own safety and mine,” he continued, “you will keep that tongue of yours still.” He slid the hand from my mouth and planted it on the engine beside my head. His mouth still hovered beside my face, and his breath tickled along my ear.

All the hairs on my neck and arms pricked up.

Then the reality of the situation hit me. He was entirely too close—both for proper etiquette and my composure. I punched the inside of his elbow with all my strength.

“Ow!” he howled, stumbling back.

“Varmint!” I spat out the first word I could find and prayed he couldn’t see my scarlet flush. “You rude, low-class varmint! Don’t you ever touch me again.”

He gripped his elbow to his stomach, massaging the joint and muttering under his breath.

“What’s that?” I demanded. “What are you grumbling about?”

His lips curved into a frown. “I said I ain’t a varmint, and I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“Aw,” I simpered, pouting my lower lip dramatically and trying to hide my own discomfort. “Did I hurt your feelings? Well, you shouldn’t take it personally, Mr. Sheridan. No one cares about my opinion.”

Daniel’s frown vanished, and the angles of his jaw eased into a gentle sadness. “Maybe I care.”

His words astounded me, and a strange flutter whirled through my chest. Had he just complimented me?

For several moments I was too flustered to speak, and the air was thick with our silence—as if the words I wanted to say were there, but invisible. Daniel shifted his weight, his eyes still on mine.

At last he flashed a grin, and the strange moment passed. He gave a mocking bow, but he was too near me to go far. When he lifted his head back up, his face was somber once more.

“Empress, you must not tell Clarence Wilcox that you know me.” His voice was low, and he inched closer. “Please. That man can’t know I’m here.”

The sincerity in his face and the quiet desperation in his words convinced me to keep his secret. “I wasn’t going to tell anyway,” I said primly, tilting my head away. “I don’t exactly want him to know I’m working with the likes of you. I’ll keep your secret, Mr. Sheridan, though I expect an explanation one day.”

He nodded. “And maybe one day”—he reached out and flicked my chin playfully with his thumb—“I’ll tell you my explanation.” He sauntered backward until he reached the edge of the machine. Then he leaned out and scanned the area.

“Oh, and one last thing, Empress.” He turned his light eyes on me once more. “You might want to reconsider your suitors.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a warning.” He glanced over his shoulder and then back to me. “I’m almighty scared of Clarence Wilcox, and if you’ve got any sense in that pretty head of yours, you’ll be almighty scared of him too.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Joseph ran a hand over his bare head and leaned against the window of the Spirit-Hunters’ lab. I had followed Daniel to the lab, and then he and Joseph had patiently listened to my rushed explanation of the Germantown Academy boys. Jie was away, though they wouldn’t tell me where she’d gone.

“And you do not think it is merely coincidence?” Joseph asked.

I shook my head. “How can it be? Two boys from the same school as my brother, both decap—” I faltered and swallowed. “Both decapitated. Both walking Dead.”

Daniel scooted a stool out and plopped down with his knees angled out. “I see why a necromancer might be interested in your brother, but what about the other boys? Where’s the logic behind that?”

“I don’t know. I simply came to tell you because it seemed important.”

“Yes,” Joseph said, “and I think you were right to come here. We were not aware of this connection. And perhaps... well, perhaps such information will sway the city officials in our favor.”

“Yeah.” Daniel chuckled, a hollow, derisive sound. “All these rich boys showing up headless? Their families may want to keep it quiet, but eventually someone will notice, and that’ll attract attention from the international visitors.”

“Yes, and so... wait...” I shook my head. “I don’t understand. Why doesn’t the city government help you?”

“They help some,” Daniel said. “I mean, they let us install Dead alarms, and they’ve given us a handful of Exhibition guards to train, but... ”He sniffed and pointed out the lab window, where people in colorful gowns and dapper suits meandered beside the majestic Bartholdi Fountain. “They aren’t as helpful as they could be because of all that.”

I frowned, baffled. “What do you mean?”

“The Centennial Exhibition is a fantasy, Empress. An illusion. It gleams like diamonds and distracts the eye from the rotting parts of America—like Shantytown.” He tipped his head in the direction of the shacks on Elm Avenue. “The amount of money spent to keep this Exhibition spotless reeks of dirty politics to me, and from what I can see, the local politicians aren’t out to help anyone but themselves.”