Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(40)

I cleared my throat and moved to Joseph, who was systematically plucking books from the shelves. “Mr. Boyer?”

Joseph did not move, but his eyes slid sideways to peer at me. “Yes, Miss Fitt?”

“Do you need me?”

“No, I think not.” He looked back at the shelf and flourished his gloved hand toward the door. “We have enough hands on deck. You may relax, if you wish, and we should be finished quite soon.”

I curtsied, but hesitated to leave. “Um... have you learned anything about the spirit yet? There’s been nothing in the papers about it, so I wondered if perhaps... it has vanished?”

“Non. I doubt that it would leave—not if it tried so desperately to enter the earthly realm.” He waved to the shelves. “I intend to search for a history of Philadelphia’s hauntings, but there is little else I can do. Unless this spirit appears before me, I cannot possibly find out what it wants—or hope to stop it.”

I inhaled slowly. I supposed he was right. What could one possibly do about an absent, faceless spirit?

“We have not seen it since Saturday,” Joseph added. “Let us hope its business with us is finished.”

After a murmured thank you, I left the private collections room and bustled back to the circular desk at the center of the library. I had my own research to conduct. I now knew to whom the strange names in Elijah’s letter belonged, but the meaning behind the other odd phrase in Elijah’s letter still eluded me.

“Do you know anything about the Gas Ring?” I asked the pretty librarian sitting at the desk. “Or where I can research it?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve never heard of it. Do you mean the Whiskey Ring?”

“No.” I gave her a tight grin. “Thanks.” I strolled back toward the private collections room, but when I reached the door, I turned right and headed down the hallway for a red velvet armchair—a chair I knew well.

I took my time adjusting my petticoats, fidgeting with my bustle, and squirming in my bodice. Then I eased down and set my parasol on the pine floor. This had been the chair Elijah and I had shared when we waited on Father. It was just as I remembered it.

Sunbeams pierced the air around me, illuminating the hidden world of dust that floated like the finest of snow. I grinned and tapped the armrest. A fresh army swirled up. The first time Elijah had shown me that trick, I’d been seven and he ten. We’d snuggled here, and he’d read aloud from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

A figure moved at the corner of my eye. It was Daniel, leaving the private collections room. He held books and papers in one hand and the goggles in the other. He stared at the floor, either inspecting the wood grain or deep in thought. I presumed the latter.

“Mr. Sheridan.” I stood, my gown rustling. “Did you find what you needed?”

His head snapped up. “Empress.” He hunched his shoulders. “Yeah, I got some books for my invention.”

“And those will help?” I angled my head and read a title. “Annalen der Physik und Chemie. Do you speak German?”

“Some. I’ve had to figure it out, Germans being the masters of engineering and all.”

“Oh.” I was impressed.

I gestured to the goggles. “And is that one of your inventions?”

He grunted his acknowledgment.

“What do they do?”

“Well, uh...” He swayed from foot to foot, as if he wasn’t sure how to proceed. “Land sakes,” he finally grumbled. “Just take ’em. See for yourself.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You want me to wear them?”

“Yeah. And tell me what you see.” He set the books on the ground against the wall and, taking my hand, he put the goggles in my open palm. His face tightened. “But do be careful.”

I slid them on and scanned around me. The lenses were heavy and thick. They pulled at my ears and pressed on my nose. I studied my hand; the white of my gloves was barely visible. “It’s so dark,” I said. “And blurry. It feels as if I’m staring through muddy water.”

“That’s good. It means there is no spiritual energy here. If there was something Dead around, the lenses would clear up.”

“Why?” I tried to examine his face, but all I could make out was the general shape of his head.

“The goggles operate on a simple principle. They rely on magnetic energy—electromagnetism, to be precise.” He spoke much like Elijah would when explaining his latest theological find: animated and articulate.

I slid the goggles down and peered over the tops. I watched the curve of Daniel’s lips—delicate, round, and at odds with the angle of his jaw. I caught glimpses of his tongue as he spoke.

What was it about mouths that made them so fascinating? I had read of kisses (Shakespeare was fond of them in his plays), but I’d never seen one. And I’d certainly never experienced one. Did people merely touch lip to lip... or was there more to it?

Has Daniel ever kissed anyone?

My whole body stiffened when I realized the direction my thoughts had taken. I scrunched my eyes shut. This was not the sort of curiosity I should indulge.

When I lifted my eyelids, I realized I’d missed Daniel’s entire lecture.

“Could you repeat that last bit?” I prayed he wouldn’t notice the strained tremor in my voice.