Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(49)

Exhibition guides such as the ones at the library.

“I’ll be right back.” I shoved open the carriage door and clambered into the rain.

“But Clarence—”

“I’ll be right back!” I slammed the door shut and galloped through the crowds to the entrance. I didn’t actually need to go in. I just had to find someone selling guidebooks.

Giant raindrops sliced through the air, cold and hard when they hit my skin. I found a covered stall selling, according to the hand-painted sign, “All Things Exhibition.” I squeezed between people who took cover from the storm, and within seconds I found stacks of International Exhibition, 1876: Official Catalogue. I scooped up a catalogue for each building—the Main Building, Machinery Hall, the Art Gallery, and so on. I emptied my pockets of all my change, and then I scrambled back into the wet.

I hugged the flimsy papers to my chest and tried to keep my white skirts from the fresh mud. Now the rain was really coming down.

Someone grabbed my arm and whirled me about. I inhaled, prepared to shout my alarm, but I promptly clapped my mouth shut.

“Empress,” Daniel said. He dropped his hand from my arm. His cap was soaked through, and water dripped off the edge. He must have been standing in the rain since it started. He slid his brown coat off and draped it over my shoulders, speaking all the while.

“Your beau—he’s back, and he’s lookin’ for me.”

“What?” I huddled under the coat and hefted it over my head. The rain hadn’t sneaked through its sturdy wool. “Clarence?”

“Him, yeah.” He nodded and tugged his cap low over his face. “You haven’t said anything, right?”

“No, of course not. But your name must be in the newspapers, and I’ve seen him talking to Mr. Peger. It won’t be difficult—”

He lifted a hand to cut me off. “That’s fine—I know all that. Just remember—”

I mimicked his gesture and cut him off. “I won’t say your name. Don’t worry, Mr. Sheridan.”

He wiped the rain from his face. “All right.” He reached for the coat but paused, his arms outstretched over my head and his eyes scanning my face as if to memorize me. “You may not be seeing me around for a while ’cause of all this. I’ll be lying low.”

“Oh.” A maelstrom of feelings passed through me. Sadness, curiosity, anger, regret, and an aching hollowness in my chest. I didn’t want to not see him.

“I learned something,” I rushed to say before he could run off. “The murdered men weren’t just schoolmates. They’re all connected to the Gas Trustees.”

Daniel balked and let the coat drop back over me. “The Gas Trustees? What do you know about them?”

“Nothing. I think they might be called the Gas Ring too, because Elijah mentioned it—”

“Don’t mess with the Gas Ring.” He grabbed my chin and forced me to look into his eyes. “I can’t stop you from seein’ Wilcox, Empress, but stay the hell away from the Gas Ring.”

“Why? What is it?”

“It doesn’t matter. It ain’t your affair, so don’t dig your nose in any farther.”

“What if does matter? For the necromancer?”

“I’ll deal with it.” He wrenched the coat from me. “Hurry. Your man’s back.”

I needed no prodding. I pivoted toward the concourse and raced through the pounding rain. I could see Clarence at the carriage, and a derby-hatted, golden-locked reporter jogging away. I stuffed the catalogues in my pocket and threw a glance behind me.

Daniel was gone. I scanned all about, but I saw no sign of his corn-blond hair or drenched flat cap. Only the scent of metal and the earthy smell of summer rain reassured me I hadn’t imagined the entire thing.

The sun sank in the western sky. Red rays peeked through the piling rain clouds. I scrambled from the Wilcox carriage to my house, fierce droplets falling on my skin.

I rushed upstairs. My mind swirled with thoughts of Daniel and Clarence, and my body shivered from the wet. Clarence had clearly been annoyed at me for leaving the carriage at the Exhibition, but he’d refrained from expressing it. Likely he felt guilty over his earlier outburst.

I shuffled into my room and fumbled with my hairpins. I stopped, frozen midstride. A letter lay on my dressing table. A grimy slip of paper—folded, wrinkled, and addressed to me. I threw myself forward and ripped at the fragile sheet.

Dearest Sister,

You must stop searching for me. You must stop seeing the Spirit-Hunters. You hurt me by being with them, and worse, you put yourself in danger.

With all my love,

Elijah

It was like a punch to my stomach. My breath flew out. My lungs heaved and clenched and heaved and clenched. I crumpled to the floor, ignoring my gown. Tears burned my eyes and then dropped down my cheeks.

I made no sound and simply let the tears fall.

I had wasted time worrying over Daniel and Clarence, playing on the croquet course, and arguing with Mama. I had neglected what was most important: Elijah. He was alive and he had been here, in my room. I had to find him.

I squeezed the white folds of my dress, held my breath, and counted my heartbeats. One, two, three, four. I eased the air from my lungs and let my body relax. A final shudder, and I was in control once more.