Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(58)

Joseph shook his head. “Miss Fitt, we are in a difficult place right now. The Dead grow strong, our help is limited to men who run and scream at the sight of a walking corpse, and we are about to break the law—something I have never done before.”

“Which is why I can help.”

His eyebrows drew tightly together. “No—do you not see? Ultimately, your presence here only complicates matters. You are a woman of... well, of high society.”

I inched toward him, winding my fingers in my skirts. “So? You’re a gentleman, so you must understand that society has nothing to do with the Dead!”

His shoulders sagged. “You misunderstand. The consequence of injury to your person—it outweighs the need for your help. Daniel will be fine with only Jie.”

“No,” I pleaded, though I saw the logic of his argument. “No.”

“Miss Fitt, we do not need your help, and I think it best you go. And this is not a request now. It is an order.”

I dropped my eyes and swallowed. My breath shook as I tried to keep my exterior calm. I had thought—no, I had hoped Joseph would want me here just as Jie did.

Bricks of defeat hung over my shoulders, threatening to drop at any moment and crush me. I’d made a risky escape for nothing. Daniel wasn’t even here for me to question. Joseph did not need me, and I would succumb to frustrated, useless tears if I did not keep breathing.

I turned and shuffled from the lab into the dark emptiness of Machinery Hall. I didn’t even bother to lift my gown from the floor.

I would have to hire a hackney home and sort out my newest tales of deceit. Clarence would need to be dealt with. Mama too...

A figure formed in the shadows. My heart jolted, and I threw my hands up, ready to fight. But it was only Daniel.

“You scared me,” I said.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was so soft I could barely hear it.

His gaze roved over me. “You look...” His eyes stopped at the open expanse of my neck and chest, and he twisted his face away. “You look different.”

My heart bounced, and for the second time that evening I was pleased with my gown. “I was at the opera.” I smoothed at my bodice. “Evening attire, you know.”

“No, I reckon I don’t.” He stepped toward me and slid his hands into his pockets. He inspected me again from top to bottom, and I inspected him right back. I searched for signs of wickedness. In the faint glow of moonlight that trickled through the hall’s windows, all I could see was the lanky young man I’d grown accustomed to.

“What did you mean,” I asked, “when you told me you had a lot of making up to do?”

“When did I say that?”

“At Laurel Hill the other day.”

“And why’re you asking me this now?” He sauntered two steps toward me. “If you’ve got something on your mind, Empress, then spit it out.”

I hesitated, but only for a moment. “Are you Sure Hands Danny?”

He stiffened. “Where’d you hear that?” He slipped his hands from his pockets and opened his arms wide. “Actually, it’s of no consequence ’cause I can guess who told you. There’s no sense in protesting what you can clearly see is true.”

He crossed one leg in front of the other and pivoted around, slinging off his cap on the way. Then he bowed low like a performer basking in applause. “Sure Hands Danny, at your service.”

“You’re a murderer.” I skittered back several steps. “You blew up the factory.”

He shot up. “So you’ve heard the whole tale then, have you?”

“No.” I forced myself to meet his eyes. “No. I haven’t heard any of the story. I was hoping you would contradict me. That you’d tell me it was a lie.”

“I can’t contradict the truth.”

My throat tightened. “So you’re a murderer? You ruined my father’s company?”

“Now hold up. I don’t know nothing about your father.” He slapped his cap back on. “But I did kill a man six years ago. I’m an escaped convict, Empress.” He said it so simply, as if he were declaring himself a carpenter or locksmith.

“Does Mr. Boyer know?” I asked.

“Joseph knows parts.”

“A-and is that why Peger wants to find you? Is that why you’re hiding from Clarence Wilcox? Because you killed someone?”

“Something like that, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a long story, and the end goes like this: I got a lot of making up to do, and one of my duties is to go back into that same damned factory tonight.” He scuffed past me.

“Wait.” My lips and mouth had gone dry, and despite his confession, I couldn’t accept it. I didn’t want to. I still had so many unanswered questions. “Can’t you tell me the whole story, Mr. Sheridan? Maybe it was—”

“A justified murder? Does it matter?”

“Yes.” I wet my lips. “It does matter. To me.”

He opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was lost. At that instant the Dead alarm went off, a distant bass clang that echoed from some other Exhibition hall.

Daniel snatched my hand and hauled me to the lab. We barreled in to find Jie and Joseph already dragging the glass-wheel influence machine from beneath the worktable.