Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(78)

I opened my eyes and watched her. What an empty shell of a woman she was.

“I was too lax with you before,” she continued, “and do not think I will make that same mistake again.” She pressed her hands to her forehead and massaged the lines. “I shudder to think why that man brought you home the first time—”

“Because you care nothing for the truth. Listen to yourself! Listen to your absurd ideas!” Her words infuriated me, filling me with a deep desire to fly away and leave her behind forever.

“You are a Fitt, Eleanor. You are Miss Fitt of the Philadelphia Fitts, and I will see that you behave as your class demands.”

“Miss Fitt? Miss Fitt? I’m a misfit, Mama—that’s what I am!” How had I never noticed my name before? I didn’t fit with my family, with my class, with the Spirit-Hunters—with anyone.

“Calm yourself.”

“No. I don’t want you here,” I growled. “Leave.”

Her body tensed, and her lips thinned.

“Leave!” I shrieked.

At last she stood. “As you wish.”

With Mama gone, my ire only grew. And I let it. I relished the way it burned through my body.

A knock sounded at my door, and Mary came in with a tray.

I sat up taller. “I need a favor.”

She gave a wary glance toward the door and then nodded.

“Can you tell me what’s happening?”

“What d’you mean, Miss Fitt?” She sat on the edge of the bed and arranged the tray in my lap.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“Miss... ,” “ I gulped. “Miss Fitt. Just call me Eleanor. Or nothing at all. What’s happened with the Dead and the Spirit-Hunters?”

She winced. “I’m not supposed to talk about that.”

“Why?” I sipped my soup.

“Your ma knows,” Mary whispered. “About the man— the one that brought you home. She knows he’s one of them Spirit-Hunters.”

“How?”

“It’s all over the papers. His face. He’s wanted for two murders.”

I choked and fumbled for my tea. It sloshed onto my bed, and tea stains bloomed on the beige sheet. “Who did he kill?”

“One was some old case.” She dabbed her apron at the tea stains.

“And the second?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Clarence Wilcox.”

“Oh no.” I slumped back against my pillow. How the blazes had that been pinned on him?

“Tell me,” I demanded. “Tell me everything about Dan—” I broke off. I couldn’t say his name or our intimacy would be obvious. “About that man and the Spirit-Hunters.”

Mary’s lips puckered. “Your mama won’t like that.”

“If you tell me what the newspapers are saying, I’ll give you my Parisian hairpiece.”

The edges of her lips curled up. “Well, last night’s Bulletin said the Spirit-Hunters are responsible for lettin’ the Dead get out of hand and destroyin’ the Exhibition. The mayor has issued warrants for their arrest.”

I sucked in a long, desperate breath. “And what else?”

“It said this Sheridan fellow is dangerous. And the Wilcox family is offering a right enormous reward for his capture.”

It was far worse than anything I could have imagined. The Spirit-Hunters were being blamed for the Dead—for the havoc Elijah had wrought. Poor, poor Joseph. He’d done nothing but the right thing, and this was how the city had repaid him. I doubted Jie or Daniel much cared, but I knew Joseph did.

Mary wasn’t finished. “Three people were killed and twelve injured by these fast Dead. No one’s allowed in East Fairmount Park or on the Schuylkill River no more.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t know if Elijah had intentionally killed these people or if some of his army had turned Hungry and escaped to Laurel Hill. But does the source of a man’s death matter when the root is evil? I knew Elijah had to be stopped, and I knew I had to stop him.

“Miss—er, Eleanor, are you ah’right?” Mary laid a hand on my arm. “Should I get your ma?”

I shook my head violently and flashed my eyes open. “No. I need another favor.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

“You can.”

“I dunno. Your ma—”

“Enough silly games.” I grasped her arm and tugged her close. “I need trousers, a shirt, and sturdy boots, and if you help me, I’ll give you my amethyst earrings.”

She sucked in a breath, her eyes darting between my face and the hand that gripped her. “I could get fired if your ma finds out.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t. I’ll take the secret to my grave.” I tugged the maid closer. “Will you help me or not?”

Her eyes ran over my face. “And you just want some trousers, a shirt, and boots?”

“That will fit me, yes.”

She licked her lips. “Ah’right then.”

I released her and dropped back onto the bed. Sweat beaded on my lip, and I wiped my sleeve over my face.

“I need the clothes by tonight,” I said.