Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(79)

Mary squinted. “What are you plannin’, Eleanor?”

“That’s none of your funeral,” I snapped. What a strange way to tell people to mind their own business. And oddly appropriate since tonight could very well be my funeral.

Several hours later, as the sun was setting bright orange outside my window, she brought me my requested items with my dinner. She watched me expectantly.

“What is it?” I asked through a mouthful of bread. I swallowed and tipped my head toward the dressing table. “The earrings are over there. Left drawer. In the jewelry box.”

She hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she skipped across the room and flung out the drawer. With a small squeal, she yanked the dangling amethysts out and inspected them in the setting sun’s glow. “Wait... ain’t these the ones Master Elijah gave ya?”

My stomach clenched at his name. “Yes,” I muttered before tearing off more bread.

“You don’t want ’em?”

I shook my head sharply.

She shoved the earrings in her pocket and avoided my eyes. “Tell me what you’re planning.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll rat.”

“Take whatever you want.” I thrust my left hand toward the dressing table. “Jewelry, bonnets, I don’t care. Just shut pan!”

“I want to know what you’re plannin’,” she repeated, her jaw setting at stubborn angle. “I think you’re up to something dangerous. Your ma can’t handle any more shock.”

“Like you care. You took the earrings without any argument.”

“I do care,” Mary hissed. “She’s a good woman, and if you run off with that man and break her heart—”

“I’m not running off with anyone! It’s not like that at all.” I grabbed a fistful of bread and pitched it at her. “Get out. Just get out!”

“No. I don’t want your ma to—”

“Get out or I’ll tell Mama you stole my earrings.” I launched more bread at her. “I’ll tell her you stole my kid gloves and my hairpiece.”

Mary scampered from the room, her hands covering her face.

I huffed out a heavy sigh and tossed the remaining bread back on my plate. My head hurt all the way into my eye sockets, and guilt panged in my chest for being cruel to Mary... but I’d spent the day planning, and I couldn’t give up now.

I had to do this. Mary had given me what I needed, and now nothing stood in my way.

In a few more hours I would go to Laurel Hill, and I would stop Elijah.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

When the church bells sang eleven and it seemed the house had gone to sleep, I eased from bed. I hadn’t moved much in two days, and my muscles burned. At each wooden creak of the floor, I froze and held my breath. But no one noticed, or else no one cared. So I resumed my careful prowling in the dark.

I dressed. The shirt and trousers Mary had gotten were too big, and I had to tie a ribbon around my waist to keep the pants up. The boots were snug yet manageable.

I tiptoed to the door and pressed my ear against it. No sounds came through.

It was now—I had to do it now, while my courage and resolve were strong. I inhaled until my lungs were fully expanded. Then I ventured out. The hall was empty and dark, and no one met me as I navigated the stairs down. I fumbled with the front door, yet still no one came.

And then the door was cracked. I was squeezing through and racing over the porch and across the front lawn.

The night air was thick and textured as if some damp blanket had been cast over the world. There was no breeze. No movement. The only sounds were the insects, humming and content in their own safe lives.

Above, the moon was only a sliver in the sky, and I found the darkness comforting. Safe.

I stepped into the street and jogged, but I didn’t make it far before I had to a stop. I scuffed to a streetlamp and leaned. My head spun. I would need to go more slowly if I wanted my body to keep up.

Footsteps pounded to my right. I whipped my head around and saw a man rushing down the street toward me. I sprang forward, ready to flee, but the man slowed and shouted.

“It’s me, Eleanor—it’s me!”

Daniel!

“You’re alive,” he said between heavy pants.

“You’re alive.” I chuckled weakly. “I thought you were on the run.”

“I am, but I’m not that easy to catch.” He moved into the warm glow of the streetlight. He was just two paces from me, and I could see fatigue drawn into his face. “What the hell are you doing out of your house?”

“I have things that need doing. Why are you here?”

“I-I was hoping to see you. Catch a glimpse or something.” He slung off his flat cap and ran a hand through his hair. “I wanted to know if you were all right. I... I almost killed you—and I’m so sorry and I was awful worried.” The words flooded from his mouth. “Your mother, she wouldn’t let me in, and I thought maybe you were really hurt and it was all my fault.”

I shook my head. “Are you blaming yourself for my injuries?”

“I threw the pulse bomb.”

“And I picked it up. I’m the one who threw it in the end.” I patted my chest. “Don’t worry about me, all right? Now... I’ve got to go. I have work to do.” I glanced side to side.