The Numbered Corpses (Elysium #4)

Chapter Twenty-One

Trinket woke with a start and found herself lying on something hard and cold. Squinting against a bright light, she slowly lifted herself up and tried to remember where she was. Her head was pounding, there was a painful knot in her neck, and the pressure behind her eyes made her want to claw them out. Once her vision began to come into focus, the events of the previous night replayed in her mind.

The game.

Scales.

Her fight with Booker.

Crying herself to sleep on her bedroom floor.

Letting out a long sigh, she pulled the weaponized pins from her hair and tried to untangle the knots in her braid. The "poison" ring Booker had given her kept getting caught in the snarls. She clumsily tugged it off and was about to throw it across the room when she paused. Bringing it closer to her face, she gazed down at it thoughtfully. She gently traced the copper heart and then flipped open the top to reveal the needle inside. She gave a soft laugh and shook her head. Only Booker would create something so beautiful and yet so practically deadly.

With another sigh, she returned the ring to her finger and rose to her feet. The movement sent her head spinning, and she had to grip the bedpost to keep from falling over. She'd never gotten drunk in her life, but she imagined this was what it would feel like the morning after a night of indulgence. All she wanted to do was crawl under her covers and never talk to anyone ever again.

But she dutifully changed into her work dress and combed out her hair despite the shadows jumping out at her every time she turned around. She was too tired to care. Even if they were real, she'd gladly let them drag her to who-knows-where, as long as she didn't have to deal with the day ahead.

Stepping over a rat sitting in the hallway, she made her way downstairs as the front bell went off. Though tempted to ignore it, she pasted on a polite smile and pulled open the door to find Jewkes standing before her.

"Constable? What—"

The body. They hadn't done anything about Hiss' body.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Trinket released a shaky breath. "Constable, please believe me when I tell you we had nothing to do with that body. We got here last night and—"

Jewkes held up his hands and offered a sympathetic smile. "Miss Trinket, I know you and Larkin were not involved. At least not directly. The man was a Mouse, and from what I've heard, he was their newly appointed leader. If I had to wager a guess, I'd say it was a disgruntled ex-Mouse who committed that murder."

"That's some adept sleuthing, Constable. If it helps any, Scales did show up last night with the man's missing scalp."

Furrowing his brow, Jewkes eyed her suspiciously. "And where exactly was this?"

She shook her head, not wanting to cause any more trouble with Scales than she already had. "So if you're not here to arrest Mr. Larkin, why are you here?"

"To be sure you're both alive and unharmed. And to let you know about the body in case you hadn't noticed it."

A crude laugh escaped her lips. "You think we'd miss something as blatant as a corpse on our doorstep?"

He looked her up and down, a line etched between his brows. "Are you all right, Miss Trinket? You don't seem quite yourself."

"It was a rough night. And the morning isn't looking much better."

Leaning forward, his expression became panicked as his eyes darted up and down her body and face. "Larkin didn't hurt you, did he?"

Her shoulders slumped as she raised her eyebrows at him wearily. "Constable, do you really think Booker Larkin would lay a hand on me?"