The Numbered Corpses (Elysium #4)

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" Booker said as they made their way down Gainsborough Avenue.

"Of chasing after wolves?" Trinket asked, leaning into him as the unseasonal cold bit at her cheeks.

"And mutilated bodies. Ah, the macabre happenings that brought us together."

She tried to smile, but her anxiety was at an all-time high. Every movement, every shadow, made her jump and flinch. It was a wonder Booker hadn't noticed. He must have been too preoccupied with his excitement. Just as well. Better he didn't know how unstable her mind was tonight. She only had to get through the next hour or two without a breakdown, and then she could fall apart in the privacy of her bedroom.

Concentrating on her breathing, she tried to keep up with Booker's quick pace. "So, where are we headed first?" she asked.

He pulled out a piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket and flipped it open. "I was thinking perhaps the bakery. Our love of crumpets surely has not been overlooked by Benedict."

She nodded slowly, her eyes darting to a shadow that was scrambling across the road to her left. "Let's hope he doesn't get us banned from there as well."

"Daphne's crumpets are just as good, if not better. It wouldn't be too hard of a blow."

They took a left down Clark Lane. A small group of night flowers glanced over their shoulders as she and Booker came closer, but when it was clear they weren't potential customers, the women returned to their conversation. Except for one particular flower who gave a coy smile and sauntered her way over to them.

"Mr. Larkin, fancy meetin' you out this late," she said, her accent rather simple and country-like. Her hair looked as if she'd combed it with a lump of charcoal. No amount of hairpins would ever be able to tame it.

"Good evening, Savannah," Booker responded politely. "What a lovely shawl. Is it new?"

The night flower shook her shoulders a little as she flaunted the gold-fringed accessory. "Indeed it is. Got me a few fancy customers as of late. Thought I might spoil meself a bit."

"It's very becoming." He then added in a whisper to Trinket, "Whatever can keep the attention away from her hair."

"The girls tell me we've lost all hope of landin' you," Savannah went on.

"I'm afraid that hope was lost long ago, my dear. I've never had much of a taste for that sort of entertainment. No offense meant to you lot. Just not my style."

"I can see that." The night flower put her hands on her hips, looking Trinket up and down. "Tell me, missy, has your salary increased since the promotion?"

Already exhausted from the number of hallucinations pestering her, Trinket ignored the woman and focused on the road ahead.

"Awful high and mighty for a maid who part-times as a personal whore," Savannah said.

Booker stopped short and turned to the night flower, his hold on Trinket firm. "I'd watch my mouth if I were you. Recall that I am a man of questionable morals with access to surgical tools and limitless imagination. With so many bodies showing up about the city, I doubt the police would question the addition of an insignificant, three-penny-upright bunter."

The night flower's smug smile disappeared as her face paled. The other women had ceased their conversation and were watching with morbid interest.

"Remember that the next time you dare to insult the brilliant woman I love and adore." Booker pasted on a smile and tipped his hat. "Have a pleasant night, ladies."

They continued on their way, leaving Savannah stunned and speechless.

"You're going to get yourself arrested with threats like that," Trinket mumbled, though she couldn't help but feel somewhat flattered.