A Darkness Strange and Lovely

beneath his white hair were gaping holes where his ears had once been. Yet what really struck me as odd was the fine dusting of white powder that seemed to coat his entire body. Before I could consider what it might mean, though, the front door swung wide and a squeal erupted. The old maid scurried to my side, wailing, “Pauvre Claude, pauvre Claude!” Over and over, she cried.

Until Jie’s temper finally cracked. “Enough,” she snapped. “How’re we supposed to clean him up if you won’t shut pan?”

“But ’is wife!” the maid howled. “She died two weeks ago and now ’e die too— oh, pauvre

Claude! ”

“You said he has no family?” I asked.

“Nooooon!” she howled.

“So would it be possible for us to keep the body?”

“What?” Jie asked, staring at me. “We don’t take the bodies.”

“Why not? If we keep it, we can inspect it. For other mutilations or something to help us investigate.” And then Oliver can look at it.

Jie’s face bunched up. “It won’t be long before it starts to rot, yeah?”

I raised my shoulders. “I know, but is it not possible we’re missing something? A clue?”

“Taaaaake ’im!” the maid sobbed.

I gripped the woman’s upper arms and tried to get her to look at me. “Calm down. We need your help. We need you to hail us an extra-large cab. And get us something to wrap the body in.”

The woman shook her head. “I must ask Madame Marineaux about a wrap—”

“Use a bedsheet,” a woman commanded from above. I snapped my head up just as Madame

Marineaux rounded the staircase’s corner. Other than a slight flush to her angular face, there was no sign of her harrowing experience with les Morts.

This impressed me enormously. What kind of woman could travel the world, face off the Dead, and command Parisian high society with ease? The sort of woman I wished to be.

Madame Marineaux paused by the corpse to inspect him, her brows drawing together. “This is . . . well, sad does not seem sufficient.” Her gaze lifted to Jie and me. “Thank you, Mesdemoiselles. You have saved my household . . . and my life. The water closet door was almost broken.” She shivered and clasped her hands to her heart. “Did I hear properly that you wish to take this corpse?”

She looked so disgusted by the prospect that an embarrassed flush ignited on my face. “Er, yes.

We can study it for clues.”

“Oh. I had not thought of this.” She stepped around the corpse, her gaze firmly placed elsewhere.

“I suppose that is a very clever idea then.”

My mortification instantly shifted into pride.

Joseph trotted down the stairs and came to Madame Marineaux’s side. “I see no other signs of les

Morts. This poor man is the only Dead in your household.”

“Thank heavens,” she murmured. “And thank you, Monsieur.”

“You are most welcome, Madame. Now I fear we must depart.” His eyes met mine, and it was clear what he was trying to tell me: you and I need to talk.

“Oh, do not go,” Madame Marineaux begged. “I owe you a million thank-yous. Please, stay for dinner. We can discuss plans for the ball this Friday.”

“Je suis desole,” Joseph replied, “but I cannot. Now that les Morts have returned, I must not be away from the lab for too long.”

“We have to wait for the Dead.” Jie nodded to the body. “ Eleanor wants to bring it back to the lab.”

“Oh?” Joseph popped on his hat. “All right. I presume there is an excellent reason for this, so let us get it into a carriage. Hurry—”

“Or,” I blurted, “I could stay. You two go on to the hotel, and I will make sure the butler gets to the lab.”

“A grand idea!” Madame Marineaux exclaimed. “And then you can stay for dinner. I would so like to have company after my terrifying afternoon.”

Again Joseph’s nostrils flared, but I could see in the straightening of his back that he would not argue with Madame Marineaux.

Instead, he spun to me. “I expect you to find me the instant you return.”

Jie’s forehead wrinkled. “Is something the matter?”

Joseph did not answer. He simply bowed to Madame Marineaux and strode from the hall. Jie flashed me a worried look, but I gave her a smile in return. Whatever Joseph’s problem was, I found I did not much care. My blood still bubbled with the thrum of magic, and all I wanted to do was make this happy moment last as long as I could.

So I turned to Madame Marineaux and said, “I would love to stay for dinner. Merci beaucoup. ”

Madame Marineaux’s house turned out to be as elegant and entertaining as its owner. She led me through her hallway and into a private sitting room.

“I never let people come here,” she said with a wink, “but I believe you will find it enjoyable.”

She was right—the room was fascinating. It was like being in a museum: on this shelf was a collection of tribal masks, on that table was an assortment of enormous seashells, and on the windowsill was a row of exotic orchids. The floors were covered in Oriental rugs and the windows draped with thick, scarlet drapes. A fireplace burned with a small, cozy fire, and everything felt so tasteful. So lovingly tended.

It was precisely what Mama had tried to create in our own home, but our knickknacks had been fake and cheap by comparison. And, of course, all those knickknacks were now long gone.

While Madame Marineaux went to check that her servants were recovered enough to make a small dinner, I wandered the room with a slack jaw. After examining everything I laid eyes on, I ended up before a shelf on which lay two hair clasps like Jie’s.

“Admiring my souvenirs?” Madame Marineaux asked. I hadn’t even heard her enter the room.

Smiling, I turned toward her. “Oh yes. Did you give Jie one of these?”

“I did.” Madame Marineaux moved to my side, her skirts swishing. “I thought she might like something from her homeland.”

“She does.” I nodded warmly. “She likes it very much.”

“I am glad.” She motioned me to a pair of rose-colored armchairs beside the fireplace. “Let us sit.

We will have an aperitif before our meal.”

As we crossed to the seats, I noticed a collection of portraits over the fireplace. One was of her, one was of the Marquis, and one was of an auburn-haired woman whom I did not recognize . . . though something about her reminded me of Madame Marineaux.

“Who is that woman?” I asked, dropping into a chair as she eased into the other. “Your sister, perhaps?”

For a moment the Madame’s shoulders drooped, and she did not reply. But finally she said, “No.

The Marquis’s sister, actually. Her name was Claire.” She gave me a sad smile. “And she was like a sister to me—my closest friend in all the world. But . . . she died almost seven years ago.”

“Oh, I am so sorry.”

“Do not be. We must lose everyone we love at some point or another. C’est la vie. ” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Now tell me, what do you think of Paris? What have you seen so far?”

“Not much, but what I have visited is truly beautiful.”

“You shall have to see more then! I will steal you away as soon as you are free and show you my favorite places.”

“Oh, Madame, I would love that! But you’ve already done so much for me. Why, I