and reexamined her bandaging.
“Of all the rotten timing,” she muttered under her breath. “It doesn’t look too bad. The bleeding is slowing. However, if you move suddenly again, I shall be most put out with you. Sit there and don’t move until we reach the guild.”
One didn’t argue with a woman with that kind of tone. Lynch sank back into the leather seats.
Perry arrived at the door, breathing hard. “Lost them, sir. They had a driver waiting—a man wearing similar cologne to what Garrett prefers. Looked like he was wearing some sort of half mask over his lower face. And a tall woman on the back of the carriage, like a footman. She helped hustle the masked woman into the carriage.”
“Not your fault.” Lynch’s eyes narrowed in the direction Mercury had disappeared into. “They planned this meeting.”
But why? Nothing had come of it. Mercury had meant to be seen. Was she sending him a message? A taunt? Or was her presence in connection to the death of Alistair?
“Do you want me to track them?” Perry asked.
“You can do that?” Rosa’s head jerked up.
“Perry can trace scents even I can’t,” he admitted, then turned back to Perry and shook his head. Most of the men would be returning to the guild. There was no way he was sending Perry after the revolutionaries on her own—not so soon after nearly losing Garrett.
“When we return to the guild, I want you to take three of the men and see if the scent trail’s still alive,” he murmured, easing back in the seat. “Don’t confront them and don’t be caught alone. You can give me your report in the morning.”
Whatever Mercury’s purpose, for tonight he had other concerns he was forced to prioritize.
Lynch hadn’t been able to examine the body or the house and knew Bleight would never allow either now.
Fitz had stitched the wound in his side and they’d propped him here hours ago. Staring across the dark shadows of his study, Lynch silently ran through what he knew of the case. He’d examined both Haversham and Falcone himself. There’d been no sign of needle marks, no toxins or poisons in either of their cups and no evidence in the house to suggest a reason behind this insanity.
Just that sticky sweet smell he’d noticed in both houses.
He could only assume that Alistair’s bout of insanity would be the same.
Scraping his hair out of his face, he stared at the desktop. His mind felt dull tonight—grief, most likely. He could barely think. Every time he chased a thought, it skittered away, dissolving into mist. The confrontation with Mercury kept leaping to the forefront of his mind, despite the need to focus on Alistair.
Why had she appeared tonight? Had she tracked him from Alistair’s house? Was she involved with his death? If she was… His fist clenched. There would be no mercy if she was.
A sharp rap at the door sounded.
Perry. He could tell by the way she waited for his response. “Yes?” he called, glancing at the clock. She’d been gone only three hours. This wouldn’t be good news.
Perry slipped in through the door, a light rain misting her hair and eyelashes. “Lost them,” she said. “I got a trail on them for several streets, then it started to rain.”
“Which direction were they heading?”
“The docks by the East End.”
Lynch sat back in his chair and eyed the way she clasped her hands behind her back. “You have something else to report.”
Perry sighed. “When I lost the trail, I went back to Holland Park Avenue. I managed to pick up a scent from the man wearing cologne in the opposite alley. He never approached the house, but I assume he was watching for you.”
“Not involved in the attack then,” Lynch muttered. “Which means their interest was in me. But why?”
“I couldn’t say, sir.” She took a deep breath. “There’s something else. The taller woman is verwulfen. I’ll swear it.”
Interesting.
“I’ve sent two of the men out to check the registry, to see if they can identify a woman,” she said.
The treaty with Scandinavia had introduced a change in the laws, freeing all of the verwulfen in the Empire from slavery. Yet, all newly freed verwulfen were required to register at each city and town they passed through.
“Excellent.” The pieces were starting to fall into place. Lynch had always been patient; the spider’s web was starting to tingle, the trap slowly drawing in on Mercury. A flutter of anticipation stirred in his gut.
“You look exhausted,” he said. “Clock off and get some rest. You did well tonight.”
Perry didn’t quite smile at the rare praise, but she nodded and took her leave.
Slowly his gaze focused on the desk in front of him and he realized there was a piece of folded vellum popped beside his inkwell.
Scent wafted off the paper—Rosa’s scent, reminding him of spring days and sunshine, of laughter and linen sheets. Despite his mood, he felt his shoulders ease. He’d wanted a secretary who wasn’t afraid of him, though he had no idea what to do with her.
Well, she certainly didn’t fear him, and he had to admire her ingenuity with the flask of blood. He also admired certain other aspects of her person but those were better left unthought of.
Flicking open the letter with his thumbnail, he ran his gaze across the sheet. Moonlight glanced over his shoulder, giving him just enough light to understand the slanting script.
She must have written it prior to this afternoon. And he in his blustering state had not noticed it.
Lynch traced the curl of her name, his lips softening. Blasted woman. She had an audacity that astounded him.
She had also managed to distract, if only momentarily.
Lack of reverence indeed. He knew precisely who lacked reverence, whether he and his kind had been excommunicated or not. The admission spoke of her middle-class upbringing; the Echelon had long since turned its back on a church that disavowed them for being demons. As if in retaliation, faith was becoming a surprisingly strong counterpoint amongst the poor and middle classes these days. They had no churches—the Echelon had torn them down—but he’d heard of secret gatherings in shadowy places.
Bloody woman.
“You didn’t think to ask me if you should make an appearance tonight?” Rosalind snarled, striding along the dark, damp passage.
“Finding someone of your height to play Mercury were your suggestion,” Ingrid reminded her. “Keep his lordship from suspecting you, eh?”
Rosalind’s lips compressed. “He was injured.”
“Exactly. I could smell the blood on him when he come out of that mansion.” There was a long moment of silence and Rosalind realized that Ingrid was wondering why she would care. “Knew he couldn’t give chase,” the other woman muttered. “Perfect opportunity to dress Molly up in a cape and mask. We just took advantage of the
