SERPENT

34

“WE NEED TO FIND EMILY JACOBS,” Hetty said the moment they were back in the ballroom. “Whatever Bernice has planned, I want nothing to do with it! All that matters is finding that girl.”

“No arguments from me.” Benjy’s hand went to Hetty’s arm, a gentle pressure once more holding her back. “But don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“I never regret anything!”

His expression said everything—his worries, his concerns, and the anger he held back, because one of them needed a clear mind.

“I won’t do anything risky,” Hetty said, responding to this unspoken sentiment. “But if Bernice ever asks anything of me again—”

“I know,” he whispered, and let go. “But there is something else she said that bothered me. She said Valentine wanted to know everyone who helped Sarah Jacobs.”

Hetty pulled out of her rage long enough to consider this. “You think we’re in danger?”

“Not us,” Benjy said.

“That’s hard to say. I can’t remember anyone who might have been part of all that who’s still in the city, except for—” Hetty gulped, before she could say her friend’s name.

“Darlene,” Benjy finished grimly. “Didn’t Penelope tell you Horace Duval was asking questions about her this morning?”

“And he’s here!”

“Let’s make sure he hasn’t found her.”

It would have attracted too much attention to use magic to find Darlene, but in the end, they didn’t need to.

Standing at one of the small tables by the windows, Darlene, Penelope, George, and Thomas chatted, with drinks in hand and small plates of food. George was regaling them with some story, all of their eyes on him, all laughing when he said something in particular.

The sight brought a rush of calm over Hetty. All were attired in their finest. Serviceable suits for George and Thomas, although Thomas had tied a flashy orange scarf around his neck. Penelope was in a green dress, the fabric of which wasn’t as poisonous as the deep color implied, not with the jeweled butterflies adorning her hair. Darlene wore an elegant gown of dark red, the cut and fall of the dress simple, but the embroidery was a fine netting of bronze. Her glasses were missing tonight, likely in the purse dangling from her wrist.

Hetty approved of all the sartorial choices, because in every stitch of clothing Hetty had left traces of her magic.

“I thought it might be you I saw earlier,” George said in greeting when they approached. “I saw the trail of that dress and I thought: no one else would be so daring!”

“When you say you’re going as guests, you do come in style!” Penelope added. “But here’s the true test: What names did you give at the door? I owe Thomas five dollars if you used the Ross name.”

Darlene frowned. “Why would you do that? Hardly anyone knows you’re here.”

“They like to keep their privacy,” Thomas pointed out.

“So did you or did you not?” Penelope asked.

“If someone points us out,” Benjy said when Hetty didn’t move to answer, “tell them we are Iris and Sylvester Landry.”

A little groan went through the group.

“Who gets the money?” Penelope asked.

“I do,” Darlene said, “from both of you.”

“You didn’t take part in the bet,” Thomas accused.

“Don’t care—we got a baby to take care of,” Darlene said.

Hetty cleared her throat, getting their attention. “Darlene, can we talk for a moment?”

Darlene nodded, and handed her drink to George.

As Hetty and Darlene left, Benjy turned to Thomas. “Where is Oliver?”

Hetty missed Thomas’s answer as she led Darlene away from most of the crowd, stopping at a space where they could talk privately. “You and George need to head home.”

Darlene looked on, rather surprised. “Is that all you were going to tell me? You could have told me that with the others.”

“The others don’t need to know because only you are in danger.”

Darlene calmly took out her glasses and slid them back on. “Well, I’m not leaving this ball because of something like that. I have been in danger many times before. Maybe not as often as you, but still—I’ve been in my share of peril.”

“This is different. You need to be somewhere safe just in case.”

“In case what?” Darlene remarked. “You don’t think I can handle things? I may not be as talented in magic, or have a bounty of potions to toss at things, but I’m more than capable of protecting myself. When the train compartment was attacked earlier, why do you think it was a sleep spell that got us all? Or even that no one came in to throw us off the train because of the magic being worked there? That was my spells at work! I’m not helpless.”

“I know that, but—”

“Besides, I’m not that surprised that there is trouble brewing.” Darlene looked around the ballroom. “Why do you think we are all here?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hetty,” Darlene said, with more than a fair share of exasperation. “You inform us that you’re going to a ball, hosted by a woman you barely like, and kept those plans despite being in the middle of a case. Naturally, we came prepared. George brought one of his service pistols. Oliver has a knife with him. Penelope got potions, of course. And Thomas found this cane that has a sword inside it. We’re here to help you, if you let us.”

Hetty’s heart warmed at these words, and it took her a moment before she could speak. “Do I have a choice?”

“No, you don’t!”

“Then I suppose we should tell the others what’s going on, if Benjy hasn’t already.”

“Yes, we should,” Darlene agreed. She stopped as she looked up toward the mezzanine. “There’s Oliver. I wondered where he went.”

Hetty glanced up as well.

She saw Oliver’s grumpy face peering out into the ballroom. But he was not alone up there.

Behind him stood Nathan Payne.

She should have come here as a servant.

This dress brought her too much notice. Even if Payne didn’t expect to see her, even if he didn’t recognize her, he would have remembered this dress.

“So did I,” Hetty said to Darlene, hoping her voice betrayed nothing. “I’ll go talk to him.”

For a moment, it seemed Darlene was going to follow, but with a nod, she continued her way across the ballroom.

Oliver was still at the railing when she reached him, but Nathan Payne was gone. But not far. There was an open door behind Oliver that was swinging shut.

“There are far too many people here,” Oliver said as he patted his pockets for his pipe. “They all talk too much. I can’t believe Thomas convinced me—”

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

Oliver’s hands stopped moving. “What dangerous thing are you about to do?”

“Nothing. Just stay here. If you hear me screaming, come running.”

Oliver blinked. “I never heard that before.”

“You’ll know it when you hear it.”

There were several small tables set up in the room, with other people seated there. Despite the people around her, all Hetty could focus on was Payne and the memory of the promise she made many years ago. A promise with grim outcomes yet to be delivered.

Nathan Payne sat at a table a little farther away, with a checkerboard laid out in front of him.

He looked up. It was hard to tell if he knew her at all. Nothing in his manner said he recognized her from the train or from slicing up his face.

She was banking on the fact that her fancy dress and attire would give her some sort of protection, as he’d always seen her before in less pristine situations. It was a slim hope, but one she’d hold on to until the moment he tried to jam a knife into her stomach.

“Why is a lovely creature like yourself not out there dancing?”

“Bored,” Hetty said, “and curious about what was in here.” She looked around for decorations to point out, but there was nothing but the checkers spread out on the table.

“Would you like to play?”

Something that could be called a smile lifted the corner of his mouth, but it was overshadowed by the intensity of his eyes. Hetty put her hand on the back of the chair to keep from pulling out one of her hairpins and jamming it into his eye.

“Just one round.” Hetty took a seat at the table.

“What’s your name? I feel as if we’ve met before.”

“I doubt it,” Hetty said, sliding one of her pieces forward. “My husband and I are fairly new in town. He’s a teacher.”

“Yet you’re here.”

“I suppose we know the right people.”

Hetty moved one of her pieces in preparation to jump his in the next move. “What brings you here?”

“Work.” Payne moved across the board, just where she wanted him to go.

“What sort?” Hetty jumped the piece, and then scooped up another.

Payne took one of her checkers in a move she didn’t see at all. Hetty frowned. The move didn’t allow him to snatch up any of her pieces in this turn, but it did limit her options.

“I’m in the business of acquiring goods on behalf of interested parties. Rare, expensive goods that I relocated from Canada and Boston to other places.”

“Expensive goods,” she echoed. “Such as . . . musical instruments?”

“Nothing as fine as that. I’m quite practical.”

“Nothing is more practical than something that brings a bit of good cheer into people’s lives.”

Hetty reached over to make another move, but this time, she hesitated.

There were more pieces on the board than there had been a moment or so ago.

More of his pieces.

Hetty studied them, wondering if she wanted to call out cheating. There were enough pieces on the board that adding a few didn’t stick out like a red apple in a basket of green pears. These pieces were a red of a slightly different color, but a closer look showed how different they were. The marks on them—

Were like Raimond Duval’s checkers.

Not like—they were the missing pieces from Raimond’s set.

“Is something the matter?”

Hetty got another glimpse of his face, and realized she had been mistaken to think a fancy dress could fool him.

He knew exactly who she was.

His eyes said it, as did the smirk, like a spider who’d finally caught the prey it laid its web for.

Hetty jumped her pieces across the board and picked up one of the stolen pieces. She dropped it onto the pile.

If he was disappointed, he said nothing, moving the piece forward.

“We shall see.” Hetty plotted her next move.

She wasn’t going to lose to a murderer. Either in the actual game of checkers or this battle of wits he was silently waging.

She pushed a piece deliberately into danger, as she fell back to a strategy that usually worked. Instead of going after her opponent’s pieces, she sacrificed hers as smokescreen for the efforts of a larger plan.

It was something she’d learned from watching Cora play chess a few times. Chess was a game about planning ahead and anticipating moves, and more importantly, baiting people to make certain moves.

Hetty could never quite master it with chess, but she’d gotten rather good at it with checkers.

She gave up pieces she could afford to lose to get her pieces in place. When that was won, she went on the offensive, clearing the board with only token resistance from Payne. Soon she had all of his pieces until only the last stolen piece was left. Then she swooped down, taking that as well.

“You win.” Payne blinked. “How did you do that? I had you on the run.”

“That was the idea.” Hetty stood then, cupping the stolen checker piece in her palm. “Good game. But I must go find my husband. He’ll be looking for me.”

“Yes, I’m sure he will.”

With his eyes boring into her back, Hetty left.

She might have won the game, but she felt like she had lost something on the way to victory.