For once in the time since they’d met, Shercroft Sigerson didn’t say a word. In fact, the only sound in the hansom cab was the hiss of steam coming from the clockwork horse that plodded toward the Alice & Ludwig. Even the noise on the street seemed to fade away. Cage was thankful. He needed the silence to think about what he was going to say to Phoe.
Phoe was not a woman who made friends easily. She was always kind, but painfully shy, even now. When she was herself, Phoe still preferred to sit alone with her nose in a book. Until she met Eleanor Pankenthorpe. The two of them had hit it off almost immediately, and in their two weeks at the pension, people would hardly see one without the other. Though Eleanor had been at least ten years Phoe’s senior, they had shared a love of words and whimsy that Cage could never understand. In short, Phoe was going to be devastated.
“I am sorry about your friend,” Sigerson offered, finally breaking the silence.
“Thank you,” Cage replied. “I’m sorry I snapped at you back there.”
“It’s understandable. This case has gone on far too long, with too many lives lost because of Tuggingham’s incompetence.”
Cage nodded. “But that isn’t really my concern anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, that I’m going to take Phoe away from here. Tonight. I can’t stand one more day in this place. And I won’t put her through Eleanor’s inquest and funeral.”
Sigerson looked shocked, almost insulted by Cage’s seeming indifference. Cage didn’t care. Absinthia had gone from being a romantic getaway theme park for adults to a gothic horror novel come to life. It wasn’t good for Phoe. And he couldn’t get the idea out of his mind that it could have as easily been Phoe lying there in a pool of her own blood.
“You can’t mean that you’re leaving. Not when we’re so close.”
“Close to what?” Cage asked, feeling exhausted. “Close to getting ourselves killed? Close to driving our loved ones mad? It isn’t worth it.”
“Of course, it is,” Sigerson stated. “The truth is always worth it.” He wiggled around, trying to find his pocket. After several comical contortions and fights against the lumbering sway of the carriage, Sigerson pulled what appeared to be a key out of his coat pocket. “A-ha.”
“What ‘a-ha’?”
“I found this at the crime scene.”
Cage grabbed his hand and pushed it down, looking around as if there might be someone watching them. “You stole a piece of evidence from the crime scene?”
“Of course, I did. You didn’t want Tuggingham to find it, did you?”
Cage pinched the bridge of his nose, not sure of his answer. “Where did you find it?”
“Clutched in the hand of Eleanor Pankenthorpe. While you were arguing with that hoard of idiots.”
Cage examined the key, using his superior vision to take in every detail. The key was small, easily concealed in the hand. It was made of brass, like an old-fashioned key, but the blade was short and ended in a dangerous-looking diamond shape. It did not look like any door key that Cage had ever seen. “Are you sure this is a key?”
Sigerson nodded. “I’ve seen one like that before, but I can’t quite remember where.”
“Perhaps a luggage key?”
Sigerson threw a sideways glance that indicated his opinion of Cage’s theory. “It isn’t that small.”
Cage handed it back. “Well good luck with it. I look forward to following the court case.”
Sigerson’s jaw hung agape and he sputtered. Cage thought for a minute that Sigerson was going to slap him like a hysterical child. “You can’t be serious?” he asked.
“Quite,” Cage replied. “Phoe was right all along. This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, and so far, it’s been anything but. I need to take her away from here as soon as possible.”
Sigerson’s face went as red as a hybrid cyborg’s face could. “You’re beating yourself up because you think you could have saved Mrs. Pankenthorpe. What about the ones that come after her? Do you honestly think that this creature is going to stop?”
“No. I’ve known enough serial killers to know that they will never stop, but I can’t be responsible for the whole world.”
The carriage stopped in front of the pension. Cage gazed up at the brownstone building that loomed over them. The atmosphere, artificial though it may be, perfectly reflected the dread he felt at having to climb those steps to the pension and face Phoe.
He started out of the cab, and Sigerson stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Are you not the Cage St. John I’ve heard so much about? Daring spy for the IU?”
“Yes I am, but I have to consider Phoebe in my decisions right now. Eleanor was a dear friend.”
“Then surely she’ll want to find the killer.”
“I’m not going to put her in danger as well. We don’t know how he’s targeting these people. How do I know that Phoe isn’t on his kill list already? He could be stalking her right now.”
“St. John, please. I need your help with this. One more day is all I need.” There was a desperation to Sigerson’s voice that St. John would not have expected. For the first time, he understood that solving these murders wasn’t a matter of pride or ego for the man. Sigerson needed to find out who it was that had so changed his life and to get some kind of explanation. Cage wasn’t sure he could refuse him.
“I can’t promise, Sigerson.”
“Please think about it. In the meantime, I’m going to see if I can find out where this key goes.” He tipped his hat and Cage watched the hansom bounce down the street.
He turned back to the pension. No use in putting this off any longer.
It was strangely quiet when he was greeted by Miss Abecrombie in the foyer. Evidently, everyone was upstairs getting dressed. He took it as a good sign that Miss Abecrombie hadn’t said anything about any police coming by. He’d hoped that he would beat them here. Soon, Tuggingham and his goons would be crawling all over the place enquiring about Eleanor and questioning all the guests as to their whereabouts.
“Miss Abecrombie, is Professor Pankenthorpe here?”
“No, sir,” she answered, fluttering about the parlor with her feather duster. “Ain’ seen the professor since this mornin’. He looked a bit upset, he did, but I didn’t ask no questions.”
“What do you mean he looked upset?”
“Well, you know ‘ow Professor Pankenthorpe is. Always looks nervous. He rushed down ‘ere in a flurry of his coat and took off out the door without a word.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Between us, I heard a bit of shoutin’ up there this mornin’. Don’t get the wrong idea, Mr. St. John, but I was up there gatherin’ linens for the washing after everyone had gone downstairs to breakfast. I started to go into the Pankenthorpes’ rooms, but I heard some commotion and arguin’, so I went on me way.”
Something about the Professor and Eleanor arguing seemed strange to Cage. He didn’t think in the two weeks they’d been in Absinthia that he’d ever heard them exchange a harsh word. Though he remembered Phoe commenting at breakfast that it seemed odd that they weren’t downstairs yet.
“Macijah, I thought you weren’t ever going to get back.” He turned to see Phoe coming down the stairs in his robe with her hair in a towel. Even in an old threadbare dressing gown, she was a vision. “You do realize that the carriages will be here to pick us up promptly at five for dinner.”
Cage caught her before her feet could hit the floor and swept her into his arms. He embraced her tightly, holding her body as close as he could manage. “Phoe,” he purred against her cheek. “Oh, Phoe. I’m so glad to see you.”
Phoe giggled and brushed her lips against his mouth. “I’m glad to see you too, darling.” She tried to pull back, but he held on. He needed to feel the warmth of her body after such a long and unforgiving afternoon. “Did you happen to see Eleanor? She rushed out of here this morning, and I haven’t seen her since.”
His first instinct was to lie. To say he hadn’t seen her and pray that they were gone to the ball by the time the police arrived. Perhaps then he could spare himself the anguish of hurting her. But that was the coward’s way out. No, when Phoe heard about the fate of her friend, it would be best to hear it from his own lips.
“Phoe, I—we need to talk.” Cage’s voice kept catching. It wasn’t like him to be so unsure. A year ago, he would have delivered such grave news with all the compassion of a straight razor to the throat, but now, looking down into her eyes, he didn’t know what to say.
“All right then, love. But come upstairs and talk. I need to get into my corset. And wait until you see this dress.”
Cage followed Phoe up the stairs. His boots felt heavy. His mind raced trying to think of some way to break this news gently, but quickly before the police arrived. Then, there was also the possibility that the professor didn’t even know yet, so was it insensitive of him to tell Phoe first? He thought about how absurd it was that he was having a communication crisis. Cage was a man of action. Talking wasn’t exactly his forte. Nor was tact.
“I had to order a corset that was cut a bit lower than the other one. I hope my breasts don’t pop out in the middle of dinner.” She held the corset around herself and turned to Cage. “But isn’t it the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen? It hardly seems fair to wear it under my clothes.”
Cage sat down on the end of the bed, looking exhausted. “You’ll be beautiful, Phoe. You always are.”
Phoe threw the corset aside and went to him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek, still cool from the outside, against her warm stomach. She carded her fingers through his hair. Her gentle fingers soothed him, and he could feel his pulse slowing. “Are you all right, darling?”
“No, Phoe,” he answered with a sigh. “I’m not right at all.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I need to…” He paused, not sure if he was ready yet. “I need to talk to you about something.” He took Phoe’s hands in his and led her to sit down beside him on the bed.
“All right.” Now she looked concerned. Frightened, even.
“Phoe…”
“Cage, love. Just spit it out. Watching you struggle with it is probably worse than whatever you have to say.”
“Phoe, Sigerson and I were out this morning following a few leads.”
She nodded. “I remember. You told me at breakfast.”
“And while we were out something happened.”
Phoe narrowed her eyes. “My God. You didn’t go to a brothel, did you?”
Cage laughed nervously. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then what in the world is all this stammering about? The Cage St. John I know has never stammered a day in his life.”
“Phoe, Eleanor is dead.” The little voice in his head kicked him for being so crass.
She didn’t seem to process it at first. “I’m sure that Maurice would love to…” She stopped and turned to face him. Her eyes searched his for any sign of a lie. “What did you say?”
“I’m so sorry, love. Eleanor is dead.”
“That’s a cruel joke, Macijah St. John,” Phoe argued, a slight tremble in her voice. “You take it back right now.”
Cage shook his head. “I wish I could. But it’s true. They found her on the street this morning.”
“On the street? What do you mean on the street?”
Cage took a deep breath and clutched Phoe’s hand tightly in his own. “They think she’s another Ripper victim. A witness at the scene told the cops that someone in a carriage slowed down by the fountain and threw her body into the street before speeding away.”
“A carriage? Did no one see the driver? Who was in the carriage?”
“I don’t know. The police had barely arrived when Sigerson and I got there. I’m sure that they’re looking for the driver. There didn’t appear to be any witnesses to the actual murder.”
Phoe stood up and started to pace about the room. She was wringing her hands, a tic that she hadn’t displayed since their first adventure together. “Did he…did he tear her up too badly?”
Cage shook his head.
“Good,” she muttered as if talking to herself. Her voice was quavering and cracking when she turned to him. “I don’t think I could stand it if she’d suffered. I mean, I know…I know she did, but…” She stopped and put her head in her hands. She began to cry, and Cage’s heart broke for her. He went to her and gathered her in his arms. For a long time they stood there, Phoe weeping into his shoulder as he held her close.
“I told her,” she whimpered. “I tried to tell her that she shouldn’t go out on her own. Even said I’d go with her if she gave me a second to get dressed.”
“It isn’t your fault, Phoe. If you’d been with her, you might have been killed as well.”
“Maybe I could have stopped it,” Phoe cried. Her sobs were heavy and shuddering. She leaned on Cage as he led her back to the bed.
“This isn’t your fault, love.”
“She even talked Alfie into staying because I wanted her to.”
“What are you talking about?”
Phoe sniffled, blowing her nose on Cage’s offered handkerchief. “She was upset the other morning because Alfie was insisting that they leave early. I helped her convince him that they should stay.” She stared up at Cage, her red-rimmed eyes still glistening with tears. “I should have let her go. If I’d let her go, she’d still be alive.”
Cage cupped Phoe’s face in his hands and forced her to look at him. “Stop that right now. You couldn’t have predicted that this would happen.” He leaned in and kissed away the tears that had collected on her cheeks. “This is not your fault.”
He held her gaze until finally she nodded in agreement. “You’re right.”
Cage kissed her brow once more and went to the wardrobe. “The police will be coming any minute,” he said, pulling his suitcase from the cabinet underneath. “I think we should give our statement and get out of here. I’ve already sent Maurice a holo and we should be able to get IU transport out of here tonight. Plus, he’ll send some agents to help the police.”
“No.”
“Pardon?”
“No. I’m not leaving here now.”
“But Phoe, don’t you think this is enough? You’ve said that ever since we came here, it’s been one thing after another. Maybe what we need is to get on a shuttle, go back to Earth, and spend the rest of our vacation in St. Francisville. We can even pull Ben out of school for a couple of weeks to come with us.”
“Under ordinary circumstances, I’d jump at the chance to go home for a while. And I love you for being so concerned, but don’t you think we owe it to Eleanor to try and figure this out? To find out who this psychopath is before another person is slaughtered?”
Cage had to admit she made a good argument. He would like nothing more than to find this killer, whoever he is, and tear him limb from limb. There was also that small part of him that enjoyed the chase. “Phoe, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“Please, Cage,” she pled, taking his hand. “It’s another day. Only one more day.”
He smirked. “Sigerson said the same thing, you know.”
“Ugh. I’d hate to think I was on Sigerson’s side about anything.” She snuggled into Cage’s embrace again, this time letting her dressing gown fall open. The swell of her breasts pressed against him as she stretched higher, imploring for his kiss. He obliged without hesitation, sliding his arms under the open dressing gown to find that she was nude beneath.
Cage’s hands rested on the curve of her backside, pressing her firmly against his body as they kissed. “I suppose now, faint with grief, would be a terrible time to seduce you.”
Phoe smiled as she pulled back, sniffling. “Not terrible, but we do have a masquerade ball to get to.” She went to the dresser and pulled out two jeweled masks. “Which would you prefer? The cat or the mouse?”