Page 36 of Blackwicket
When she waved to the band leader, signaling she’d return to the stage, her fingers trembled.
“Thea, please.” I stood as well, touching her wrist lightly, ready to beg, then happened to glance over her shoulder.
There, watching from a shadow-dense corner of an already dim theater hall, was Inspector Harrow. He leaned casually against a nearby wall, half-empty glass in hand, glaring at me like a snake from beneath a rock. I snatched my touch from Thea,my sudden change in demeanor pulled her brows low, and she followed my gaze.
“Oh, honey,” she said. “I really hope you don’t know that guy.”
“Do you?” I asked, breathy with the need to understand how the Inspector fit in here, in this awful, beautiful little world my sister had inhabited.
“He’s a brute.” Her reply was emphatic. “Bad news all around.”
“He’s Authority.” As I said it, I grew stupefied with my naiveté. William said the Authority frequented this club.
“Is he on your tail?”
“I have to go,” I said, unable to bear being stared at by a man who held portions of my future, my safety, in the palm of his hand. One who’d seen me waltz into the den of the Brom, sit at their table to drink, and be kissed by their shining prince.
Our roles reversed when Thea reached out to take my hand in hers, stepping close, her movements evocative. The tilt of her chin was sensual, and she brushed two fingers along my jaw. She smelled of jasmine, rose powder, and heady, moonlit magic.
“Come back tomorrow night,” she crooned. “Wait until dark, take the alley to the staff door. Wear something sexy, they won’t blink an eye at you. They’ll assume you’re here to meet a client.”
“Aclient?”
She shook her head, a practically imperceptible movement, warning me to play my part.
“You’re too deep in this to be worrying about your reputation. I’ll meet you and tell you everything I can. Until then, you look out for yourself. There are too many people interested in you for all the wrong reasons.” She tapped my chin playfully, but it was caution disguised as flirtation. She hummed again, the beginnings of a tune this time, slow and mournful, asshe moved away from me, warming her magic for the performance ahead. The resulting energy of it pleased the audience and vibrated in my marrow.
I was wary of engaging in these games, but knew Thea was an expert in moving through this world. If I ever wanted to find out what had happened to my sister and the son she never had, I’d have to follow her lead.
Before I took my leave, shaken by the events of the evening, I looked for the Inspector, planning on giving him plenty of room, but he’d already gone.
Chapter Fifteen
I scanned the theater and scrutinized shadowy corners as I left. The man at the podium by the entrance wasn’t Coppe. He wished me a good night as I dashed into the cold. The biting wind stung my cheeks and ears as I paused, unsure of my next move. The tides of tourists swirled around me, and for a moment, I didn’t know which way was up. I willed myself to go in any direction, and at last, I took a step—toward the train station.
The ten-minute walk gave me room to ruminate, and when I reached the busy taxi posts, where arriving travelers were securing rides, I’d decided I wouldn’t leave yet. I wanted closure, answers, but was in danger of getting caught in the machinations of the Brom. I’d ask for a departure schedule, prices, and make my plans to beat a hasty retreat when it became necessary.
This time of evening, no line waited at the Ticketmaster’s window. A man about as old as Darren but much wider in the middle, and happier for it, smiled at me, his charming face red-cheeked beneath his white moustache.
“Evening, young lady,” he said, loud and jolly. “Last train’s run for the night. The first comes bright and early, 6 am.”
“I’m here to browse the departure schedule, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course!” He offered me the ledger listing the week’s departures and arrivals. “That’ll take you to three days after next.Evening’s cheapest. When were you planning on leaving us, Ms…” he asked, raising his white eyebrows high. It wasn’t a sinister question, but I buckled, adopting old habits.
“Jonas,” I replied with a warm smile of my own. “Elyse Jonas. I’m afraid my husband couldn’t meet me for our winter holiday, so I need to decide when to return home. I’d rather not vacation alone.” The candid, open expression I adopted was that of a woman with nothing to hide.
“That’s a shame,” the man commiserated. “The best time to depart is first thing in the morning. Few people are awake then, so you’ll have plenty of peace. If your husband wouldn’t miss you too much, I’d recommend two days from now, there are fewer seats booked than usual.”
He was so pleasant it made my bones ache.
“If you buy a ticket today, I’ll give you a discount,” he said. “The railroad men don’t want their train cars to be empty, and my life is easier when they’re happy. If your plans change, ask for me. Christopher Thatcher. I’ll get it switched for you, Ms. Jonas, no troubles.”
I had the money—barely, and the safety net was too necessary, so I acquiesced.
“You’ve talked me into it, Mr. Thatcher,” I replied.
“Good, good!” He said, slapping the wooden sill. He retrieved a beat-up clipboard and pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket, placing them neatly on his large, rosy nose.
