The Wolf with the Iron Jaw (Elysium #1)

Chapter Six

 At Booker's request, Trinket accompanied him to dinner several nights during the week, using her acute observation skills to aid him in picking up on any clues and gossip relating to the Wolf. Gin would show up at the house every so often with half-eaten pigeons and cats, and Booker eagerly took each carcass with him into the basement. Trinket couldn't help but wonder what he did down there, but she dared not investigate.

On evenings that they didn't go to the Clocktower, she would attempt to make a meal at home. Her stews were becoming more appetizing, and she was actually able to produce a side dish here and there. But she wouldn't touch a full dinner; her skills were not yet at that level.

Despite her efforts, though, Booker rarely made an appearance in the dining room. Even when she left a tray of food for him on the table by the basement door before going to bed, she would return the next morning to find that only bits of it had been picked at. How did he manage to function on so little sustenance?

The man was a mystery.

Odd eating habits aside, he was a decent employer. Nearly a month went by, and she was beginning to think she was in the clear. No one had come looking for her. The voices, while still obnoxious and cruel, caused her no more grief than usual. And her hallucinations, though frequent, were not so terrifying as to cause her to worry that Booker would notice.

Perhaps her life was truly changing for the better.

~

An ear-splitting scream pulled her out of a deep sleep. She bolted up in bed with a gasp, searching for the source of the sound.

But there was nothing. Only darkness.

Chest heaving, she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to calm her racing pulse. Had it been a dream? A nightmare was more likely the case. Probably about Elysi—

Another scream ripped through the air, and she covered her ears to block it out. But it was no use. The sound seemed to echo inside her head.

Her head.

Her heart sank. Of course. Because it was inside her head.

Letting out a groan, she flopped back down onto the bed and pressed a pillow against her face, though it did nothing to muffle the noise. Not that she expected it to. This wasn't the first night that had been interrupted by disembodied screams. Still, she had foolishly hoped such nonsense was behind her. It seemed it would take more than a new name and home to escape her demons.

~

After a long, sleepless night, she dragged herself out of bed with the rising sun, her head pounding and her muscles sore. She stumbled over to the washbasin and splashed some cold water onto her cheeks to wake herself up. Even so, it took all her strength to change into her work dress and shuffle down to the kitchen.

Setting the kettle for tea seemed impossible. It was like there was an anchor on her chest, weighing her down and making every step a struggle. She gritted her teeth, not wanting to admit the truth—this was an all too familiar feeling.

"Good morning, my dear."

Forcing down her fears, she plastered on a smile and gave Booker a slight nod. "Good morning, Mr. Larkin."

He took up the cup of tea she placed on the table for him. "I have some business to attend to downstairs, so I won't require any dinner tonight."

"Can I at least make you some breakfast?"

Shaking his head as he sipped his tea, he replied, "I'll be fine. Just wanted to let you know where I am should someone come by."

"Of course, sir."