The Wolf with the Iron Jaw (Elysium #1)

Chapter Eighteen

 "Good Lord, they are nauseating."

Trinket shook her head as Booker dug through the workbenches in the laboratory. Pieces of mechanical hands and feet were thrown onto the tabletop as he searched for a suitable foot for Alice. After showing the couple to one of the guest rooms, he had requested Trinket's assistance downstairs. She suspected he only wanted her there so he could complain. And she was quite right.

"All of that staring and those wistful looks," he continued, closing one drawer and rifling through another. "I had half a mind to turn them away."

"They're in love," she said, fiddling with a mechanical finger.

"They're adulterers."

He didn't say it with judgement or disdain; it was merely stated as a fact. Which it was. They were adulterers. Alice was married. There was no getting around that. As sweet as they were, they were certainly not innocent.

Booker glanced up at her, apparently noticing her silence as she examined the finger. "Not that it matters," he added. "They're still in love. And disgusting."

"Then why didn't you turn them away?"

He hesitated and returned his attention to the contents of the drawer. "I feel they may have information that would be useful to me."

"But I thought the Wolf came from Broadfall?" she said, the name like thick molasses on her tongue.

Broadfall, Broadfall, Broadfall—

"The Wolf is not the only thing that interests me, my dear."

"Could have fooled me."

"No good." Booker rose up and sighed as he dusted off his trousers. "I'm going to have to make a new one to match her size. She has unusually large feet."

Trinket gave a short laugh. "I wouldn't tell her that. Ladies generally like to be thought of as dainty."

"I'll keep that in mind. Anyhow, it's going to take me at least three days to build one from scratch. In the meantime, the lovely couple can stay here. It's best she doesn't walk on that foot more than she has to, so there's no use in sending them to the Clocktower."

She set the finger back on the workbench. This was the first time they'd had any guests since she started working here. An occasional patient, yes, but no one who stayed long enough for her to feed and entertain them.

"I'll inform them and see if they would like anything to eat," she said.

Booker had already grabbed a pencil and paper and pulled a chair over to the workbench to begin sketching out a diagram of his creation. She assumed his lack of response meant he no longer required her assistance, so she proceeded up the stairs.

"Lock the door behind you," he called after her. "Not that I think our lovesick puppy dog would leave his precious sweetheart, but I don't like to take chances."

She gave a slight frown at his mocking tone but continued up to the house.

Though no one had touched the tea she'd made earlier, she decided to boil the water again and bring it up to the couple anyway. Maybe now that they were more settled, they'd be ready for some refreshments.

As she carried the tray upstairs, the voices relentlessly chanted the name Broadfall over and over to the point where it no longer sounded like a word.

Broadfall, Broadwall, Modwell, Fodmell—

She paused outside the guest room and took a deep breath before knocking. Henry's muffled voice granted her entry, and she carefully balanced the tray on her hip as she opened the door.