The Wolf with the Iron Jaw (Elysium #1)

Chapter Thirty-Three

 As promised, Booker returned promptly. He spent most of his time in the laboratory, tweaking the sleeping gun and preparing for the coming night. Trinket tried to busy herself with household chores, but her mind refused to focus. Her thoughts kept wandering to Boris and the Wolf and the Mice. Could this be it? Could they win this game? With Boris' intimate knowledge of the Wolf, it seemed like a sure victory. But with Scales' vindictive and violent nature, she knew better than to think success was assured.

A desperate pounding came from the front door around noon. Per Booker's instructions, Trinket fetched him before answering it. Armed with a pistol, he stood by as she carefully pulled the door open.

It was Gin.

A cold pit settled in Trinket's stomach as Booker's shoulders fell. "He's dead, isn't he?" he said.

"Dropped like a fly halfway into his ale," Gin said.

Booker let out a growl and turned away. Twisting his fingers into his already rumpled hair, he paced into the parlour, cursing under his breath.

"It was the Mice, wasn't it?" Trinket asked Gin as they remained in the foyer.

"Can't imagine who else could slip poison into his drink so sneakily."

"Poison?"

"That's what I heard the coppers saying. Something 'bout the smell of the ale and the color of his lips. Worked real fast."

Trinket bit her lip. How terribly disappointing. They had been so close. And now they were back where they'd started.

"Can I offer you some tea?" she asked Gin.

Shaking her head, the urchin pushed past her and headed into the parlour. After locking the door, Trinket followed after her.

Booker was still pacing. His fingers were no longer tangled in his hair but rather restlessly tapping away at his leg.

"You're gonna wear a path in the floor," Gin said, leaning against the doorframe.

He shot her a scowl. "I'm more than a little upset right now. We were this close. This close!" He gestured with his fingers, pinching a tiny space of air before closing his hand into a fist. "And now that's gone thanks to that moronic buffoon. Why couldn't he have just listened to me? I'm sure the Mice picked his pockets clean, too, so there's no hope of recovering what's been lost. Blast it all!"

Gin gave a sly grin. "Booker, do you really have so little faith in my skills?"

He stopped mid-stride and narrowed his eyes at her. "What are you saying?"

Slowly digging into her pocket, she pulled out a small metallic object.

Trinket took a sharp breath. Boris' whistle.

Booker's eyes went wide. Taking the whistle from Gin, he examined it closely. After a few seconds, a smile spread over his face, and with an exuberant shout, he lifted the urchin into the air and spun her around.

"Gin, you are the finest pickpocket in all of Tinkerfall! No, in all of Bellford county!"

He gave her a tight hug and then placed her back on the ground. She stumbled slightly, her cheeks flushed. "Was that ever in question?" she asked somewhat breathlessly.

"This is it, Trinket," Booker said, rushing up to her. "This is it. We're going to get it. We're going to catch that blasted wolf and show the Mice just who they're messing with."

"But won't that make you even more of an enemy to them? Won't they come after you?"

"I'm not afraid of them."

"You're not?"

"I'm smarter than they are and so are my accomplices." He glanced over at Gin proudly. "Besides, I'm a valuable asset to this city, whether they or anyone else wants to admit it. If I were to die, they'd experience great backlash."

His self-importance was astounding. And reckless. How was he not already dead?

"If they ever laid a finger on you, I'd slit every one of their throats," Gin chimed in.

Trinket gaped at the urchin's macabre oath, and Booker beamed. "See? I have nothing to worry about."

Though still not convinced, she swallowed down her concerns and forced a smile. "So we carry on as previously planned? Even without Boris?"

"Yes. I'm certain that this time we'll succeed. We have inside information and the key tool." He held the whistle up and smiled as it winked in the lamplight. "There's no way we can fail."

~

Trinket anxiously buttoned her coat as they prepared to leave later that night. The entire day, she'd been plagued by phantom howls and visions of Boris blue-lipped and pale on the Clocktower floor. It felt wicked to be celebrating their success when such a gentle man was now dead. Still, despite her reservations, her pulse fluttered with excitement at the prospect of finally catching the Wolf. At winning this game. Even if she wasn't completely sure what the point of it was.

"Here," Booker said, handing her a pistol.

"No, Booker, I don't trust myself with a weapon, please," she protested, pushing it back into his hands.

He let out a hard sigh before stashing it inside his coat. For all of his bragging about not being afraid of the Mice, he was taking an awful lot of precautions. Earlier, she had seen him slip a knife into his boot and a pistol into the back of his trousers. They were certainly not meant for the Wolf, as he also had the sleeping gun with him, which he'd altered in order to add more syringes.

"You know, if you intend to continue working for me, you're going to have to carry something to defend yourself," he said, checking to be sure the sleeping gun was loaded properly.

She pulled on her gloves. "I'm dangerous enough without a weapon."

"You're not that dangerous."

"Really? Would you like to roll up your sleeve and take a look at that scar again?"

"It was only a flesh wound, nothing I couldn't handle. Listen, if you don't want a gun, then at least take a knife."

"Again, do I need to refer you to that night in the kitchen?"

He sighed once more. "I'm going to find something for you to use one of these days."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so concerned with arming me?"

"As I said, working for me is going to put you in the path of danger quite often. You'd be wise to have some sort of weapon."

"I'll take my chances."

"Famous last words," he said as he pulled the door open.

But as she moved to follow him outside, he stopped short and closed it quickly. "Booker?" she said.

He shushed her before slowly glancing over his shoulder. His eyes danced with mad excitement, and she wasn't sure if she should be thrilled or terrified. Somehow she was both.

"It's right outside the door," he whispered.