The Experimental Murders (Elysium #2)

Chapter Thirty-Four

 The girl with the scar stood there for a moment, watching them carefully. Her twitchy and nervous behavior back in the city center was gone. Here in this dark room, she was all sass and suspicion. She still looked fragile, but her stance was filled with confidence as she eyed each of them with a scrutinizing gaze.

It was only when Booker adjusted his hold on Gin and she let out a hiss of pain that the girl's steady concentration broke. "What happened to her?" she asked, her attention on Gin.

"She was injured during our little confrontation," Booker said.

Sighing, the girl ushered them further into the room.

Though still only a single room, this one was at least twice the size of the one the Resurrectionist was in. There were two beds in the middle and a small stove tucked away in the corner. There were just as many cobwebs as in the other room, but there were obvious signs of life here: clothes scattered about on the floor, dirty plates piled on the window sill.

As the girl led them over to the stove, Trinket noticed someone sleeping in the larger of the two beds. She thought she caught a glimpse of wrinkles and gray hair beneath the pile of quilts, but before she could get a better look, the light of the girl's candle disappeared as she set it aside to spread out a blanket on the floor.

"Lay her down here," the girl whispered.

Booker gently placed Gin on the blanket. She continued to cradle her right arm, her eyes squeezed shut. He examined her with the care of a doctor, but Trinket could see in his eyes the worry of a parent. When Gin cried out as he extended her injured arm, panic flashed across his face. He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, and she opened her eyes to gaze up at him.

"I think it's only dislocated," he whispered. "I can set it, but it will hurt."

"You can't be making noise in here," the girl with the scar said, her eyes darting to the occupied bed.

Booker nodded and turned his attention back to Gin. "I can wait to do it at home."

Gin shook her head. "I'll be quiet. Do it now."

"But if we wait until we get home, I can give you—"

"If we get into another fight, I'll be useless with my arm like this. Just do it."

He hesitated at first but finally nodded and took hold of her arm. Closing her eyes, Gin prepared herself for the pain.

"Wait!"

The girl with the scar got up to retrieve something from a pile of clothes. She returned with a dirty rag and passed it to Gin. Without need for explanation, Gin bit down on the lump of cloth and once again readied herself. Booker inhaled deeply before taking hold of her shoulder and quickly pulling it. Trinket cringed and looked away, but it was over in an instant. By the time she turned back, Gin was sitting up and removing the cloth from her mouth. Her face was beaded with sweat, and she was breathing heavily, but other than that, she seemed back to her undaunted self.

"How's that?" Booker asked.

"Better," Gin breathed.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

She shrugged. "Bumped my head, but nothing too bad. Now me and Trinket can have matching lumps."

Smiling at the girl's returned sense of humor, Trinket settled onto the floor beside Booker. "You were quite fearless back there," she said to Gin.

"So were you. Did you spray perfume in his eyes?"

She shook her head and pulled out the faux perfume bottle. "It's something Booker came up with. Rather effective," she said, handing it to the urchin.