The Experimental Murders (Elysium #2)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

 Daphne was ecstatic to be out in the fresh air, but Trinket was anxious and jumpy. Aside from the fear that someone would make a scene if they caught sight of Daphne's portiums, she was still worried about Booker. Leaving him alone with that Resurrectionist and a room full of surgical tools didn't seem like the wisest idea. What if his desire to find Benedict won out? What sort of horrors would he unleash on the young man with the dirty nails?

Shaking her head, she tried to focus on the task at hand—cancel the request for a body. Once that was done, she could hurry back home and make certain Booker didn't do anything rash.

Daphne hooked an arm through hers and gave it a squeeze. Turning to her, Trinket forced a smile. "Sorry, I don't mean to be such poor company."

Patting her hand, Daphne motioned behind them with her head and offered a sympathetic frown.

"He'll be fine, I'm sure."

Daphne cocked an eyebrow.

"Booker promised he wouldn't hurt him. And I have to trust him. Right?"

With a sad smile, Daphne nodded and turned her attention back to the crowds.

"No one seems to be wise to your appendages," Trinket said as she glanced about at those passing by. "That cape does the trick. How do you like it?"

Letting go of her arm, Daphne spun in a circle and posed. Laughing, Trinket nodded approvingly.

"Very stylish. And functional."

Smiling, Daphne took hold of her arm again.

"We have some dresses still being finished for you. That way you won't have to keep wearing my ill-fitting clothes."

Daphne waved away her words and gestured at the work dress that she was wearing.

"Yes, but I'll need that to do housework."

Shaking her head, Daphne pointed at herself.

"No, I refuse to push that job onto you."

Daphne tilted her head to the side.

"Because it doesn't seem right. I insist on continuing my household duties. Although I think you'd best take over the cooking. You're quite skilled, and I've only just gotten to the point where my meals are slightly edible."

Daphne gave a pretty, tinkling laugh.

Trinket smiled. "I'm happy you decided to stay, Daphne. You're very good company."

Leaning in towards her, Daphne pinched her cheek teasingly.

It wasn't terribly busy in the Clocktower despite having been filled with people when Trinket and Booker had been there earlier. There were a few patrons dining on stale bread and watery soup, as well as serving girls sweeping up and wiping down tables. Some night flowers lazily lounged at tables as they waited for customers to show up. Daphne looked about the alehouse with a content expression, as if she had been there before. Or at the very least, some place similar.

"I'll be back," Trinket said.

Daphne nodded and continued to observe the sparse crowd as Trinket headed towards the stairs. From memory, she went straight to Booker's request. As she pulled it out, she was surprised to find several different marks on it. How long ago had they left it there? An hour? Maybe less? And already he had so many offers?

Shaking her head at Booker's popularity amongst the streetfolk, she took out the pen, drew a large X across the note, and slipped it back under the step. Relieved to have her task complete, she turned to find Daphne so that they could rush back home and keep an eye on Booker. But there had been a sudden surge in business in the short time it had taken her to cross out the request, and Daphne was lost amidst a sea of people. Though she wasn't too worried about Daphne being able to take care of herself, Booker's unusual concern made her panic when she realized she was alone.