The Vampire of Tinkerfall (Elysium #3)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

 The night was pleasantly cool and clear, without a single cloud to mar the stars. Still, after the relentless rain they'd had, the ground remained soft and muddy. Despite the late hour, there were folks wandering about and taking in the enjoyable spring evening while they could.

"Theo said she saw her on Baker Street, right?" Booker asked as he and Trinket walked arm in arm down the road.

"Yes, but I highly doubt she'd be there now," Trinket replied, craning her neck to peer into a passing alley. "Not after Theo approached her. She hears voices, and unlike me, she's not afraid of them. In fact, she believes they're trying to warn her."

"Warn her about what?"

"About people out to get her. She says she knows things—what sort of things, I don't know. But she insists there are people after her because of this special knowledge, and the voices tell her whether or not someone is trustworthy."

Booker threw her a sidelong glance. "What do they say about you?"

"I was someone she trusted and confided in until recently."

"Do you think you could win back that trust?"

She took a deep breath and set her jaw. "I can certainly try."

There was a group of drunks on Clark Lane, so she and Booker stayed on Gainsborough to avoid a confrontation. "Does she hallucinate like you do?" Booker asked.

"Not visually. From what she's told me, it's only the voices."

"This may sound like a ridiculous question considering the evidence, but I know she's your friend, so I'm going to ask it anyhow. Do you think she's truly dangerous?"

Hesitating for a moment, she finally said, "When she and I would talk back in Elysium, just the two of us, she didn't seem dangerous to me. Even when I talked to her recently, she seemed like the same Tory I knew before. A little twisted and dark, perhaps, but I think Elysium can have that effect on anyone.

"However, when her paranoia escalates, she becomes fearful. She sees almost everything and everyone as a threat, and the voices only add to the chaos. That, I believe, is when she's dangerous. When she's terrified and panicked."

Blowing out a breath, Booker turned his eyes forward. "So in this instance, she would be dangerous."

She nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"Well, you're a very reasonable, compassionate person, so I'm hopeful that you'll be able to get through to her."

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and though she appreciated his optimism, she wasn't so certain it was warranted.

As they turned down Finch Street, they found a group of men gathered together in the middle of the road. Booker pulled Trinket into the shadows, and they cautiously watched as the men argued loudly.

"How hard could this be?" shouted a short man with a long braid of dark hair that reached his waist. "She's just one little tart. We should've found her hours ago."

"Yeah, one little tart endowed with powers of the undead," said a larger man who had his back turned to them.

"If Scales were still here, we'd've slit her throat by now," mumbled another man whose face was obscured by a large-brimmed hat.

The short man with the long hair whacked him over the head, sending the hat flying. "Don't you let the boss hear you mumbling 'bout things like that. You wanna lose a finger?" he hissed as the other fellow stooped to retrieve his hat.

"I dunno, I think the boss is kinda scared of Scales himself," said a fourth man with a pockmarked face.

The short man took it upon himself to whack him over the head, too. "Are you lot a bunch of morons?"