Something Strange and Deadly (24 page)

“I want to know what you're plannin',” she repeated, her jaw setting at stubborn angle. “I think you're up to something dangerous. Your ma can't handle any more shock.”

“Like you care. You took the earrings without any argument.”

“I
do
care,” Mary hissed. “She's a good woman, and if you run off with that man and break her heart—”

“I'm not running off with anyone! It's not like that at all.” I grabbed a fistful of bread and pitched it at her. “Get out. Just get out!”

“No. I don't want your ma to—”

“Get out or I'll tell Mama you stole my earrings.” I launched more bread at her. “I'll tell her you stole my kid gloves and my hairpiece.”

Mary scampered from the room, her hands covering her face.

I huffed out a heavy sigh and tossed the remaining bread back on my plate. My head hurt all the way into my eye sockets, and guilt panged in my chest for being cruel to Mary... but I'd spent the day planning, and I couldn't give up now.

I
had
to do this. Mary had given me what I needed, and now nothing stood in my way.

In a few more hours I would go to Laurel Hill, and I would stop Elijah.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-FOUR

W
hen the church bells sang eleven and it seemed the
house had gone to sleep, I eased from bed. I hadn't moved much in two days, and my muscles burned. At each wooden creak of the floor, I froze and held my breath. But no one noticed, or else no one cared. So I resumed my careful prowling in the dark.

I dressed. The shirt and trousers Mary had gotten were too big, and I had to tie a ribbon around my waist to keep the pants up. The boots were snug yet manageable.

I tiptoed to the door and pressed my ear against it. No sounds came through.

It was now—I had to do it now, while my courage and resolve were strong. I inhaled until my lungs were fully expanded. Then I ventured out. The hall was empty and dark, and no one met me as I navigated the stairs down. I fumbled with the front door, yet still no one came.

And then the door was cracked. I was squeezing through and racing over the porch and across the front lawn.

The night air was thick and textured as if some damp blanket had been cast over the world. There was no breeze. No movement. The only sounds were the insects, humming and content in their own safe lives.

Above, the moon was only a sliver in the sky, and I found the darkness comforting. Safe.

I stepped into the street and jogged, but I didn't make it far before I had to a stop. I scuffed to a streetlamp and leaned. My head spun. I would need to go more slowly if I wanted my body to keep up.

Footsteps pounded to my right. I whipped my head around and saw a man rushing down the street toward me. I sprang forward, ready to flee, but the man slowed and shouted.

“It's me, Eleanor—it's me!”

Daniel!

“You're alive,” he said between heavy pants.

“
You're
alive.” I chuckled weakly. “I thought you were on the run.”

“I am, but I'm not that easy to catch.” He moved into the warm glow of the streetlight. He was just two paces from me, and I could see fatigue drawn into his face. “What the hell are you doing out of your house?”

“I have things that need doing. Why are you here?”

“I-I was hoping to see you. Catch a glimpse or something.” He slung off his flat cap and ran a hand through his hair. “I wanted to know if you were all right. I... I almost killed you—and I'm so sorry and I was awful worried.” The words flooded from his mouth. “Your mother, she wouldn't let me in, and I thought maybe you were really hurt and it was all my fault.”

I shook my head. “Are you blaming yourself for my injuries?”

“I threw the pulse bomb.”

“And I picked it up.
I'm
the one who threw it in the end.” I patted my chest. “Don't worry about me, all right? Now... I've got to go. I have work to do.” I glanced side to side.

Daniel planted his feet and crossed his arms. “I see what you're doing, Empress. I know about your brother—I figured it out when you tried to save his wretched skin. I won't let you see him.”

“It's not like that.” I sidled past him, but he grabbed my left hand. His fingers scratched at my raw palm.

I groaned and yanked back my arm. His eyes grew wide.

“What is it?”

I gritted my teeth. “Nothing. Just some cuts from the explosion.”

“You hit the ground real hard.” He hung his head. “I thought I'd killed you.”

An emptiness eddied through my chest—I didn't want his guilt. I didn't deserve it.

“You did nothing wrong, Daniel.” I waved at myself. “See? I'm just fine.”

His gaze crept up and met mine. “You also scratched up your...” He trailed off and gestured to my face.

“Is it bad?”

“Not so bad.” He lifted his free hand to my cheek. “You're still you.” His fingers brushed down the line of my jaw.

He set his thumb on my chin and guided my face to the side. His eyes flicked over the skin, and then he tipped my face the other way. “You'll be right as rain after a few days of healing.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

As if scrutinizing the shape of my cheek, he leaned closer until I could feel his breath.

Then his lips touched my skin—only the slightest brush along my cheekbone.

My breath caught, and my heart with it. But I didn't pull away. I couldn't. I knew if I moved, if this moment ended, my chest would ache with this hollowness forever.

He slowly drew back his hand. I twisted my face to his, and before he could retreat, I reached out and pressed my good hand against his stomach.

He sucked in a breath, and I bit back my own gasp. He was the first boy I'd ever touched, and the stiffness of his body through his shirt was unexpected. And wonderful.

“Eleanor.” His voice was so low, I could barely hear it. “Eleanor, we can't do this.”

“Oh,” I breathed, but I didn't move. Nor did he.

He was so near. I couldn't keep my gaze from his face. I wanted to memorize the way his lips shuddered with his breath; the way his tongue was just visible when his lips parted; the way his eyes didn't break from my face; and above all, the way his stomach felt beneath the fabric of his clothes.

Then his body shook—only the slightest tremor—and he lowered his face.

His mouth reached mine, and in an instant I
knew
what the fascination with lips was all about. Even the gentlest touch—for that was all it was—sent my mind reeling and my heart racing. It was sweeter than I'd ever dreamed possible. His scent and his touch overwhelmed my brain, and I could think of nothing but Daniel.

He drew back, and I found I could barely breathe. My chest felt so tight with emotion—so full. His own breaths were short and shallow.

Then suddenly his lips were on mine again. And I kissed back. His hands rose to cradle my head, and he tugged me more tightly into the embrace. He pressed me to the lamppost, his body a shield to the world beyond, and I slipped my hand all the way around his waist.

His stubble scratched my chin, but I didn't care.

Long, hard kisses turned into quick, desperate ones and then back again. This, whatever this was, had flared out of our control. His skin was as salty as it smelled—delicious and intoxicating.

Somewhere, deep in my mind, I knew there would be consequences. Now was not the time for passion. Yet my body betrayed me by shutting off those worries and taking control.

Think only of Daniel.

The church bells rang half past. They pierced my mind, and reality flew back into focus. Daniel jerked away from me.

His lips were swollen and his cheeks flushed. He panted, “I'm sorry.”

“Why?” My lips felt puffy and raw, and my heart banged like a timpani in my ears.

He shook his head. “I shouldn't have done this. I'm sorry.”

“I wanted you to... I wanted you to kiss me.”

He didn't answer, but I knew he wanted it too. I could see it in the way his eyes ran over my face, in the way he leaned toward me, in the way his mouth hovered partly open.

But I could also see his sincere regret.

He slapped his cap on and drew it low over his face. “I made a mistake.”

My heart sank into my belly, and the hollowness erupted in my chest. “A mistake?” The words echoed strangely in my ears.

“Yes.” He avoided meeting my gaze.

I lowered my chin. His words
hurt
. For all that, I knew it was wrong, I never thought he would call it a mistake.

But I didn't want sadness or regret. I'd had enough of those emotions, and they only made me feel weak, helpless. So I let anger come.

I narrowed my eyes into a harsh glare. “You're the first man I've ever kissed, and you've decided I'm a mistake—a
misfit.
”

“Now hold your horses.” He straightened, and his eyes locked on mine. “It's not like that.”

“No? Then what
is
it like?”

He opened his mouth, but I shot my left hand up and cut him off. I didn't want excuses or explanations.

“Actually, Daniel, I don't care. Now is hardly the time for such trivial”—I wrinkled my nose—“such trivial things. I have to go. I have work to do.”

His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. “And if you think I'll let you waltz off to find Elijah, then you're mad. I'm sorry, but he's not your brother anymore, Empress. He's a lunatic, and there's nothing you can do now.”

I scoffed derisively. “I don't want to meet him for tea! I'm doing what I should have done in the first place.”

“You can't stop him.” He thrust his face into mine. “Not like this. Not alone. Think, Empress, think!”

“No!” I shouted, a wave of rage and terror rolling down my body. “No! I can't think. If I think, I'll lose everything. I won't be able to
stop
thinking. Of Clarence, of Elijah, of you, of the walls that surround me everywhere. I can't!”

Daniel's face relaxed, and his eyes held pity. I hated it.

“Empress. You know you're not the only person hurt here. Joseph, Jie, and me? We're all neck deep in this cesspool too.”

“But I'm the only one to blame.”

“No! The necromancer is to blame—not you.” He wet his lips. “You're... well, you're as good and innocent as they come.”

“Enough, Daniel. Just shut pan.” I marched away from him. I pulsed with rejection and fear and a
burn
to do what needed to be done. I had a real, desperate goal to achieve, and I was furious with myself for forgetting. Furious that Daniel had called me a mistake. Furious that Mama cared nothing for my injuries or Clarence's death. Furious that my brother was a monster I could not save.

But I was also strong—stronger than Daniel or Mama or Elijah gave me credit for.

I stalked down the street, my energy high and focus clear. Daniel jogged up beside me.

“Fine,” he said. “I can't stop you, and I won't try. But no matter what you say, I'm going with you—to help. We do it together, and we do it as a team.”

Joseph and Jie were near Laurel Hill, so Daniel and I left the hired carriage a mile from the cemetery—no driver would go any closer—and walked the rest of the way. We trekked up Ridge Avenue and then into the woods north of Laurel Hill. Daniel's glowworms offered a dim light to see by, and he spent part of the journey explaining all that had happened in two days.

“Mayor Stokely and the Exhibition board were furious on Monday,” he said. “Lotta damage to the Exhibition, and a
hell
of a lotta damage to their reputations. It only got worse when they found Junior's body.”

I exhaled sharply, keeping my eyes focused on the uneven forest floor. I didn't want to think of Clarence, of his gruesome corpse, of his devastated family. “Then what happened?” I pressed.

“Well, Peger told the mayor that I'd done it—that I had killed Junior. He said the Spirit-Hunters were the hoodlums who'd destroyed the factory, and then to cap the climax, he accused us of bein' the necromancer. Within an hour, warrants were out for the three of us—thank God Jie sniffed the change in the wind. She got all our stuff packed up in a wagon, and when the news broke that we were wanted criminals, we skedaddled.”

“To Laurel Hill,” I said.

“Yep—watch your step.” He guided me over a jutting tree root. “The Hungry have been breaking through the northern gate, but we intercept 'em—most, anyways. Joseph's tired, though. Three times now, the spirit has shown up. Joseph barely managed to fight it off the last time.”

I ducked under a low branch and shook my head. “How long will you keep up this ridiculous sentry?”

He didn't answer me. I supposed he had no answer to give. It reinforced my resolve to end this war tonight. To stop Elijah now.

After what felt like hours of walking and tripping over tree roots, we reached the Spirit-Hunters' camp just north of Laurel Hill.

If I'd thought the Spirit-Hunters' accommodations at the Exhibition were crude, it was luxurious compared to their new home. From Daniel's worktable they had crafted a lean-to against a tree, and next to that they'd stacked what remained of their tattered belongings. A table leg was splintered—the work of the spirit, perhaps?—and the same lone lantern from their lab hung on a branch and illuminated the area. There was no campfire, and I could see no food.

Joseph staggered from beneath the lean-to. I gawked at his appearance. He wore no gloves, no waistcoat, and no hat. The impeccably dressed gentleman I'd come to know was worn away.

He raised an eyebrow at Daniel. “Dare I ask why she is here?”

“She wants to go into Laurel Hill,” Daniel said. He explained to his leader all that had happened since my escape several hours before. Well, not
entirely
all. He skimmed over the kisses—though I did hear a strain in his voice when he described how he had found me.

When Daniel finished his story, Joseph turned to me. “Is all this true, Miss Fitt?”

“Yes. And call me Eleanor.” I glanced around the tiny camp. “Where's Jie?”

“Dealing with one of the Dead. It escaped not far from here, and Jie lured it from camp. I...” He swallowed. “I was too tired to electrocute it.”

“I can see you're exhausted.” I gestured to the lean-to. “You live with too few comforts to stay strong. You can't keep fighting the Dead when you're in such bad shape.”

“You're one to talk,” Daniel retorted. “You were in an explosion!”

“And my injuries are nothing compared to the deaths of the last few days.” I set my jaw and turned my hardest stare on Joseph. “We must go in and stop Elijah. Tonight.”