Return of the Raven

Jamie Scarratt

Blue Feather Books (2012)

With the beginning of time began the battle for good and evil. Fast forward to 1927 and the complicated lives of Red Wolverton and Evadne Davenport, partners in Boston's only female private investigation firm.

Red continues to struggle with her attraction to the oblivious Evadne, while trying to stay afloat professionally. Evadne is fighting her own battles with her peers' disapproval of her association with the notorious Wolverton, and with Red's scattergun approach to having a new partner. To cap it all, an eventful evening at the grandiose home of Evadne's soon-to-be stepfather leaves the two investigators with a mysterious prophecy to decipher and Red with yet more stitches.

The seemingly coincidental arrival of Evadne's old friend, Vivian, increases the tension between Red and Evadne. As does Red's new lover. As Red and Evadne are drawn deeper and deeper into the dark goings-on of the prophecy and the people who serve it, the rift between them widens.

Will Red and Evadne be able to bridge the rift before it's too late, or will their differences be too much to surmount, allowing the dark prophecy to come true?

Table of Contents

- Also written by Jamie Scarratt and availableable from Blue Feather Books:

- Acknowledgements

- Chapter 1

- Chapter 2

- Chapter 3

- Chapter 4

- Chapter 5

- Chapter 6

- Chapter 7

- Chapter 8

- Chapter 9

- Chapter 10

- Chapter 11

- Chapter 12

- Chapter 13

- Chapter 14

- Chapter 15

- Chapter 16

- Chapter 17

- Chapter 18

- Chapter 19

- Chapter 20

- Chapter 21

- Chapter 22

- Chapter 23

- Chapter 24

- Epilogue

- About the Author

- Make sure to check out these other exciting Blue Feather Books titles:

For Mary Ann, for everything and for always.

ALSO WRITTEN BY JAMIE SCARRATT AND

AVAILABLE FROM BLUE FEATHER BOOKS:

* WOLF’S TALES, BOOK I:

30 DAYS HATH SEPTEMBER

This is a work of fiction.  All characters, locales and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

RETURN OF THE RAVEN

Copyright © 2012 by Jamie Scarratt

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, save for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.

Cover design by Ann Phillips

A Blue Feather Book

Published by Blue Feather Books, Ltd.

www.bluefeatherbooks.com

ISBN: 978-1-935627-72-2

First edition: May, 2012

Printed in the United States of America and in the United Kingdom.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Blue Feather Books for saying yes again! Emily for answering my stupid questions, Nene and Nann for their tireless editing, and a special mention to Dr. Jennie for answering my sometimes bizarre medical questions.

Above all I must give my heartfelt thanks to MAC, for her continuing loving support and endless patience and, most importantly, for saying yes to a completely different question.

Chapter 1

Boston 1927

December 1: An unexpected visitor

Evadne Davenport put down the letter and let out a soft sigh. She’d received this kind of missive for the third time in as many weeks. In the most polite way possible, the writer informed her that her presence on the board of another charitable organization was no longer welcome. It didn’t take a genius to realize her association with the notorious Red Wolverton was the reason for the writer’s actions. She’d known such repercussions were possible, even half-expected them, but the reality still hurt.

She crumpled up the letter and threw it on the fire. The paper crackled, caught, flared, and soon burned into gray ash. The hypocrisy rankled. Five men and one woman of her acquaintance, all involved with the very same institutes, and all married and having affairs, had shown her the door. Of course, they would still take her money.

At least the reduction in her philanthropic efforts would free up more of her time. The Wolverton Investigation Agency had begun to recover from Katherine Dubois’s attempts to ruin it. Thankfully, vitriol from the Dubois quarter had eased considerably. In addition, the agency’s success with Mr. Franklin’s problem had led to a number of jobs from his peers that she and Red had completed to everyone’s satisfaction. They were still a long way from being rushed off their feet, but they’d made a good start.

A gentle knock on the door roused Evadne from her thoughts. Her housekeeper, Maria, stood in the doorway with her professional face on. Maria’s appearance could only mean one thing—she had a visitor. “Yes, Maria?”

“Doctor Worth is here to see you, ma’am.”

Evadne didn’t recognize the name. Her puzzlement must have shown, as Maria added, “She said you might know her better as Vivian Harbinger.”

Another moment passed before Evadne realized who was calling on her. She felt a rush of excitement. “Show her in, Maria, show her in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Maria, please,” Evadne said in exasperation. Maria had become as much a friend as an employee in the nearly fourteen years since the housekeeper had joined the household of the newly married Geoffrey and Evadne Davenport. However, despite the relaxing of the mistress-servant relationship, there were some things Evadne could not get Maria to do, no matter how hard she tried. Maria’s insistence on using “ma’am” whenever there were guests in the house was one of her more frustrating habits.

Maria gave her a knowing little smile and left.

Vivian soon entered the room. Evadne moved to meet her with a welcoming embrace and then stepped back to look at her, noticing Vivian seemed a little bemused by the enthusiastic reception.

“It’s been so long,” Evadne said by way of explanation.

“That it has.” Vivian’s hazel eyes twinkled. She appeared healthy and fit, and her skin carried a hint of a summer in the sun.

“What have you been doing with yourself?” Evadne said. “Did you go to Oxford after all?”

“That I did.”

“Still not one for words, I see.”

Vivian laughed. “Oh, no, I’ve become quite loquacious in my old age.”

“Old age, pah!” Evadne snorted. “You’re at least five years younger than I am.”

“Four.”

Evadne waved a hand. “Certainly not old.” She moved across to the fireplace. “Here. Take a seat. Tell me all about it.”

“Well, I ended up studying archaeology. Digging up long-dead people is much better than burying the newly killed,” Vivian said with a sad smile. “Sorry, that sounded bitter. And you lost so much—”

“We all lost something.” Evadne forced an answering smile.

“Even if it was our naiveté.”

“And our innocence.”

Evadne fell into a silence that lasted until Maria arrived with the tea. The housekeeper set the tray down on the occasional table.

“Anything else, ma’am?” she asked.

“No, Maria,” Evadne replied. “Thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The quiet familiarity of serving tea helped jog Evadne from her reverie, reminding her of her duties as hostess. “So, archaeology? Did you continue with it after Oxford?” she asked. “I would presume so, given your doctor title. And you’re married?”

“Yes. Yes. And yes. But enough about me.” Vivian’s eyes held a teasing glint. “What’s this I hear you’ve been getting up to? A private detective?”

“How on earth did you—” Evadne stopped as she realized the answer. “Nora?”

“Nora.”

Vivian’s cousin was a notorious gossip. The steady stream of Nora’s letters from home had been a welcome taste of normality when Evadne and Vivian were in France during the Great War. It seemed the woman’s letter writing hadn’t stopped.

“No avoiding the question, Evie,” Vivian said. “I gather you’ve been scandalizing the old farts.”

Evadne nearly choked, while Vivian gave her an unabashed grin.

“It appears I haven’t been the only one hanging out with disreputable types,” Evadne said as soon as her coughing fit subsided.

“Well, you would know.” Vivian stared at her in something akin to awe. “But Red Wolverton? Heavens, dear heart, that’s something I would never have expected.”

“It certainly surprised me.”

“So what is she like? Is she as outrageous as they say?”

Evadne shifted uncomfortably. At least Vivian wasn’t being overtly hostile. “Red is rather hard to describe.”

Vivian nodded, clearly waiting for her to go on. Evadne tried not to look as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. What should she say? The truth was probably a good place to start. “When I first met Red, I thought her an irritating, ill-mannered lout.”

“And now?”

“Oh, she’s still an irritating, ill-mannered lout, but she’s also the most fascinating woman I have ever met.”

“Charming?”

“Oh, dear, yes.”

“Has she charmed you, Evadne?”

There was an oddly worried tone to Vivian’s question. Evadne’s hackles rose. “We’re not lovers, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Don’t worry, Evie, you’re not going to get a lecture from me,” Vivian said, leaving Evadne wondering if she had misunderstood. “Not that it would be any business of mine if you were,” Vivian added.

Evadne relaxed. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if her old friend had reacted badly.

“You haven’t married again?” Vivian asked.

“No.” Evadne glanced above the mantel at the portrait of her late husband. “Geoff is a rather hard act for anyone to follow.”

“I wish I’d met him.”

“I wish you had, too.”

She and Vivian fell into silence again, broken only by the genteel rattle of china cups and saucers as they drank their tea. Vivian seemed content to remain quiet, but Evadne wanted to find out what her old friend had been up to.

“So, what about your husband?” she asked.

“Oh, he’s another archeologist. We met on a dig in Greece.”

“Greece? Was it as romantic as it sounds?”

“Definitely not. It rained cats and dogs the whole time we were there. The locals had never seen anything like it.”

“What’s his name?”

“William.”

Evadne waited for more, but Vivian said nothing else. She found herself wondering whether all was well. “You don’t sound very happy about it.”

“No. He’s a good man. We make a good team. But…”

“But?”

Vivian laughed. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Vivian sounded nervous, but Evadne decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and changed the subject. “What brings you to Boston?”

“Couldn’t I have come just to see you?”

“After all these years?”

Vivian finally seemed to relax. “Good point. Actually, I’m here to meet with some colleagues at the university.”

“Is William with you?”

“No. He’s back in Oxford. We’re working on separate digs next year.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing sinister, Evadne. You can put that eyebrow down. We don’t want all our eggs in one basket, that’s all.”

The explanation made sense. Suddenly, Evadne felt guilty for her suspicions. “How long are you here for?”

“Until mid-February.”

“That’s wonderful.” Evadne beamed. “I’ve become a little fed up of going to the opera by myself.” She paused, suddenly uncertain. “That is if you would like—”

“Don’t be silly, Evie. Of course I would like to go with you.”

“Wonderful. I’d ask Red, but I don’t think it’s her cup of tea.” When a strange expression appeared in Vivian’s eyes, Evadne asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Red’s here somewhere if you want to meet her.”

“She is?”

Without the foggiest notion why, Evadne shifted uneasily. “We were out rather late last night on a case. It made more sense for us to both come back here.”

Vivian nodded slowly. “I see.”

Before Evadne could ask what she meant by that, Vivian glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and stood up. “Is that the time? I’m sorry, Evadne, I’m expected at the university at eleven. I shall have to go.”

Rising from her seat, Evadne squashed the uncharitable feelings Vivian’s comment had produced. If their positions were reversed, she may well have been skeptical, too. But Vivian didn’t know Red like she did. She gave Vivian another hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.”

Evadne accompanied Vivian outside to her automobile. After waving good-bye, she returned to the study. Vivian’s visit was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. It had been a long time since they drove ambulances together. She wasn’t sure how she would have coped without Vivian when Geoff was killed, and again after the death of her co-driver, Bobby.

She knew Vivian blamed herself nearly as much as she did about Bobby. If Vivian hadn’t been on leave, Bobby wouldn’t have been riding with Evadne when the shell landed. But Vivian would have been killed instead, and that would have been worse, for her.

Evadne closed her eyes. For a split second, she was back on the devastated fields of Flanders, the stench of mud, blood, and death strong in her nostrils. Thankfully, the odors soon vanished, replaced by the gentler smells of wood smoke and lavender.

The distant sound of angry voices broke the moment. She stood, frowning. What on earth was going on? The noise appeared to be coming from the kitchen, and it sounded like Red and James, her chauffeur. She crossed the hall and opened the kitchen door. Two guilty faces stared at her for a second, and then Red spun on her heels, left, and slammed the back door behind her. James stayed put but wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“What was that all about, James?” Evadne asked. He still wouldn’t look at her. She felt a flicker of concern. James’s manner toward Red seemed to be getting increasingly hostile. This incident was another example of his change in attitude.

“Maria?” Evadne asked, but it didn’t seem that Maria was going to volunteer an explanation either. “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?”

Silence.

Evadne felt like a headmistress with a class of misbehaving children.

Eventually, James spoke. “I believe it is no longer appropriate for Red to assist me with the automobile, my lady.”

Evadne stared at him. The disapproving “my lady” annoyed her. He only called her by that title when he considered she was in the wrong, but his argument with Red wasn’t her fault. “And why is that, James?” she asked. “It hasn’t been a problem before.”

“It is not right for your business partner to be doing such work.”

“Yet it was all right when Red was my employer?”

James stared unrepentantly over Evadne’s right shoulder and said nothing. As she wondered what was really going on, an unexpected noise caught her attention—a series of thunks accompanied by what sounded like splintering wood.

“Sounds like the little one’s found the woodpile.” Maria gave James a distinctly unimpressed stare.

“At least it saves me a job,” he muttered.

“James!” For a second, Evadne caught the worry in his eyes, but it was soon replaced by the detached, almost contemptible stare that only the best servants could muster. She clearly wasn’t going to get anything more out of him, and she really didn’t want to alienate him. Despite his position as her chauffeur, he was as much her friend as Red, and she couldn’t have those two at each other’s throats. “That will be all, James.”

“Ma’am.” He nodded, gave Maria a glance, and left.

“Well, Maria, what’s really going on?” Evadne asked.

“I won’t be a tattletale, chica.”

Evadne sighed and went to retrieve her coat. Who knew what the combination of an angry Red and a sharp axe might lead to? She crunched through the new fall of snow to the stables where the wood was stored. At least the frenzied chopping she’d heard earlier had relaxed into a methodical rhythm.

Rounding the corner of the stables, Evadne saw Red throw a handful of neatly split pieces of wood onto the pile. A halo of splinters radiated out from the chopping block. Even the lump of old oak used as the block seemed to have suffered from Red’s initial fury.

“Well, if I ever decide to go into the matchstick business, I know who to call,” she said.

Red gave her a sullen glance and placed the next log on the block. She adjusted it and swung the axe in a smooth movement, splitting the log neatly in two. She picked up one of the halves and placed it back on the block. The axe rose and fell once more, and the neat quarters were tossed over to join the rest.

“I suppose this is one of your many skills?” Evadne asked.

“If we needed wood cut, we did it,” Red said. “Didn’t have someone do it for us.”

Evadne ignored the jibe. “Surely your father—”

The axe thudded into the block again, splitting the other half of the log. “Yeah, right!” The contempt in Red’s voice made it obvious what she thought of the suggestion. “Too busy reading that damn Bible of his and preaching how we should all work for the glory of God.”

“You didn’t have any brothers?”

Red tossed the last pieces of the log onto the pile and turned to face Evadne. “What difference would it make?”

“But surely it would have been your brother’s task to—”

“What difference would it make?”

Evadne was flummoxed. Although a supporter of women’s rights and actively involved in educational charities for girls, she sometimes found Red’s refusal to accept any of the normal social conventions confusing and, on occasion, downright contrary.

“Well, a boy is… more suited for that sort of task. A girl would help her mother…” Even as Evadne said the words, she realized how stupid they sounded in relation to the woman standing in front of her. However, as she recognized how ridiculous she sounded, she also realized that Red had made a rare, if tacit, admission about her family. She followed up on the slip by asking, “You have a brother?”

“Never said that.” Red placed another lump of wood on the block.

“You do have a brother.” Evadne was sure now, since Red was never this evasive except when lying was the only other option. Red didn’t lie, but she would try to avoid giving an answer or clam up and say nothing. She wouldn’t lie even when the truth got her into trouble, as it often did. The strangely endearing characteristic helped balance her darker side.

After finishing the remaining log, Red embedded the axe into the block and rolled her head and shoulders. “Damn, it’s been too long since I swung an axe. My shoulders are going to kill me tomorrow.”

“I’m sure James won’t object, should you feel the need again.”

“What, and spoil all his fun?”

Evadne sensed a definite edge to Red’s teasing. She obviously hadn’t forgotten or forgiven James for the angry exchange in the kitchen. Evadne still wanted to ask about it, but for the moment, she had a much more intriguing subject to pursue.

“You aren’t going to deflect me from finding out about your brother.”

Red’s expression hardened, and Evadne wondered if she’d overstepped the bounds of their recent friendship. When Red gave her a rueful smile, she breathed a small sigh of relief.

“Okay. I have a brother. Happy now?”

Evadne could hardly believe her ears. Had Red actually admitted to having a sibling? “What’s his name?”

“Jedidiah.”

Talk about getting blood from a stone, she thought. “How old?”

After a brief pause, Red answered. “Eighteen.”

Eighteen? A lot younger than his sister. Evadne might not know Red’s exact age, but she had to be in her mid-to-late twenties, therefore Jedidiah must have been born not long before their mother died. A knot formed in her stomach when she realized what must have caused Elizabeth Wolverton’s death. Her thoughts must have shown in her face

“Yeah, eighteen years since Ma died,” Red said tightly.

Evadne wanted to offer her sympathy but knew her friend wasn’t likely to accept.

A slight, sad smile lightened Red’s somber expression. “Weren’t his fault, poor little mite. If she hadn’t died, I’d probably never have run away as I did. I’d have tried to protect her.” Her expression turned hard as stone. “If I had gone back, I reckon one of us would’ve ended up dead, me or Pa. So perhaps, after all, it was for the best.” She shivered. “Let’s get back inside. I’m freezing my butt off out here.”

Red strode off toward the back door. Evadne didn’t follow. Instead, she moved to the block and looked at the embedded axe. Despite her best efforts, Red still had a distressing tendency to leave things wherever she last used them.

It took more effort than she expected to remove the axe before taking it back to the stable to hang it in its proper place. Her task complete, she followed Red inside the house, arriving in the kitchen to find Maria alone. She considered pressing Maria about the argument but decided to let it pass as she didn’t want to put the housekeeper in an awkward position.

Evadne returned to the study and took care of the last of her mail. One of the envelopes bore her name in a familiar scrawl. Had her mother returned already? She was supposed to be on a cruise with her new gentleman companion, an old family friend, Theodore Criffy.

She opened the envelope and found a printed invitation to an evening soirée on Saturday at Mr. Criffy’s country house, Arden Manor.

Across the corner, her mother had written: Darling, I have something you and your investigator friend may be interested in. Please do come.

What on earth did her mother have in mind? And why, for heaven’s sake, discuss the matter in such surroundings?

“That’s Mother,” she murmured.

“What’s Mother?”

Evadne turned to see Red slouching against the door frame.

Red nodded at the envelope. “Anything interesting?” She took the invitation Evadne offered, read it in silence, and glanced up. “You going to go?”

“I don’t think we have much choice.”

“We?” Red’s eyebrows disappeared under the unruly lock of hair that flopped down over her forehead. “You ain’t expecting me to go to one of them fancy shindigs, are you?”

“Why not? The invitation is for me and a guest.”

“But…” Red broke off, staring in horror. “Surely it would be best for you to go alone. Anyway,” she went on, sounding more certain of her ground, “I ain’t got nothing to wear.”

“That can be arranged, Red. If Mother has a case for us, don’t you think you should be there as well?”

Red ground her teeth.

“Red?” Evadne prodded.

“Why me?”

Evadne considered the question rhetorical. It wasn’t the first time she had heard Red say something similar. “I think you’d look quite dashing in a tuxedo.”

“What? One of them monkey suits? You got to be kidding.”

“It’s a tuxedo or a dress.”

“Or I could not go.”

Evadne turned on the weapon she knew Red found hardest to resist: her biggest, most pleading, puppy dog eyes. “Please, Red.”

“Aw, damn it, Evadne, stop it.”

“So you’ll come?”

Red nodded unhappily. “But don’t blame me if it goes haywire. What if Katherine’s there? Or any of her cronies?”

“Not her style, Red. Anyway, if she is there, I’ll protect you.”

“My lady in shining armor,” Red said, laughing.

“Every knight should have one.”

Red’s smile faded. “Do I really have to wear a tux?”

“Yes. And I know just the man to make one for you.”

“Make one? In two days?” Red sounded angry. “And who’s gonna pay for it?”

“I will.” Evadne tried not to wince. She should have realized the issue of money would cause a problem.

“Evadne, I’ve told you before, I don’t want you buying stuff for me.”

“Call it an investment.” Evadne watched Red’s expression, trying to judge how well she was navigating this particular minefield. “If you want to work for the upper crust, you need to learn how to be around them. This is as good a place to start as any.” To her relief, the explanation seemed to work as Red’s anger faded into exasperation.

“I thought I hired you to deal with them eggs,” Red muttered.

“So you did. And now I’m advising you how to deal with them.”

Running her hand through her hair, Red let out a deep sigh. “All right, all right, I’ll do it. And I’ll wear your damned tux.”

“Thank you, Red.”

Red smirked. “Best wait until it’s over before you do that, sweetheart.”

Chapter 2

December 3: A soirée

Red pulled nervously at her collar, wishing she was somewhere else. Anywhere. Even the police lockup would be preferable to her current location.

“Stop it.” Evadne gently slapped her hand.

Immediately, Red began tugging at the bowtie, wanting it gone. “I can’t breathe.”

“I said, stop it.” This time, Evadne grabbed Red’s hand and returned it firmly to her side. “If you find the collar uncomfortable, you should try these shoes.” Putting a hand on Red’s shoulder to steady herself, she lifted her foot, shod in an elegant, if impractical, high-heeled shoe, and adjusted the strap.

“Or I could just not come at all,” Red said.

“Stop complaining.” Evadne poked her in the ribs with an elbow.

“Ow!” Red glared. “What was that for?”

“Big softie. Since when did rough, tough Red Wolverton complain about a little poke in the ribs?”

“Since one was cracked, sweetheart.”

Evadne’s amused expression changed to dismay. “I’m so sorry.” She frowned, her puzzlement clear. “When were you hurt? And how?” Before Red had a chance to answer, a look of understanding came over her face. She didn’t seem very happy. “Let me guess… you’ve been boxing at Mickey’s Gym again.”

“Hey, it was a lucky punch. The kid was damn good. Got the makings of a champ, I reckon.”

“Uh-huh.” Evadne didn’t sound like she believed a word. “I wish you wouldn’t go there. You manage to collect enough injuries without deliberately setting out to get more.”

“Look, Evadne, I keep telling you, I need to practice in case I get in a real fight.”

“As if you don’t get into enough of those as it is.”

Red felt a flicker of irritation. What she did in her spare time was none of Evadne’s business. If she wanted to box, she would box.

“Evadne dear, I’m so glad you could come.”

Red stared at the smartly dressed, middle-aged woman who’d spoken, unsure whether to be angry or happy at the interruption.

“Mother!” Evadne bent forward to allow her cheek to be kissed. “You look well. Very well.” A mischievous twinkle appeared in her eyes. “Is this Mr. Criffy’s doing?”

Mrs. Van Deemin playfully slapped Evadne’s arm. “You are awful, Evadne!” Her attention moved to Red. “And who is your young man, dear? You haven’t mentioned anything about a beau, and such a handsome one, too.”

Red’s anger faded as swiftly as it had arrived. How was Evadne going to explain her way out of this one? She considered these moments something of a personal victory, since she didn’t usually pretend to be a man… not often, anyway. She dressed in whatever felt right to her, even if her choices sometimes got her thrown in jail. Each time she managed to shake someone’s worldview counted as another notch on her Red-against-the-world tally stick.

Glancing at Red, Evadne cleared her throat. Red just smiled innocently. Evadne’s eyes narrowed for an instant.

“Mother, this is Red Wolverton, my business partner,” she said. “You remember, I told you about her.” The stress on the last word was unmistakable. “Red, this is my mother, Edith Van Deemin.”

Shocked surprise flitted through Mrs. Van Deemin’s expression.

Red took the woman’s hand and bowed, brushing the glove-clad knuckles with her lips. She straightened. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Van Deemin.” On a devilish impulse, she added with her most charming smile, “Now I can see where Evadne gets her good looks.”

Evadne’s expression flipped between annoyance and amusement. Finally, she gave Red a disapproving glance and turned her attention back to her mother.

To her credit, Mrs. Van Deemin was clearly trying to recover from her surprise. “Well… thank you… um…”

“Please, just call me Red.”

Mrs. Van Deemin smiled in relief. “Why, thank you, Red.” She turned to Evadne. “A little warning next time perhaps, dear?”

“I’m sorry, Mother. It didn’t even cross my mind to mention the way Red dresses. I have become so used to it, I rarely notice anymore.”

Red heroically resisted the urge to say something outrageous and waited to see what would happen next.

“I forgive you.” Mrs. Van Deemin gave her daughter’s arm another little tap. “Now, stop lurking near the doorway and come talk to Theo. He can’t wait to see you again.”

Evadne gave Red a look that was part warning, part apology, as Mrs. Van Deemin shepherded her in the direction of a group of people near the room’s large and ornate fireplace.

Red hung back, unsure what do to. Evadne didn’t seem to expect her to follow—she wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or relieved about that—so it appeared she was on her own for the moment. She moved to a corner of the room, deciding to inspect her surroundings without being too obvious about it.

Her gaze moved over the guests’ faces, and she was relieved to find none she knew. Despite Evadne’s assurances, she still worried that she might come across Katherine or one of her cronies.

She clenched her jaw against the familiar surge of anger that thoughts of Katherine still provoked. She may have ridden out the painful end of that ill-fated relationship, but the Dubois family hadn’t given up trying to ruin her. If she was seen here, especially with Evadne, the evening could turn very unpleasant. Despite the half-joking offer of protection, she didn’t want to put Evadne through that if she could avoid it.

Her attention returned to Evadne. Her partner stood with her mother and an elegant, gray-haired man that she guessed must be their host, Theodore Criffy. Evadne seemed completely at ease while Red felt as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She shuffled her feet and tried not to stare.

Evadne’s fashionably fringed and beaded dress in a stylish deep burgundy suited her to a tee. A beaded and feathered band around her bobbed dark hair finished the getup perfectly. Stunning was the only description that fitted, Red thought. Simply stunning.

As she watched Evadne in animated conversation, Red found herself succumbing to her growing attraction. Evadne might not be what some people called classically beautiful, but with her striking features and fine figure, combined with a kindhearted nature and a clever mind… what more could anyone ask for?

From the anonymity of her corner, Red allowed herself the guilty pleasure of admiring Evadne more leisurely. As her gaze roved over her body, she wondered how the dips and curves might feel under her hands, how her lips would taste. As she watched and fantasized, a handsome young man approached the group and gave Evadne a kiss on the cheek. Even from this distance, she saw Evadne blush.

Red’s hands balled into fists. She fought the impulse to march up to the guy and punch the smirk right off his smug face.

“Stop it, idiot.” She cursed herself for letting her emotions out of the box. Each time she did, they just got harder to force back in. “You don’t hit on ‘normal’ women, remember?”

As if aware of her distress, Evadne glanced in her direction. Red gave a little nod in answer to Evadne’s unspoken concern. Evadne returned the smile and went back to the conversation.

Red tore her gaze away from the group. Evadne wasn’t interested in her. There was no point hoping otherwise.

She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease her tension. She needed a drink—lots of drinks. Time to find out where the hosts had stashed the booze. She was sure there must be alcohol somewhere despite Prohibition and the undoubted presence of the law among the guests.

After a half-hour’s fruitless search for liquor, Red was officially bored and increasingly annoyed. So far, she’d suffered one slap, two shocked, hasty retreats, and one intrigued apology. Now the latest woman to zero in on her, thinking she was a young man only to realize the truth once she spoke, was threatening her with jail.

“I can have you arrested, you know, for dressing like that. It’s amoral!” the woman said.

“Been there, done that, sweetheart. Even this burg’s thickheaded cops eventually worked out it ain’t worth all the paperwork. I doubt you could find one flatfoot willing to arrest me for that anymore,” Red replied.

The woman made an irate flounce and rejoined her cronies.

Red thought she might try lowering her voice next time to see how long it took these society dames to work out her sex. Deciding that was exactly what she’d do, she grinned.

Feeling much more chipper, she sauntered into the next room but found no more socialites inside. Instead, the unmistakable aroma of whiskey tickled her nose. She followed the smell across the room and into another, smaller room. A young woman clad in an immaculate maid’s uniform stood behind a long, linen-covered table laden with assorted glasses and a number of filled, unlabeled decanters.

“Apple juice, miss?” The way the maid phrased the question made it plain the liquid had never seen an apple in its life.

“You bet,” Red said.

The maid filled a glass with a generous double measure and passed it over.

Red took a mouthful—single malt and very nice —as she gave the maid a once-over. The maid had recognized her as a woman straight off, a good sign that perhaps the evening wasn’t going to be a complete washout after all. She finished the drink in a single toss.

“Another?” asked the maid.

“Why not?”

As the cute maid picked up the decanter with a small flourish, Red wondered if she should try her luck. Hell, why not? What’s the worst that could happen?

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” she asked the maid. The chat-up line was corny but, in her experience, still worked amazingly well.

The maid, intent on refilling the empty glass, glanced up through her light-brown bangs. Blue eyes, Red realized with a flash of irritation. She’d had enough of blue eyes with Katherine. Still, she couldn’t tar every blue-eyed gal with the same brush.

“So?” she prodded.

“This nice girl has a job to do, Wolf. She also has a girlfriend to go back to tonight, so knock it off,” the maid answered.

Firmly rebuffed, Red held up her free hand in surrender. “Okay. Can’t blame me for trying.” She searched her memory. Did she know this woman? She certainly appeared to know her. There was an obvious explanation. “The Gilded Lily?” she asked. The speakeasy was one of the few places “inverts” like her and the maid could be themselves without risk. It had been her regular watering hole, at least until the shooting.

The maid’s expression turned solemn. “We heard what happened to Janet and all. Hope the bastard who did it pays.”

Red’s jaw tightened at the memory of her friend and ex-lover’s killer. “He paid,” she said shortly.

Janet’s murder had been three months ago to the day, but the memories remained as painfully fresh as if it had happened yesterday. She hadn’t been able to stop Edgar Van Volk from shooting Janet, nor could she do anything more than hold her mortally wounded friend during the last moments of her life.

Her first attempt to get revenge had failed, and further plans fizzled out when she learned that Edgar was not completely responsible for his actions. Nevertheless, that knowledge hadn’t prevented his death at the hands of another from easing a little of the guilt she still felt at failing to save Janet in the first place.

“Good.” The maid laid a comforting hand on her arm. “Janet was a lovely woman, Red. We were so sorry to hear about her death.”

“Yeah, she was one in a million.” Red wished the maid would stop talking about it. She blamed herself for Janet’s murder, and now she felt guilty about approaching another woman so soon afterward. Not that she and Janet had been a couple at the time of the murder, she thought. Not really. So why shouldn’t she try her hand?

“Well, well, who do we have here?”

Red spun around at the sound of a familiar, well-bred drawl. “Hello, Katherine,” she growled as she fought the instant flare of anger. “I could say it’s nice to see you, but I’d be lying.” She met the sapphire-blue eyes which had once held her enthralled and still, despite all her ex-lover had put her through, caused a jolt of pure lust that bypassed her brain and went straight to regions south.

Katherine gave her an appreciative glance and then stared at the maid. “So the big bad Wolf’s found herself a cute little lamb to eat.” The lascivious way she spoke left her meaning in no doubt.

Red felt another rush of anger. Before she could do or say anything else, Katherine moved so close their bodies all but touched. Red grabbed the table behind her with both hands as she leaned away from the heat of Katherine’s body

“Did you miss me, Red?” Katherine asked.

“Like a hole in the head.”

Katherine rested her hands, palms down, on Red’s shoulders. “I wish I’d known how delicious you’d look in a tuxedo. Just think how much fun we could have had getting you out of it afterwards.”

Red shuddered, hating the way her body reacted to the touch.

Katherine smirked and ran her hands over Red’s chest and under her jacket.

Grasping the table more tightly, Red thought if she let go now, she’d either strangle Katherine or take her, right there and then.

“You still want me, Red. I can feel it,” Katherine murmured.

Red tried to think of a nonviolent way out of the situation, but it seemed her brain was no longer in control of her body. If someone didn’t stop them, it was going to get embarrassing one way or another, and fast. From the arch, knowing little smile on Katherine’s face, that was just what she wanted.

Red fought not to do something that would get her kicked out or arrested. Words said half in jest rose in her overheated mind. Hadn’t Evadne said she’d protect her from this woman?

Where the hell is my lady in shining armor when I need her?

Evadne enjoyed getting to know Theo Criffy again. Unlike so many men of their social class, he’d never patronized her childhood desire to go to a university, nor had he belittled her attempts to help the less fortunate.

“Your mother tells me you’re now a private investigator,” Theo said.

“Indeed. I’m a partner in the Wolverton Investigation Agency.”

“Not Wolverton and Davenport?”

Evadne appreciated the order of the names, with no assumption she should have the senior partnership because of her position or wealth. Her respect for Theo Criffy went up another notch. “We decided to leave the name unchanged. Having Davenport in the agency’s name would cause more trouble than good, I fear.”

“That was Miss Wolverton with you when you came in, wasn’t it? I must say, I was surprised to see her. I didn’t think your mother’s party would be her cup of tea.”

Evadne couldn’t help smiling at the memory of Red’s expression when she had suggested attending. “Believe me, it isn’t. If it hadn’t been for Mother’s cryptic note, I don’t think I’d have gotten her within hailing distance of Arden Manor, let alone in the door.”

“I gather she comes from out west somewhere?”

His question was unexpected, but she answered it anyway. “Nebraska, I believe.” He seemed pleased with the answer. She wondered why.

“She seems to have gotten over her initial reticence, at least,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Evadne turned to see empty space where Red had been standing. A glance showed no trace of her in the room. Tracking down a drink no doubt, she thought, and probably sowing confusion among the young and not-so-young women present.

She smiled wryly at the thought. As she’d suspected, the obstinately scruffy private investigator spruced up well. More than well, as it happened. Red looked positively debonair in the black tuxedo that made a striking counterpoint to her red-gold hair. With the breast bindings she still wore, despite Evadne’s suggestion that one of the new brassieres might be more suitable, there was very little physical evidence to indicate on first glance, or second or third for that matter, that the tuxedo-clad figure wasn’t a slim young man. And an attractive one at that, as her mother had already pointed out.

“Mother. Theo. I’ve monopolized your attention for far too long,” Evadne said. “You’ve guests to take care of. We can talk about business later, when it’s quieter.”

Mrs. Van Deemin nodded. “That sounds eminently sensible, dear. We’ll find you when the atmosphere is more suitable.”

“I’d better check on Red. Can you tell me where the liquid refreshments are?”

Armed with Theo’s directions, Evadne set out for the room where the alcoholic drinks were served under the laughable pretense of being fruit juices. As she made her way through the rooms, she filtered the conversations going on around her. Many years spent in such surroundings had taught her how to subconsciously listen to conversations even when engaged in one of her own. Most of what she heard was discarded as rubbish without becoming actual words, then she picked out something she’d been half-expecting.

“How can Mrs. Van Deemin bear such a creature at her soirée?”

Evadne identified the familiar voice as Alice Greystone. It sounded as though she had met Red.

“Dressed in a tuxedo just like a man. And it’s not only in her clothes that she pretends to be a man, or so I’ve heard…” Alice’s voice lowered. She was apparently about to share some titillating secret with her eager confidantes.

Evadne’s hackles rose. Alice had always been a spiteful little minx, and marriage hadn’t changed her for the better.

She moved to stand just behind the skinny blonde. “That’s no way to speak about my guest, dear,” she said pleasantly in Alice’s ear.

Alice swung around, a blush coloring her cheeks. “Evadne! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—” She broke off in surprise. “That… person… is your guest?”

“She is. Red Wolverton is also my business partner. However, that aside, you should know it is not polite to question whom your hostess invites.” Evadne gave the woman an insincere smile. “After all, Mother invited you.” Her parting shot made, she nodded curtly and left the staring guests to their new topic of conversation, namely, her association with the disreputable Red Wolverton.

Evadne was approaching the refreshment room when she heard Red’s voice. Although she couldn’t catch the words, the angry tone was unmistakable.

Worried about what she might find, she hurried though the door and took in the scene in a flash. Red was pressed against the large, drinks-laden counter that ran the length of the room, clutching the edge in a white-knuckled grip. Katherine Dubois stood indecently close with her hands under Red’s jacket in a possessive manner. The maid, Betty, apparently was trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed the display, but her expression showed her distaste.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me,” Red said through gritted teeth, but Katherine only laughed.

“You say one thing, my dear Red, but your body tells me something completely different.” Katherine spoke in an insistent, sultry purr.

Evadne was surprised to feel a small flare of jealousy.

Red’s eyes flickered to meet Evadne’s in mute appeal, not that it was needed. Evadne wasn’t going to let the unscrupulous Dubois hussy continue her unsubtle seduction attempt right in front of her.

“If it isn’t Katherine Dubois… and there was I under the impression you’d seen the error of your ways.” Evadne let her disgust for the way this woman had—was—treating her friend hone the edge in her voice to a cold, steely sharpness.

As Katherine turned, Red slipped away from her and moved to stand by Evadne.

The full power of Katherine’s icy stare focused on Evadne. “So it is true. The wolf lives up to her reputation, I see. She certainly hasn’t wasted any time.”

Evadne laid a restraining hand on Red’s arm when she took an angry step forward. “Leave this to me, Red. This is my territory,” she murmured. After Red retreated, Evadne fixed her attention on the unpleasantly smiling Katherine. “And what exactly do you mean by that scurrilous remark, Miss Dubois?” she asked. Unwilling to rise to Katherine’s barbs, she kept her expression calm.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know about her unnatural proclivities, Evadne.” Katherine’s smile turned into a definite smirk.

“I’m fully aware Red loves women rather than men. At least she doesn’t disguise her nature, unlike you, it would seem.”

Katherine’s snicker sounded nasty. “Love? Is that what you think it is?”

“So what was it for you then, Katherine?” Red growled. “You just wanted to compare being fucked by a woman to whatever wee Willie can manage?”

“Red!” Evadne snapped, not sure what annoyed her more, the language or the reminder of Red and Katherine’s ill-fated relationship. Red gave her an infuriated glance before leaving the room, her rage evident in every movement.

“She has such a nasty little temper, doesn’t she?” Katherine drawled.

“At least she’s honest in her emotions, unlike some people I could mention. I’m just glad your mother isn’t here to see the way you misuse your position and your beauty.”

Katherine’s façade seemed to slip, but she quickly recovered. “I’m not the one misusing their position by harboring someone like Red Wolverton.”

Evadne stared at Katherine, searching for the slightest chink in her armor, but couldn’t find an opening to exploit.

Katherine was the first to step back from the silent affray. “Well, I can’t stay here chatting all evening,” she said. “So nice to see you again, Evadne.”

The insincerity grated on Evadne. “I would like to say the feeling is mutual, Katherine.” She knew she ought to be the better person, but added anyway, “However, I’m afraid it isn’t.”

Katherine gave her a final stony stare before stalking out of the room.

Evadne sighed with a mixture of relief and annoyance. “A brandy, please, Betty. No, make it a double, and a whiskey for my friend.” Now she needed to find Red and soon, since she was clearly spoiling for a fight.

Drinks in hand, Evadne retraced her steps to the main reception room without finding any sign of Red. She hadn’t yet decided whether Red’s absence was good or not when she spotted her quarry in an animated, yet given the expression on her face, friendly conversation with Theo Criffy. Who would have thought? Before too long, she came within earshot.

“I tell you, there’s nothing like riding the Plains,” Red was saying. “It just gives such a sense of peace, seeing the vast emptiness, and knowing there ain’t likely to be another human being for miles.”

“Indeed, Red, there is something cathartic about emptiness like that,” Theo replied. “I believe it pulls at something deep in the soul. It’s in those places a man’s mind goes from the practical to the spiritual.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t for all that church mumbo jumbo but I know what you mean. I always felt such stillness out riding the fences. Don’t mistake me, I know the dangers of the place, but even they just seem to add to its beauty, like some sort of great cat. A cougar or a panther, beautiful and graceful on one hand, yet deadly and heartless on the other.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you waxing quite so lyrical, Red.” Evadne smiled to take any bite out of the teasing comment. “I gather you and Theo have found something in common?”

Red grinned. “Yeah. Seems he’s got some ranches out in Nebraska. I was just telling him about when I worked as a hand.”

When was this? Evadne gave Red the glass of whiskey and got a smile of thanks in return. Surely, Red had lived in Boston all her adult life.

“So you have experience working on a ranch?” Theo asked Red.

“Yeah. I was only fifteen, young enough to pass as a boy.”

Amused, Evadne gave her friend a fond glance. Red could still pass as a man if she wanted.

“Hired myself on as cook’s assistant, but I’d a knack with the horses and the cattle so I got took on as a hand.” Sudden darkness clouded her face as Red downed the better part of her whiskey in a single toss. Her knuckles turned white as her grip on the tumbler tightened ominously. “Until Pa found me and fucked it all up well and truly.”

Evadne laid a reassuring hand on Red’s forearm and got a tight smile in return. To her relief, Theo appeared only mildly disapproving of the profanity and a little curious, but thankfully nothing more.

If only he were twenty years younger, , Evadne mused, surprised and instantly berating herself for entertaining such thoughts about her mother’s beau, a man who was like an uncle to her. Considering him in such a light wasn’t just outrageous, it was ridiculous.

“Well, if you two delightful ladies”—Theo’s gray eyes twinkled at Red’s automatic scowl—“will excuse me, I had better circulate.” With that, he left.

“He’s a nice guy.” Red sounded surprised.

“Yes, he is. I think he and my mother will be very happy together.” Evadne playfully nudged Red’s arm. “So you managed to find one of my ‘type’ that you not only failed to annoy but actually seem to have impressed.”

“Yeah, and it feels damn weird, I can tell you.”

“Well, don’t go making a habit of it. Come on. Let’s see if we can find somewhere quiet to wait out the rest of the evening. Somewhere Katherine can’t try to get her talons into you again.”

At the mention of Katherine, Red’s jaw set, and a hard glint came into her eyes. Evadne should have known better than to make such a stupid mistake as to refer to the woman by name. She was wondering how to repair her faux pas when Red let out a sigh.

“Yeah, sounds like a good plan.” In a mercurial mood shift, Red’s angry scowl was replaced by a sudden, mischievous grin. “Just make sure there’s a good supply of booze, okay? It’s the only way I’m gonna survive the evening sane.”

Chapter 3

December 3 (continued): A shooting

In the private sitting room, Evadne sat in a comfortable, high-backed chair and tried not to succumb to sleep, while Red leaned against the fireplace mantel, a half-empty tumbler in her hand. She smiled at the casual masculinity of the pose. Red was down to shirtsleeves. Her jacket, vest, and bowtie had ended up in a crumpled heap soon after they arrived.

The shoulder holster under Red’s right arm drew Evadne’s gaze. She still felt ill at ease knowing Red was rarely without her revolver. Glancing up from the deadly weapon, she found Red watching her, the woman’s sea-colored eyes hooded and unreadable.

In that moment, she felt a frisson of something very like fear. She found an alien quality about Red tonight, her usual drab colors replaced by crisp black and white, making her look dangerous and undeniably attractive.

Evadne looked away, disconcerted by her feelings. Perhaps she’d had too much brandy. She immediately resolved not to let another drop pass her lips. She spent a second regaining her composure and dismissed her earlier reaction as girlish foolishness. When she glanced up again, she was relieved not to be subjected to Red’s unsettling stare.

Red stifled a yawn and took another mouthful of whiskey. After a glance at the door, she placed the glass on the mantel and her hand moved a bit too carefully to her discarded vest. She pulled her watch out by its chain and checked the time.

Red scowled at the watch and then at Evadne. “It’s nearly four o’clock,” she said. “How long’s your ma going to keep us hanging around?”

Evadne shrugged. She wasn’t very happy about the way they’d been left to their own devices, either. “I’m sure they’ll be along soon.”

Making a wordless grunt, Red retrieved her glass and drained the contents.

Evadne ducked her head. Trying to stop Red now would do no good, but she really didn’t want to watch her drink herself into oblivion.

Earlier in the evening, she’d suggested the whiskey should be diluted with water, which earned her a withering glare. Her second suggestion that Red restrict her drinking—after all, they were there on business—had Red informing her, in no uncertain terms, that a couple of drinks weren’t going to stop her from doing her job.

Not that she could completely blame Red for working her way through a decanter of fine whiskey. Her mother wasn’t usually such a bad hostess. She couldn’t help wondering why they’d been left alone so long. Her mother surely hadn’t forgotten the comment she had put on their invitation.

With nothing else to do, Evadne began idly leafing through a book she’d picked up earlier from the bookcase behind her chair.

“That’s getting annoying, you know,” Red said.

“What?” Evadne glanced up from the book.

“The humming. It’s annoying.”

Had she been humming? And if she had, what did it matter? The mixture of fear and attraction she’d felt earlier was replaced by irritation. “I’m sorry, I’m sure.”

“I’m gonna find the john.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

Red slammed the door shut in a way that was neither accidental nor polite.

Evadne sat back in the chair and shut her eyes. Why had her mother suggested using the soirée to discuss business? It wasn’t like her to mix business with pleasure. Not for the first time, she wondered if there was an ulterior motive to the suggestion, but other than meeting Theo, she could discern none. Unable to stave off her tiredness anymore, lulled by the warmth and gentle crackling of the open fire, she drifted into sleep.

It didn’t take Red long to find the bathroom. However, returning to the sitting room proved more difficult. Frowning, she stared at an unfamiliar corridor. She couldn’t remember coming this way. Opening a few doors didn’t help. The faint sounds of the ongoing party drifted around her, too muffled by the walls to be any use in finding her way back. Seething in annoyance, she wondered whether the maid would be getting home to her girl at all tonight. At least the maid had one.

Dismissing her morose thoughts, Red considered the problem of finding her way back to Evadne.

“Ah, well, can’t be too difficult to find for a ’tective like me.” She looked down the corridor, back the other way, and the first way again. “Eeny, meeny, miney, mo.” With her direction decided, she made her way along an endless succession of corridors. Her thoughts became darker as she considered the vast wealth indicated by the house and the finery it displayed. All got by the sweat of the workers or, more likely, the poor slaves owned by whoever had built the house.

Sometime later, she finally accepted she had gone the wrong way, but that was all she was going to admit. “I’m not lost, just temporarily misplaced myself,” she muttered.

Glancing around, it seemed she’d ended up in the service area. The walls were whitewashed and the furnishings functional. Red laughed humorlessly.

“Back where you belong, eh, little Wolf?” she asked herself.

After opening a few doors and finding nothing but storerooms, she eventually arrived at a set of narrow stairs. She slumped dejectedly on the bottom step, wondering how she was supposed to get back to Evadne. More important, how was she going to find more whiskey? In surroundings she neither liked nor understood, the promise of liquor was the only thing that kept her growing resentment in check.

Closing her eyes, she turned sideways on the step, and leaned back against the wall. If she waited long enough, someone was bound to come along and point her in the right direction. Yeah, that’s what she’d do. Wait. She stretched her legs out in front of her and settled down.

On the edge of alcoholic slumber, she realized she couldn’t hear anything from the party. In fact, this part of the house seemed unusually quiet. The walls had to be quite thick to stop sound that way. The swell bastards probably didn’t want to hear the noise the servants made, she thought with a jaw-stretching yawn. She settled more comfortably against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest.

An icy chill passed through her legs and jolted her awake. Fear pushed her heart into her throat as she scrambled to her feet. She reached for the revolver she carried at the small of her back. It wasn’t there. For a heart-stopping second, she thought her weapon had been taken, and then she remembered the new shoulder holster.

She wrenched the gun from its shiny leather holster. With adrenaline rushing through her veins, she searched for the cause of her sudden, primal response but found nothing in the corridor. She caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to confront the person who’d startled her.

No one was there.

She stared at the empty staircase. “What the fuck?” Her puzzlement lasted a bare second before she hurled herself up the stairs to the landing. She found no one at the top, either, or anywhere in sight.

The adrenaline rush faded as quickly as it had appeared. Bile rose in her throat, a reaction to the combination of unexplained fear and excess alcohol. She swallowed, grimaced, and sat down on the nearest step.

Too much whiskey. That had to be it. Drunken hallucinations.

She smiled scornfully. It would hardly be the first time that happened.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

Evadne opened her eyes and took a couple of seconds to blink into full wakefulness. She’d fallen asleep in the chair, she realized. The book she’d been failing to read now lay in a spine-breaking splay on the hearth rug.

“Ma’am?”

She focused on the owner of the voice, the maid. “Yes, Betty?”

“I think you had better come and get Re—Miss Wolverton.”

Fully awake and worried, Evadne asked, “What has she done?” Was it her imagination, or did Betty have a knowing expression?

“She hasn’t done anything except fall asleep on the nursery stairs,” Betty replied. “I thought I’d best let you know where she was.”

Relieved, Evadne thought the situation could have been much worse. “Thank you, Betty. I suppose I’d better go fetch her before she gives someone the shock of their life.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The maid bobbed a curtsey and left the sitting room.

Evadne rose stiffly and groaned as she stretched the kink out of her neck. She was getting too old to fall asleep in chairs.

Winding her way through the corridors to the stairs didn’t take long, even with memories at every corner. Happy days spent playing in Theo’s house, content in her own world of dragons, maidens, and dashing princes… and then her father died and Theo left. More years had passed than she cared to remember, but the place hadn’t changed much.

Evadne reached the backstairs but saw no sign of Red. Had she wandered off? An odd noise caught her attention. She recognized it as a snuffling snore. After climbing to the first bend in the staircase, she discovered Red on the foot of the next flight.

Well, at least Red hadn’t been sick… not yet, anyway. Evadne studied the gently snoring woman. Even asleep, Red wasn’t completely relaxed. A little frown line between her eyebrows suggested her dreams weren’t peaceful.

“Red, wake up,” Evadne said but got no response. “Come on, Red.” She crouched down and gave the recumbent form a gentle shake. “Wake up, lazybones.”

“Leave me ’lone.” Red tried to shrug the hand off her shoulder. Seconds later, her eyes snapped open. “Wha’?” She stared, bleary eyed. “Evadne? I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“I noticed.” Evadne couldn’t keep a smile from her lips. “Come on, oh great explorer, let’s get you back to base camp.”

Evadne rose and offered a hand. She wondered if she’d misjudged the situation and Red would refuse the offer of help, but Red grasped her hand and pulled herself upright until she stood unsteadily at her side.

“You’re a pal, Evadne,” Red said, an inane grin on her face.

Evadne rolled her eyes. What had she done to deserve this? she wondered half in jest. “Come on, Livingston. Let’s get back, shall we?”

As she and Red moved through the house, Evadne gradually became aware that the noise of the soirée had subsided. It seemed the guests had finally left. She and Red were nearly to the sitting room when she heard the tinkling sound of breaking glass behind them.

Red stopped and drew her revolver. “I’ll get them this time.” She began a surprisingly sober prowl down the corridor, headed toward the sound.

“Red?” Certain the sound was not an accidentally dropped glass, Evadne said, “Red, what are you doing?”

She watched her with an increasingly familiar mix of concern and annoyance. When she received no response to her question, she abandoned her original plan to fetch help and hurried to catch up to Red.

She went around a corner and stopped to stare in surprise at the empty corridor. “Red?” she called uncertainly.

A hand came out from the darkness of the open doorway to her left and pulled her inside. She only just stifled an instinctive shriek, her surprise immediately followed by outrage.

“Red Wolver—”

“Shush!” Red cut her off.

Evadne glared, but Red didn’t seem to notice. Evadne lowered her voice. “We really need to talk about all this pushing and pulling.”

Red’s scowl made her subside into annoyed silence. After a moment, she raised her eyebrows in surprise. From the next room, she could hear cautious voices and the sound of furniture being moved.

“Boss, there’s still people around. We should go quick.” The voice was male, with an accent Evadne couldn’t quite place. Russian, perhaps?

“We’re staying. Now stop talking and watch.” The second voice was lighter, the gender unidentifiable.

The hand on her arm relaxed. Evadne smelled whiskey when Red whispered in her ear, “Wait here, okay? I’m just gonna see what they’re doing. If there are only the two, I’m gonna take them.”

“No, you can’t. Not in the state you’re in.”

“Never stopped me before,” Red said seriously before she slipped through the doorway.

“Stubborn, thickheaded…” Evadne muttered at Red’s retreating back.

She wasn’t going to wait for Red to get herself in trouble by confronting burglars alone. Good thing she’d decided to carry a firearm tonight. She wasn’t quite sure where the impulse had originated. Perhaps something about her mother’s scrawled invitation, or because the evening could be considered business, not pleasure. Whatever the reason, she was glad she had obeyed. The weapon she carried tonight didn’t have the hefty bulk of her M1911 Colt, of course. The neat little Colt 1903 Pocket was smaller and lighter, if not exactly designed for an evening reticule.

She withdrew the pistol from its hiding place and went after Red. She found her pressed against the wall beside a partly open door. A line of light fell across the floor of the dimly lit corridor and up the wall on the other side. The intruders were either supremely confident or idiots to turn on the room’s light and increase the risk of discovery.

Red aimed another scowl at Evadne, then her frown slipped into a resigned smile. She gestured for her to stay put and moved forward to peer through the crack in the door. Glancing back, she mouthed, “Two,” and slowly pushed the door open farther.

Evadne moved behind Red, ready to assist if needed. Over Red’s shoulder, she saw the interior of the room as well as the two trespassers inside.

Both intruders were dressed in dark clothes. The larger person wore a knitted-wool cap, a heavy sweater, and the peculiar kind of short, heavy, wool jacket beloved of sailors. The smaller figure was dressed in some sort of long, hooded jacket, the hood pulled well up over his head. Behind the two kneeling figures, she saw the window was open, a single pane broken—clearly the way the intruders got into the house.

The intruders were about to lift a floorboard. Surprised, Evadne looked at Red, who nodded toward the other side of the room. She indicated her understanding. Red gave her a quick grin and began to move around the edge of the room toward the open window. Evadne took a position in the doorway, ready to prevent escape.

Red reached the window and leaned nonchalantly against the wall, although there was nothing nonchalant about the way her revolver pointed at the oblivious intruders.

The man spoke, startling Evadne. Clearly he had no idea she and Red were present. “We do now?” he asked.

“No.” A woman’s voice, Evadne realized. “I need to be whole before we—”

“Howdy, folks. Lost something?” Red drawled.

The male intruder swung around, going for the window. He stopped when he spotted the weapon in Red’s hand.

“Sit down.” Red gestured with the revolver to make her meaning clear. “Hands behind your head, like a good boy.”

The man complied, his expression thunderous.

While Red focused on the man, Evadne kept her attention on the woman in the hooded jacket. Other than a flinch of surprise when Red began speaking, she hadn’t moved. Puzzled by the lack of reaction, Evadne realized the woman was murmuring under her breath.

“You.” Red addressed the woman. “Turn round so I can see what you’re doing.”

The woman kept her head down, hiding her face in the shadow of the hood.

A sudden coldness washed over Evadne. Her heart jumped into her throat. She swallowed hard against the sudden fear, sure something bad was about to happen. Raising her pistol, she aimed at the woman.

Red gave the woman a puzzled glance. When the woman lifted her head, Red’s expression shifted from wary enjoyment to astonishment in the blink of an eye.

A gun appeared in the hooded woman’s hand. She fired in almost the same instant, and the shot rang loudly in the confined space.

Red stumbled and clutched her right side. The man made a dash for the window. He pushed Red out of his way, and she dropped to one knee with a groan.

The man went headfirst through the open window with the woman hot on his heels.

By the time Evadne recovered from her shock and managed to get off a single shot, the woman was halfway through the window. To her astonishment, although certain her aim was true, there was no sign her bullet hit the woman.

About to fire again, Evadne gasped in surprise when the woman turned to look at her. The hood fell back for a split second, revealing a familiar face, and then the woman was gone. Evadne hurried toward the window. She might still get the intruders as they ran across the lawn.

“Don’t! You’ll make too good a target against the light. Just let them go.” Red’s voice sounded tight with pain.

Evadne’s anxiety increased when she saw a growing red stain on the previously pristine shirtfront. “Red?” she asked.

Red gave her a wan smile. “Don’t worry, it’s just a nick.” She tried to stand, but her legs folded and left her sitting on the floor, her back against the wall. She looked a little green around the gills. “Crap. I reckon the big bastard really broke my damn rib this time.”

Evadne knelt by Red’s side and carefully pulled up her shirt. A six-inch gouge ran along Red’s ribs just below the edge of her breast bindings. Nasty but not life threatening. The knot in Evadne’s stomach relaxed.

“What am I going to do with you, Wolverton?” Her scolding covered her relief. The memory of helplessly watching Red bleed to death on the warehouse floor was still far too vivid in her mind. That Red had been healed by the supernatural being who soon afterward lost his own life had done little to ease the raw anguish of those moments.

“What on earth’s going on here?” Theo’s worried voice made Evadne glance up. He stood in the doorway, an expression of utter confusion on his face and a revolver in his hand. “Are you all right, Evadne? Red?”

“Just peachy,” Red muttered.

Evadne smiled involuntarily. For a second, she met Red’s gaze, surprised to see her eyes twinkling with something very much like laughter. Not for the first time, she wondered at Red’s perverse sense of humor. She glanced back at Theo. “We caught some burglars. Unfortunately, they escaped and somebody”—she gave Red a look of feigned annoyance—“managed to get herself shot again.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask them to do it,” Red said in an aggrieved grumble.

“Although it does appear to be a nick as she claims, I really think we should get a medical opinion.”

“Of course.” Confusion reappeared in Theo’s expression. “But burglars? What on earth were they doing breaking in here? It’s just a storeroom.” Evadne didn’t understand either. “They seemed to be after something under the floor.”

Theo glanced to the spot where the intruders had been about to lift the floorboard. “Were they? Why on earth would they be doing that?”

How did Theo know which spot the burglars had been interested in? Evadne was about to ask when he spotted the growing bloodstain on Red’s shirt.

“Hadn’t we best get Red to a hospital?” he asked.

Red grasped Evadne’s wrist. “No hospital,” she whispered.

Evadne laid a reassuring hand over Red’s. “I know, no hospital. But at least let a doctor check it, will you?”

After a small pause, Red nodded and slowly got to her feet. She shied away when Evadne tried to assist.

“I’m not a fucking invalid, you know. I can damn well walk by myself.” Red moved stiffly past Theo, her hand still pressed to her bleeding side.

Evadne withdrew her hand as if burned, thrown by the rude response to her offer of help. When Red left the room, she turned to Theo. “Sorry about that,” she said.

“Doesn’t take kindly to unsolicited help, I see.” He sounded more amused than offended.

Evadne remained angry at Red’s rudeness. “You don’t know the half of it. Sometimes she can be the most ungrateful, mule-headed, thoughtless brat!”

Theo chuckled wryly. “Well, she certainly is one of a kind.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we follow?”

Evadne took Theo’s arm. “Theo, do you know a doctor who would be willing to look at that wound for Red?” she asked. “I would prefer she get it looked at here, rather than waiting until we get back to Boston.”

“I’m sure my personal physician would oblige—for the right fee.”

“Well, I hope he has the patience of Job, because he’ll need it.”

Chapter 4

December 4: A strange discovery

The doctor was clearly unhappy about being dragged out of bed at such an early hour. Red wasn’t particularly pleased with his presence either. He barely glanced at her as he dumped his bag on a table and washed his hands in the bowl of water provided.

“Take off your shirt,” he said.

Red pulled the shirt over her head.

“Well, then—” The doctor stared at her bound chest, his puzzlement rapidly changing to embarrassment while Red smirked. He’d clearly expected her to be a man. He recovered his composure. “Sorry, miss, I… um…”

“Just get on with it, Doc.”

“Um, yes, good.” He moved behind her. “Raise your arm, please.”

Red lifted her arm and winced a little as the skin around the wound pulled. The doctor felt around the long gash the bullet had left. At least he had a gentle touch.

“Hmmm, not deep but quite long,” he said. “It really needs stitching.”

Red pre-empted his next words. “I’m not going to any damn hospital.”

He paused, looking startled. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. And what about my ribs? Are they broke?”

The doctor examined the bruised area. “Not broken. Nasty bruising, though.”

Red wasn’t impressed by his conclusion. “My ribs ain’t broke? There’s no way in hell it could hurt this much and not be damn well broke.”

“You can believe what you want, but it’s my professional opinion. The only way to be certain is an X-ray which means a trip to—”

“No!”

He glanced into her face, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I thought not.”

Red expected him to argue and was surprised when he didn’t.

“I need you to lie down. Perhaps on the chaise?” He laid a towel over the seat. “Would you like a local anesthetic?”

“Does it involve injections?”

“Yes. Several, given the length of the wound. ”

“Then no.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Red resisted the urge to curse. Damned doctors always wanted to stick her full of needles. She positioned herself to give him the best access to her wound. She hoped he would give up on the anesthetic. She was a little surprised when he did.

The doctor returned to his bag. She heard him fussing around, the gentle clink of glass and metal as he retrieved whatever he needed. He returned to kneel at her side and arranged more towels around her. She wasn’t sure whether they were for her benefit or the furniture’s.

“Ready?” he asked.

Red nodded and gritted her teeth. The antiseptic came first, burning into her flesh, followed by a long, painful couple of minutes as he cleaned the wound and washed it out again. She was sweating profusely by the time he actually started to suture the wound closed. Only sheer stubbornness stopped her from crying out. She barely noticed the first couple of stitches through the residual pain from the probing, but as that faded, she started to feel the stabbing pain of the needle and a tugging sensation as he drew her skin back together.

“All done,” he finally announced with a hint of admiration.

Red couldn’t help feeling a perverse burst of pride even though she was on the verge of throwing up. She sat up carefully.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

Nodding, Red slowly got to her feet, wincing as her damaged muscles moved.

“I’ll leave something to help with the pain. Now let’s get your wound covered.”

She lifted her arms to allow the doctor to place a dressing over the wound and wind a bandage around her ribs. After a couple of passes, she felt his attention wander. It took a moment before she realized why.

The doctor’s fingertips touched the star-shaped scar on her back. He took her by the arm and pulled her around to stare in patent disbelief before reaching out to touch the smaller, neater scar on her stomach.

“Knock it off, Doc. I ain’t a dummy to be poked and prodded, you know,” she said.

“I’m sorry.” The doctor apologized for the breach of etiquette, but curiosity apparently drove him to ask, “Those scars, they appear to be—”

“Yeah. A bullet. In the front, out the back.” She was enjoying the combination of shock and disbelief on his face.

“To survive a wound like that… you’re a very lucky woman.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

He obviously expected her to say more. She just looked smug. With ill-concealed frustration, he finished binding the wound.

“Keep it clean and dry, and make sure you change the dressing regularly,” he told her.

“I know the drill, Doc.”

After an annoyed harrumph, he began collecting the tools of his trade.

Red picked up the clean shirt Theo had provided and gingerly pulled it on. Her side was stiff and still hurt like hell. She started to fasten the buttons. Halfway down, she paused to touch the dimpled scar on her stomach that sat like her belly button’s ghostly twin a couple of inches above the waistband of her pants. The gesture had become a familiar ritual, a physical reminder that what had happened in the warehouse was not, in fact, a bizarre, macabre dream.

She glanced up, expecting to see the doctor watching her, but he’d already left, the only trace of his presence a small packet of painkillers placed in the center of the table.

At least he’d known when to give up, Red thought darkly, something she’d not seen much in his profession. She picked up the packet of pills. After checking the instructions, she popped a couple into her mouth and swallowed them. She’d probably be glad later.

She shoved the packet into her pocket, tucked her shirttail into her pants, and drew her suspenders back into place. A little light-headed, she decided to sit awhile before rejoining the others.

As she waited for her head to clear, she went over what had happened in the storeroom. In particular, the familiar face she’d seen staring back at her. The female intruder had been the spitting image of Evadne. Her shocked surprise was the main reason the strange woman had gotten a shot off—Red hadn’t even seen the gun until it was too late.

She put aside the uncanny resemblance to consider why the intruders had broken into the house in the first place. The man and woman were searching for something, that much seemed pretty clear, but it didn’t appear they’d found it. She and Evadne would have to give the room a thorough going-over once the cops finished crawling around the place.

“Damned flatfoots. Why’d Theo have to call them in anyway?” Red muttered. She had already given her statement to the police, but only repeated reiterations from Theo convinced the skeptical sergeant, an old adversary, that she was actually an invited guest. She hadn’t mentioned the female intruder’s uncanny resemblance to Evadne. From the expression on Evadne’s face when she left the room, she had held back something, too.

The light-headedness seemed to have gone, so Red tried to stand again. Nothing unpleasant happened. She moved to the door that separated the sitting room from the place where the others waited.

As she entered, every pair of eyes turned in her direction. “What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Have I left my fly undone?”

Evadne made a little snort of laughter “You’re such a ruffian, Red.”

Red gave Evadne a cocky grin. “And don’t you forget it. The cops gone?”

Theo nodded. “They said there’ve been a number of burglaries in the area, although the criminals have never used firearms before.”

“Shall we examine the storeroom now?” Evadne asked.

“Sure.” Red wasn’t surprised by the suggestion. Her partner’s instincts matched her own. She had realized early in their relationship that Evadne had a talent for the more cerebral side of the investigation business. She turned to Theo. “If that’s okay by you?”

Evadne’s mother glanced questioningly at Theo. He gave her an almost imperceptible shake of his head before replying, “No objections from me.”

Red and Evadne left the room.

“There’s something I didn’t tell the police.” Evadne caught Red’s arm. She seemed confused and concerned. “The hooded woman… she looked just like you.”

“I know, it—” Surprised, Red stared at Evadne. “Whaddaya mean she looked like me? She looked like you!”

“I think I know what I look like, Red, and she was nothing like me. She even had the same scar through her eyebrow and a slight kink in her nose.”

Red hadn’t been that drunk. She knew what she’d seen. She gave Evadne a piercing stare. “Are you sure? You can’t have got more than a fleeting glimpse.”

“Her hood fell away as she went through the window, and there’s no mistaking this color.” Evadne ruffled Red’s hair. “Or your face.”

Red scowled, batting away the familiar hand. “Well, I saw your face, Evadne. I have no doubt about it.”

Evadne raised a dark eyebrow. “Perhaps you drank—”

Red’s finger snapped up within an inch of Evadne’s nose. “I was not so drunk as to mistake my face for yours, Evadne Davenport!”

Evadne laid her hand over Red’s. “All right then, so if we both saw—”

Red’s jaw clenched. Did Evadne think she was lying? “I saw what I saw!” she snarled, emphasizing each word with a poke to her partner’s chest. Residual pain from her side and the remainder of the alcohol she’d guzzled earlier dangerously hampered her attempts to control her temper. Her hands curled into fists.

Evadne stepped back, rubbing the abused spot on her chest. For a second, her gaze met Red’s. The flicker of fear in Evadne’s gentle brown eyes left Red dismayed, especially when Evadne took another step backward.

Red needed to get her anger under control before she completely lost it. She spun around to face the nearest wall. Resisting the urge to punch it, instead she rested her forehead against the smooth surface. She lifted her clenched fists to the side of her head and tried to block out anything that might break her concentration as she fought her rage.

The solid, cool surface against her forehead began to ground her anger. Slowly, her hands relaxed and her breathing calmed. Eventually, she pushed away from the wall.

“Evadne, I—” Red stopped, not knowing what to say. She stared down at the hand that had poked her friend and come within a hairsbreadth of hitting her. “Thought I got it under control,” she said, more to herself than Evadne.

Evadne put a hand on Red’s shoulder and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Come on, Red. We have a room to investigate.”

“Yeah.” Red let out a sigh as Evadne’s simple gesture of support drove away the final traces of her fury. With an apologetic half smile, she said, “Lead on then, Sherlock.”

Evadne set off with Red a few steps behind.

As she followed the elegantly clad back, Red wondered, not for the first time, why Evadne put up with her. If her blunt backwoods attitude wasn’t enough to scare her off, then the barely controllable rages should have sent her running for the hills months ago.

She still frightened Evadne. The fear she’d seen had been as clear as day. So why the hell did Evadne stick with her?

Evadne had said she was her friend, Red recalled. A total surprise that God-awful early morning in the kitchen when she’d asked Red what she was thinking and finished the question with an almost off-the-cuff remark, “That’s what friends are for.”

But why? Why me? Why her? It made so little sense. Hell, it made no sense!

Incapable of unraveling the mystery any further, Red gave up trying. If nothing else, Evadne had saved her life at least twice. A sudden thought crossed her mind. She stopped, unable to prevent an amused snort.

“What?” Evadne asked.

“I was just thinking how you’ve saved my life—twice.”

Evadne stared at her. “And you found it funny?”

“Nah, not that. I just realized I’d never been shot until I met you. So does it make you a good-luck or bad-luck charm?”

“I’m neither, as well you know. You’re always telling me we make our own luck, so don’t go blaming your damage magnet abilities on me.”

“Damage magnet, eh? Hmmm.” Red pretended to consider the words. “Red ‘Damage Magnet’ Wolverton. Yeah, I could get used to that. It’s almost as good as Evadne ‘Slowpoke’ Davenport.” Grinning, Red strode past her.

“Slowpoke?” Evadne spluttered as she hurried to catch up. “Just because you’ve got longer legs…”

Evadne caught up just as Red entered the storeroom and stopped, apparently puzzled.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

Red stepped back into the corridor, frowning. After a moment, she stepped through the doorway again and beckoned to Evadne. “Come here. Walk through the doorway.”

“What?”

“Just walk through.”

Evadne gave Red a long stare, a little miffed by her cloak-and-dagger attitude. When she realized she’d get no further explanation, she stepped through the doorway, unsure what to expect. Nothing earth-shattering happened. The other room seemed cooler, but why shouldn’t it be?

“Did you feel it?” Red asked.

“What?”

“The temperature drop.”

“Well, the window’s open—of course it’s colder.”

“But the door’s been open since we left, so why the sudden drop on the threshold?”

Evadne repeated her steps back and forth across the room’s boundary. “You’re right.” A recollection flickered in the back of her mind. “Just before that… person… shot you, I felt a sudden coldness pass through me. Do you think it’s related?”

“Have you ever heard any rumors about the house being haunted?” Red asked.

“Haunted?” Evadne snorted. “Are you serious?”

Red’s expression confirmed her sincerity. “After the warehouse, do you really doubt there’re things out there we don’t know about?”

“Good point.” Evadne searched her memory for any such rumors. “No. I can’t say I’ve ever heard anything of the sort said about Arden Manor. Why?”

“I think I saw something earlier by the stairs.”

“A ghost?”

“Maybe. I dunno. Yeah, I know I was drunk, but I felt the coldness you mentioned, and… and fear. Thought I saw a figure go up the stairs, but when I followed, there was nobody there.” Red gave her a self-deprecating grin. “Just thought it was the drink at the time, but now? I’m not so sure.”

Well, well, Evadne thought. The big bad Wolf admitting to fear. The encounter must have been real, or at least Red thought so, and wasn’t it exactly what she herself had experienced during her confrontation with the intruders?

“I felt it, too,” Evadne admitted. “The fear along with the cold. I mean, I was already scared. Who wouldn’t be—”

Red’s smirk broke her train of thought. She narrowed her eyes. Red could be so infuriatingly cocky at times.

“Well,” she said, “what normal person wouldn’t be afraid, confronting intruders like that? But the fear that came with the coldness, it felt almost… primal. The sort of fear our ancestors must have felt at the sound of predators in the darkness.” The memory made her shudder involuntarily.

“Yeah,” Red said. “The fear seemed to go straight to my gut. Even asleep, I felt it.”

Evadne shared a look with Red, wondering what the strange experience heralded.

Eventually, Red broke the silence. “C’mon, this ain’t gonna get the cookie crumbled.”

She followed as Red entered the room and made her way to the section of floor where the intruders had been about to pull up the planking. Kneeling, Red ran her fingers around the edges of the floorboards. “Reckon this is the one they were gonna lift,” she said.

Something caught Red’s attention. With a derisive laugh, she reached between two chests to retrieve a small crowbar.

“Damn flatfoots can’t pour piss out of a boot with instructions on the heel,” Red said, giving Evadne a grin almost childlike in its enthusiasm. “Let’s see what they were after.” She fitted the claw under the end of a floorboard and pushed down.

“You’ll aggravate—” The sound of splintering wood cut Evadne’s concern short as the board suddenly lifted free, Red letting out a pained hiss at the same time.

“Told you.” Annoyance tinged Evadne’s worry. “You take too little care of yourself, Red. One day that body of yours is going to fight back.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Red shook off Evadne’s worries as easily as a dog shaking off water, all her attention fixed on the hole in the floor.

Evadne rolled her eyes in frustration, moved to Red’s side, and looked over her shoulder. The area under the floorboard appeared dark and deep.

“I’ll get a flashlight. Won’t be long.” She glanced back as she reached the door. Red lay facedown on the floor, peering into the hole. “Please don’t put your hand in until we’ve checked there isn’t anything dangerous in there,” she added. Red’s guilty expression showed her she was right to be worried. “Please?”

“Okay.” Red pushed herself up from the floor and sat with her back against the wall. “Go on then, get the light.” She waved Evadne away with a flick of her hand. “I’ll guard the loot.”

Evadne hurried along the corridors and went up the main stairs toward Theo’s study. If he hadn’t gone to bed, he would almost certainly be there and would know where she could find a flashlight. If not, she felt fairly certain he kept one somewhere in the study.

As she hurried, her mind returned to the intruders. What on earth had those people been looking for? Moreover, who, or what, was the mysterious woman? She was so sure— No! The woman had looked like Red, yet Red said the woman looked like her. How?

She stopped at a sudden memory. The woman had talked softly the whole time, as if chanting a spell. Could that have something to do with it?

When she reached the study, she put her thoughts aside and entered. Theo and her mother were there, and their fixed gazes made her stop in her tracks. “What’s the matter?” she asked in slight apprehension.

“I think we need to explain why we asked you here in the first place,” Theo said.

“I should get Red.”

“No, Evadne, please. We would like to talk to you alone.”

Now definitely worried, Evadne took a seat before her shaking legs gave out on her.

Theo cleared his throat. “You know we’ve not been in Boston for the last six months, and we hadn’t planned to return for at least a year.”

She nodded. Her mother had told her about their plan to tour the world. The early end of their journey had been unexpected, no more than that. At the time, it hadn’t seemed unusual, but she was reconsidering her opinion.

“We came back because I received some disturbing reports from Miles Kemper, the agent who takes care of Arden Manor in my absence. Someone spotted lights on inside the house and, knowing we were away, reported the fact to the police. They contacted Miles. He confirmed the manor was currently unoccupied. The police went out to check, and Miles accompanied them. On inspection, there seemed nothing wrong with the house, no sign of forced entry, and the interior seemed undisturbed.”

Evadne had a sudden flash of insight. “That’s not all though, is it?”

“No, it isn’t.” Her mother took up the story. “Miles decided to keep a close eye on the property to prevent it being used for some sort of unsavory purpose.”

Unsavory, Evadne thought uncharitably. They mean they feared some poor homeless soul had taken shelter there.

Clearly unaware of Evadne’s disapproval, her mother said, “He employed a watchman to keep an eye on the house and grounds. Nothing further happened for a week, then the watchman went missing. He was eventually found—” Her mother broke off, upset.

Theo said, “The police found the poor man wandering around the countryside, gibbering like an idiot, apparently out of his mind.”

Evadne couldn’t help thinking about the fear she’d felt earlier. Could something similar be responsible for the man’s affliction? Theo’s next words seemed to confirm her thoughts.

“The only word they could understand in the man’s incoherent ramblings was ‘cold.’ The police were asked to investigate again, but they couldn’t find anything suspicious at the house. The loss of the man’s wits was considered the result of a sudden breakdown.”

“Despite his wife’s protests that he was the most sane and practical of men,” her mother added vehemently. “Poor, poor woman. To see her husband reduced to such a wreck.”

“Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst incident.” Theo paused as if gathering his thoughts. “Miles informed me what happened. He believed the house was being used for some nefarious purpose. We started home as soon as I received his telegram. By the time we arrived, Miles himself had disappeared. His sister had no idea where he’d gone. His journals show he’d taken to checking on the house himself and he finally found signs of activity.” Theo shook his head, looking regretful. “It appears the young man decided to investigate it himself rather than report what he found to the proper authorities. It would also appear whoever he found had no compunction about removing him in some way or other.”

“And what have the police found out about his disappearance?” Evadne asked.

Theo and her mother exchanged a guilty glance. “We haven’t told them,” Theo admitted shamefacedly.

“But his sister… surely she reported him missing?”

“She has. It’s a simple missing person investigation as far as she and the police are concerned. They’ve no idea what he was doing here. What they also don’t know—what I haven’t told them—is young Kemper left instructions to send his journals to me should anything happen to him.”

Evadne was more than a little shocked. “But, Theo, you must tell the police. Surely you realize you’re withholding evidence.”

“I know, but I—we—wanted this sorted out without police involvement if at all possible.”

“Evadne, dear,” her mother said, “Theo is within a whisker of becoming a candidate for mayor. Any hint of scandal, even one in which he has no direct contact, would ruin his chances. Surely you, of all people, know how fickle the newspapers can be.”

Evadne knew all too well how the press hailed a person one day and damned them the next. In her experience, journalistic fickleness had been demonstrated in no uncertain terms by the way they treated her proposed academy for young women who were poor.

At first, her good deeds had been trumpeted to the heavens, but that soon changed when the newspaper editors realized she intended to provide the women with a proper education, not just prepare them for married life. The praise for her charitable attempt to better the lives of the city’s unfortunates was twisted into accusations her academy would produce unseemly creatures who would never want the natural role of wife and mother. She might not like what her mother and Theo were doing, but she could understand and, to some degree, sympathize.

Her mother gave her a tight, worried smile. “Will you help us?”

Another link fell into place. “You think the break-in tonight is in some way connected, don’t you?” Evadne asked.

Theo put his arm around her mother’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “We want the truth found, Evadne. We believe you have a better chance of solving this than the police have with their blinkered attitude.” He released her mother, picked up a pair of bound notebooks from his desk, and offered them to her. “Here, read these. You’ll see what I mean,” he said. “Read them, then make your decision. If you don’t want to take on the case, I’ll forward them to the police at once.”

And put him in an even worse position with the accusation of withholding evidence. She studied Theo’s face for any sign of duplicity. He could be using the obvious consequences of his actions to lever her into investigating the mystery to protect his ambitions.

Finding nothing, she decided his statement appeared honest. She took the notebooks, nodded her agreement, and turned to leave. Only when she opened the door did she recall the flashlight. Red wasn’t going to be happy keeping her curiosity in check for so long.

“Do you have a flashlight we could borrow, Theo?”

“Of course.” Theo opened a drawer in the desk. He withdrew a flashlight and passed it to her.

“Thank you.”

“Can I ask what you need it for?”

Time to show he wasn’t the only one who could leave things only half-explained, Evadne thought with a sudden lack of charity. “I’ll let you know later.”

When she returned to the storeroom, she found Red propped up against the wall, gently snoring. At least this appeared to be a more peaceful sleep than earlier. Without the perpetual frown, Red’s face seemed younger, almost cherubic—a sight that still surprised her, so unlike the half-cynical, half-amused expression of her partner’s waking hours.

Beautiful.

The word came unbidden to Evadne’s mind. She smiled wryly at the inappropriateness of her thought as well as her choice of words. No, she decided, “beautiful” wouldn’t go down well with Red. Handsome, perhaps?

Red shifted in her sleep, and her mouth opened a little.

Evadne found herself wondering what Red’s lips might feel like. The musing didn’t last. She blinked, shaken by the way her thoughts had wandered. She really shouldn’t be thinking about a friend that way. She needed to remove the source of the unsettling temptation, so she prodded the sole of Red’s boot with the toe of her shoe.

Red jerked in alarm and reached for her gun before she noticed who had disturbed her. “Damn it, Evadne, what have I told you about sneaking up on me?” She smothered a yawn. “Took your sweet time, didn’t you?”

“Falling asleep on duty? Tut, tut!”

Red scowled sleepily at her. “Yeah, well, you try being up all night, getting tackled by some burglars, and being shot for your pains.”

“Not to mention the best part of a decanter of whiskey you consumed.”

“Did you get the light?”

“Of course.” She handed the flashlight over, amused by Red’s subtle-as-a-brick subject change.

Red scooted over to the hole. She switched the light on and peered into the darkness. After a moment, she lay prone to stick her head down into the hole.

“Red?” Evadne knew she sounded more and more like a mother hen, but at least it was better than her kissing fantasy.

Red’s muffled response came from the hole. “Don’t worry, it’s safe.”

“Are you sure? I know what you consider safe.” Definitely a mother hen. Who would have believed it?

Red raised her head and rolled her eyes. “Okay, you take a gander. There’s nothing in there but a statue.”

“A statue?” Evadne’s interest was piqued. She knelt down as comfortably as her fashionable dress allowed. Under the floorboards, she saw a chamber about a foot-and-a-half square by four or so feet deep. Three of the sides were stone, the fourth, brick. A statue of a bird with outspread wings sat in the center of the stone slab that formed the chamber’s base. She glanced at Red to find her watching. From this distance, her partner’s eagerness was unmistakable.

“Well, it seems safe, but please be careful.” Evadne studied the statue a second time. “Were you going to take it out?”

“Nope. Not yet. I was trying to see if the chamber was part of the original house. I reckon the brick side is the outer wall of the house. Just a minute.” Red eased her left arm and shoulder into the hole. Her eyes closed. She chewed her lower lip as she concentrated. Evadne’s attention had started drifting again when Red spoke.

“Yeah, feels like the stone blocks are knitted into the wall. I would bet this little niche was built in from the start.”

Evadne shook herself out of her daydreams in time to see a small frown draw Red’s eyebrows together.

“That’s odd,” Red said. “It feels like there are marks or carvings or something on the stone.” She removed her arm from the hole and hunkered back on her heels as she brushed the cobwebs off her sleeve. “Do you reckon Theo will object if we make the hole a bit bigger?”

Evadne exchanged a look with Red that started off pensive and ended mischievous.

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Red picked up the crowbar.

“Careful,” Evadne warned.

Red gave her an exasperated glance, but she didn’t rip into the floor with her usual wild abandon. Despite the extra consideration she gave her damaged side, it didn’t take her long to uncover the whole chamber.

Evadne took the flashlight and wriggled her head and arm far enough into the hole to see what Red’s probing fingers had felt. “You’re right,” she said. “There are carvings on the walls. It might be Latin, though it’s a tad difficult to be sure at this angle. I’ll get some paper and charcoal later and take some rubbings, and we should be able to work out the symbols in more comfort.”

“What about the statue?” Red’s voice sounded oddly disembodied.

“Still can’t quite make it out. I think it might be an eagle, but we’ll have to remove it to get a proper look. I’ll try to reach it.” Evadne switched the flashlight to her other hand and reached down into the darkness. Her fingers just grazed the top of the statue. “Botheration. Can’t quite reach it.” As she pulled out of the hole, she caught the sound of a smothered laugh, and turned to stare at a grinning Red. “What?”

“Botheration? What kind of cuss word is that?”

Evadne sniffed disapprovingly. “Just because some of us do not partake of the sort of language that would make a sailor blush does not mean certain potty-mouthed individuals can make fun of us for it.”

Red clearly tried to keep a straight face but failed miserably. “Yeah, but, surely you can find something more heartfelt than—ouch—botheration.” She laughed hard, the guffaws interrupted by an occasional wince.

Evadne’s attempt to maintain a stony expression did nothing to calm the situation. Her glare soon became a smile as she watched Red’s uncharacteristic hilarity. Soon she was chuckling along, releasing the tension that had been building all evening.

The laughter eventually subsided. Red grinned, only somewhat apologetically. “I needed that,” she said.

“Have I told you you’re a complete ruffian, Red Wolverton?”

“Yeah, frequently. But you wouldn’t want me any other way, would you?”

Evadne could only agree. “Of course. I’m just glad you are, indeed, one of a kind. I don’t think I could cope with there being more than one like you out there.”

Red nodded toward the hole. “Want me to have a go at the statue?”

Evadne made a little bow of agreement. “Please, be my guest.”

“So gracious.” Red eased her arm and shoulder into the hole. Her head soon followed, her right arm the only thing stopping her from falling in. “Reckon these lanky limbs of mine are of some use after all,” she said.

Hearing Red’s triumphant tone, Evadne imagined the grin on her friend’s face.

“I reckon I can get it.”

Before Evadne had a chance to urge caution, Red tried to lift the statue out. From the cursing that followed, the effort must have hurt.

Evadne winced. “Are you all right?”

“Just peachy.” Red’s muffled voice held a distinct note of chagrin. “It must be fixed to the floor or something.” She shifted her position. Evadne thought she meant to try again.

“Red?”

“One more try. I think it moved a little.”

“Be careful.”

Red’s second attempt proved as unsuccessful as the first. She pushed herself up to sit cross-legged on the floor and scowled indignantly at the hole. “Looks like it’s too damn heavy to lift out like that.”

“Would some rope help?”

“Yeah.” She gave Evadne a flirtatious grin. “Knew I kept you around for more than just the pretty face, sweetheart.” She smirked as Evadne rolled her eyes. “It’s a good idea though. Reckon a rope should do it, no problem.” Red glanced back at the hole, and creased her brow in puzzlement. “Are there cellars under here, any boilers or furnaces?”

“No. At least not that I know of,” Evadne replied, surprised by the sudden change of subject.

“Weird.” Red sounded pensive. Her gaze returned to the hole. “First it’s cold up here, then the chamber is really warm. Even the statue feels warm.” She shook her head and looked unhappy. “This place is beginning to give me the creeps.”

“Only beginning?” Evadne joked halfheartedly. “It’s been giving me the heebie-jeebies ever since we first entered.” She stood and brushed the dust off her evening dress. “I shouldn’t be long.” She left the room and the odd sensations that were still sending chills up and down her spine.

Left on guard duty while Evadne went in search of rope, Red settled herself against the wall and stared at the hole in the floor. There had to be an explanation for the statue and its oddly warm hiding place, but for the life of her, she couldn’t work out what. At least the storeroom had lost the odd chill she’d experienced earlier.

Yawning, she tried to shuffle into a more comfortable position. She considered trying to catch a quick forty winks again, but her mind was too busy for sleep. Why would someone have placed a statue under the floor in what appeared to be a purpose-built chamber? And why did she have such a bad feeling about it?

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a figure framed in the doorway. She relaxed when she saw Theo Criffy watching her with a thoughtful expression.

“Evadne’s gone to find some rope,” Red explained.

“Rope?”

“To lift the statue.” She scooted over on her backside to the hole and beckoned Theo closer. Switching on her flashlight, she illuminated the space.

Theo peered inside. “Well, I’ll be.”

“Any idea what the statue might be? Why it’s there?”

“I haven’t the foggiest notion.”

“Who did you buy the place from?”

“I didn’t. My grandfather built it.”

Red felt a sudden surge of hostility. Theo was old money, not her favorite kind of people. But so was Evadne, she reminded herself, and her partner was okay—way more than okay. She struggled with her instinctive anger as Theo crouched down to take a closer look.

“Is it an eagle?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s what Evadne thought.”

He settled back on his heels, the posture at odds with his immaculate tuxedo and patrician features.

Red noticed he was studying her again. “What?” she snapped.

“Oh, sorry.” He gave her a tentative smile. She thought he was going to ask her something. Instead, he stood and moved to peer through the broken window into the night. After a brief pause, he turned back to face her. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Yeah?” Red replied warily. Although she liked the man, she remained unsure about him.

“I need someone to act as a troubleshooter for my Nebraska ranching concerns. The previous incumbent retired some months ago, and I haven’t found the right person to replace him yet. With your experience working on a ranch and as an investigator, I had the notion my offer might be right up your alley.”

Her frown deepening, Red didn’t say anything. Was this why he’d directed their earlier conversation onto the subject of ranching? He seemed a little uncertain now.

“I have a problem on a ranch that needs investigating—stock going missing. How about you give it a try, and if it works out for us, we can make the position permanent?”

His offer sounded too good to be true. Why would he trust her in such a position? Most of his type wouldn’t. “Why me?” she asked.

“I need someone not afraid to tweak noses.”

Red couldn’t help grinning. If there was one thing she could do, that was it.

“Someone with the ability to ferret out problems and not be put off,” he said, “used to rough living, able to take care of themselves if need be. Finally, I need someone I can trust.”

Red stared at him in utter disbelief. Theo trusted her? She wasn’t sure she trusted herself anymore.

He must have picked up on her doubt. “Evadne trusts you, and she’s a good judge of character,” he said. “And everything I’ve heard about you suggests your word is your bond.”

Still a little stunned, Red made a one-shouldered shrug to acknowledge his compliment. At least she hoped that’s what it was. Or perhaps this conversation was another drunken hallucination.

“So?” he prodded.

Red studied Theo’s face for any sign of lying. He proved more difficult to read than she expected. She wondered why.

Her gut gave her contradictory advice. Instinct told her he meant what he said, but there was also a feeling that he wasn’t telling her the whole truth. In addition, the dark, niggling little worm of self-doubt couldn’t believe his offer was genuine. Was he after something else, even something as simple as getting her away from Evadne?

Still, investigative work wasn’t exactly flooding in. Perhaps something like the ranch would be a better idea. If the offer did turn out to stink like a three-week-old corpse, she could always drop it. The alcohol working its way through her system wasn’t helping her come to a decision, and her brain still felt a little fuzzy around the edges.

“Can I have a couple of days to think about it?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“When do you need to know?”

“By the end of the week?”

“Okay.”

The sound of footsteps drew Red’s gaze to the door.

Evadne breezed in, rope in hand. “I have the—oh, Theo, I didn’t know you were here. Would you like to join us?”

Theo grinned like a five-year-old. “Just try to stop me.”

Red couldn’t help grinning, too, caught by his infectious enthusiasm. “Come on then, let’s find out what the sneaks were after,” she said.

Chapter 5

December 4 (continued): Puzzles and a prophecy

Evadne glanced out her study window. Red and James were bent in shared veneration of the internal combustion engine, their heads—one gray, one red-gold—nearly touching. She watched Red straighten from her worship under the hood of the LaSalle, her usual gangling looseness marred by the stiffness in her damaged side.

It was a wonder she ever healed. You practically had to tie her down to get her to rest.

Evadne rubbed her lower back, still sore from a jarring fall in the warehouse that had happened months ago. Ha! Give it a few more years. There would be none of that irritating bouncing back from injuries for Red, and then she would regret her carelessness.

At least the scruffy destroyer of clothing wasn’t getting her dress suit covered in oil. The smartness of the previous evening’s attire had been replaced by Red’s usual inelegance.

Since Red’s enforced stay at Evadne’s house while she recovered from the physical and emotional trauma of Janet’s death, she had become a regular visitor, often staying overnight in the room that had become hers.

It hadn’t been long into their partnership before Red’s ability to attract filth as well as danger had led Evadne to make the careful suggestion that Red keep some clothes at her house rather than borrow from the small selection of Geoff’s clothes she’d not been able to part with. She had half-expected the prickly Westerner to refuse the offer, realizing early on that Red valued her independence, even if her apartment wasn’t fit to house a dog, but Red’s agreement to the suggestion had left her temporarily off balance.

Her surprise must have been obvious as Red had swiftly added, “Hey, I’m only protecting my dignity here. You may think me wandering around in clothes five sizes too big is amusing, but I feel like some kid dressing up in her pa’s clothes.”

Evadne suspected that Red had deliberately selected her scruffiest and most-disreputable clothes for the purpose. Not only that, Red had irreverently christened her house as the “Palace of Pleasures.” She was sure Red did it just to irritate her, and it worked.

“Palace of Pleasures, indeed,” she muttered. Despite her annoyance, she couldn’t help smiling at the memory of the first time she’d heard the dubious appellation. She had been exasperated and mildly scandalized. Red had explained in an innocent tone, while smirking evilly, that she meant the comfortable beds and Maria’s breakfasts, of course. What else did Evadne think she was referring to?

At least James and Red seemed to be back on amicable terms. She still had no idea what had caused James to take umbrage against Red, or why he had returned to a friendlier attitude. He’d asked for the previous afternoon off, an unusual occurrence that had made her wonder if whatever he did during his time away had anything to do with his changed attitude.

What was it Joe Martelli had once told her while trying to persuade her not to kick his long-time friend out of her house? “She won’t admit it, but I think she likes it here,” he’d said, “and from what I know, she never had a real family life, not since she was a youngster anyway. I think it’s what you and Maria, and even James, provide her somehow.”

She’d wondered at the time why the annoying, mule-headed, scoundrel of a woman generated such loyalty. She understood the loyalty a little better now, even if Red still irritated the heck out of her on a regular basis.

Evadne expanded on Joe’s allusion. Marie would be the mother in this pseudo-family, and James the father, she decided. She wondered what it made her… the annoying, over-protective big sister?

Shaking her head ruefully at the strange ways her mind wandered, she turned away from the window. She stretched her neck to work out the kinks caused by too much time already spent hunched over her desk and retook her seat. It might be a Sunday, but she wasn’t going to waste any time getting to grips with the journals Theo had given her. Red had been more than happy to let her study them while she got grubby under the LaSalle’s hood.

Miles Kemper’s journals shared space on her polished desktop with rubbings of the carvings from the stones lining the cavity in the storeroom floor and a sketch of the statue that she and Red had lifted from the hiding place. The statue’s unexpected weight had been explained once the grime of years was wiped off to expose a golden surface underneath.

The foot-high, solid-gold statue of a bird had its wings spread wide in a way that reminded Evadne of the Eagle standards carried by Roman legions, but something about the bird’s head made her think her first impression must be wrong. Whatever it turned out to be, the statue was now deposited in Theo’s safe at Arden Manor.

Studying the rubbings last night, she had realized the carvings were a Latin inscription. After dusting off her book of Latin vocabulary, she had done her best at a translation: From the darkness protect, in the light to shield. Or it could be the shield of the light. She wasn’t sure. Perhaps Vivian might help. Her Latin would be more up to the job.

She put aside the mystery of the statue and the inscription and returned to the journals, discovering they were more like aide-memoire.

It took an effort just to decipher Kemper’s handwriting. Once she managed that task, she had to decide what was related to the goings-on at Arden Manor. She stretched her neck again. This time, she heard a small popping sound as a couple of vertebrae shifted and settled.

Turning a page, she resumed her study.

Red winced as she straightened up. She felt like a complete wreck and was sure she looked it as well. She tried to ease her aching side without being too obvious. Definitely getting too old for this shit, she still wasn’t sure her damned rib wasn’t broken despite what the doctor told her.

Lack of sleep certainly wasn’t helping either. She’d barely managed a few hours of shut-eye and didn’t feel any better for it. When she had woken that morning, her side was so stiff it had taken a good fifteen minutes before she could bend down far enough to put on her socks, and a check in the mirror revealed a deep purple bruise the size of a dinner plate wrapped around her right side.

Worse, the bullet gouge still stung from the change of dressing before breakfast.

“What did you two get up to last night?” James asked. “I thought you were going to one of Mrs. Van Deemin’s soirées. Don’t tell me you managed to get into trouble there.”

She gave him her most hurt expression. “Hey, it ain’t my fault if trouble follows me like cayutes do a dying doggie.” She wiped her hands on the least oily rag available. She’d been surprised when James asked for her help with the LaSalle since she still hadn’t found out what she did to rile him up in the first place. Whatever it was, he appeared to have forgotten or forgiven, and she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “The evening weren’t too bad, considering. It all started going downhill when we found the burglars.”

James’s eyebrows shot up. “Duw. You certainly know how to find trouble even in the most unlikely setting, don’t you?”

Red frowned, puzzled. She’d heard him use the word “duw” a number of times in the past, but didn’t know what it meant. “Dew? What’s that, James?” She grinned. “My guess is it’s a cuss word, and you don’t want Evadne to know.”

“Well, you aren’t far off. It’s Welsh.”

“So what does it mean? Come on, give!”

James gave in, rolling his eyes. “It just means God.”

“Welsh, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Red frowned. “James… not a very Welsh name, is it? I mean, I’ve met some Welsh sailors around the docks, and their names always seem like a right mouthful.”

“It’s quite a common surname in South Wales. At least I don’t have to teach people how to say it, let alone spell it, unlike my given names.”

“Which are?”

“Taliesin Llewellyn.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m afraid not. Ma was a bit of a romantic about the Welsh legends. I’m named after our greatest bard and one of our greatest kings.”

“Jeez, what a mouthful.” Red tried to keep a serious face but failed miserably. Within seconds, the twitch at the corner of her mouth became a broad smile. “I can see why you’d want to stick to James.”

He grinned back, and she took the next step in her gentle interrogation. “You ever been hitched, James? You wear a wedding ring, but I ain’t heard talk of a Mrs. James.”

His jaw clenched. She wondered if she’d asked too much.

“Yes, I was married,” he said. “She left me. She couldn’t stand life in service. Said I could do better.”

“You didn’t think you could?” Red blurted, astonished the obviously capable man hadn’t followed his wife’s suggestion.

“No, it wasn’t that. Gwen didn’t understand I had an obligation to Mr. Van Deemin—Evadne’s father.” He fingered the oil-smudged ring, looking pensive. “Loyalty has always been my undoing, even to Gwen.”

She didn’t know how to reply without hurting him further. How could he remain loyal to a woman who’d left him? He must have fought ladies off with a stick when he was younger.

“Well, I’m sure Evadne appreciates your loyalty,” she said with a sly grin, deciding to shift the conversation away from such emotional quicksand. “Even I appreciate it,” she continued, “despite you nearly dropping me on my head after I brought Bessie back.” She gave the LaSalle a fond pat.

“Oh, has Maria been telling tales on me then?” His expression turned somber. “I still haven’t forgiven you for abusing Mrs. Davenport’s hospitality, let alone the damage you could’ve caused had her involuntary involvement in the sanitarium’s destruction become known.”

Taken aback by the abrupt change of mood, Red gave him a hard stare. How dare he judge her! He knew nothing—nothing—of what that fucking place put her through. A familiar flicker started deep in her gut. “I meant Evadne no harm,” she said in a flat voice. “I would have accepted whatever she decided to do, but I ain’t gonna say I’m sorry for burning that place down!” She spun on her heel and stalked away, seething.

Evadne winced at the sound of the kitchen door slamming. Only one person would make such a racket entering the house. Neither James nor Maria shut a door so violently. Professional pride would not allow it. She heard another slam, closer this time, and then the door to the study burst open and Red stormed inside. She flung herself down on the window seat to glower at the snow-covered garden.

Evadne returned to her work. She thought she understood how Red’s moods worked. This one appeared to be a subcategory of anger that she defined as defensive. Were it righteous, the entire story would have been told in graphic detail by now. If guilty, Red would be alone, venting her anger on an unsuspecting inanimate object like the woodpile.

After a couple of minutes, Evadne glanced across at Red, who still stared at the snow-blanketed garden, and saw the muscles in Red’s jaw twitching. Grinding her teeth again? Not a good sign.

She cast her mind back to her earlier musings. Were she, Maria, and James now Red’s family as Joe Martelli had suggested? There certainly didn’t seem to be anyone else her partner considered that way, except Joe himself.

She recalled Red’s words the last time anger drove her to splitting logs. “If I had gone back, I reckon one of us would’ve ended up dead, me or Pa. So perhaps, after all, it was for the best.” The implacable logic of Red’s statement had left her momentarily speechless when she first heard it. She still found it hard to comprehend.

She couldn’t imagine saying her father’s death was for the best, even though her parents’ relationship hadn’t been a happy one. Even after they stopped loving each other, they adored their clever, dark-haired daughter. That love kept them together and civil, in her presence at least, until her father’s untimely death.

Evadne dragged her mind out of the past to concentrate on Miles Kemper’s journals and gave her scowling, silent companion a final glance. She had worked out the best approach to Red’s defensive anger: carry on as normal.

If Red wanted to talk about her problem, she’d initiate the conversation. Otherwise, having company and a good staring opportunity such as a window overlooking a garden seemed to be all she needed.

At least Red’s anger tended to fade as quickly as it flared, although she usually denied her temper fits even occurred, which Evadne found unsettling. Her own tendency to apologize at the drop of a hat appeared to annoy Red as much as Red’s inability to say “sorry” irritated her.

She worked her way through three more pages of the journal. She got the hang of Kemper’s abbreviations and style of note taking, and she progressed with increasing speed.

“Anything interesting?” Red asked, making Evadne nearly jump out of her skin.

She glanced up. Red stood beside the desk and was studying her notes. She hadn’t heard her move. Yet Red often accused her of being as stealthy as a snake, which was grossly unfair, she decided.

“Well?” Red nodded at the journals.

Evadne waited for her heart to return to normal before she replied, “Nothing specific. Most of what Kemper says is routine and doesn’t relate to Arden Manor. He uses his own form of shorthand which doesn’t help.” She flicked back a couple of pages. “Here’s the entry I believe relates to the first incident. The date certainly fits. ‘Lights at AM.’ I take that to mean Arden Manor. ‘FF called.’ I’m not sure about the abbreviation. I assume it relates to the police in some way.”

Red chuckled. “Seems like our man has a sense of humor. Reckon it stands for flatfoots.”

“Makes sense, I suppose. Then it says, ‘No sign of break-in. Still safe.’”

“Still safe? Nothing more?” Red bent over to examine the passage.

“No. See for yourself. The next entry is for the next day, and it’s completely unrelated.”

Having examined the passage to her satisfaction, Red sat down in one of the chairs opposite the desk. “‘Still safe,’” she quoted. “Odd way of putting it.” She shrugged. “Could mean anything, though. Found anything else?”

“Not yet.” Before Red had a chance to ask, she added, “I’ll let you know when I do.”

Red grinned wryly. “You know me… no patience at all.”

“I noticed.” Evadne smiled briefly, picked up a small sheet of paper from the journal, and offered it to Red. “This might keep you occupied in the meantime,” she said. “I’m not sure it’s related, but it certainly seems out of place in a man’s business documents.”

Red frowned, rubbing the paper between finger and thumb. “Weird paper.”

“That’s because it’s parchment.”

Red raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?” She studied the parchment. “Old as well, I guess.”

“And you’d be correct. If I were to hazard I guess, I would say it’s from the seventeenth century.”

“Looks like a poem or something.” Red read the written lines aloud:

“When the Raven returns,

And Light joins the Dark.

When defenses be broken,

And Wolf turns on Lion.

When the Deceiver returns,

And the Six meet once more,

Then the time hath come.

When the Raven returns,

At one with the Wolf.

When sanctuary is opened,

And Light harms the Dark.

When the Chosen unite

On the darkest of days.

Then the power can be taken.

Then the choice must be made,

And the future decided.”

Red finished her impromptu recitation. “More a prophecy than a poem, do you reckon?”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t kept for its literary merits,” Evadne said with slight smile.

“You can say that again.”

“Despite its lack of literary merit, or perhaps because if it, the poem or prophecy’s place in Kemper’s journals is notable for its incongruity alone. I also wonder if the statue we found isn’t a raven. From the pose, I originally assumed it was an eagle, but the head doesn’t seem quite right.”

Red picked up the drawing from the desk. “You’re right. It does look more like a raven or a crow.” She waved the sheet of paper. “Holding out on me again?”

Evadne frowned, perplexed by the subject change. It took a moment before she realized what Red meant. “Oh, you mean the sketch? Really, it’s not that good.”

Red shook her head. “Looks damn good to me. I never got past stick figures.”

Evadne could feel herself beginning to blush. She hoped Red wouldn’t notice. She would be sure to rib her mercilessly if she did. Fortunately, Red’s attention had returned to the parchment.

“When the raven returns,” Red muttered. She studied the drawing a moment longer, set it on the desk, and left the room.

Not long afterward, the rhythmic sound of someone chopping wood could be faintly heard.

Evadne wondered if she’d somehow managed to upset Red. No. Red had seemed thoughtful when she left, certainly not angry.

Oh, well, not that it mattered. If Red wanted to diminish the log pile, far be it from her to dissuade her. She must make sure Red never ran out of wood to chop.

Chapter 6

December 4 (continued): Opera and alcohol

Red made a face as she sank the axe into the block. The injury to her side had well and truly stymied her plans. She barely managed to split one log before she had to admit it was a damned stupid thing to do.

Cautiously, she lifted her arm and tested her range of motion. Her elbow was barely level with her shoulder before she felt a sharp stab as the stitches pulled. The throbbing ache increased enough for her to give up the idea of lifting her arm any higher. There was no wood chopping in her immediate future, she decided. Damn that woman and her gun.

Sticking her hands in her pockets, she kicked at the splinter-strewn snow. Why did bad things always happen to her? Perhaps Evadne was right, and she was a damage magnet, not that she could do anything about it.

She needed a simple and repetitive task to help line up the ideas in her head, but what?

With nothing better to do, she picked up the log quarters and added them to the stack from her last session. The pile had grown quite high thanks to James riling her up so badly.

A subtle change in the light caused her to glance up. Snow-laden clouds that looked ready to shed their loads at any moment smothered the crisp, winter blue sky. High time to get the wood under cover.

An unexpected noise pricked her ears: an automobile engine close by and getting closer. Evadne had a visitor.

Red picked up an armful of wood and carried it into the stable to dry out. The sound of the engine stopped. Curiosity got the better of her, and she headed around the end of the house to see who had arrived. A neat little green Morgan was parked at the front door.

A woman got out of the car. The newcomer was sturdily built and well but plainly dressed, with her brown hair neatly stowed under a sensible, slightly mannish hat. One of Evadne’s academic friends, Red decided.

As if sensing the scrutiny, the woman turned. Her face was square and full of determination, with a full mouth, and wide-set, intelligent eyes. Her skin hinted at time spent in the sun despite the lateness of the year. She appeared younger than Red at first thought, no more than a few years older than herself.

The woman smiled on catching sight of Red. To her surprise, the woman walked toward her.

Red wasn’t sure what to do. Evadne hadn’t said anything, but she was very aware her presence could hurt Evadne’s reputation. Just being business partners was probably far too shocking for most of her peers. For that reason, Red usually stayed out of the way when Evadne had visitors. She cursed her curiosity, which might as easily kill a wolf as a cat.

The woman stripped off a glove, came to a halt, and held out her hand.

Red wiped her own hand on the seat of her pants before accepting the stranger’s. The woman’s grip was firm, her palm nearly as calloused as Red’s. She was also tall, nearly matching Red’s five feet nine.

“Hello. I’m Vivian Worth,” the woman said. “You must be Red Wolverton.”

Vivian spoke with an English accent—a very classy English accent. Red’s hackles rose at the sound, but she managed a reasonably civil reply. “Yeah, that’s me.”

After waiting in expectant silence for Red to say more, Vivian seemed puzzled. “Evadne hasn’t mentioned me?” she asked.

Red shook her head. Something familiar about the woman tugged at the back of her mind. Before she could work out what it was, Evadne appeared at the front door, a radiant smile on her face as she exclaimed, “Vivian!”

Red’s world lurched. Evadne looked enchanting. The joyful smile added a whole new level of beauty. Red’s heart sank at the enthusiastic way Evadne greeted Vivian. Jealousy rose unwanted and burned her throat.

Vivian turned at the sound of Evadne’s voice, and her face lit up with an answering smile. “I told you I wouldn’t be a stranger.”

Evadne hurried over. She turned her smile on Red and abated her jealousy. “I see you’ve met Red,” she said to Vivian.

“I was just introducing myself.”

“Red, this is one of my oldest friends, Vivian Harbinger. We drove ambulances together.” Evadne glanced at Vivian. “Or should that be Doctor Worth?”

“Whatever you like, Evadne, dear.”

Red shuffled her feet, torn between leaving and wanting to stay. In the end, the former won. She really didn’t want to see Evadne getting buddy-buddy with this woman. Just the thought was enough to make her chest ache. “I’d best get back to my wood,” she said.

Vivian looked puzzled.

“She likes chopping wood,” Evadne explained.

Red wanted to argue about the liking part, but she needed to get away. As a snowflake drifted in front of her nose, she grabbed the excuse. “I need to get the wood under cover before the snow really sets in.”

Evadne glanced at the sky. “All right. We’ll be in the front sitting room.”

Was that an invitation or a warning? Red strode away. Rounding the corner, she glanced back to see Evadne and Vivian walking arm-in-arm toward the front door. She ground her teeth as the green-eyed monster returned in full force.

“Damn. Damn. Damn!” She ran the rest of the way to the woodpile. The snow had started coming down heavily, but she barely noticed.

It took five trips before all the wood was under cover. By then, snow had melted through her worn cotton shirt and her side was giving her hell. She sheltered in the doorway of the stables and shivered.

Why had she reacted so strongly to Vivian? Of course, Evadne had friends. Good friends. A woman as nice as Evadne no doubt had many friends. Just because she hadn’t met any of them yet didn’t mean they didn’t exist. She frowned. Had Evadne avoided introducing her to these friends on purpose? She searched her memory for any sign of dismay in Evadne’s reaction when she’d seen her and Vivian together. No. She detected nothing like that. Joy, some surprise, but no hint of concern.

Wrapping her arms around her torso, she shivered harder. She really needed to stop making mountains out of molehills, but Evadne’s smile at Vivian still haunted her. Had Evadne ever smiled that way for her?

“Red?”

Red poked her head out of the doorway and spied a familiar figure standing at the corner of the house, her hands on her hips.

“Red Wolverton, what do you think you’re doing out there in this snow in your shirtsleeves?” Maria asked.

At least one woman cared enough to worry about her, Red thought bitterly. She stepped out into the fast-falling snow. “I’m coming, Maria,” she replied and trudged toward the house.

Evadne was a little annoyed when Red didn’t join her and Vivian in the sitting room. Vivian’s visit lasted a good hour, more than enough time for Red to deal with the wood she’d chopped.

After she saw Vivian off with a promise to join her at the evening’s performance of Madame Butterfly, Evadne went in search of her elusive partner. She found Red on her first try—in the kitchen.

“What happened to you, Red?” she asked.

Red had an unreadable expression. Evadne felt a small flicker of alarm. Red shrugged and said, “Thought you wanted to be alone with your friend.”

Evadne sighed. “I rather expected you might like to get to know her a little.”

Red stared at her. “Why?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Red, why not?” she said. Darn it, but Red could be infuriating at times!

Red just shrugged again. Evadne turned to Maria for support, but the housekeeper was busy with something on the stove. She decided to change the subject. “Vivian and I are going to the opera tonight,” she said, wondering what Red’s expression meant.

Before she could pin down a definition, Red began exhibiting a studied nonchalance. “Enjoy yourself,” she said.

“We wondered if you might like to come along,” Evadne said.

“Me?” Red’s laugh sounded sullen. “Me, watch some fat old bird singing a load of foreign bullshit? You gotta be kidding.”

Evadne wasn’t impressed by Red’s reaction, nor by her crude language. Her hackles rose. “Yes. You, Red. We—I—hoped you might at least give it a try.”

For a second, Red appeared to regret her words. She shifted her shoulders and refused to meet Evadne’s eyes. When she spoke again, her tone was less belligerent. “No, you go enjoy yourself with Vivian.”

“You could wear your tuxedo again.”

Her wheedling tone made Red smile. “And that’s supposed to make me wanna go?”

Evadne relaxed and returned the smile. She didn’t want to push Red if she really didn’t want to go, but her aggressively unpleasant reaction had hit a sore nerve. “At least you won’t be leaving a trail of lovelorn and confused ladies in your wake this time,” she said.

Red’s smile became a cocky little grin. “Hey, you’re the one who thought I’d look dashing in a tux.”

And hadn’t she just. Butterflies suddenly fluttered in Evadne’s stomach as she recalled her first sight of Red in the tuxedo. More than dashing, she’d been positively stunning. The crisp black and white clothes had fitted her perfectly, accentuating her broad shoulders and narrow waist. The tailor had done a wonderful job. She’d tipped him handsomely but hadn’t told Red. Persuading her to accept the gift in the first place had been hard enough.

After the butterflies settled, she wondered why she had felt that way. Puzzled by her body’s incongruous reaction to Red, she took refuge in her earlier offer. “So I can’t persuade you to join Vivian and me tonight?”

Red frowned, but this time her response was much politer. “Thanks, Evadne, but opera really ain’t my thing.”

“Are you sure?” Evadne said, holding up her hands in surrender when Red’s frown instantly deepened into a scowl. “I know, I know… you’re sure.”

Red’s scowl faded. “Glad to hear it.”

“Do you have any plans for the evening?”

“Thought I best go check out my apartment, make sure it’s still in one piece.”

Evadne considered offering Red a permanent place at her house, but experience warned against it. “It always amazes me the first stiff breeze doesn’t knock the entire building over.”

“That’s only ’cause there are so many damn holes in the place,” Red said. She stood, wincing a little. “Well, now’s as good a time as any. Have fun tonight.” She took her overcoat and fedora off their hooks and left.

Evadne stared after her. Why did she have the feeling Red hadn’t really meant those last words?

*   *   *

Red didn’t go home. She had no desire to spend time in that depressing dive. If her pride didn’t rebel against it, she’d have asked Evadne if she could just stay at the Palace.

“Getting soft, that’s what it is,” she muttered. She pulled on her overcoat and turned up the collar against the falling snow as she walked down the drive.

Automobile tracks were still visible. Red grunted at the memory of the happy smile Evadne had given Vivian. Now they were going to the opera together. Well, good for them. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she kicked at the ground and sent up a small flurry of snow. Why was she putting herself through this? And what exactly was “this?”

“Dammit, Wolf, stop being such a love-struck dope,” she said under her breath.

She scuffed her way along the drive and past the gates. At the street, she paused. What to do? She direly needed a drink, but she couldn’t face Lily’s yet. The memories of Janet’s murder were still too raw. She considered the other speakeasies where she might be able to get a drink without being thrown out on her ass.

She eventually settled on Jim Beaker’s place. She could probably still count on Jimbee’s friendship with her late mentor, Pete Garrick, to let her get drunk in relative safety. Her lip curled scornfully at her own transparency. The fact that she’d be within staggering distance of the Opera House had nothing to do with it.

“Just keep telling yourself that, idiot,” she muttered.

Despite her words, her mind was made up. She headed toward the streetcar that would take her to the west side of the city.

She spent the entire journey persuading herself that her decision had nothing to do with Evadne. It was high time she stopped by Jimbee’s place. He was a useful man to know, and she might even make some new contacts.

By the time she got off the streetcar, she’d convinced herself that her reasons for visiting Jimbee had nothing to do with the nearness of the Opera House and Evadne’s planned presence there. She headed into the café that provided a front for the speakeasy. The man at the counter glared as she approached.

“Whaddaya want?” he asked.

“Nothing you can offer.”

He snorted unpleasantly. “I bet.”

“I have a long-standing agreement with Mr. Beaker.” She noted his gaze flickering to an anonymous door in a wall. Good thing she wasn’t a cop. He’d just given away the entrance to the speakeasy without saying a word.

“You got the wrong place,” he told her.

“No, I ain’t,” she said, leaning closer. The man was in dire need of a shave and a wash. She wondered if his unsavory appearance was a deliberate ploy on Jimbee’s behalf. “Be a good boy and let me through.”

“Get lost.”

“Now that ain’t nice.” She gave him her best wolfish smile.

“If you don’t get lost I’ll—”

“What? Bleed all over me? ’Cause believe me, that’s all you’ll do.”

Why was she goading him? A stupid move, especially with fresh stitches in her side, but she didn’t seem able to stop herself.

They had the attention of the coffeehouse patrons now. She heard the mumbling of voices behind her.

“Is there a problem here?” someone asked.

“No problem.” Red didn’t bother looking at the man who had spoken. She kept her focus on the doorkeeper. His reaction was interesting. Surprise, then fear.

“Wolverton? Is it really you?”

Red turned and saw Jimbee himself standing just behind her. He had a hand in his pocket, and the shape of a revolver distorted the expensive suit’s material.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” she asked.

“Damn it, you still got serious balls, girl.” He slapped her on the shoulder and spoke to the doorman. “Open the door, idiot.”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied, looking unhappy.

“Come on, Wolverton. Let me buy you a drink.”

“I ain’t gonna say no to that.”

She followed Jimbee through the door and into a small storeroom with another door on the far side. He went to the door and knocked on it, rat, tat, rat-a-tat-tat. The door opened, and he gestured her through.

Inside the speakeasy she found another world, the air thick with smoke, the space loud with voices. The room was dimly lit except around the craps table where a half-dozen men and their ladies of the evening watched the dice fall with a mixture of despair and elation.

She followed Jimbee through the crowd to the bar that ran the full length of the room. He summoned the nearest bartender with a flick of his hand.

“Yes, Mr. Beaker, sir?” the bartended asked.

“Two whiskies. Doubles. The best stuff.”

“Two doubles coming up, sir.”

Within seconds, Red had a glass in her hand.

“Bottoms up,” Jimbee said.

Red savored the aroma of whiskey a second before taking a healthy swallow. She let out a sigh of appreciation. “That certainly hits the spot.”

Jimbee stood watching her, his eyes boring into hers. Finally, he asked, “Why are you really here?”

“For a drink.”

“It’s been six years since Pete was killed, and now you come visit me?”

Red shrugged.

“So why are you here?”

“For a drink, Jimbee.” She met his gaze, realizing he didn’t believe her. She began to wonder if coming here had been such a good idea after all. When he glanced at a spot just over her left shoulder, she knew for certain she’d made a mistake.

“No need for the boys, Jimbee.” She mustered a hurt expression.

He seemed surprised, and then to Red’s astonishment, he laughed. He took a sip from his glass, and Red wondered whether she had misread the situation after all. He studied her a moment longer, his expression somber. “I heard about your woman getting popped,” he said.

Gritting her teeth, she waited for a snide comment.

“Tough break,” he went on compassionately.

“Yeah.”

He ordered another two whiskies. Red turned to watch the bartender. In the long mirror behind the bar, she saw two brunos standing behind her, their attention fixed on their boss, waiting for his command. She knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet.

“Here you go.” The bartender slid a glass her way.

“Thanks.” The second whiskey followed the first, burning its way pleasantly down her throat to settle into an agreeable glow in her stomach.

“Heard you got a new partner,” Jimbee said.

“Yeah.”

“A Davenport?”

“Yeah.” Red couldn’t help giving Jimbee a self-satisfied grin. She almost missed his nod. Immediately, her arms were grabbed by the brunos. Before she could try to escape, something hard pressed against her spine. Surely he wasn’t going to pop her here and now. The gun barrel prodded her in the back, urging her forward. The brunos frog-marched her through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea. They bundled her through a door wallpapered to disguise it as part of the wall.

The room on the other side contained a large desk, a handful of chairs, and a couple of filing cabinets. Jimbee’s private office, she decided. The men kept tight hold of her upper arms, but at least the gun was removed from her back. She hoped it was a good sign.

“Check her,” Jimbee ordered. “If she’s anything like Pete, there’ll be a piece in the small of her back.”

The brunos patted her down and easily found her Smith and Wesson. They handed the weapon to their boss. Jimbee placed the gun on his desk and moved closer until he was almost nose to nose with her. “So again, why are you here?” he asked.

“I told you, a dr—”

The backhand slap was swift and unexpected. Startled, Red turned her head to face Jimbee and tried to ignore the burning sting in her cheek.

“You’re working for the Davenports,” he said.

“I ain’t working for them.”

“Shuddup!”

The second backhand came as almost as much of a surprise as the first. She took longer to recover this time, hanging her head for a few seconds. If she was lucky, Jimbee might believe he had hurt her badly. Tasting blood, her probing tongue found a sore, rough spot on the inside of her cheek. What had caused his abrupt change in mood?

When she lifted her head to meet his flat stare, she saw a flinty anger that made her gut churn uneasily. She kept silent. Maybe he would say more and give her a clue to tell her what had gotten him so riled. From his murderous expression, she’d be lucky to survive the night with a cut cheek as her only injury. Hell, she’d be lucky to survive the night, period.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know I bought this place out from under the Davenports’ noses, and they’ve been trying to get it back for years,” Jimbee said.

Red shook her head, but he didn’t look like he believed her.

“That lemon-faced, vindictive old witch of a teetotaler is determined to get my place closed down. You’re the third private dick I’ve had to deal with.” He seemed disappointed. “Never would have guessed you would rat like that.”

“I ain’t ratted on nobody.”

“Yeah, right.” He sneered. “That’s why you have Davenport money backing you.”

“I ain’t got no one’s money backing me, Jimbee. And my partner is only a Davenport by marriage. She don’t like her mother-in-law any more than you do.” Though Evadne would never have put her dislike in quite the same terms.

He stared at her as though trying to decide whether to believe her or not. “What was this bird’s name before she married?”

“Van Deemin. Evadne Van Deemin.”

He relaxed, smiling. “A Van Deemin, huh? Now they’re a completely different kettle of fish. One or two of them are regular patrons.” The smile didn’t last. “What about her husband?”

From what Red had heard about Geoff Davenport, she doubted the man would have been on his mother’s side either, but Jimbee probably wouldn’t believe her. Better to keep her explanation nice and simple. “She’s a widow. Her husband was killed in the war.”

“She is, huh?” He searched her face. Meeting his gaze, she waited.

“Okay, boys, you can go,” he said at last.

“Yes, boss.”

Red blinked once and watched the brunos leave the office. Jimbee settled into the chair on the far side of the desk. He indicated one of the other chairs. “Sit.”

Red obeyed before her legs gave way. Her head felt muzzy. Too much whiskey taken too fast on an empty stomach. The slaps hadn’t helped.

Jimbee said, “Sorry about that. I had to be sure.”

She nodded warily, only to stiffen when he leaned to one side and opened a desk drawer. He put a whiskey bottle and a couple of glasses on the desk. She relaxed.

With a solemn expression, Jimbee asked, “Do you remember my wife, Red?”

Red nodded again. Mrs. Jimbee was an ex-dancer, a real looker. She had carried a torch for the woman for months, not that she would have dared act on her feelings at the time, or that Mrs. Jimbee would have been interested. As she recalled, Mrs. Jimbee and her husband were a remarkably devoted couple.

“She died last year,” he told her.

“Shit, Jimbee, that’s rough luck. Wendy was a hell of a woman.”

“Yeah.” He waved away her sympathy. “That she was.” A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. “I nearly bumped you off after Wendy told me you’d been mooning after her like some lovesick puppy.”

Red started upright. “Jimbee, I never did anything. You gotta believe me.”

He laughed. “I know you didn’t. Wendy eventually talked me down off the wall and got it through my thick skull you were no rival.”

Red slumped in relief. “Damn, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” She took a mouthful of the whiskey he poured for her. This drink was even better than the two she’d had in the bar. Even the stinging pain as the alcohol made contact with the inside of her cheek wasn’t enough to dampen her appreciation.

“So, a toast.” Jimbee held up his glass. To Red’s surprise, she saw unshed tears glistening in his eyes. “To our lost ladies.”

Red raised her own glass in answer. “Our lost ladies.” But as she knocked back the whiskey, it wasn’t Janet’s image in her mind. Instead, Evadne filled her thoughts, and she hated herself for betraying the memory of her murdered ex-lover so easily.

*   *   *

Vivian glanced surreptitiously at Evadne as they left the Opera House to walk down Huntingdon Avenue. Why had she waited so long before coming to visit? Not that the years had treated Evadne badly. There were a few more lines in her face, a few more curves in her body than she’d had at twenty-five.

Vivian hadn’t escaped the ravages of time herself. In her case, it showed in a distinct tendency to stoutness that only the rigors of excavation kept in check. But while she had never considered herself anything other than handsome, Evadne’s beauty was so much more than skin deep.

“The soprano was rather good, don’t you think?” Evadne suddenly asked.

Jolted out of her clandestine appreciation by the question, it took Vivian a moment to reply, “Yes, I saw her at Covent Garden. Her Violetta was superb.”

Evadne’s expression was filled with excitement. “We must do this again.”

“Yes, we must.” Vivian’s old feelings returned in full force. She wondered whether her decision to renew her friendship with Evadne was such a good idea.

She and Evadne soon reached her Morgan. Vivian wished she had parked much farther away from the Opera House, although her feet, half-crippled by her elegant if impractical evening shoes, wouldn’t have thanked her for it.

“You could have let James drive us, you know,” Evadne said.

“I’ve gotten used to driving myself.” She opened the front passenger door for Evadne. She moved around the car to get into the driver’s side. “A bit like old times, huh?”

“Except I was usually the driver.”

“Well, you were the more experienced.”

Evadne gave her a mock scowl. “You mean the older.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you never looked it.”

Evadne blushed. “Thank you.”

Vivian wanted to insist her compliment was true, but she didn’t want to push too hard. As she started the Morgan’s engine, she wondered about Evadne’s partnership with Red Wolverton. To say she’d been surprised was an understatement. Despite Evadne’s adventurous spirit, Vivian had always considered her friend a little straitjacketed by her upbringing. Perhaps she’d been mistaken. Glancing at Evadne out of the corner of her eye, she remembered the sparkle that appeared in Evadne’s eyes whenever she talked about Wolverton. Perhaps she was mistaken about other things as well.

The rest of the journey was filled with meaningless small talk, the exchange of news and gossip. Evadne tried to find out more about William, but Vivian resisted the gentle probing. Her marriage really wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with Evadne.

She pulled to a halt outside Evadne’s front door with a distinct sense of regret.

Evadne shifted in her seat to face Vivian. “Could I ask you a favor?”

“Of course.”

“It’s for a case we’re got. A statue. It seems old, but I wondered if you could say how old… and there’s a Latin inscription which could do with a more-practiced eye than mine.”

“Sounds interesting.”

Evadne smiled. “Is that a yes? I have a copy of the inscription and a sketch of the statue in the house if you’d like to see it.”

“Of course. Now?”

“Why not?”

Evadne got out of the Morgan. Vivian leaned back in her seat and tried to calm her frantically beating heart. Evadne had made a simple request, nothing else. Why did she feel that there was more to Evadne’s invitation? This was really not a good idea. However, that didn’t stop her from getting out of the car and following Evadne to the house.

Evadne came to an abrupt halt a couple of feet from the door. “Red?”

Vivian hurried to Evadne’s side, concerned by the worry in her voice. She found Red Wolverton slumped on the ground, half propped up against the door.

“Are you all right?” Evadne asked.

The light over the door left Red’s face in shadow below the brim of the fedora she wore. Vivian shivered. She didn’t like the look of the situation.

Evadne went on, clearly growing impatient, “Red, what on earth are you doing?”

“Did you have a good time, sweetheart?” Red’s voice was slurred and tinged with anger. The shadowed face turned until Vivian felt sure the woman was staring at her. “What’s she doing here?” Red asked.

“Red! Vivian is my guest.”

“Yeah, ’course she is.”

Red pushed herself upright until she stood in front of Evadne, swaying slightly.

Vivian just made out a glint in Red’s eyes as she took an unsteady step in her direction. She could smell the whiskey on her breath.

“Hello, Red,” she said to be polite.

“You still here?” Red growled, low and ominous.

“Red, I invited Vivian in,” Evadne said. “I thought she could take—”

“Like fuck she can.” Red staggered a few steps back, fell on her backside, and lost her hat. “How’d that happen?” she asked in drunken bewilderment.

“Red, you are clearly intoxicated. I suggest you go home and sleep it off,” Evadne said, her tone clipped.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, grow up!”

Red looked up, the light falling over her startled face.

“I think I should go,” Vivian said.

“No.”

“Yes!”

“Shut up, Red.” Evadne turned back to Red, who glowered at her but didn’t say anything more.

Vivian hesitated. She didn’t want to leave Evadne alone with Red if matters were likely to turn violent. On the other hand, her presence clearly made things worse.

“I’ll speak to you tomorrow, Evadne,” she said.

“Viv—” Evadne began, but Red cut her off.

“Yeah, go on, scram!” Glaring at Vivian, Red struggled to her feet.

Vivian recognized raw jealously in her green eyes and felt a pang of fear.

“Red, don’t you dare talk to my guest like that,” Evadne said.

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Vivian began to back away.

Red swung around to face Evadne. “She ain’t worth you.”

Evadne stiffened. “And what the dickens do you mean by that?”

“You know.”

“No, I damn well don’t know.”

Vivian reached her automobile and glanced back at the house. Under the light, Evadne and Red had stopped shouting at each other. Red swayed like a reed in the wind for a couple of seconds, then her knees buckled.

Hesitant, Vivian returned a few steps toward the house. Evadne eased Red down so she lay slumped on the ground, snuffling like a herd of hedgehogs.

“I… do you need—” Vivian stammered.

The door opened, and James appeared in his dressing gown. “I heard raised voices. Is everything all right, ma’am?” Noticing the figure on the ground, he grimaced. “I see not.”

Evadne gave Vivian an apologetic smile. “Sorry about this, Vivian. It appears Red’s in one of her most aggravating, loutish moods. We’ll deal with her. You should get on home.”

Vivian nodded. She desperately wanted to stay and help, but it was apparent Evadne had other ideas. Her only consolation was that Red’s actions hardly showed her in a good light.

“Be careful,” she said.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Vivian still hesitated.

Evadne gave her a farewell embrace. “Honestly, Vivian, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the wonderful evening. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

“All right.” Vivian glanced toward the door. James had Red’s arm slung over his shoulder as he carefully maneuvered her through the open door. “Good night, Evadne,” she said.

“Good night, Vivian. And thank you again.”

Vivian reached her Morgan just as Evadne followed James inside the house. She stared at the closed front door for a long moment before getting into her motorcar. As she settled into the driver’s seat, a small and distinctly vindictive smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Unless Red was superhuman, she was going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. And it served her damn well right!

Chapter 7

December 5: Domesticity and an awkward question

Returning to the land of the living the next day, Red immediately wished she hadn’t. Her head felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer to it from the inside, and the light savaged her eyes. How could it be so bright so early?

After a couple of minutes, the hammering in her skull and the blowtorch in her face eased. Carefully, she rolled over and stared in surprise at the empty nightstand. Where was her watch? She always left it there when she took her…

Looking down at her body, she realized she was still fully clothed, although someone had taken off her boots. She wiggled her sock-covered toes. Damn, there’s a new hole in the right one. Ain’t that just peachy.

She let her head fall back on the pillow and grimaced as the movement increased her pounding headache. Trying to remember what had happened last night, she thought about Jimbee’s speakeasy. She drank far too much of his finest whiskey, and so did he. She left him snoring at his desk and headed home. Not to her apartment but to Evadne’s house.

“Oh, shit,” she groaned as fragmented memories began to come together. “I’m a fucking idiot and no mistake.”

What had she been thinking? Of course, that was her problem. She hadn’t been thinking, at least not with her head. Her fists, yeah, and maybe some other body parts.

With cautious movements, she pulled her watch out of her pocket and squinted at the face. Well past midday. She must have been drunker than she suspected. A sudden fear gripped her. Had she hurt anyone?

“Christ, not Evadne!” Alarmed, Red swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Her stomach immediately jumped to the back of her throat. She fought the urge to vomit until her insides reluctantly settled. Tentatively, she got out of bed.

Her boots were tucked under the dressing table, but she couldn’t find her hat or overcoat. Was that a good sign? Not daring to bend over, she dragged her boots out with her feet and slipped them on. Why did she persist in doing this to herself?

She shuffled to the bathroom and splashed her face with ice-cold water, which seemed to dissolve some of the fuzziness from her brain. Brushing her teeth also helped make her feel more human. Her mouth no longer tasted like something small and furry had crawled inside and died.

What to do next? She considered hightailing it out of there, but wasn’t that a coward’s way out? Yet she really didn’t want to face Evadne, at least not until she had a better idea of what she’d done last night. Perhaps running was the best choice after all, until she had a chance to regroup. What had Joe called it… a strategic withdrawal? She felt a sudden surge of guilt at the reminder of her old friend, but that was soon overwhelmed by her worry over what Evadne must think of her.

Very carefully, Red propped a booted foot on the rim of the bath and bent down enough to tie her laces. After repeating the process with her other boot, she straightened up with a faint groan. She really, really needed to stop getting drunk.

Once her stomach and head finished vying for her attention, she made her way down to the kitchen. She listened at the door for a moment but couldn’t hear anything.

Cautiously, she turned the handle and pushed the door open. The kitchen was empty, no sign of Maria or James. What to do now? Wait? They might be able to tell her what happened. After all, she doubted Evadne could have got her up the stairs by herself. But waiting just shortened the odds she would come face-to-face with Evadne before she knew what she had to grovel about.

She spotted her coat and hat on their usual hook by the back door, put them on, and glanced toward the entrance to the hall. After a moment’s hesitation, she opened the back door and stepped out into a fresh layer of snow.

The crisp afternoon air cleared the last tendrils of fog from her brain. She took a deep, cleansing breath. She loved days like this. Enclosed in the snow-blanketed garden behind the Palace, she could almost forget she was actually in the middle of the sprawling, overcrowded mess of a city that was Boston.

The trees bordering the garden put a wall between her and the hustle and bustle of life outside, diluting her original discomfort at being so much outside her usual surroundings when she’d first visited Evadne’s house. Now the garden provided a haven of peace and quiet she didn’t deserve and was probably about to lose. She wondered if Evadne knew how lucky she was. There weren’t many private houses left in the city proper with such large gardens. Most of those that hadn’t burned down in the Great Fire of ’72 had been converted to hotels or schools or replaced by rows of brownstones.

The sound of a door shutting inside the house shattered her daydreams. Time to get out of here, and quick. Walking as fast as her tender head allowed, she went out the gates, up the road, and onto a streetcar heading south. She needed to reestablish her distance from Evadne, and as much as she hated the idea, that meant returning to her apartment.

The clacking of the wheels and the clanging of the streetcar’s bell didn’t do her headache any good. When she arrived at her destination, she stumbled off with a sense of utter relief and headed to her apartment.

She fumbled with the lock on her arrival and finally got the door open. The apartment smelled like whiskey and unwashed linen. She wrinkled her nose, wondering why she hadn’t noticed the stink before.

She nearly didn’t see the plain brown envelope on the floor. Groaning, she picked it up and opened it. A moment passed before the typewritten words reached through her confusion. Fury rose as she crumbled the eviction notice in her fist, threw it across the room, and considered what she would do to her landlord when she got her hands around his scrawny little neck. She ground her teeth in impotent rage. Why was she even bothered? The place wasn’t worth the effort. She could always camp out in the office until she found another place.

Red saw no point in waiting for the landlord to kick her out. She dumped her clothes and a few other bits and pieces into her one clean sheet. Even when she added her blankets, she still didn’t have much to show for twenty-seven years of life. Was Fate trying to tell her something? Her mind returned to Theo Criffy’s offer. Perhaps it was time for a change.

She took a last look around and resisted the urge to do something out of pure spite, like pull the washbasin off the wall. Satisfied she had everything she wanted, she tied up the corners of the sheet and slung the bundle over her shoulder. She left the keys on the bed and the door standing open and headed back down to the street.

She walked a half block to her Ford before she realized her headache had gone. She smiled wryly. At least one thing had gotten better.

She threw the bundle of her possessions on the Ford’s backseat and settled behind the steering wheel. Even with James’s help, she still hadn’t managed to get the contrary old rust bucket even close to reliable. Why hadn’t she dumped the useless pile of bolts? Sure, the vehicle made things a hell of a lot easier when she needed to get out of the city, but was it worth all the trouble it caused?

With a small prayer to the fickle gods of the internal combustion engine, she went through the starting process. “Come on, Annie, you can do it,” she muttered. To her surprise, the engine caught the second time. She patted the dashboard. “There’s a good girl.”

She eased Annie into low gear and pulled away from the curb. It wouldn’t be unlike the old girl to conk out just to prove a point. She began to relax as she picked up a little speed and changed into high gear.

After a few moments of driving, she realized where she was heading. Grimacing, she couldn’t deny what her subconscious was telling her. She really did owe Joe a visit.

*   *   *

Red’s bedroom was empty, the rumpled bedding the only sign she’d been there. Evadne went back to the landing and listened. Nothing.

“Red?” she called.

Still nothing. She wasn’t sure whether to be angry or worried. She’d been absolutely furious last night. Red had behaved outrageously, particularly in front of Vivian. Politeness to a guest was an unbreakable rule as far as she was concerned.

Her anger faded, replaced by concern. Red might be a hard drinker—too hard, to her way of thinking—but she generally held her alcohol well. Red must have drunk an awful lot last night, and Evadne couldn’t help wondering why. And why had Red taken against Vivian so violently? Her antagonism last night had been as clear as day. Yet as far as she could tell, Vivian had been nothing but friendly.

The ringing telephone snapped her out of her musings. She hurried down the stairs and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Evadne?”

“Vivian.”

“I thought I’d give you a quick call, see if you’re all right.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

There was a pause before Vivian spoke again. “Is Wolv—I mean, is Red there?”

“No, she’s done one of her flits again.”

“I’m worried about you. What happens if she gets drunk like that again?”

Evadne felt a small flicker of irritation. “I’m fine, Vivian. Red may infuriate me into an early grave, but she wouldn’t harm me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Evadne bit her lip to prevent saying something she would regret later. After all, Vivian was clearly worried, but she shouldn’t be so annoyingly persistent about it. “I suggest you don’t judge Red until you know her better.”

“I doubt she’s going to give me the chance.”

Evadne’s annoyance faded at the hint of humor in Vivian’s voice. “She isn’t the easiest person to become friends with, I’ll give you that,” she said. “I walked out on her on only the second day of our acquaintance.”

“That sounds like a tale I should hear.”

“One of many. Perhaps I can get Red to tell you. She’s a remarkable storyteller when she can be persuaded.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I just hope I get the chance to hear some of her tales.”

“I hope so, too.”

“Well, I have a meeting to go to in a few minutes.”

“Don’t let me keep you. And thanks for calling.”

“You’re welcome. Look after yourself, Evadne.”

“And you.”

The line clicked into silence.

Evadne ran through the conversation in her mind, not surprised Vivian was concerned for her. Vivian had been an absolute rock when Geoff was killed, deepening their already firm friendship. Even so, she shouldn’t judge Red. Vivian had no idea what she and Red had been through together. Not that their shared experience was any sort of excuse for Red’s intolerable behavior. Once again, she wondered what had set off last night’s self-destructive drinking spree.

*   *   *

Feeling a mixture of hesitation and guilt, Red stepped out of the elevator. The last time she’d visited Joe’s office nearly three months ago, that poor bastard Edgar Van Volk had attacked her. Goaded by his so-called cure at the hands of the Wilkinson sanitarium, he had assaulted her for being homosexual, just as he was.

Evadne was right. After all Joe had done for Red, she should have stopped by to say “howdy” before now.

Before she reached the door, Joe emerged from the office with a huge, welcoming grin on his face. She restrained herself from struggling as he engulfed her in his usual bear hug, and she even took a moment to give him a brief, guilty hug in return. Once she decided the greeting had gone on long enough, she poked him in the side.

“Easy, Joe, I don’t need any more broken ribs.”

Joe let go of her as if burned. “Hey, Red, I’m—”

“Forget it, Joe.” He looked forlorn, so she added, “Hey, I was only kidding.” Tapping her side, she stifled the wince. “See?”

Glaring, Joe opened the door behind him. “Get in before I give you another hug.”

“Jeez, anything but that.”

He followed her in and went to the percolator. “Coffee?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He handed her a large, steaming mug.

“Thanks.” Sipping the hot liquid, she took a moment to study her old friend. He had a sadness in his eyes she’d not seen before. Not that it took a genius to work out whose fault that was.

“So how you doing, Joe?” she asked. “Gina and the kids okay?”

“We’re fine, little Wolf. And yourself? We haven’t seen you since the sanitarium business. I’d begun to wonder if you’d dropped off the face of the earth.”

His reproof was gentle but unmistakable. Red knew she deserved it, but even as her conscious mind accepted the truth, something deep inside her rebelled at the accusation. She used a swig of the coffee to cover the moments it took to quickly tamp the feeling down before replying more honestly than she meant, “I dunno, Joe. I really don’t know.”

Joe was surprised by Red’s admission but covered it quickly.

He’d been saddened and more than a little upset by the apparent withdrawal of her friendship. He assumed she was getting her own back for what he’d done in the weeks following Janet’s murder, even though that had been for her own good. The resentment wasn’t unexpected. He knew Red hated being controlled; however, he’d expected her grudge to pass.

The whole episode had come to a head over two months ago, and he hadn’t seen more than a fleeting glimpse of her since, nor had he found out whether she was involved in Edgar Van Volk’s death. No one had managed to explain how the man’s body, shot through the heart, came to be floating in the bay, but Joe’s gut told him Red knew something about it.

He took a moment to study Red. His old friend seemed changed. He just couldn’t put his finger on what had changed. She moved stiffly, favoring her side a little, but that wasn’t it. No, it was something in her attitude, the way she carried herself, as if she had a great weight on her shoulders.

He knew Red was prone to intense black moods. In his experience, they never lasted long. Soon there’d be a mercurial mood shift back to her normal, devil-may-care bravado. She obviously still grieved for Janet, which would put a weight on anybody’s shoulders. Her current mood, though, didn’t appear like the grief he’d clearly seen after her ex-lover’s murder. This was different somehow, but for the life of him, he couldn’t say why.

“I ain’t no freak to be stared at, Martelli,” Red growled.

He stammered an apology as he realized his study hadn’t been as surreptitious as he thought. “Sorry, I was just thinking—”

“You do too much of that, Joe.” Red’s scowl softened. “I’ve warned you before, you’ll do that poor brain of yours damage if you go around thinking all the time.”

Something was definitely eating her up, he decided. Time to go to the heart of the matter. “So what’s the matter then, little Wolf?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Red. How long have we known each other? Seven years, is it? I know when something’s wrong with you even if you don’t.” That earned him another glare. Nothing new there; she wasn’t the touchy-feely type. Even so, he felt uneasy as he sensed a potential for violence in her hard stare that he hadn’t seen in the past, at least not turned on him.

Giving him a sad smile, Red relaxed. “You’re right, of course.”

“So?” When Red said nothing, he asked, “Is it about Janet?”

Red shook her head. “No. Don’t think so anyway. I still miss her. Miss her something awful, but I’ve come to terms with that.” Clasping the mug, she stared at her battle-scarred hands. “It weren’t my fault Edgar got his head so screwed up. I still reckon I should’ve heard him in the alleyway, but would that have made much difference? He had all the advantages: cover, darkness, surprise—we were nice targets all set up for him. If he’d plugged me first, he probably would’ve shot Jan as well. He weren’t likely to leave a witness behind to say what he’d done, let alone another person he’d been brainwashed into hating.” She raised her gaze, and her sad, green eyes met his. “Janet chose to save me. I wish to God she hadn’t, but it was her decision and I respect it even if I’ll always regret she made it.”

Joe nodded. He’d gone through a similar process on his returning from Europe. Too many of his buddies had been left in the never-ending cemeteries that dotted the war-torn soil of France and Belgium. He rose from his chair, moved round to give Red’s shoulder a brief squeeze of understanding and sympathy, and perched on the edge of the desk.

“So if not that, what is the problem?” he asked.

Red stood up abruptly and strode to his window to stare at the snow-covered streets. “You know I’ve a temper on me, Joe, I always have, but I’ve always been able to control it, use it to my advantage.” She glanced at him, and he saw the worry in her eyes. “But now it’s like it’s growing uncontrollably within me, getting harder and harder to handle. I’m not sure things won’t get to a point where I won’t be able to handle it anymore, and then what’s gonna happen?” She paced around the room, her agitation visible in every movement. “I know it got bad after Katherine, and then Janet, but I got through those… yet the anger’s still there and getting stronger by the day.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Red. You just need time.”

“I don’t have time.” Red’s eyes went flat with anger for the second time in a half hour. After a tense couple of seconds, she relaxed and looked guilty. “See what I mean? And it’s getting worse.”

“I don’t know what to say, little Wolf, I really don’t, but I’ll always be here if you need me. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know, Joe.” She gave him a weak smile. “Thanks.”

He needed to change the subject to get them both out of this depressing mood. He searched for something that might do the job. “So how is Evadne Davenport? Rumor has it you’re getting quite close. Spending time at her house and the like.”

Red’s eyes flashed. Joe wondered if he’d overstepped an invisible boundary, but she answered before he could withdraw his question, “She’s well. It was partly her suggestion that brought me here.” She grimaced. “I was told in no uncertain terms that ‘such dereliction of duty to such a stalwart friend is a disgrace’ and I should ‘remedy it at once.’”

The last part of this sentence was made in such a witheringly exact rendition of Evadne’s polished Brahmin tones that Joe couldn’t help chuckling. He watched Red carefully as he considered how to phrase the question that had been niggling at him ever since the socialite took on Red’s care. Evadne Davenport seemed genuine enough in her wish to help Red. She had treated her much like an unruly puppy as she nursed her back to health, but the reporter in him couldn’t help wondering if there was something more.

“Are you—” A blush flooded up his neck, and he brought the half-uttered question to an abrupt halt. Red looked at him, clearly puzzled. He felt relieved when she laughed.

“Jeez, Joe, I don’t go after everything in a skirt.” She grinned roguishly, and for a moment, the old Red was back. “Evadne certainly ain’t bad looking in a well-bred sort of way, and I could do a lot worse, I reckon.” Her grin faded into a thoughtful frown. “She’s been a good friend to me, Joe, more than I deserve. I… I care for her… a lot… even when she’s annoying me to hell and back trying to improve me. But she ain’t into women, Joe, and you know I don’t seriously hit on the ‘normal’ ones.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “A bit of mild flirtation just to keep Evadne on her toes, that’s all.”

He rolled his eyes, relieved at the lightening of her gloomy mood. “You’re incorrigible, do you know that?”

Red laughed. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

Joe shook his head in amusement as his chuckle mingled with hers. “Why don’t you come round to my house tonight? I’m sure Gina will have cooked enough for a guest at the table.”

Red hesitated. Joe braced himself for the expected refusal. He was surprised when she nodded.

“Sure, why not. If Gina don’t mind, that is. I don’t wanna get on her wrong side again,” she said, shivering theatrically. “Small women can be soooo vicious!”

“Don’t tease her, then.” He glanced at the clock. “Come on, she’ll have my hide if I’m late again. And lay off giving the kids strange ideas. It took months to get Alex to stop asking for a fedora.”

Red gave him a completely unrepentant smirk. “Hey, I can’t help it if those kids have good taste.”

For a second, he almost regretted his invitation. His daughters had missed the visits from their “Auntie Wolfie” and would be ecstatic to see her again, but Red nearly always managed to do or say something that caused ructions for months afterward. He had a horrible suspicion that Red did it on purpose, though he would never admit that to his wife. Gina would ban Red in the blink of an eye if she thought Red was deliberately causing mischief.

Later at Joe’s house, the meal proved excellent and Red was comfortably full. The wine, though not her usual choice, tasted pleasant enough and relaxed her nicely.

After dinner, the kids were packed off to bed. They insisted Auntie Wolfie come and tell them a bedtime story. The combination of food, alcohol, and the kids’ infectious enthusiasm led to her easy agreement. She told them a tale of the Rusalki, the unquiet female spirits of Russian mythology who lured young men to their deaths. She made the story both gruesome and frightening enough to get them nicely scared, the reason they always asked for her stories. The oldest child, the precocious eight-year-old Alexandra, told her she preferred Auntie Wolfie’s stories because her parents’ stories were boring and “only good for little kids.”

Once the children were settled, Red, Joe, and Gina retired to the living room where Joe told them about the latest scandals to come the Herald’s way.

In the warm room, Red half-dozed, half-listened. She must do this again, even if it meant not teasing Gina. Remaining true to her word, she hadn’t sent even the most innocently flirtatious comment in Gina’s direction, despite a few very tempting opportunities.

She’d been genuinely surprised by the warmth of Gina’s welcome, realizing how worried Gina had been after she made a fleeting reference to the time Red spent at their house following her release from custody after she’d been cleared of Janet’s murder. Red had been touched by the concern Joe’s wife felt on her behalf.

With a contented sigh, Red settled back in the chair’s comfortable embrace. Other than a few occasions at the Palace, she hadn’t felt this relaxed in months, but she couldn’t expect Evadne to put up with her all the time. Having given up her apartment, she was homeless and determined not to outstay her welcome, if there was any left after last night. At least Joe didn’t carp about her drinking all the time.

She had almost fallen asleep when a familiar name jerked her awake. “What did you say, Joe?” she asked.

“I said they still haven’t found out who killed Edgar Van Volk.”

Joe studied her far too carefully, and that made her immediately suspicious. Was he fishing for something? Joe was, after all, a reporter at heart. “Heard he’d been killed,” she said as nonchalantly as possible. “Can’t say I shed any tears. He got what was coming to him.” When Joe looked at her strangely, she added, “What?”

“You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you, Red?”

For a second Red nearly told him everything about her and Evadne’s investigation into the “Golem,” which had led them to a semi-deserted house where Red was captured and tortured by Clara Wight, a sadistic girl whose telepathic powers enabled her to inflict pain without any physical cause. The girl and her accomplices took her to meet the supernatural creature that was their master, and Edgar, by accident or design, intruded on the scene. He shot Red in the leg before he was shot dead by one of the creature’s servants. She’d also been shot in the stomach and died in Evadne’s arms, only to be restored to life by the creature that was itself killed only minutes later. She nearly told Joe the story, but not quite.

An unwanted flicker of rage sparked deep in her gut and shut out any desire to share the horror of what she and Evadne had endured. She stared into Joe’s eyes, seeking accusation or condemnation, but all she saw was concern and compassion. She forced herself to relax.

“Jeez, Martelli, you sure play hardball, don’t you?” she asked. “Lure me to your place, feed me up, get a couple of glasses of vino down my throat, and start on the third degree.” She hoped Joe would take the hint and back off. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

“Just tell me one thing, little Wolf, just for my own peace of mind,” he said. “Just say you didn’t kill him.”

The flame flickered higher this time. She sat forward in the chair to glare at Joe as she concentrated on staying calm. Keeping her voice steady, she said, “I did not kill Edgar Van Volk.” For a moment, she thought he might push for more, but he must have seen something in her face that warned him off.

He gave her a brief nod. “Fair enough, my friend. I believe you. You’ve never lied to me before. Even when—”

Even when I killed a man. She finished his sentence in her head as he stopped speaking. As far as she knew, the police still had no idea what had happened to Edgar, but perhaps the press was luckier. Time to make a necessity out of an evil, she decided. Joe had raised the topic, so she might as well find out what he knew.

“Tell me, Joe, what are they saying happened to Edgar?” She gave him her best feral grin. “If the cops find whoever did it, I might just shake him by the hand.”

Gina hissed disapprovingly, but Joe just blinked a few times and returned her grin. “Dear Mary, Mother of God, Wolverton… and you accuse me of playing hardball!”

Obviously not amused, Gina snorted and rose from her seat. “Well, I’m calling it a night,” she said. She gave Red a brief glare before her frown relaxed into a smile. “Please don’t keep him up too long, Red. And no drinking games. His manly pride won’t accept that he can’t outdrink you.”

“Don’t worry, Gina, I’ll make sure he don’t do anything stupid,” Red replied.

When Gina left the room, Red studied her old friend. Should she tell him what she’d decided on the drive over? Would he support her or try to persuade her to change her mind? It didn’t really matter. He’d more than earned the small courtesy.

“I’m thinking of leaving, Joe,” she told him.

“Leaving where?”

“This goddamned city.”

“Leave Boston? Where? Doing what? You’re going to leave what you’ve built up here?”

“What I’ve built? Eight years I’ve been in this stinking town, and what have I got for it? A business that’s at death’s door, bills I ain’t sure I can pay, and more enemies than I can reckon.”

Her angry words were out before she could stop them. Unable to meet Joe’s confusion and hurt, she dropped her gaze to stare at her hands as they clenched spasmodically on the coffee mug, reflecting her agitation. As she forced herself to calm down, she sought for the best way to explain her feelings.

“I feel like I’m being buried alive, Joe, the walls closing in, crushing me. I wanna be able to see the horizon, see farther than a few blocks, see grass that ain’t tamed. I need to go somewhere that ain’t got many people, where I can get my head sorted out, and not have people around me I might hurt.” She met Joe’s thoughtful gaze. “I’ve been offered a job back in Nebraska, and I’m considering taking it.”

“Back in Nebraska? But I thought your father—”

“Nowhere near that son of a bitch.”

“Who? What?” Joe’s bewilderment was plain.

“Theo Criffy. Met the guy at the high-class shindig Evadne dragged me to. Seems he’s just become engaged to her mother. Anyway, he says he needs someone to work as a troubleshooter on his ranches. They’re having problems, apparently. If I do a good job it could become permanent.” Red laughed humorlessly at Joe’s dubious expression. “Oh, I know, it stinks to high heaven, but at the moment I’m tempted to take the job just to get me out of this dead-end life. And it’ll be interesting to see what he’s up to, see if there’s anything Evadne should know about her future stepfather.”

“So you’ve not accepted the offer yet?”

“Asked for a few days to think it over.”

“Have you told Evadne?”

Red didn’t want an in-depth debate on the whole subject. Evadne would be concerned for her and would want to help her make the right decision according to her own lights.

She didn’t want any help. She didn’t need it before, and she didn’t need it now.

“I need to make my mind up first, then I’ll tell her,” she said. “If I go, she’ll get the agency. She’ll probably do a better job with it anyway.”

“As I said before, Red, I’ll always be there for you, whatever you decide to do.”

A weight she hadn’t realized was there lifted off Red’s shoulders. She settled back into the chair and let out a soft sigh. “Thanks, Joe.” Now all she had to do was work out how, and possibly even if, to tell Evadne.

Chapter 8

December 6: Thieves in the night

Evadne was surprised to find the office door locked. After yesterday’s impromptu holiday, she’d expected Red to be at work. Unless, of course, she got drunk again last night.

She turned her key in the lock, pushed the door open, and was surprised anew to find Red asleep, curled up in a chair, a blanket pulled to her chin. Red didn’t look comfortable and was likely to wake up with a crick in her neck.

Red’s eyelids flickered. After a second, her eyes shot open. She sat up abruptly and gasped. “Shit, that really weren’t a good idea.”

“Red, why are you sleeping in your chair?” Evadne asked.

Red scowled. “None of your business.”

Evadne bit back the sarcastic retort on the tip of her tongue. Getting into an argument at this particular moment wasn’t going to help anyone.

The grimace on Red’s face as she stood showed Evadne she was right about Red getting stiff in the chair. Even from six feet away, she heard Red’s shoulders cracking as she stretched. A further cacophony of cracks followed every movement.

Once Red finished stretching, she picked up a small bag off the desk and headed for the door. She opened it, paused, and glanced back over her shoulder at Evadne. “Back in ten.”

Evadne watched her go, leaving the door open behind her. With a small, exasperated sigh, she closed the door and picked up the blanket from the floor where it had fallen. She folded the blanket and placed it on top of the small bookcase behind Red’s desk.

She noticed something white and bulky stuffed under the desk. Glancing at the door and feeling somewhat guilty, she pulled the object out, finding a sheet tied at the corners. She carefully untied the bundle. The contents were meager, but she recognized most of them as Red’s worldly possessions, at least those not already at her house.

When she heard footsteps in the corridor, she hurriedly retied the bundle and shoved it back under the desk. Fortunately, the footsteps went past the office. Resisting the urge to pull out the bundle again, she began to prepare the morning pot of coffee.

A couple of minutes passed before Red reappeared, washed and far more awake. She had also, Evadne was pleased to see, put on a clean shirt. Red’s greeting was also a great improvement. “Morning,” she said politely.

“Good morning, Red.”

Red moved back to her desk and stopped when she saw the neatly folded blanket on the bookcase. She ran her fingers over the rough wool. The gesture seemed oddly tender, but before Evadne could begin to wonder about it, Red turned to face her. “I was an idiot Sunday night,” she said. “About Doctor Worth. I… I’m sorry.”

Evadne smothered her smile. Red had actually said she was sorry? She must be feeling contrite. “I was worried about you, Red.”

From Red’s expression, it wasn’t the reaction she expected.

While she still had an advantage, Evadne continued, “Did Vivian do something to upset you?” When Red wouldn’t meet her eyes, she said, “If Vivian upset you, I would like to know.”

“Why?”

“Because I won’t have one of my friends upsetting another. At least not if I can help it.”

Worried, Evadne wondered if Red might take offense now out of some perversely obstinate sense of pride.

“You ain’t gonna give me the boot?” Red gave her a lopsided and relieved grin.

“No, heaven help me.”

“Why?” Red asked seriously. “Why have me as a friend? I ain’t nothing like you or Doctor Worth. I don’t understand.”

“And you think I do?” Evadne took a moment to pour coffee into mugs and rally her thoughts. “Our friendship is as much of a surprise to me as it is to you, Red, but I wouldn’t want to lose it.” She handed Red her mug and took a sip from her own. As Red began rifling through the morning mail, Evadne knew the conversation was over as far as her partner was concerned but she wasn’t ready to abandon the question so readily.

Her gaze drifted to the glimpse of white peeking out from under Red’s desk. Combined with the fact Red had slept there the night before, she could come to only one conclusion: Red had left her apartment. Why? Had Red been evicted? She desperately wanted to ask. Why had Red been so drunk the previous evening? What had happened?

Most of all, she wanted to know why Red had spent last night at the office when there was always a room in her house available, but she was half-afraid she would get an answer she didn’t want to hear. Perhaps for the moment, she should let this sleeping dog—or should it be sleeping wolf?—lie.

Red put down the last letter. No bills this time. One of the letters might even lead to a new case. She rolled her shoulders and tried to ease the lingering stiffness. Would she be able to sneak a cot past the janitor? She was pretty sure sleeping in the office on a regular basis would be frowned upon even with a fully paid tenancy for the next couple of years, thanks to Pete. A cot would certainly mess the place up, and Evadne wouldn’t like that.

She’d meant to be up and about before Evadne arrived, but that plan failed as miserably as the rest of her plans at the moment. At least Evadne hadn’t pressed her for an explanation.

The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced up as Evadne answered.

“Wolverton Investigation Agency, how may I help you?”

Red couldn’t help smiling. Evadne made a much better job of it than she did. And it wasn’t just the accent. Evadne’s voice just seemed so much smoother, full of depth and color like a really fine scotch. Just as expensive, she reminded herself, and just as unobtainable. She concentrated on trying to work out the other side of the conversation as Evadne continued speaking.

“Hello, Theo.”

Probably a personal call. Would she have time to pop out and pick up a morning Herald while Evadne dealt with the caller? The next words made her pause.

“What? Is everyone all right?” Evadne asked.

Red watched Evadne’s face. Her partner frowned, and her eyes stared straight ahead as she listened to what was being said.

In the silence that settled over the room, Red could just make out Theo’s tinny voice as he replied. When Evadne’s frown eased a little, so did hers. Apparently, everyone was okay.

“And this happened last night?”

Red got up and moved closer to Evadne. “What’s going on?” she mouthed.

Evadne held up a hand, clearly wanting to concentrate on the call.

Red settled on the edge of the desk and waited with increasing impatience.

“Of course, we’ll be there as soon as we can.” Evadne put down the phone. “Arden Manor was broken into last night, and the statue was stolen.”

Red straightened. “He should have put it in the damned safe. I told him they’d likely try again,” she said angrily.

“He did.”

That took the wind of righteous anger straight out of her sails. To get into that type of safe usually took dynamite. “They blew the safe?” she asked.

“No.”

“No?” Red’s mind began to whirl. There weren’t many men in Boston who could get into a Cary safe without explosives. She knew two cracksmen who could, and one of them was doing an eight-year stretch in the state pen. The other was semiretired. Getting him to do the job would have required a hefty fee or an even bigger threat. Unless there was someone new on the scene…

“Theo wants us to go over as soon as possible,” Evadne said.

“Yeah, sure.” As Evadne reached for the phone, Red stopped her. “Come on.”

“I didn’t use the LaSalle today. Shouldn’t I call James?”

“No. Come on.” Red slipped her coat on. She put on her fedora, opened the door, and grimaced when she realized Evadne still wasn’t moving. “Come on, slowpoke.”

Evadne didn’t seem convinced, but she collected her things and followed Red to the stairs.

“How do you plan to get us there?” Evadne asked. “Neither the streetcars nor subway go out that far.”

“Wait and see.”

Red heard Evadne’s frustrated exhalation of breath. God, she loved annoying her! She led the way onto the street and headed away from the streetcar stop in the opposite direction.

Evadne stopped. “Red, where are you going?”

“We ain’t using Bessie.” Red glanced at Evadne out of the corner of her eye as she hurried to catch up, looking a little peeved. Stifling a smile, Red pointed at her Ford. “Your carriage awaits.”

“You actually brought your automobile to work?”

Red tried not to feel insulted by Evadne’s disbelief. After all, she’d given up trying to use Annie to get to work in the mornings as the vehicle really wasn’t reliable enough. Since becoming partners, she and Evadne used the LaSalle—which Red and James had nicknamed Bessie, much to Evadne’s chagrin—whenever transport was needed.

Evadne gave the Ford a distinctly skeptical once-over, not surprising given the way Red continually cursed Annie’s failings. So why did she have to stamp down on the spark of anger that Evadne’s reaction ignited?

Dismissing her unsettling reaction as the result of a bad night’s sleep, Red got in and tried to start the engine. It turned over but didn’t catch. She tried again with the same result.

“Dammit, Annie, sweetheart, don’t do this to me.” She sent loving thoughts in the engine’s direction and pressed the starter button one more time. The engine coughed twice and then caught. She patted the dash. “There’s my good girl.”

“So you flirt with your automobile as well?” Evadne got into the passenger side and settled into her seat. She studied the inside of the Ford with apparent disbelief and remarked, “Heavens above, something you actually keep clean.”

Red gave Evadne her best roguish grin. “Gotta take care of the ladies.”

Evadne responded with a withering glance and then laughed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Well—”

“Please, don’t tell me.” Evadne waved vaguely but regally forward. “Drive on, Wolverton.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

That earned her another unamused look. Red released the hand brake and put the car into gear. As she set the throttle, she sent out a silent prayer. She just needed to get to Theo’s place and back without Annie conking out on her. That was possible, wasn’t it?

“Why Annie?” Evadne asked.

Red didn’t answer for a moment, still expecting the engine to cut out. After a couple of minutes of smooth running, she relaxed enough to consider the question. Should she tell Evadne the reason for the nickname? It would be more ammunition for her partner to use against her, but what the hell, why not?

“You remember I told you I did some work for Annie Oakley?” Red asked.

Evadne’s stare was almost tangible. “Your car’s named for that Annie?”

Red nodded. “I got her the year Annie Oakley came to Boston.”

“You had a crush on her, didn’t you? Annie Oakley, I mean, not the car.”

Red felt a blush working up her neck. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. “Annie was an amazing woman, Evadne, but as I said—”

“I know, you don’t hit on ‘normal’ women.”

“Not seriously anyway.”

“No, not seriously.” Evadne sounded odd.

Red glanced across to find Evadne staring out the window with a solemn expression. “Hey, you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.” Evadne’s smile seemed a little forced. “Why name your car after Annie in particular? I’m sure there have been lots of other women who earned the right.”

Red smirked. “Oh, yeah, lots.”

“Incorrigible.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So why Annie?”

Damn, Evadne is in a pushy mood. Give her an inch and she wants a mile. Will I ever learn?

“As I said, I got her around the same time I did some work for Annie Oakley.” Concentrating on the road ahead, Red felt Evadne watching her again. She hoped Evadne would leave it at that.

“Why are you blushing?” Evadne asked.

“Jeez, what are you, a private dick or something?”

“Stop trying to avoid the question.”

Red clenched her jaw and resisted the urge to grind her teeth. As far as she was concerned, Evadne was getting to know her too well… far, far too well.

A narrow section of road and a slow-moving dray drawn by a pair of misbehaving horses took up Red’s attention for the next couple of minutes. Unfortunately, the momentary excitement didn’t blunt Evadne’s curiosity.

“So?” she asked.

Red considered ignoring the question. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d paid little attention to Evadne’s less-than-subtle but always gentle questioning. On the other hand, why shouldn’t she reveal the truth? She wasn’t ashamed. “The Ford was a gift,” she said.

“From Annie Oakley?”

“Yeah.”

Evadne subsided into silence, which lasted the best part of thirty minutes before Red’s hope of getting to the Manor without further questions was dashed.

“Is that why you don’t get rid of it?” Evadne asked.

Red was a little surprised by the suggestion, which she’d never considered. “Maybe,” she replied. She shifted down a gear, swung the Ford into Arden Manor’s drive, and changed the subject. “Did Theo call the cops?”

“Yes.”

Red scowled. “Ain’t that just peachy,” she muttered as the Manor came into view.

Annie managed to get within a couple of dozen yards of the front door before finally conking out on them. For a moment, Red considered trying to get the Ford going again but experience advised against it. She got out and sprinted around to open the passenger door for Evadne.

“I can open the door, you know,” Evadne said, looking a little peeved.

“I… I just thought—”

“It’s bad enough the way the gentlemen always insist without you and Viv joining in.”

“Vivian?” Red’s hackles began to rise.

Evadne got out of the Ford and gave Red a curious look. “What is it with you two?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

Evadne didn’t sound convinced. Not that it was any business of hers. Anger flaring, Red started toward the front door. By the time she reached it, her anger was surging. She hammered on the age-darkened wood.

“There’s no need to break the door down,” Evadne said from behind her.

She ignored the words and beat on the door again.

“Red?”

Red turned. “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for.”

“Upsetting you.”

“I’m not upset.” Evadne didn’t say anything, but her knowing expression spoke volumes. “I am not fucking upset.” Red hammered on the door a third time. She only just avoided putting her fist into the butler’s face when the door opened.

He looked down his nose at her and gave Evadne a welcoming smile. “Miss Evadne, how nice to see you again.”

“Hello, Strines,” Evadne said. “I didn’t see you at the soirée, but I presume you were behind its smooth running.”

“Yes, I was. Though I have to say the caliber of staff is lacking nowadays.”

“Well, you couldn’t tell. The evening went as smoothly as always.”

“Why, thank you, ma’am.” Strines acknowledged the compliment with a gracious but smug little nod.

Red resisted the urge to knock his self-satisfied block off. “Enough of the chitchat, bozo. Are you going to let us in, or do I go round the back and find a handy window?”

Strines frowned but stepped back from the door. “Follow me, please,” he said.

“Why?” Red scowled at him. “Worried I might run off with the silver?”

Red felt Evadne’s hand on her upper arm. “Play nice, Red,” she murmured. “He’s only doing his job.”

Scowl deepening, Red fought her unruly temper back under control and kept quiet. She and Evadne followed the butler through the hall and up the main stairs.

As they reached the top, Evadne leaned over to whisper in her ear, “I really am sorry about the car door thing.”

Red glanced at Evadne’s worried face, and her anger began to ease. She let out a sigh. “Nah, it’s okay.” She gave her a rueful smile. “I’d have been much less polite if someone tried to do the same thing for me.”

The butler stopped to open a door. “Mrs. Davenport and Miss Wolverton to see you, sir.”

“That’s Red Wolverton, bozo,” Red hissed at Strines as she entered the room. “Got it?” The pained look on his face as he shut the door was almost worth the hassle he’d been causing.

“Good morning, Evadne, Red,” Theo said. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”

Evadne hurried forward to take Theo’s hands. “Are you sure you’re all right? And mother?”

“We’re both fine. They were the most considerate of burglars. No one heard a thing, and if it wasn’t for the safe, I would have sworn no one’s been in the room since I left it last night.”

Bored by the pleasantries, Red prowled around the room and surveyed the scene with a practiced eye.

“Where are the police?” Evadne asked.

“Gone,” Theo answered. “They wanted to leave an officer at the house, but it seemed rather pointless.”

Red grunted. “Yeah, this horse has well and truly bolted.” She knelt down in front of the open safe. “Not even drilled?”

“Indeed.”

“Must have taken hours to crack.” She peered inside the safe. “Just the statue taken?”

“Yes.”

“So not a random act,” Evadne said. “It has to be the same people we saw the night before, the man and the woman.”

“How did they know where to find it, though?” Red closed the safe’s door. She stood. “Any of your staff skedaddled?”

Theo looked affronted. The cops had probably asked him the same question, Red thought. “No, all are present and accounted for, and all have been in my employ for at least three years.”

“No one extra brought in for the shindig?”

“A couple of additional staff, but they have all been here before and are well known to the agencies who provided them.”

“Whoever the thieves were, they certainly went to an awful lot of trouble,” Evadne said.

“It’s a lot of gold,” Red said. “Even if they melted the statue down, the gold would still be worth a dollar or two.”

“Such a waste,” Evadne said. “The statue could well have had some historical importance.”

“Not much use if you ain’t got two dimes to rub together.”

“True.”

Evadne had acquiesced too easily. Robbed of the chance to argue, Red glowered at her a moment before looking back at Theo. “What did the cops say?” she asked.

“Other than the obvious, not a lot.”

Red made a derisive snort. “Useless bunch of idiots.”

“What do you think, Red?” Evadne asked.

A sudden grumbling noise caught Red’s attention, immediately followed by embarrassment as she realized the source was her stomach. The amusement in Evadne’s expression didn’t help.

“How about we have an early lunch first?” Theo suggested.

Red scowled at him. “I’m fine.”

“An excellent idea, Theo, thank you,” Evadne said.

“I said, I’m fine,” Red objected.

“Don’t be a mule, Red. You haven’t had anything to eat this morning, and don’t try denying it.”

Red’s scowl deepened for an instant, and then she grinned. “Can’t hide anything from you, huh, Mrs. Davenport?”

“What do you expect from a private dick?”

Red smothered a smile at Evadne’s precise enunciation of the slang. It sounded as out of place coming from her mouth as Red had felt at the soirée.

“I’ll get Strines to arrange it,” Theo said.

Before she could stop him, he rang the bell. Deciding it wasn’t a battle worth fighting, at least not yet, Red returned to examining the room.

“How did they get in?” Evadne mused.

Red lifted the window sash and ran her fingers over the woodwork near the catch. A slight splintering in the wood tugged at her fingertip, so small it might be easily overlooked unless you knew what you were looking for. “Knife blade to spring the catch. Simple.” She looked at Theo. “You have locks on the windows downstairs. Why not here?”

“I thought the climb would deter any attempts,” Theo said.

It didn’t feel like the whole truth. Red’s instincts were topsy-turvy as far as Theo was concerned. Part of her trusted him, while at other times, she could feel the skin on the back of her neck crawling in silent but insistent warning.

Shaking off her contradictory feelings, she leaned out the window. “A decent ladder was all they needed. Did the cops find any signs?”

“No.”

“Idiots.” She left the window and headed for the door. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s see what the cops missed this time.”

She hurried down the stairs and out the front door. It took a little while before Evadne joined her. She wondered why. Probably apologizing to Theo about me, she thought irritably.

“Are we looking for anything in particular?” Evadne asked.

“Signs of a ladder and the people who used it,” Red replied. “With all this nice snow, there should be something.”

Tipping her hat back on her head, she moved slowly forward, her eyes fixed on the ground. She searched for the telltale signs of a ladder or any other clue as to how the intruders got into the house.

The only footprints she found seemed to belong to the cops. Two sets walking side by side out to a point under the study window. A couple of cigarette butts on the snow showed the officers had stood there awhile smoking before walking back to the front door. The only other tracks she could see anywhere came from the local wildlife. She grunted and glanced up at the study window. A sudden current of something between fear and anticipation ran down her spine when she spotted Theo at the window, watching them.

“I can’t see anything in the borders, Red. What about you?” Evadne asked.

Red shook off the odd feeling. “Yeah, no signs of a ladder.” She looked up again and focused her attention above Theo, who was still staring at them. “Perhaps the thieves came down rather than up.”

Evadne was a little tired of following Red around like a stray dog in search of a good meal. When they reached the second floor, she grabbed her partner’s sleeve. “You think the thieves came down from the roof?” she asked.

Annoyance flickered briefly across Red’s face but quickly disappeared. She slouched against the wall, her hands in her pockets. “Got the bit between my teeth again, huh?”

“You could say that.”

Red gave her a wry smile. “I did tell you having a partner was going to take some getting used to.”

“Yes, you did. So… down from the roof?”

“Yeah, a couple of ropes over the edge and no problem.”

“But they would still have needed to get up there somehow.”

“They could have climbed up at another spot or they might not have needed to climb.”

“How?”

“A house this size? With people always coming and going? I doubt it would be difficult to get in through an unlocked door or window then climb to the roof. These stairs are pretty close to the back door. Once they’re in, all they need to do is wait.”

“Wouldn’t they need to know where they were going?”

“I reckon they did.”

“Someone inside the Manor helped?”

“Something like that.” Red’s gaze flicked uneasily to the side.

Evadne wondered whether Red suspected Theo of involvement in the theft.

Red abruptly straightened. “On with the chase?” she asked.

Subtle change of subject there, Red. “On with the chase,” Evadne said.

“After you, Sherlock.”

Evadne was halfway along the landing toward the next set of stairs before she realized Red had tricked her into leading the way without having to admit she didn’t know where to go. Sneaky. Very sneaky.

Thanks to the buildup of leaves and other detritus on the other side, getting the door to the roof open required the cautious application of Red’s shoulder and a judicious amount of cursing. Thirty seconds later, Evadne decided they weren’t going to find anything of use. While Red prowled around the roof, she enjoyed the view of the surrounding countryside, Boston just a dirty smudge along the horizon.

Eventually, Red was persuaded no one could have been on the roof in the last year, let alone the last day.

They returned to the ground, and Red checked every window for signs of tampering, a not inconsiderable task given the size of Arden Manor. Finally, they went around the outside of the house looking for any signs of access.

After a while, she managed to talk Red into stopping the search long enough for them to eat something from the brunch Theo had arranged.

Evadne wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or annoyed by Red’s persistence. They had just completed a second circuit around the house and grounds with the same lack of success. If Red suggested a third, she would object. Strongly.

“Damn it, there’s gotta be something!” Red slumped onto a stone bench and stared up at the house. After a moment, Evadne joined her.

“I think you’re right about someone getting in earlier,” she said. “They just didn’t head for the roof.”

Red glanced at her, and a little frown line appeared between her eyebrows.

Evadne took her silence as a sign she should elaborate on her idea. “Couldn’t someone get in and just hide until it got quiet?” she asked. “Theo never locks his study, so they could just walk in. Why do you think they came in through the window?”

“There was a mark that looked like someone had sprung the catch, but it was pretty faint. Perhaps they didn’t come in that way.” Red’s frown deepened. “They would have to know the layout of the place, where to hide, where to go. I can vouch for how easy it is to get lost in there. It means we’re looking at inside help again.”

“Perhaps not. The Manor is a bit of an architectural oddity. Its floor plans are in at least two books in the library.”

Red considered the idea. “Takes a bundle of nerves, hiding out until everyone’s asleep,” she said, sounding distinctly smug.

Another one of her nefarious activities, no doubt, Evadne thought. Why was she even surprised? “I take it you’re speaking with the benefit of experience?” she asked.

Red gave her a sidelong glance, an enigmatic smile appeared, and she changed the subject. “Any idea where the burglars might have hid?”

Evadne mentally ran through the hiding places she’d found as a child. Nanny had never managed to find half of them. She smiled at the memory.

“What’s so funny?” Red asked.

“Arden Manor is a gift for children who don’t want to be found. I used to drive Nanny Carter insane.”

“Can’t really imagine you being a brat.”

“Oh, don’t let this well-bred exterior fool you. I was most certainly a brat, and a spoiled one, too. Boarding school cured me of that tendency, thank the Lord.” Evadne stood and brushed at the back of her skirt in case she had picked up any dirt from the seat. Red also rose to her feet, though she didn’t bother dusting off her pants. Evadne fought the urge to check. It seemed inappropriate to think about inspecting Red’s rear end.

“Lead on, Gunga Din,” Red said, surprising her.

Red’s found my edition of Kipling’s poems, I see. Red’s unexpected love of reading was voracious but somewhat limited in scope. She should have guessed the Barrack Room Ballads would have tempted her. “I think I prefer Sherlock,” she replied.

Red gave a one-shouldered shrug and a mischievous grin.

Heading to the kitchen door, Evadne stifled a sigh. She wondered if being driven insane by her own personal, ill-mannered brat was Fate’s idea of payback for Nanny Carter.

Red felt her temper fraying fast. There had to be some sign of the thieves, but she was damned if she could find anything. She had tried every one of Evadne’s former hiding places without success. Most were so dusty and strewn with cobwebs that no one could’ve hidden there without leaving a sign.

Now, for the third time that day, she and Evadne were back in the storeroom where they’d found the statue. Other than the fresh floorboards and a new pane of glass, nothing else in the room had changed.

She moved to the window and stared out over the ground at an area that saw little traffic—a good place to try breaking in, she thought. If the thieves tried the same sort of trick again, smashing a window or forcing a door to get in, there should be some sort of trace, but there just wasn’t anything to find.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Red?” Evadne asked.

Red glanced over her shoulder. “You still reckon someone could sneak in and hide?”

“Yes, with a bit of luck, I believe they could.”

Luck. That was the problem. She suspected Bats Sullivan was the culprit, but he wasn’t one to rely on luck. He was far too professional, but there was no evidence of a break-in anywhere. She checked the lock on the window again. No sign of tampering. On an impulse, she undid the lock and slid the window up with barely a swishing sound. No sticky, squeaky sashes for Arden Manor, she noted bitterly, not even in a storeroom.

She leaned out the window and checked for anything that might spark something in her head. The window opened onto stone slabs, no nice grass or soil for footprints. Sighing, she rested her forearms on the sill.

“It’s not that bad,” Evadne said.

“Isn’t it?”

Evadne joined her at the window. “How’s your side?”

“Okay.”

“Really okay or Wolverton okay?”

“Well, pretty okay.” Red picked idly at the blobs of putty left by the glazier. She could almost feel Evadne resisting the urge to lecture. The way Evadne worried about her was nice, even if she went over the top sometimes.

“You will give it time to heal before doing anything rash?”

Red caught Evadne’s expression but couldn’t quite place it. Concern, exasperation, and something else.

“Don’t worry, I don’t like pulled stitches any more than the next guy,” she said.

Evadne grimaced. “You say that now…”

Smothering a smirk, Red continued picking at the putty. She got a blob off and rolled it between her fingers. Something floated through her mind, tantalizingly out of reach. Why would there be lumps of putty on the windowsill? Any self-respecting glazier would have tidied up after finishing, and she doubted Theo would have hired anyone but the best.

The thrill of the chase surged through her as she leaned farther forward to peer down at the strip of gravel that filled the gap between stone and wall.

Evadne cleared her throat. “Red?”

Yes! She nearly fell through the window in her haste, raking her injured side on the edge as she bent too far. “Fuck! Damn it,” she muttered.

“What did I just say about doing something rash?”

Red ignored Evadne’s comment as well as her stinging side and began picking out little lumps of still pliable putty from the gravel. “The thieves got in the same way, but this time they didn’t need to break the window.” She balanced her evidence on an open palm.

Understanding dawned on Evadne’s face. “They removed the new pane?”

“And then put it back in again. The putty would have been more than soft enough to pick out after only a few days.” Red wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or just plain relieved. “I knew we’d find something.”

Chapter 9

December 6 (continued): Offers and refusals

Evadne stared through the Ford’s windscreen, trying not to flinch. Red drove far too fast for her liking. The brief burst of euphoria following their discovery at Arden Manor had soon waned, and Red’s good temper rapidly followed.

As she’d told Theo what they’d found, Red had just stared fixedly at the safe, barely speaking when Theo officially engaged their services to investigate the theft as well as Miles Kemper’s disappearance, leaving Evadne to go through the terms. Only once she and Red left the study did Red manage more than an indecipherable grunt, and she abruptly stated they were leaving. Lacking the energy to argue, Evadne had agreed.

Now Red rolled her head and shoulders and yawned. She had been yawning for the last hour or more with increasing frequency. Evadne’s own jaw ached in sympathy.

Red’s tiredness wasn’t surprising, given where she’d spent the night. Did she plan on sleeping in the office again tonight? Not even Red was that pigheaded. What was she thinking? Red’s stubbornness was legendary. Time to take the bull by the horns.

“You can always stay at my house, you know,” Evadne said.

Red glared briefly but said nothing.

“I don’t understand you, Red Wolverton.”

“Then don’t try.”

“Heavens, but you are infuriating!”

Red didn’t reply. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened noticeably.

Time for a change of subject, a retreat to more solid ground. “Will you at least have dinner with us?” Evadne asked. When Red looked mutinous, she played her trump card. “It can be a fry-up if you like. Bacon, sausage, whatever you want.”

The faintest flicker of a smile passed across Red’s face.

Yes! Got her, Evadne thought triumphantly.

“Okay,” Red said.

“Excellent.”

“But just for dinner.”

Unable to resist another try, Evadne said, “Sleeping in your chair isn’t going to be any more comfortable tonight than last night.”

Red shrugged.

Evadne held her tongue. She stared out the windscreen again and consoled herself with the fact that one out of two wasn’t too bad where Red’s stubborn streak was concerned.

“I ain’t going to be at the office tonight,” Red said.

The admission surprised her. “You’ve found another apartment? Where? When?”

“I’ve got an idea about the break-in, and I wanna follow up with an old friend. She ain’t likely to refuse if I turn up needing a bed for a night. Maybe I can find out something at the same time.”

Evadne felt a sudden surge of resentment toward the unknown woman. Another ex-lover, no doubt. Red really did have more girls than most dogs had fleas. Anyway, was it really any of her business? She and Red were just business partners, nothing else. Something deep within her rebelled at the thought. They were friends, she admonished herself, and friends worried about each other.

“Spit it out,” Red muttered.

Evadne frowned at the obvious annoyance in Red’s voice. Had her thoughts been that obvious? What could she say? “Um, I was just—”

“Yes, me and her were lovers. No, we ain’t anymore. No, we ain’t likely to be again.” Red’s tone softened. “Nellie Reilly was Pete Garrick’s lover. When he was killed, we sorta drifted together. It only lasted a couple of days before we both realized it was a big mistake.”

Pete Garrick? Red’s mentor and, from what she’d told Evadne, her first real friend in Boston. “Bonded by your grief?” she asked.

Red’s laugh was small and sounded sad. “Yeah, something like that.”

To Evadne’s surprise, Red pulled the Ford to a stop on the side of the road and turned to face her. “Nellie runs a café. Me and Pete used to hang out there. So did a fair number of the city’s nicer crooks. They knew what we were, and we knew what they were, but they also knew if our paths crossed professionally we would only be after the loot, not them. I still drop by now and then, just to keep my ear in.”

“I see. So you think she might know who stole the statue?”

“More than that.” Red started the Ford again. “If I’m right, she’s sleeping with the safecracker.”

*   *   *

Maria placed a plate heaped with bacon, eggs, hash, and other goodies on the table in front of Red. “There we go, little one. Dig in.”

Red didn’t need telling twice. She attacked the pile of food with vigor as she realized she was starving. After the first couple of mouthfuls, she paused long enough to give Maria a beaming smile. “Thanks, Maria. This is great.”

“I still don’t know how you can eat like that and not get indigestion,” Evadne said, working her way through her own plate with less speed but equal relish. Despite her assertions to the contrary, Red had soon realized Evadne liked a fry-up as much as she did.

“So was it the same people, you think?” Maria asked.

Red nodded, her mouth full.

Evadne didn’t have the same problem. “It certainly seems that way, Maria,” she said. “They even gained access through the same window.”

“At least no one was hurt.”

“Not this time,” Red said after swallowing. With the initial edge taken off her hunger, she slowed her pace enough to take a swig of coffee to wash down the bacon.

“How is your side, little one?” Maria asked.

Her injury ached like the devil, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “Fine, Maria.”

“Is that so? Then you won’t mind giving me a hand with the washing up.”

Damn, she’d walked straight into that one. “Hey, what about Evadne?”

“She is the lady of the house, Red.”

“But she’s helped—”

“No buts. Finish your dinner.”

Finding no room for negotiation in Maria’s gently implacable expression, Red gave in. “Yes, Maria.”

Evadne snorted out a laugh she’d clearly been trying to stifle. Red scowled at her until she stopped, but the big brown eyes still sparkled with amusement.

Ignoring Evadne, Red concentrated on cleaning her plate, albeit at a slightly slower pace. Not that dawdling would get her out of helping Maria. She didn’t object to working for her supper, but she didn’t want to do the dishes. Could she find something else to offer? She searched the kitchen for inspiration. Her gaze fell on the nearly empty log box. “How about I bring in some wood instead?”

Maria glanced at Evadne. “What do you think?”

Evadne considered the question with a feigned seriousness that began to worry Red. Had she walked into another well-placed trap?

“Well, the box certainly needs filling,” Evadne said.

“As do the ones in the library, study, and front sitting room,” Maria added.

“And the coal scuttles, too.”

Red’s heart sank. Oh, yeah, she’d walked right into that one as well. Still, she wouldn’t welsh on her offer.

The daily maids, Mavis and Maud, normally did the job. They were as miserable as sin and didn’t approve of Red, but they didn’t appear to like anybody else either, except possibly Evadne. As far as Red was concerned, the hostile feelings were mutual. She’d even caught Maria saying unpleasant things about Mavis and Maud under her breath. She wondered if the dislike would help her cause, though she severely doubted it.

“Okay, I’ll stock all the rooms with both coal and wood,” she said. “Does that get me out of the washing up?”

Evadne and Maria exchanged another glance. Smug looks, Red noticed. She bit her lip and tried not to smile. “Remind me never to play poker with you two.”

“Poker?” Evadne made a face. “Silly game. Now Bridge… that’s a game to test the mind and the nerves.”

Red pushed back her chair and stood. Evadne had once tried to explain the black art of Bridge playing. The lecture had given her a headache, and she didn’t want to repeat the experience. “I’ll get started, then.”

As the door shut behind her, she heard Evadne and Maria laughing. Studying the first spattering of stars in the sky, she grinned. They’d played her like some numbskull greenhorn, but she didn’t feel sore. Quite the opposite, in fact. A warm glow settled in the center of her chest, protecting her from the nip of the cold night air. She wondered about taking up Evadne’s invitation to stay the night, but her pride rebelled against the idea. It had been different when she had a place of her own. Gritting her teeth, she tried not to shiver as the cold suddenly hit her. Too much thinking, not enough doing.

She lost herself in bringing in wood and coal and filled every box, basket, bucket, or scuttle she could find. By the time she brought in the last load, she barely felt the cold. Only the tips of her ears and nose hadn’t warmed up from the exercise. She kicked off her boots at the kitchen door and padded in her socks through to the study. Evadne sat at her desk, bent over some letter or another.

Evadne glanced up. “Last one?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you, Red.”

Red emptied the bucket of coal into the scuttle with a dusty rattle. “You had that planned, didn’t you?” she asked.

Evadne gave her an unrepentant smile.

The heat from the fire began to work through the back of Red’s pants. It felt damn good, and once again, her resolve started to slip.

Almost as if sensing Red’s mood, Evadne spoke. “The offer still stands.”

Red was surprised by the flash of anger that jumped into her throat. She fought it down. “No, thanks and all, but it’s not just about finding a place, it’s about Theo’s case.”

Evadne didn’t seem happy, but she nodded. “All right. But please be careful.”

“Ain’t I always?”

“Your definition of careful would send a lion tamer running for cover,” Evadne said, her expression suggesting she wasn’t joking.

Time to change the subject, Red thought. “Reckon I’ll be late getting to the office tomorrow. You okay to hold the fort?”

“I think I can manage that, thank you.” Evadne’s deadpan delivery had more humor in it this time.

Red gave her partner a quick grin, as much apology as amusement, and left the study.

She headed upstairs to collect her duffle bag and stuffed her spare set of clothes, her wash-kit, and a blanket inside. It wasn’t much, but she’d left the rest of her stuff at the office. She just hoped it would be enough to convince Nellie that she needed a place to stay.

Packing done, she returned to the kitchen. Maria didn’t appear any happier about the situation than Evadne.

“So you’re going?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Red sat on a chair to pull on her boots.

“I see.”

Red finished tying her laces. Why didn’t Maria try to persuade her to stay as she’d expected? Ah well, it didn’t really matter. “Thanks, Maria.”

“Look after yourself, little one.”

“I will.” For once, Red was surprised to find she really meant it.

Exiting the house, she decided to ride streetcars across Point Channel into South Boston. Arriving in an automobile, even one as old as her Ford, didn’t fit in with her planned tale of woe.

She stepped down onto West Second Street and glanced around. The place looked grim under the gray, threatening sky. Even the snow had turned a dirty, slushy brown.

She settled her duffle bag more comfortably over her shoulder and headed down the street. As she walked, she tried to work out when she last visited. Definitely before Katherine… around the beginning of the year, maybe?

Approaching an anonymous line of row houses, Red noticed a freshly painted sign above one of the doors. Reilly’s Café, the sign read. She raised an eyebrow, wondering if Nellie Reilly had come into some money.

She pushed open the door. The inside of the café had also received a new coat of paint, although the tables and chairs were still the same as she remembered, sturdy but worn wood.

Nellie hadn’t changed much, either. Her dark hair had a few more streaks of gray, and her figure was a little heavier. No great surprise, Red thought, given Nellie had been fighting a rearguard action against her own pastries for a long time.

Nellie’s face lit up with a broad smile when she spotted Red. “Well, look what the cat’s dragged in,” she said.

“Howdy, Nellie.”

The café was sprinkled with customers. A couple of people glanced up at her voice, but their attention soon returned to their food, coffee, or newspaper. Red covered the small distance to the counter where she let the duffle bag slip off her shoulder to hit the floor with a soft thump. She leaned a hip against the counter edge. Out of the corner of her eye, she could watch most of the room.

“So how long has it been this time?” Nellie poured a cup of coffee and slid it over the counter in Red’s direction.

“Too long.” Red wrapped her hands around the mug, waiting for her fingers to thaw out a little. “Nice paint job.”

Nellie’s nose wrinkled. “Stunk the damn place out for a week, but it was worth it.”

“Somebody’s doing okay, then.” She put just a hint of bitterness into her voice. As she’d hoped, Nellie picked up on it.

“Things not so hot for you?” she asked.

“Not good. Agency’s going to hell in a handbasket and—” Red broke off, waiting.

“Yeah, I heard the Duboises were out for your guts.” Nellie glanced down at Red’s duffle bag and nodded. “Worldly possessions?”

“What’s left of them.” Red took a drink from her mug. A small glimmer of guilt flashed through her mind, but she ruthlessly squashed it. Anyway, she wasn’t lying—she really did need somewhere to sleep tonight. The offer wasn’t long in coming.

“You can sleep here if you like,” Nellie said. “Could do with the company.”

“Sure it ain’t going to be a problem? There ain’t anyone might object?”

Nellie’s smile vanished. “Pox-ridden bastards, the lot of ’em. My man’s been off with some little blonde piece with pert tits and a tight ass. Damn his beady little roving eyes, the two-faced runt.”

Red felt her guilt easing another notch. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. You can pay by doing the washing up.”

Red groaned. “You ain’t got anything else?”

Nellie gave her an evil grin. “It’s that or the streets.”

“You’re a hard woman, Natalina Reilly.”

“And don’t you forget it.” Nellie gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. “The kitchen is in that direction, just in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Slave driver.” Red picked up her bag and headed through the door. In the kitchen she recognized a familiar face, one she was less happy to see. While Nellie made most of the pastries and cakes for the café, her brother-in-law, Patrick Finn, cooked the hot food. Red and Finn had had a hate-hate relationship since the day they met.

“What you doing here?” he asked sourly.

“Earning my keep.” Red continued through the kitchen and up the stairs to Nellie’s living room. After dumping her bag, hat, coat, and jacket on the sofa, she took a moment to check out the room. No sign of fresh paint, but as neat and clean as she expected. She headed back down to the kitchen, rolling up her shirtsleeves as she went.

She got another scowl from Finn as she reentered the kitchen, but he asked no further questions. She guessed Nellie had spoken to him.

He gestured at a pile of dishes, pots, and pans. “Get going.”

Red moved to the large sink, turned on the faucet, and ran her hand under the water. At least it was hot. She tried to be grateful for small mercies, but it didn’t work.

Awhile later, Nellie came into the kitchen. The café was closed and tidied up, and the dishwashing done. When Red finished, Finn left, muttering under his breath as he went.

Nellie wiped her hands on a waterlogged tea towel. “Good job, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, we make a good team.”

“Come on, my feet are killing me.”

Red followed Nellie up the stairs, which gave her an excellent view of Nellie’s still shapely calves. Seeing the woman’s legs were marred by knots of varicose veins from too much time spent on her feet, Red frowned. “You should get some help, Nellie.”

“You volunteering?” Nellie entered the small living room and slumped into a shapeless easy chair with a heartfelt sigh of relief. “Damn, but that’s better.”

Red hesitated in the doorway.

Nellie waved vaguely in the direction of the sofa. “Sit down, Red. You’re making me feel tired just looking at you.”

Red obeyed. After a moment, she relaxed and leaned back into the seat. Absentmindedly, she rubbed her side, grimacing as the ache intensified for a second, and began to ease.

“What you done?” Nellie asked.

Red shrugged. “Scraped my ribs.”

“Let me see.”

Red hesitated. Her instinct said no, but it might help lower Nellie’s guard. She sat forward on the seat, slipped off her vest, and lifted up her shirt and undershirt enough to reveal the bandage and increasingly impressive bruises.

“Ow, sweetie, that’s gotta hurt.” Nellie moved over to sit next to her on the sofa. “Who did this? The landlord?”

The explanation was as good as any. Shrugging again, Red decided to let Nellie believe what she wanted.

Nellie gently pulled away the dressing. “Those are neat little stitches.”

Shit. She’d forgotten about that. “Got lucky with the doc, I guess.”

“You saw a doctor? Voluntarily?”

Her grin rueful, Red changed the subject. “You sure I ain’t going to be cramping your style?”

Nellie scowled. “I’m done with men, especially lying little bastards like Bats Sullivan. Don’t know why I bother with them. Brains between their damned legs.”

“Bats Sullivan? The cracksman?”

“Yeah, damn his black little heart.”

The rumors were right, Red thought. Now that she knew he was Nellie’s ex-boyfriend, her remaining qualms vanished. “Ain’t heard of him in years,” she said. “Is he still working?”

“What business is it of yours?”

Red pretended indifference. “Forget I asked.”

Nellie sighed and settled further into the sofa cushions. “He’s supposed to have retired. Too old to be crawling over roofs like some old cat.”

“Supposed?”

Nellie looked suspicions. Time to lay off on the questions, Red thought. She yawned and felt her jaw click unpleasantly.

“You look beat,” Nellie said.

Red could only nod her agreement as she was seized by another jaw-cracking yawn.

“Bed or sofa?”

The hint of suggestion in the question was enough for Red to decline the offer of sharing Nellie’s bed. They’d tried that once—a bad idea then and likely to be worse now. “Thanks, Nellie,” she said. “The sofa will do me just fine.”

“Have it your own way.” Nellie left the room in a definite huff, turning off the lights as she went.

Lying down on the sofa, Red sighed, but remembering her boots, she sat up to remove them. Her nose wrinkled at the smell that reminded her she hadn’t changed her socks in three days. She had a clean pair in her bag, but they would be cold and damp. No, she would stick with smelly but warm until morning. She lay down again and tried to get comfortable, but her coat really didn’t work as a blanket. Either her feet stuck out the end or her shoulders froze. She had a proper blanket in her duffle bag, which was sitting on the floor by the door.

“Damn it all to hell,” she muttered and rolled off the sofa. She reached for the lamp on the side table and switched it on. A jumble of mail and other papers were piled on the table as well. She glanced back toward Nellie’s door. No, not yet, she decided. She took her blanket out of the duffle bag, turned off the light, and was headed for the sofa when the door opened.

“Thought you might—oh, you’ve got one.” Nellie looked at the blanket in her arms.

“Don’t mean I’m gonna refuse another.” Red took Nellie’s blanket with a smile.

For an instant, their eyes met. Nellie’s gaze promised more than just a warm bed, but Red resisted the urge to accept. She took a step back to regain some distance. “G’night, Nellie.”

“Good night, Red.”

Red heard the click of the door closing as she settled down on the sofa for the third time and spread the blankets over her.

For the next half hour, she listened to the sounds of Nellie getting ready for bed and the faint squeak of bedsprings. After silence for a good thirty minutes, she got up and padded noiselessly to the table to sort through the papers. She found only bills, invoices, and receipts, all in Nellie’s name. Nothing to help her track down Bats Sullivan.

She returned to her makeshift bed and made herself comfortable. It might not be the Ritz, but it was a damned sight better than the office. She thought back to her refusal of Nellie’s offer. Her younger self would have jumped at the opportunity. Hell, she had. Perhaps she was getting wiser in her old age.

She smiled at the ridiculousness of the thought and shut her eyes. Even with the unfamiliar noises around her, she soon fell asleep.

Chapter 10

December 7: Bats and dogs

The sound of heavy footsteps jolted Red awake. In the few moments it took her to remember where she was and sit up, the footsteps reached the door.

The door slammed open and bounced off the wall in a cloud of plaster fragments. A man entered. She recognized him at once: Bats Sullivan. The situation didn’t look good.

She started to stand when Bats spotted her. He snarled and lunged forward. She ducked under the wild haymaker aimed at her head, dropped her shoulder, and charged. His back hit the wall hard, and the fight left him in an explosion of breath. She backed off, her fists at the ready as he slipped to the floor in a wheezing, crumpled heap.

Red struggled with her anger and the urge to land a couple of kicks while he was down. The sudden action had set up a dull pulsing ache in her side that did little to improve her temper. “Sullivan, you dumb palooka, what the fuck was that for?”

Bats struggled to regain his breath. “You…” He took another deep breath before finishing. “You were messing with my dame.”

Sometimes her reputation was more trouble than it was worth, she thought. Her anger eased. “And that’s why I was sleeping on the sofa, huh?”

Bats’s breathing was nearly back to normal. She could see in his eyes that he was considering whether to try another attack. “Don’t even think it,” she warned.

He glared at her but didn’t move. Bats was a small wiry man, stronger than he looked, but without the advantage of surprise, Red felt confident he was no real threat. He seemed to realize the same thing at the same time. His shoulders drooped.

“What in hell’s name is going on out there?” Nellie’s irritated voice could be heard through the bedroom door.

“Nothing,” Red and Bats chorused. She caught Bats’s eye and couldn’t help grinning. To her surprise and relief, he gave her a wry grin in return.

Nellie emerged from her bedroom still tying the belt on her dressing gown. “Bats, you two-timing little bastard, what are you doing here?”

He glanced from Red to Nellie and gave what he must have hoped was a conciliatory smile. “Defending your honor… at least, that’s what I thought.”

Nellie’s voice went up in pitch and volume, getting louder with each word she spoke. “My honor. My honor!”

Red winced and tried to make herself small, glad she wasn’t on the end of Nellie’s wrath.

“I ain’t the one who disappeared for the last couple of days without a word—”

“But, doll, I told you I was on a jo—”

“A job? A job! You ain’t worked for four years, Bats. You’re retired, remember?”

“Nellie, baby, this one will set us up for—”

“Us? Us?”

Hastily gathering up her boots and duffle bag, Red slipped out of the room.

At the top of the stairs, she paused to put on her boots and caught the smell of frying bacon. Her stomach rumbled appreciatively. She considered using the bathroom. If she offended herself with her stink, she most certainly needed a good wash. She hadn’t even managed the clean pair of socks she’d promised herself last night. In the end, she decided discretion was the better part of valor, if not cleanliness, and headed downstairs.

She could still hear Nellie dressing Bats down as she reached the kitchen. Surprise, rapidly followed by dismay, flickered across Finn’s face when she entered. No prize for who told Bats she was there.

She gave him a feral grin that got an answering worried scowl. Far too many big knives within his reach for her to go any further—she wasn’t that stupid. She headed out of the backdoor into a yard filled with trash containers and continued into an alley that ran along the back of the building where she stopped to consider her next move. How long would Bats last? Recalling Nellie’s strident abuse, she chuckled, doubting he’d stay much longer.

Back at the street, she walked across to a shadow-filled archway. From there she could watch the café’s front door as well as one end of the alley. Hopefully, she’d see Bats leave and could follow him. The job he’d mentioned might not have anything to do with the theft of the statue, but the coincidence couldn’t be ignored.

Her stomach rumbled, unhappy to be dragged away from the bacon. She fished her watch out of her vest pocket. Six-thirty, give or take a couple of minutes, she thought, yawning. Her sleep last night had been pretty good but not enough to make up for what she’d missed in the last couple of days.

Shutting her eyes, she tipped her head back to rest it against the rough brickwork. Why hadn’t she taken up Evadne’s offer? A soft bed, breakfast, a big tub full to the brim with piping hot water… that would be heavenly.

The sound of hurrying footsteps snapped her out of her daydream. She saw Bats scuttling across the road so fast she nearly missed him and had to hurry to catch up.

She followed him without any difficulty. He never glanced back, clearly preoccupied with something—probably Nellie. She still kept her distance. At one point, she thought she’d lost him, but she spotted him buying a pack of Luckies which he immediately began chain-smoking. He finally disappeared into a tenement.

She followed him inside and looked up the staircase in time to see him arrive on the second floor landing. She ducked out of sight under the stairs to listen. She counted his steps and waited for the change in sound as he reached each landing. When she reckoned he’d reached the fifth floor, he stopped.

After waiting a couple of minutes, she climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. A short corridor ran toward the back of the building, with rooms on both sides and a window at the end. She walked slowly. Each door had a number but no name and no other indication as to who lived there. When she reached the last pair of rooms, a fit of coughing to her left caught her attention.

Pressing her ear against the wall, she listened. Someone behind the door was talking to himself in a voice so low that she couldn’t be certain, but she thought it was Bats.

She carried on to the end of the corridor. The window let out onto a rickety fire escape. She glanced back down the corridor, finding it still empty. Quickly, she slid the window up, dropped her bag through, and followed it out onto the metal platform.

The platform was long enough to reach to the next window on both sides. She moved to the window on the left and peered around the edge into the room. Bats was slouched in a chair and looking very sorry for himself. Red took a minute to fix the location of the apartment in her memory before retracing her steps. As she stepped out of the tenement into the street, a smile spread across her face. Got him!

Her smile faded. What now? She had no proof that Bats was involved in the theft. If he was—and every shred of instinct told her he was up to his neck in it—then did he have the statue, or had he already passed it to someone else? Damn it! Why did everything have to be so complicated?

She could think of only one way to be sure. It seemed she would have to pay Bats a nocturnal visit, but first, she had something else to do as soon as possible.

Considering her options, she didn’t know anyone in the neighborhood, at least not anyone she wanted to ask this particular question. There was always Evadne, but she could imagine the comments her partner might make about her current stinky state. Who did that leave?

In the end, there was really only one option left. She just hoped Gina Martelli wouldn’t be too put out by her sudden and unexpected appearance or by the smell of her dirty socks.

Sometime later, she was surprised when Gina let her into the house without a word, though she didn’t miss Gina’s grimace of distaste as she passed.

She declined Gina’s offer to do her laundry. The woman had enough on her hands already. She hadn’t reckoned on Gina sneaking in while she was bathing and stealing her clothes before she could stop her. She nearly made chase but the kids were at home, and a buck naked, dripping wet woman chasing their mother around the house probably wasn’t what they needed to see.

By the time Gina placed a plate of food in front of her, Red had given up trying to say no. It must be an Italian mother thing, she decided, and just went with the flow.

“Don’t forget to drop by later,” Gina told her as she was leaving.

“I won’t. Thanks, Gina.”

A crashing noise from inside the house made Gina wince. “Alexandra Theresa Martelli, what are you doing?” she called.

“Weren’t me, Ma.”

Washed, changed, and pleasantly full, Red grinned. Alex was turning into her sort of kid. Gina went back into the house without giving her another glance. The door slammed shut, cutting off Alex’s excuses.

Red hoisted her bag on her shoulder. Alex reminded her a little of herself at that age. Her grin faded as a familiar dark cloud poisoned her mood. At least Joe loved his wayward daughter, more than her own father had ever done. Shoving the memories into the dark corner of her mind where they belonged, she headed down the street.

She caught a streetcar and settled on a seat. The morning rush was over, the car only half full. She stretched out her legs and considered what little she had learned about the Criffy case: nothing definite, which she wasn’t happy about, but other than getting Bats to confess or finding the statue in his apartment, there probably wasn’t much else that might count as evidence of guilt in a court of law.

Should she follow up on her initial instinct and pay him—or at least, his apartment—another visit? If Bats was her man, who was paying him for the job? And handsomely, too, if the argument she’d overheard between him and Nellie was linked to the case. What about Nellie? Everything considered, it would be better if Red could find out who was behind both break-ins, and retrieve the statue from them without bringing Bats into it.

Red exited the streetcar and walked the short distance to the office. She checked her watch. Nearly midday, later than she expected.

Was Evadne wondering where she’d gone despite her warning she’d likely be late? Probably believed she’d gotten drunk again, she thought bitterly. Well, Evadne had it wrong. Even if she’d had a snoot full, it wasn’t any of Evadne’s damned business.

Me and Evadne are just business partners, for God’s sake. We damn well ain’t married.

Filled with bubbling resentment, she stomped up the stairs and barely resisted the urge to slam open the door. Evadne glanced up as she entered. Their eyes met. The relief in Evadne’s expression lasted only a second but still took the wind out of Red’s sudden anger.

“Good morning,” Evadne said.

“Morning.” Red poured herself a mug of coffee. She moved to the window and stared out over the city as she drank. The remaining embers of her short-lived temper died.

“Did you find out anything from your friend?”

Red didn’t turn around at once, concerned by her completely unfounded anger. Her words to Joe came back to mind. Was she losing control?

“Red? Are you all right?”

Red finally turned and gave Evadne a crooked smile. “Yeah, sure.”

Evadne didn’t appear to believe her, but to Red’s relief, she didn’t argue the point. “So did you have any luck?”

Red settled into her chair and put her feet on the desk, getting Evadne’s usual disapproving look. “Yes and no,” she replied.

Evadne raised an eyebrow.

Red felt a sudden rush of relief and wondered why.

“Are you going to clarify that statement?” Evadne asked.

“Yup.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Heavens, you are annoying this morning.”

Smirking, Red opened the morning Herald.

Evadne felt certain Red wasn’t telling her something, which seemed to be the usual state of affairs. She tried reminding herself that Red was used to keeping her own counsel and wouldn’t be able to change the habit at the drop of a hat, but that didn’t help very much.

A knock on the door saved her from further worrying. She got up and opened the door, surprised to recognize the middle-aged and horribly overdressed woman on the other side.

“Mrs. Thistle,” she said and opened the door wider.

“Oh, Evadne, I need your help desperately. You must find my poor little boy.”

“Come in. Please take a seat.”

Mrs. Thistle entered tentatively, as if unsure what she would find. She gave the room, and Red, a dismissive once-over and returned her attention to Evadne.

“Your mother said you would be able to help me.” An expression of studied helplessness appeared on the woman’s face. “Please say you can!”

Little boy? Evadne wondered. As far as she knew, Mrs. Thistle had no children. “Please, take a seat.”

Finally, Mrs. Thistle sat in a chair. Evadne noticed she didn’t take her eyes off her. In Mrs. Thistle’s view, at least, it seemed Red didn’t exist, and it also seemed Red’s initial amusement was rapidly changing into annoyance.

“Now what is the matter?” Evadne asked.

“My poor little boy. Someone must have taken him.”

“Your boy?” Red finally spoke up. “Have you been to the police?”

Mrs. Thistle nodded without looking at Red. “They said he would come back on his own when he got hungry enough.”

Suddenly realizing who the “little boy” had to be, Evadne said, “We are talking about your dog, aren’t we?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Thistle’s voice rose to a wail. “Horatio Finneas Barker III. My poor little boy, my poor Horry.”

Red rolled her eyes, forcing Evadne to suppress a smile, and picked up her newspaper again.

I’m being left to deal with this one by myself, am I? Thank you so very much, partner, Evadne thought. “Please, calm down, Mrs. Thistle,” she said. She imagined the pampered little Pekingese trying to survive outside without much luck. He would soon miss the luxury and the regular meals of his former life. “I have to agree with the police. He’ll probably come back on his own.”

“No, he’s been kidnapped. I know he has.”

“Of course Evadne will take your case, Mrs. Thistle.” Red put down the newspaper.

For the first time, their would-be client actually looked at Red, giving Evadne the chance to send a warning glare in Red’s direction, which didn’t work.

“Won’t you, Evadne?” Red said.

Despite a deadpan expression, Red’s sea-green eyes twinkled with mischief. Racking her brains, Evadne could find no way out. Even so, it took a heroic effort not to object. Giving Red a look that promised payback in spades, she bit the bullet.

“Of course I will, Mrs. Thistle,” she said.

Utter gratitude flooded Mrs. Thistle’s face. “Oh, thank you, thank you. I will pay whatever you think suitable.”

“I think you should go home, Mrs. Thistle.” Red got up to open the door. “Evadne will come by later to get all the relevant details.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, thank you.”

Evadne helped Mrs. Thistle to her feet and hurried her out the door, a stream of thanks continuing until the door closed.

Glaring at an unrepentantly grinning Red, Evadne said, “You beast!”

“Your first solo case, Evadne. You should be proud.”

“I… I…” Evadne stared at Red. “But a missing dog?”

“We all start somewhere.” Red flopped into her chair. “I’d say you know the animal in question—a pampered pooch?”

“Oh, heavens, yes. The poor little thing probably just wanted to try being a real dog for a while.”

“Won’t go far, then. A couple of prime steaks should have him trotting home, happy as a lark.”

Evadne frowned. “I’m not so sure. I seem to remember he wasn’t viewed with quite the same level of love by the staff.”

“A doggy-cide?” Red leaned forward with an expression of badly feigned shock. “How appalling.”

“You are horrible.”

“So was Mrs. Thistle.”

“Yes, I’m afraid she is.” Evadne made a face.

“But we need the work,” Red said.

“Yes, we do.”

Red leaned back in her chair, looking smug. “So… your first case.”

“It would seem I can’t escape it.”

“Good girl.”

“I am not a girl.”

“Strange.” Red gave her a thorough examination from the tips of her shoes to the top of her head. “You certainly look like one to me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do?”

“Yes.”

“Being infuriating again, huh?”

“Yes!” Evadne exclaimed. Red grinned. After a moment, Evadne returned the smile. “You are impossible.”

“And you love it.”

“Gah!” There was nothing more Evadne could say. This round definitely went to the exasperating redhead. “Well, it appears my afternoon is going to consist of tracking down an annoying little dog. What about you?”

Red made no reply.

Was she doing the silent routine again? “Visiting your friend?” Evadne pressed.

“No.”

“So?” Come on, Red, speak to me.

Red had a distinctly sheepish air. “Gotta collect my laundry.”

“Your what?”

“My laundry, my washing, my clothes, okay?”

Why was Red defensive? “Your friend did your laundry?”

“No, Gina did.”

“Gina?” Not another one. Evadne groaned internally.

“Joe’s wife.”

Evadne bit her lip before she said something she’d probably regret, like demanding to know why Red hadn’t come to her. Joe was a much older friend than she could claim to be. It made sense Red would fall back on his friendship first. Still, it felt horribly like a rebuff.

“Joe Martelli’s wife?”

“Yeah,” Red said. “Not that I wanted her to.”

“Then how did she manage to get hold of them?”

“She stole them while I was in the bath.”

“At Joe’s house?”

“Yeah.”

“And Gina took your clothes?”

“Yeah. I told her not to, but she damn well whipped them out from under my nose.”

Red’s face was such a picture of bemused frustration that Evadne couldn’t help laughing.

“Hey, cut that out. It ain’t funny.”

“Of course not.” Evadne schooled her expression in an attempt at solemnity. From Red’s scowl, she wasn’t doing a very convincing job.

“Ain’t you got a dog to find?” Red asked.

“Any suggestions?”

Red smirked, clearly enjoying every moment of her exasperation. Evadne was surprised when she actually got a sensible response.

“You know what the dog looks like, right?” Red asked.

“Yes.”

“Then try the city pounds first.” Red pulled out her notepad and scribbled on a page. She tore the page out and offered it to Evadne. “Here’s a list.”

“You know them from memory?”

Red shrugged. “I’ve found my fair share of lost pooches over the years.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Evadne tucked the list into her handbag. She would try to decipher it later. Red’s handwriting was definitely not one of her strong points. She considered asking Red over for dinner again, but her instincts warned against it. She just hoped Red could find somewhere to stay tonight. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked.

“I reckon.”

“Good-bye, then.”

Red rolled her eyes. “Go on, get out. Go hunt for your hound, Sherlock.”

Evadne put on her coat and hat. As she was pulling on her gloves, she glanced across at Red, who had retreated behind the newspaper, but she made out enough to know there was still a smile on Red’s face.

The good-natured banter had been a relief, even if it was to her cost. Such easy humor had been sorely missing from their friendship over the last few weeks. She hoped the teasing over her first case was a sign that Red’s almost continually foul mood was finally beginning to lift.

*   *   *

“Come on, Red, one meal ain’t going to kill you,” Joe said.

“You’ve done too much already.” Red glimpsed the pile of neatly folded washing on the sideboard behind Joe.

“Bullshit!”

“I’d best go.” If she could just get past him…

“You gonna make me tie you to the chair?”

“You can try.” Red flashed him a feral smile as she tried to work out if she could grab her clothes and escape without destroying the kitchen.

“Stop it, you two.” Gina gave them a warning glare. “I swear you’re worse than the girls.”

“He started it,” Red protested.

“And I’ll finish it,” Gina said implacably. “I haven’t prepared extra for nothing.”

“You’d best do what she says.” Joe tried to stifle a grin.

Red wasn’t impressed. She was just about to tell Joe exactly how unimpressed when the kitchen door opened, and a much younger voice joined in. “Is Auntie Wolfie coming to dinner?” Mary Ann asked.

Red’s glare hardened. “Bringing out the big guns, huh?” she asked Joe.

Joe didn’t say anything, but she noticed the slightest flicker of uncertainty in his gaze.

“Are you?” the youngest Martelli daughter asked in an excited, five-year-old’s soprano.

Red knelt and looked into Mary Ann’s eyes. “You want me to?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Then I will. Just lose the Auntie sh—stuff, okay?”

Mary Ann nodded seriously, rushed out of the room, and called out the joyous news to her sister.

Red stood and met another pair of earnest brown eyes. “Shame on you, Giuseppe Martelli.”

Joe grinned sheepishly. “Well, you shouldn’t be so damned pigheaded.”

It seemed her friends were ganging up on her, Red thought, wondering if Evadne and Joe had exchanged notes on the best way to do it. She let out a deep, weary sigh.

Joe’s face immediately brightened when he realized he’d won this round.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay,” Red said. “Jeez, you and Evadne are as bad as each other.”

“If you mean we both care for you, then yes, we are,” Joe said, suddenly serious. “Why won’t you accept that?”

Red shrugged. She couldn’t put the reasons into words. It just didn’t seem right to take advantage of her friends’ good natures.

She was saved from the awkward silence by the arrival of both Martelli girls in an explosion of noise. In the blink of an eye, she found herself dragged out of the room by Alex, with Mary Ann in close support. Apparently, there was something upstairs she had to see.

Much to Red’s relief, Joe rescued her an hour later. The new dolls weren’t really up her alley. She did suggest a couple of things that Alex and Mary Ann could try with them, as long as Gina never found out where the idea for parachuting dolls came from.

She left Joe getting the girl’s washed and ready for dinner and headed downstairs. The table in the dining room had been laid with silverware. ”Oh, great, not even a kitchen table dinner,” she muttered.

Entering the kitchen, she found a one-woman flurry of activity as Gina pulled plates and dishes out of the oven and applied finishing touches to others.

“Need a hand?” Red offered.

“Wash them first.”

Red washed her hands in the sink and dried them on a tea towel. “Ready.”

“Can you take the plates through?” When Red moved to pick them up, Gina added, “Careful, they’re hot. Use a cloth.”

Red gingerly touched the side of a plate. Not burning hot, but she wouldn’t want to carry them too long. She fetched a cloth and carried the plates out.

Joe was already in the dining room, settling the girls. Neither Alex nor Mary Ann made it easy for him.

Red set down the plates and went back for the next load, a smile on her face.

A few minutes later, she and the Martellis sat around the table in contented silence as they dove into the meal. After an initial rush, the eating slowed and conversation began.

“So what you up to, little Wolf? Any more cases?” Joe asked.

Red decided to forgive him for corralling her into staying. “A couple,” she answered. “You remember the guy I mentioned, Theodore Criffy?”

“Evadne’s maybe stepfather?”

“That’s the one. He had a break-in a couple of nights ago. A gold statue was stolen from his safe. The cops are being their usual idiot selves, so he’s asked us to investigate.”

“Just a statue?”

“Yeah. I reckon it was stolen to order.”

Joe studied her intently for a moment. “You have someone in mind, don’t you?”

“Bats Sullivan.”

He whistled through his teeth. “I thought Bats was retired.”

“You ain’t the only one, but I know he’s been doing something, and I reckon this was it.”

“I did some checking up on Mr. Criffy after…” Joe paused and glanced at Gina. Busy with Mary Ann, she was apparently oblivious to his conversation with Red. “I thought you might like a bit of background on him. Did you know he’s running for mayor next year? He’s got a good chance apparently.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“He’s old money, too. He was good friends with Leo Van Deemin, Evadne’s father.”

Red frowned. Evadne hadn’t told her that… at least, she didn’t think so. She might not have been listening, of course, but she was pretty sure she would have remembered Evadne saying that Theo had been pals with her pa.

“Do I gather from the scowl on that ugly mug of yours that Evadne didn’t tell you?” Joe asked.

“No, she didn’t.”

Joe shuffled in his seat and glanced at Gina again. He lowered his voice. “There were rumors that he and Mrs. Van Deemin were more than just friends long before Leo’s death, and his guilt over the relationship drove him to leave after Leo died.”

“Interesting.”

“Of course, there were always rumors about the Van Deemins. Both of them.”

“How did he die?”

“Leo Van Deemin?”

“Yeah. Who else do you think I meant? The President?”

Joe’s brow furrowed in concentration. “I’m not—no, wait, if I remember rightly, there was an accident. Fell off a horse, or something of the sort, and broke his neck. Nothing suspicious if that’s what you’re driving at.”

Red gave him a guilty little smile. “That obvious, huh?”

“Just a little. Anything else for the pair of you to get your teeth into?”

“Evadne’s got her first solo case.” She couldn’t help smirking at the memory of Evadne’s exasperation.

“Why doesn’t that sound like a good thing? What is it?” he asked in mock horror. “Not a lost dog, surely?”

Red’s smirk grew bigger.

“You haven’t?” Joe laughed. “That’s just plain cruel.”

“Hey, she has to start somewhere.”

“And the fact you hate lost dog cases has nothing to do with it.”

“Don’t you like doggies, Wolfie?” Mary Ann asked.

Red met the child’s earnest gaze. “No, sweetheart, I like dogs well enough.”

“Then why don’t you want to find them if they get losted?”

How to explain to a child that it was the rich, spoiled, and almost universally obnoxious humans who came to her to find their pets, and that was what she didn’t like? “If you had a doggie, and it got lost, what would you do?” she asked.

“Go look for it.”

“And put up notices,” Alex said.

“And would your ma and pa help?” Red asked.

Mary Ann glanced quickly at Joe and nodded.

“And your friends?”

“Yes. And the people on the street.”

From Joe’s expression, he doubted that last one, but Red thought she had the right idea.

“Well, the people who come to me don’t go and look for themselves,” she said. “They might send someone else out to search, but usually they just come straight to me. Does that sound like they love their doggies?”

Mary Ann thought about the question for a little while. “No,” she said solemnly. “If they loved them, they would go look themselves.”

“And that’s why I don’t like them.”

Mary Ann’s nod was thoughtful. “Then I don’t like them, neither.”

“I always knew you were a smart cookie.”

Red caught a groan from Joe as Mary Ann’s eyes widened. “Cookie? Can we have cookies, now? Please? Can we? Wolfie can have one, too.”

“You just had to mention cookies, didn’t you?” Joe muttered under his breath.

Red couldn’t help laughing. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted me here. You’ve no one to blame but yourself.”

Joe scowled at her and excused himself from the table. It looked like Mary Ann was going to get her cookies, Red thought. Her smile faded as she considered what Joe had told her about Evadne’s father and Theo. Why hadn’t Evadne said anything? Could it be she didn’t know? That didn’t seem likely. Even if the younger Evadne hadn’t known, Red couldn’t believe she wouldn’t have heard some rumors about Theo and her mother, especially now that Theo and Mrs. Van Deemin were an item.

Didn’t Evadne trust her with family secrets? She’d dragged most of Red’s out of her, but was it another story when it came to the skeletons in her own closet?

Her musing was broken by Joe’s return. He carried a large ceramic jar. The girls’ happy squeals confirmed this was the cookie jar. He gave her a sidelong look, part warning, part mute appeal, and addressed his expectant audience.

“Okay, who wants a cookie?”

Red put up her hand and stifled the grin that threatened to break out at the exasperated expression on her old friend’s face.

Chapter 11

December 8: Fugitive from injustice

Red woke with a sneeze. Something was tickling her nose. She realized after a moment that the culprit was a blanket. A fluffy blanket.

The fire had died away to almost nothing, and the first hint of dawn colored the curtained windows a lighter shade of gray. She’d fallen asleep in a chair again. She hadn’t meant to, and she briefly wondered if Joe had slipped her a Mickey before dismissing the idea as ridiculous. Most likely, the combination of a full belly, a warm room, and quality liquor had done the job well enough without the need for such shenanigans.

She sat up, and the blanket slipped down her chest to pool on her lap. She located a lamp on the table at her side and fumbled in the darkness for the unfamiliar switch. A circle of light spilled across the table and over her legs as the lamp came on with an audible click.

The first things she noticed were the white, fluffy bunnies on the blue blanket. Whose idea was that? Probably Gina’s. Joe’s wife had a decidedly wicked sense of humor sometimes.

She stood and groaned as her body objected to another night sleeping in a chair, even a well-padded one. Stretching, she heard the usual pops and cracks. She pulled out her watch. It was a couple of minutes before six o’clock. Time to get moving.

Not a whisper of noise from the kitchen, she noted. If she was quick, she could sneak out before she got roped into accepting breakfast as well. The Martellis had been more than generous already, and she wasn’t one to overstay her welcome.

She slipped off her boots and padded into the kitchen to take a quick wash in the sink, risking the sound of the water waking someone. She rubbed the worst of the fur off her teeth with her finger. That would have to do until she got to the office and could do a better job.

Finally, she opened her notebook and scribbled a quick note of thanks to Joe and Gina and the promise to repay their kindness. She tore out the page and left the note in the center of the table. At the door, she put on her boots, carefully pulled the bolts, and turned the key. As soon as the door opened enough for her to squeeze through, she went outside, closed the door with equal care, locked it, and slipped the key under the bottom.

After a final check to ensure the house remained quiet, she headed out of the yard and moved along the alley to the street. She decided there was time to get breakfast on the way to the office and still be there well before nine o’clock.

She wondered how Evadne had fared with her Pekingese hunt. Knowing Evadne, she had probably found it at the first pound she checked. Red had expected, even hoped, it would take a hell of a lot longer.

She arrived at the office just after eight o’clock. She’d eaten breakfast on the way, as planned, and felt pretty good. A proper wash and changing her shirt improved her mood even more.

The morning passed peacefully. She took the opportunity to write up her notes on the Criffy case. Evadne’s continued absence suggested she hadn’t had any luck at the dog pounds. Red felt a perverse pleasure that Evadne’s first solo case wasn’t going to be a cakewalk. Not that she doubted Evadne’s abilities. Sometimes, it seemed to her that things dropped into Evadne’s lap far too easily, like money, beauty, and friends. She thought it would do Evadne good to have to work at her first case.

Unfortunately, her peace didn’t last. The sound of running footsteps caught her attention. By the time the door slammed open, her revolver was drawn and ready. She caught a fleeting glimpse of a pale face before a woman entered and collapsed on the floor.

Red moved to the doorway. Hearing no sounds of pursuit, she peeped around the door frame. The corridor was empty. She waited a couple of seconds to be sure and then darted to the top of the stairs. Her blood surged through her veins. She was ready and willing for a fight. She leaned over the banister but saw no sign of anyone in the stairwell.

She returned to her office, unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed, but reasonably certain no imminent threat existed. She locked the door and turned to her unexpected visitor. It took a second to realize she knew the unconscious woman: Nellie Reilly.

She knelt by Nellie’s side and felt for a pulse, finding it fast but strong. A dark stain on Nellie’s coat sleeve got her attention. Closer inspection showed a pair of bullet holes had torn through the cloth.

Red removed Nellie’s coat as carefully as possible. By the time she finished, Nellie was coming around and complaining halfheartedly.

Seeming to remember where she was, Nellie whispered, “Red?”

“I’m here.” When Nellie tried to sit up, Red gently held her down. “Just lay still, sweetheart,” she said.

“They shot me. I tried to lose them…”

“Yeah, I noticed the perforations. Don’t worry. You lost them good and proper.”

Nellie relaxed a little, grimacing. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Being shot does that.” Red pulled the knife from her boot. Cutting open the sleeve of Nellie’s blouse, she was relieved to find the bullet wound no more than a nasty nick, enough to bleed quite impressively but not in any way life threatening. She retrieved the first-aid box from the desk as well as one of the chairs. She put the chair by Nellie’s feet, took hold of her ankles and lifted her legs.

“Hey, watcha doing?” Nellie asked in alarm.

“It should help you feel better.”

“You ain’t trying to peek up my dress?”

Red laughed. “Not this time, sweetheart.” She pulled the chair into position with her foot and lowered Nellie’s feet onto the seat. “So what happened?” she asked.

“I was at Bats’s place. He was—” Nellie broke off as a sob suddenly choked her. “Oh, God, Red, he’s dead.”

“Bats?”

“Yeah, he just sat there. Dead. Blood running down his face. Oh, God. Oh, God.” Nellie was crying in earnest now.

Red busied herself dressing and bandaging Nellie’s wound until the sobs eased a little. Blood she could cope with. Tears were another matter. “Who shot at you?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Nellie frowned. “There was someone in the room. I didn’t see him to start with. I only saw him when he moved. I just ran. That’s when he shot at me.”

“Smart thing to do.”

Nellie gave her a weak smile.

“Do you think you’d recognize him if you saw him again?” Red asked.

“No, I only got a glimpse. He was big, that’s about all I can remember.”

“Did he get a good look at you?”

Nellie’s already pale face turned whiter. “I can’t see how he couldn’t. Do you think he’ll come after me? I really didn’t see him or anything.”

The shooter wouldn’t know that, Red thought. If he had any idea of Nellie’s identity, he would certainly come after her. Even if her identity remained unknown, it wouldn’t take much to find out. A few routine questions in the right places, and the killer would be knocking on Nellie’s door in no time.

“I think the safe bet is to get you somewhere out of the way for a while,” Red said.

“But what about the café?”

“Finn can keep an eye on it, can’t he?”

Clearly scared, Nellie watched Red with big brown eyes. “You really think I’m in danger,” she said, a statement rather than a question.

“The shooter obviously ain’t worried about killing, Nellie. I really think it would be safest for you to get out of town for a while.”

“But where? I don’t know anyone outside of Boston.” Nellie began to cry again. “I don’t know where to go.”

Red waited awkwardly until Nellie cried herself out and then patted her arm. “I know someone who can help.” She moved to the telephone and put the call through. Within a couple of rings, a familiar male voice answered.

“Mrs. Davenport’s residence.”

“James, is Evadne there?”

“I believe she’s out dog hunting.”

Damn it. “Okay. If you hear from her, get her to call me at the office. It’s urgent.”

“I understand.”

“Thanks, James.” Putting down the phone receiver, she checked on Nellie, who didn’t look so pale now. “How you feeling?”

“Better.”

“Think you can get up?”

“Reckon so.”

Red helped Nellie to her feet and into a chair. Some of the pallor reappeared in her face, but Nellie didn’t keel over. Remembering the pain medication the doctor had given her, Red dug the packet out of her duffle bag and offered one to her.

“Should help with your arm,” she said.

Nellie took the pill. “Do you have some water?”

“Sure.” Red picked up the empty water jug and hesitated. “I need to leave the office for a minute to get water. You gonna be okay?”

Nellie nodded. “Just be quick.”

“As a flash.”

Red returned to find everything exactly as she’d left it. She poured a glass of water from the filled jug. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Nellie swallowed the pill and drank almost all the water in the glass. “Do you think he’ll find me here?”

Red didn’t know. It was possible that whoever had killed Bats would find out about her visit to Nellie and decide to investigate her. “I reckon they’ll check the obvious places first. We should be okay for now.”

The telephone rang, the bell sounding loud and ominous in the quiet office. Nellie let out an alarmed squawk as Red hurried to answer the call.

“Yeah?” she said.

“Red, I got a message from James telling me to telephone you,” Evadne said. “What’s happened?”

“No time now. I need you to bring Bessie around to the office.”

“Bring… Red? What on—”

“Now, Evadne. I’ll explain when you get here, okay?”

From the brief but telling silence that followed, her request clearly wasn’t okay, but thankfully Evadne didn’t argue.

“I’m on my way,” she said and disconnected the call.

“Who was that?” Nellie sounded suspicious. “You asked about Bats when you were at my place. Why?” She sat on the edge of the chair and appeared ready to bolt.

“Hey, Nellie, I had nothing to do with Bats’s murder.” As Nellie seemed to relax a little, Red remained perched on the edge of her desk, wondering if it was time to lay her cards on the table. Yeah, it’s only right, she decided.

“I’m working on a case for a guy called Theodore Criffy.” She noted no recognition in Nellie’s eyes. “A very valuable statue was stolen from his safe a couple of days ago. The safecracking was so skillfully done that I can’t think of anyone other than Bats who could have done it.”

“And you reckon that was the job he was talking about?”

Red nodded.

“So you ain’t been out on the street then?” Nellie asked angrily. “You lied to me.”

“No. I’m homeless right enough.”

“And the rest?”

“I never actually lied.”

“But you let me believe what you wanted me to.”

Red shrugged. She’d known this would happen the moment Nellie arrived at the office, but she wouldn’t apologize for doing her job. “I needed to find out what Bats was up to.”

“And you used our friendship to do it. You bastard,” Nellie said with little heat in her voice. She sounded more disappointed than angry. “What happened to your side?” she asked. “Not the landlord after all, I guess.”

“Someone took a potshot at me, too.”

“A pity they didn’t do a better job.” Nellie slumped back in the chair and closed her eyes.

Red wondered if Nellie had fainted, but her eyes suddenly snapped open.

She pinned Red with a fierce glare. “Find out who killed Bats, Wolverton. If you don’t, I’ll never forgive you.”

Red met her stare without flinching. “I’ll find the killer. I promise you.”

Nellie studied her face for a long moment before nodding. “I shall hold you to that.”

She and Nellie sat in uncomfortable silence for a good twenty minutes before the sound of footsteps had her drawing her gun and moving to the side of the door. The handle rattled. She heard the scrape of a key in the lock and the sound of Evadne muttering under her breath. Letting out a small sigh of relief, she backed away as the door opened.

“Why was the door locked?” Evadne stared at Nellie, then at the bandage on her arm, then at Red. “What’s happened?”

“Mrs. Natalina Reilly, meet Mrs. Evadne Davenport, my business partner,” Red said.

“This is your friend?” Evadne asked Red.

“Ex-friend,” Nellie said in an icy voice.

Evadne glanced in puzzlement between Red and Nellie.

“C’mon. Let’s get out of here.” Red moved to help Nellie stand, but she shrugged off her attempt to assist with a clipped, “I can manage, thank you.”

Evadne gave Red a bemused look.

“Bessie? Where is she?” Red asked sharply. Her unstable temper wasn’t reacting well to Evadne’s lack of action and Nellie’s cold shoulder.

“No need to shout.” Evadne offered her hand to Nellie. “Let me help you.”

Nellie accepted Evadne’s help while Red ground her teeth. She followed the women out of the office, locked the door, and darted ahead to make sure the coast was clear.

They reached Bessie without any problems. Nellie let Evadne help her into the backseat. Red tried to get into the driver’s side, but Evadne got there first.

“I’m driving,” Evadne said, “so don’t bother trying to suggest otherwise.”

Biting her lip, Red rushed around to the passenger side. “Drive,” she said as she clambered in.

“Where to?”

“Just drive.”

Muttering under her breath, Evadne did as she was told.

When they were a couple of blocks away from the office, Red relaxed. “We need to find somewhere for Nellie to hole up for a while, somewhere out of the city,” she said.

“What happened?” Evadne asked.

“Someone murdered Bats Sullivan this morning. Nellie arrived while his killer was still there. He shot at her, but she managed to get away.”

Evadne gave her a surprised glance before returning to concentrate on the road. “Who shot at her? Was it the same man we saw?”

“She didn’t see his face. The problem is, he don’t know that.”

“I see.” Evadne frowned in thought. “So we need somewhere isolated, a place no one’s likely to check.”

“Right. I reckoned you’d be able to help on that score.”

After another couple of blocks, Evadne changed direction.

“Got somewhere?” Red asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now stop.”

Evadne glanced at her. “What?”

“Stop. This is where I get out.”

“But?”

“You take Nellie wherever you thought of. Get her settled.”

“It’s a—”

“No, don’t tell me. Are you packing?” When Evadne nodded, Red went on, “Good. Stay with her tonight, just in case. I wanna be on the safe side, okay?”

“All right,” Evadne said, clearly not convinced. She nevertheless brought the Ford to a halt. “I’ll leave a message at the house to let you know we’ve arrived.”

“Good.” Red got out of the car, leaned in the open door, and glanced at the backseat. Nellie looked like crap. She couldn’t say she was surprised. She gave Nellie a quick, apologetic smile that wasn’t returned before saying to Evadne, “Be careful, okay? No risks.”

“Pot. Kettle.”

Red laughed. “Just do as I say, not as I do.”

“Red, if this killer is one of the same people we saw at Arden Manor, won’t he be after us, too?”

Red hadn’t thought of the situation that way. Evadne made a damned good point—another reason to get her and Nellie out of there. “He would have to find out who we are first,” she said. “There were a lot of people at your ma’s shindig.”

Evadne didn’t appear convinced, but Red really hadn’t expected her to be. “All right,” she said at last. “But please be careful.”

Red nodded. “Good luck.” She shut the door and watched until the Ford drove out of sight, wondering if she had done the right thing in letting Evadne go by herself, especially after the concern her partner had raised.

Evadne hadn’t seemed very happy about going off on her own either, but there were things Red needed to check as soon as possible. First on the list was Bats Sullivan’s room.

After riding a streetcar most of the way, she walked the last couple of blocks to the tenement. As she rounded the corner of the building, her pace slowed. A cop stood at the building’s entrance. He appeared half-asleep, obviously not giving a damn about his duty. Just her luck that she recognized him. Officer Muller wasn’t the good sort of cop. In her opinion, he was as thick as shit and twice as offensive.

Red had suffered more than one run-in with Muller over the years. She really didn’t want another. He’d certainly recognize her if she tried to brazen her way inside. He wouldn’t be able to pin anything on her that would stick, but he’d give it a damned good try and take his time doing it. If she wanted a gander at the room, she’d have to use the back door.

She walked purposefully toward the narrow alley that ran down the back of the tenement. Look like you’re supposed to be there, she told herself, and that is what most people will believe. She resisted the urge to check on Muller.

For a moment, she wished Evadne had come with her, a surprising thought. She usually preferred doing this sort of job by herself. Evadne might be as dependable and as unflappable as they come, but in the tenements of the South End, such a well-bred woman would stick out like an immaculately clad and manicured sore thumb.

Red continued along the alley until she reached the fire escape. After checking up and down the alley, she jumped for the ladder. She caught the lowest rung and pulled the ladder down, frowning at the metallic grating noise. She waited and listened for any alarm—not that anyone in this neighborhood was likely to alert the police. If someone did catch her, the punishment would be immediate and brutal but probably not fatal. At least, she hoped to survive the experience.

She checked that her Smith and Wesson was snug in its holster and started to climb.

The fire escape clanged and rattled alarmingly as she moved. She was torn between the fear that someone would hear her or the pile of rusty metal would simply tear away from the wall. She peered up through the interlaced metalwork. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, so she climbed the rest of the way to the platform outside Bats’s apartment window.

A glance in the window told her the room was empty. The police and the meat wagon must have been and gone. She knelt by the sill, worked her knife blade under the window, and felt for the catch on the other side. When it popped open, she slid the window up and slipped inside the room.

The apartment door was closed, and the furniture apparently undisturbed. Only the stained armchair showed evidence of violence. Blood had soaked into the top and down the back. Another liquid stained the seat. The room stank of death, the smells of blood, piss, and shit mixing unpleasantly in the back of her throat.

The room looked neat and orderly, almost compulsively so. She saw signs of a halfhearted search—probably the cops—but no hint of a struggle. Either Bats had been taken completely by surprise, which seemed unlikely for an old pro like him, or he’d known and, if not trusted, then at least not feared his killer. Whoever it was, the killer must have popped him with such shocking swiftness, Bats hadn’t had a chance to react.

She moved into the bedroom. It was even neater than the living room, meaning the cops hadn’t bothered to search for evidence. The bed was so immaculately made, she thought it would make a head nurse weep and strike a drill sergeant dumb. Despite the temptation, she resisted the urge to bounce a coin off the tight blanket.

Frowning, she realized the cover wasn’t quite perfect. One “hospital corner” was wrinkled, just a little off as if it had been disturbed and remade. She carefully pulled the bedding away. The mattress underneath had a slit in it about six inches long. Bats’s stash, she thought. Cautiously, she wormed her hand inside the mattress and found nothing. She withdrew her hand and put the bedding back in place. Had Bats’s killer cleaned him out after popping him? If so, how had he known where to find Bats’s hidey-hole without ransacking the place?

A shiver ran down her spine. She started to sweat despite the cold air, gripped by the absolute certainly that someone was in the room with her. She ran her damp palms down the front of her thighs in an attempt to dry them. As she stood, the skin on the back of her neck tingled with frightening intensity. She forced herself to turn slowly, her hand ready on her revolver, expecting to find someone in the doorway behind her even though common sense told her she’d have heard anyone entering the apartment. Finding no one there came as no real relief as the feeling of not being alone only increased in its creepiness.

Red left the way she’d entered, hurrying down the fire escape as fast as she dared, the sound of her heartbeat loud in her ears. When she reached the lowest landing, she pulled the ladder back up into place with shaking hands.

“Get a fucking grip, idiot,” she muttered. She hadn’t been this spooked since breaking into that house while working on the Franklin case, and look where that had got her.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves and the shaking in her hands. Once she was certain she wouldn’t lose her grip, she swung down to hang from the lowest landing. After a moment, she let go and gave a slight “oof” as she landed on the ground below.

Throwing caution to the wind, she sprinted out of the alley as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels.

Several blocks later, she finally slowed her flight and then stopped. Leaning back against a wall, she took great gulps of air and waited for the tremors in her legs to ease. The memory of the fear she’d felt inside Bats’s apartment brought a brief surge of bile into her throat. She took off her hat to run a shaky hand through sweat-dampened hair.

“Fuck, that was weird. Very weird,” she said to herself.

She hadn’t experienced the same feeling of being watched that the late and very much not lamented Clara Wight had somehow generated. What she’d felt in Bats’s apartment had seemed far more basic, like a taloned hand reaching down into her gut to twist her insides into a jangled mess of expectant terror. The feeling had more in common with what she’d felt while dozing on the stairs at Arden Manor during Mrs. Van Deemin’s soirée, but a hundred times worse.

Whatever the cause, she never wanted to feel that way again. Red pushed herself away from the wall, took one more deep breath, and let it out slowly as the final tendrils of dread left her. She went over the little her visit had told her. Bats had been taken by surprise. His killer appeared to know where he’d hidden his stash. Both facts strongly suggested that Bats had known his killer, but they didn’t help her work out the shooter’s identity.

Red ran her hand through her hair one more time and settled her hat back on her head. No point in hanging around here any longer. She just hoped Evadne was having better luck getting Nellie settled somewhere safe.

*   *   *

Evadne pulled the LaSalle off the road and parked under a stand of trees. The boathouse wasn’t far, but she and Nellie would have to walk the rest of the way. She glanced in the mirror at her passenger in the backseat. The paleness had left Nellie’s face, and she was looking around with interest.

“Is this the place?” Nellie asked.

“Nearly. We have a bit of a walk now.”

Nellie got out of the car and stretched. “Where are we?”

Evadne considered the question. “It might be best for you not to know.”

After staring at her a couple of seconds, Nellie nodded slowly. “Okay. Makes sense given that I ain’t going nowhere.” She leaned back into the LaSalle and pulled out an armful of brown paper parcels, too many for her to carry.

“Here, let me take some,” Evadne offered.

“What about the rest?”

“I’ll bring them later. I need to find a telephone to let Red know we’re all right.”

Nellie frowned at the mention of Red’s name, but she handed over some of the parcels after Evadne retrieved a flashlight from the trunk.

“Let’s hope we have enough to keep you going,” Evadne said.

“You really shouldn’t have bought all that stuff for me, Mrs. Davenport.”

“You needed it. After all, we don’t know how long you may have to be out here.”

Evadne had spotted the general store in one of the small towns they’d passed through. It had been a little risky to stop, given Red’s urgency about getting Nellie out of Boston, but there’d been no sign of anyone following them. In fact, the roads had remained empty for most of their journey. She’d decided they were going to need groceries, and Nellie needed some more suitable clothes for the hiding place she had planned. She was just glad a day spent dog hunting meant she was dressed practically enough to manage the forthcoming trek through the snow.

“I’ve got money,” Nellie said. “We could have gone back—”

“I don’t think that would have been a good idea,” Evadne said. Red certainly hadn’t, that much was certain. “Let’s get moving. I don’t want to be walking along this path in the dark if I don’t have to.”

Though the snow slowed their progress, it took a little under thirty minutes to reach their destination. The boathouse looked much as Evadne remembered it. A bit more threadbare perhaps, with the paint peeling like the bark of the silver birches that surrounded it.

She opened the door and led the way inside. Lake water lapped against the pilings that held up the decking around the edge of the small dock. She saw a canoe upside down on a stand but no sailboat. Of course, there hadn’t been a sailboat for years. Sailing was her father’s passion, not one she shared.

She took Nellie up a set of stairs and through the door at the top. The room beyond was cold and smelled a little musty, but she knew it was used more frequently than the boathouse proper and stayed in a reasonable state of repair. It always amazed her how many fervent fishermen existed in the extended Van Deemin clan, not that any of them were hardy enough to be out on the lake in the cold of December.

She opened the stove and checked that the last user had cleared out the ashes. All the necessities for starting a fire were at hand. Satisfied, she turned to her impromptu guest.

With a small smile, Nellie gave the room a thorough once-over. “Very cozy.”

“The room should warm up nicely once the stove’s going,” Evadne told her. “Can you get a fire started while I go find a telephone? I put the groceries on the table if you want something to eat or drink.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Nellie started toward the stove and stopped after a few steps. “Before you go, you should know I’ve been thinking, trying to remember something that might help. I don’t know who Bats worked for, but he’s been going to the Fouled Anchor a lot recently. I think that might be where he met them, the people who employed him for that job.” Her voice started to tremble. She turned away and moved to the stove.

“I’ll tell Red,” Evadne promised.

“Could you ask her to get my money, too? It’s in a wallet in the red hatbox in my closet.”

Evadne frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Please, Mrs. Davenport. I’d feel a lot better if I could at least pay my way.”

“I’ll ask, but I can’t promise anything.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

As Evadne made her way back down the stairs, her hand moved to touch the weight of the pistol she had transferred from her handbag to her coat pocket. She pushed open the door and stepped into the cold air. The light already had the hazy quality of early dusk. She was going to have to get a move on if she was to get to the nearby town and back before it became fully dark. As she began walking, she wondered how Red was faring. A little frisson of fear ran down her spine, but she shook it off. Of course Red would be all right, she told herself. She’d damn well better be!

“Mrs. Davenport’s residence,” said James.

“Howdy, James,” Red said into the telephone receiver. “Have you heard anything from Evadne?”

“She called about a half hour ago. They are safely settled. She said to tell you that Mrs. Reilly believes you might find out something about the incident at a drinking establishment by the name of the Fouled Anchor.”

“The Anchor?”

“So I believe.”

“Okay, I’ll check it out.”

“And Mrs. Reilly asked whether you could fetch her money from her apartment.”

“I dunno if that’s a good idea.”

“She thought you might say that. If you do decide to try, the wallet can be found in a red hatbox in her closet.”

“Okay. I can’t promise anything, though.”

“I will convey that to them. Is there anything you would like to pass on should Mrs. Davenport call again?”

“Nope. It sounds like she has it all covered. Just tell them to take care.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Okay. Bye then, James.”

“Good-bye, Red.”

Red hung up the receiver and left the phone booth. For a moment she hesitated, unsure which direction to take. Going back to Reilly’s Café was risky. If Bats’s killer had discovered Nellie’s identity, it wouldn’t be long before they would be paying close attention to the café.

On the other hand, Nellie couldn’t be left penniless. Red had no idea how long her friend might have to stay hidden in Evadne’s little hidey-hole. Her friend? She sighed. Nellie had made it clear she didn’t consider her a friend anymore. Perhaps retrieving the nest egg would be the first step in the right direction.

Decision made, Red headed south. Not long afterward, she approached the café. She stopped a little way off, deciding to watch for any signs of danger before going any closer.

She leaned against a wall and waited. A Closed sign hung on the door. It seemed Finn wasn’t doing a very good job without Nellie there to keep him at it.

In the time she stood watching, a couple of people, probably regulars, approached the café, rattled the door handle, peered through the window, and wandered off in obvious disgust. She remained unsure whether she ought to do as Nellie asked and retrieve her money from the hatbox. Instinct warned against it, but if she succeeded, it would certainly get her back in her old friend’s good graces, or at least somewhere along the path to forgiveness.

Night had very nearly fallen before Red finally made her move. Keeping to the deepening shadows, she swiftly crossed the street, headed down the alley, and went into the yard.

She closed the gate and waited. The hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle as she saw the door to the kitchen standing open. As she moved cautiously forward, she saw no lights on in the kitchen and heard no sounds at all

Red reached the door and listened. All was quiet. She drew her revolver and pushed the door open. She took a step back. Nothing.

She peered around the door. The kitchen appeared empty. She moved inside, checking for danger. When nothing untoward happened, she continued toward the stairs, up through the sitting room, and into Nellie’s bedroom. She located the hatbox without any difficulty. Inside, she found a leather wallet that was about an inch thick and the size of a couple of bills laid side by side. She whistled through her teeth. Even if the wallet only held singles, it would add up to a sizable sum. She could understand why Nellie wanted it.

As she was coming down the stairs, she heard a noise so faint it took a moment before she realized what it was: a moan, soft and low. Revolver at the ready, she took the last few steps with infinite care. A second moan brought her attention to the preparation counter that took up most of the center of the room. The sound seemed to be coming from behind the chopping block. A couple more steps brought her to the source of the noise.

Finn lay curled up on the floor in a growing pool of blood. His face was a bloody pulp, and his hands, curled protectively on his chest, had been cut to ribbons.

He moaned, a feeble little noise that sent rage surging through Red’s body. Finn might not have been her favorite person in the world, but no one deserved the beating he’d clearly gotten. Guilt fueled her anger. Was the attack on Finn related to Bats’s murder as well? Was it a result of her poking her nose into Nellie’s business? The urge to hit something proved unbearable. She swung around to punch at the wall in impotent fury. Once. Twice. The pain helped diffuse her anger. Regaining control, she knelt by Finn’s side and laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinched and curled up tighter.

“Finn, it’s Red Wolverton,” she said. “Can you hear me?”

He relaxed a little and made noises that might have been words, so slurred she couldn’t make them out. Red holstered her revolver. As carefully as possible, she checked him for other injuries. She unbuttoned the front of his shirt and saw the bruising carried on down his torso. He’d been given a savage working over. She was unsure which was more unexpected: that whoever had beaten him so viciously had left him alive, or that he hadn’t yet died from his injuries.

She took some clean towels from a drawer and gently wrapped them around his hands, trying to ignore the broken cries of pain. Eventually, thankfully, he fainted, and she finished the rough dressings. She needed to get him to a hospital, and fast. A cab was the best option. She recalled she’d passed a taxi stand on the way to the café.

Finn moaned again, and his eyes fluttered open.

“It’s okay, Finn. I’m gonna get you some help,” she said.

“No.” He pawed weakly at Red’s arm. “Ne…” he mumbled.

“What?” Red lowered her head, trying to understand him.

“Nell…Nellie. Lookin—” He broke off, groaning.

“Nellie. Someone’s looking for Nellie?”

He gave her a faint nod.

“She’s safe. Don’t worry.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his battered face, and his body relaxed into unconsciousness.

“Fuck.” Red felt for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when she found it, though it seemed horribly weak. She needed to take him to the hospital.

She ran the half mile to the cabstand in record time, but making the surprised cabbie understand what she needed took a moment. She had almost as much trouble with his thick Scots accent. Once she and the cabbie worked out what the other was saying, he didn’t hesitate. He bundled her into his taxicab and put his foot on the gas. The cab arrived at the café before she got her breath back completely.

With the cabbie at her heels, she hurried around the back of the café and into the kitchen.

“Laird have mercy,” the cabbie gasped when he saw Finn.

“Yeah, come on, help me,” she said.

“Should we nae call the police?”

“Later. Let’s get him to the hospital first.”

The cabbie gave her a halfhearted nod. He kept glancing at Finn’s face as he and Red lifted him. Finn groaned with each movement, but at least he was still with them.

“Come on, Finn, you can do this.” She tried not to jostle him as she and the cabbie retraced their steps. The cabbie’s face had gone as pale as a sheet. It would be just her luck if he collapsed on her.

“Who wid do that tae him? He's just a cook,” the cabbie said.

“You know him?”

“Ah have breakfast here regular. Ah was here this morn.” The man gulped audibly.

“Come on, buddy, we need you to drive, okay?”

“Aye, sorry. Ah just ain’t ne'er seen… Christ, how could a’body do that? He’s had an awful hammerin’.”

Reaching the cab, they put Finn in the backseat as gently as possible. Red slid in beside him, ready to hold him still. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

The cabbie didn’t need further prompting. Stomping on the accelerator, he raced the cab through the city and down Albany Street and came to a screeching halt opposite the marble steps of the City Hospital. An unconscious Finn had to be lifted out of the vehicle and up the steps.

As Red and the cabbie came to the hospital’s main entrance, a couple of attendants took Finn from them. She turned to the cabbie.

“I’ll see to him from here,” she said. “How much do—”

“Wheesht! It’s on me.”

“Thanks.” Red gave him a hearty handshake. “Thanks a lot.”

The man pushed her gently away. “Go on, make sure he’s okay.”

Red ran up the last few steps and entered the lobby, wondering where the attendants had taken Finn. She was about to ask a passing nurse but paused. Wouldn’t it be best just to walk away now? The hospital authorities were bound to call the cops. Best to back off before she attracted any unwanted attention. Besides, she couldn’t do anything more to help Finn. She was about to leave when she noticed the blood on her hands.

A trip to the restroom soon had her hands clean. She left the hospital and heard a police siren as she walked along Massachusetts Avenue. The cops were on their way.

“Too late, blockheads,” she muttered under her breath. With Finn in safe hands, she just needed to get the money to Nellie. She could leave it at Evadne’s house. Her partner would have to come back at some point, even if it was only for a change of clothes.

Returning to the Palace, Red carefully pushed open the kitchen door. Her hope that the kitchen might be empty was shattered by the housekeeper’s presence.

“It’s about time you came by,” said Maria.

“Hi, Maria.” Red held up the wallet. “Just brought this for Evadne.” She put the wallet on the table and turned to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Red shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Stop right there.”

With an internal sigh, Red obeyed. I knew I should just have put the wallet in the mailbox

“Why won’t you accept Evadne’s offer of a place to stay?” Maria asked.

Anger tightened Red’s chest at the disapproval she heard in Maria’s voice. “I managed before, and I’ll manage now,” she said.

“No seas estúpida!”

Red didn’t speak Spanish, but she could make a damned good guess as to what that phrase meant. “Did you just call me stupid?”

“Yes. Idiota. You don’t have to do this alone, little one.”

“I do!” Red met Maria’s piercing brown eyes. “I need to.”

Maria studied her for a long minute. Red wondered if this was how insects under a magnifying glass felt.

The housekeeper’s gaze softened. “You don’t have to be afraid, Red.”

“Afraid?” Red laughed. “Afraid of what?”

“You know.”

“No, I damn well don’t. Stop talking in riddles.”

Maria sighed. “If you won’t accept Evadne’s offer, how about mine. Mi casa es tu casa.”

“Yours?” Red was puzzled. Surely Maria wasn’t offering her a place at her employer’s house? Evadne wouldn’t mind, but it seemed out of character for Maria to do so.

“Yes. Mi casa. My house. I do have a house you know. It might not be as grand as this one, but I can find you a bed—” Maria broke off, frowning. “Okay, maybe part of a bed. But it’s clean and warm, and yours if only your stubborn idiota pride will let you take it.”

Red stared at Maria, and her anger deflated instantly, replaced by uncertainty and a little shame. “I dunno,” she muttered.

“Of course you don’t.” Maria’s smile belied the exasperation in her voice. “So why don’t you just listen to Mama Maria and do as you are told?”

Mothers. What was it that left her incapable of escaping them? Red wondered. First Gina and now Maria. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Okay, I give in. You win.”

“Good. Now sit down. I have some chores to finish before we can go.”

Realizing there was nothing else she could do, Red sat at the kitchen table. Deep down, in the part of her that feared rejection and loneliness, she let out a sigh of relief.

Chapter 12

December 9: Authority and anarchy

Evadne woke to a crick in her neck and a numb backside. A quick glance showed Nellie still sleeping on the room’s single cot.

She got up from the chair and kept the blanket over her shoulders against the chill air as she shuffled over to the stove. Her knees popped loudly when she knelt to open the door and check the fire. A few embers glowed among the ashes. Enough to build on. She fed kindling, sticks, and finally a couple of logs into the stove and shut the door. She held her hands in front of the stove until she felt the warmth. Since the fire was burning nicely, she swapped her blanket for her coat, pulled on her boots, and left the room.

She climbed down the ladder and pulled on a piece of rope that led into the water. The bucket on the other end contained a bottle of milk for her morning cup of tea. She had found that Nellie, like Red, was a black coffee woman.

Evadne reentered the room to find an alarmed Nellie half-sitting up on the bed. Nellie relaxed as she saw her.

“Don’t worry, everything’s all right. I was just getting the milk,” Evadne said.

Giving her a wan smile, Nellie lay back down and propped her head up on the pillow.

Nellie didn’t seem much better for a night’s sleep. She looked tired, her face was still pale, and she had dark circles under her eyes.

Having woken up a couple of times herself, disturbed by Nellie’s tossing and turning, Evadne wasn’t surprised. Fortunately, she’d always managed to get to sleep again, but she doubted Nellie had found it so easy.

Evadne pushed the kettle and coffee pot onto the hotplate before searching for something to make her tea in. To her great surprise, she found a small, dust-covered, and tannin-stained teapot. A quick wash in the lake improved the teapot considerably, enough for her to risk giving it a try.

As she bustled around the room, she became aware of Nellie watching her.

“You’re Red’s business partner?” Nellie asked.

“For my sins,” Evadne answered.

“I’d watch my back if I were you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You heard me.”

“I thought you were Red’s friend.”

“So did I.” There was no mistaking the anger in Nellie’s voice.

“What happened?” Evadne asked.

“She lied to me.”

“What? Red never lies.”

Nellie laughed bitterly. “Believe that if you want to.”

Of course, Nellie’s observation made sense, Evadne thought. Logically, Red couldn’t do what she did without lying at some point. Anyway, who could truly claim that they never lied? Not her, even if it was just the odd, little white lie to smooth over the bumps of life. So why had Nellie’s statement made her stomach drop to somewhere down around her knees? She waited until the sinking feeling retreated. Did it really matter if Red lied now and then? She had never lied to her… or had she?

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just being a bitter, vindictive, old woman.” Nellie appeared to regret her harsh words.

“Hardly old.” Evadne smoothly made the automatic reply, her mind still fixated on what Nellie had said about Red as she pulled the simmering coffee pot off the stove and added ground coffee from a paper bag.

“Forget it, Evadne.” Nellie sounded worried. “Red didn’t actually lie to me.”

Relief swept through Evadne. How could she have doubted Red like that?

A touch of bitterness crept back into Nellie’s voice. “Of course, she did let me believe what she wanted. And I’m still mad with her. If she’d said something, then maybe I could have warned Bats and he wouldn’t—”

Don’t go there, Evadne thought. Don’t start trying to second-guess Fate. “There was nothing you could have done, Nellie.”

Nellie nodded, but Evadne could see the tears in her eyes. The whistling of the kettle broke the silence. Evadne turned away in relief and poured boiling water into the teapot.

Gauging that the grounds in the coffee pot had had enough time to settle, she poured a mug full of coffee and offered it to Nellie, who accepted it with a brave smile and asked, “So how on earth did you end up working with Red?”

Evadne went along with Nellie’s attempt to change the subject. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, we aren’t going anywhere.”

“Good point. But let me get breakfast ready first, then I need to take the automobile into town to telephone Red and let her know the situation.”

For a second, she thought Nellie was going to object, but instead she made a curt nod. “Okay. And find out whether she got my money for me.”

“You’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Don’t have much choice, do I?”

“I think Red’s right, you should keep yourself out of sight until we know more about what’s going on. I’ll ask my chauffeur, James, to stay with you. He can get you anything you require while I’m not here. Is there anything you need now other than your money?”

“A shotgun.”

“A what?”

“Well, you ain’t going to be with me all the time, are you? And don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know this man of yours.”

“But a shotgun? I could get you a revolver if you like.”

Nellie shook her head. “Poppa taught me how to use a shotgun as a kid. I know how they work.”

Evadne stared at Nellie for a long moment. Why shouldn’t Nellie be armed? It was a sensible request, but it made her feel oddly uneasy. Still, she couldn’t see any reason to refuse. “Then a shotgun it will have to be. Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Don’t use it on Red, no matter how irritating she might be.”

Nellie frowned for a second and then laughed. “Okay, I promise. No matter how tempted I am, I won’t shoot her.”

*   *   *

“Wolverton Investigation Agency,” Red said as she answered the ringing phone.

“Red?”

“Evadne. How you doing? How’s Nellie?”

“She’s fine. We’re both fine. What about you?”

Red hesitated, unsure how much to say.

Evadne swooped on the hesitation like a hawk. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

“I went to get Nellie’s money.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. When I got to the café I found Finn—Nellie’s brother-in-law and cook—beaten up pretty bad. He’s in the hospital.”

“Do you think the attack on him is related to our case?”

“Can’t see how it can’t be. And… well, it appears he was tortured.”

“Oh, dear heavens.”

“Look, don’t tell Nellie. Not yet anyway.”

“Could Bats’s killer have found out anything about us?”

“Well, they probably know I was there,” Red said, adding hastily to forestall Evadne, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I know how to take care of myself. On the plus side, they still won’t have any idea where you are.”

After another pause, Evadne spoke again. “Was the money there?”

“Yeah. It’s at your house.”

“Good. I’ll get James to bring it over tomorrow.”

“James?”

“If Nellie’s to be here for the near future, she needs more than we managed to get on the way out.”

“Oh, yeah, makes sense,” Red said.

“Can he use your Ford?”

“My Ford? I’m not sure what you mean.” With the telephone receiver pressed to her ear, Red could almost hear Evadne’s eyes rolling.

“All right,” Evadne said. “Can he borrow Annie?”

Red grinned. “Yeah, course. Just warn him that’s she’s a temperamental old thing.”

“I will, thank you. I’ve also asked James to bring along Geoff’s shotgun.”

“A shotgun? Doesn’t seem like your style.”

“It isn’t. Nellie asked for one.”

“Good old Nellie.”

“She’s pretty angry with you,” Evadne said.

Red felt her grin fading. “I know.”

“You deceived her.”

“I know. I didn’t want to, but I needed to—”

“To find out about Bats.”

“Yeah.” Red hesitated. “Tell her I’m sorry, will you?”

“You’re sorry? You’ve actually used the word ‘sorry’ twice in one month?”

Red smiled wryly at the mock amazement in Evadne’s voice. At least, she hoped it was feigned. “Yeah, now stop going on about it, and just tell her, okay? And be careful.”

“I will. That’s goes for you, too.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m serious, Red. I still have nightmares about the warehouse, about watching you die.”

Evadne wasn’t the only one who had nightmares, Red thought. How and why the creature she and Evadne had called the Golem had brought her back to life, healing her wounds, remained unknown. But even in her darkest moments, she was glad it had.

“Don’t worry, Evadne,” she said. “I promise I ain’t planning on dying again anytime soon.”

“All right. I’m going to stay here again tonight. I think Nellie could do with the company. I’ll phone James if there’s any change of plan.”

“Okay.” Red suddenly didn’t want the call to end.

“Good-bye then, Red.”

“Bye, Evadne.”

Red put the receiver on the cradle and sighed. How did she get herself in these messes?

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs outside her office caught her attention. She retook her seat, her feet on the desk and her revolver in her lap as the door was pushed open unceremoniously. Coppers. Her day had just gotten a whole lot worse.

“Howdy, officers,” she said.

“That’s detectives, wise guy,” one of the men growled.

Recognizing the police detective, Red slipped the gun off her lap and into her jacket pocket. Sean Mulligan. Just great. The other man was new to her. More nicely dressed than Mulligan, who always looked like he slept in his clothes—and probably had—but almost certainly just as foul tempered.

“You got a friend, Mulligan?” she asked.

Mulligan bared his teeth at her. “Watch your lip, smart-ass.”

The other detective seemed amused by the exchange of insults. “I’m Detective Sergeant Allen,” he said. “And you must be Red Wolverton.”

Even the man’s accent was a cut above Mulligan’s just-off-the-boat Irish brogue, Red noted. “That’s me,” she said. “What can I do for two of the city’s finest?”

If Allen picked up on her sarcasm, he didn’t show it. “Do you know a man by the name of Patrick Finn?” he asked.

Red kept her expression blank.

“Come on, Wolverton, we know you know him,” Allen said.

“Yeah, okay, I know him. What of it?”

“Some kind Samaritan dropped him off at the hospital yesterday. He’d been given a hell of a beating.”

“Poor guy.” Red noticed Mulligan’s face getting redder by the moment. She wondered if he’d have a heart attack before he exploded.

“Yes, indeed. He died last night,” Allen said.

Finn was dead? Red shrugged to cover the flicker of anger the news ignited. “That’s shit luck for him, but what’s it gotta do with me?”

“Like fuck you don’t know,” Mulligan said, surging forward.

Red was immediately on her feet, ready for the attack.

“Mulligan!” Allen snapped.

Mulligan stopped as abruptly as a dog reaching the end of its leash. He didn’t step back, though, leaving Red with her back against the wall in an attempt to put some space between them. Her mood wasn’t helped by the onions he must have eaten at breakfast. Smirking, she met his pale piggy gaze.

“That’s a good boy,” she murmured.

“Stop taunting him, Wolverton, or next time I won’t stop him.” Allen’s dark eyes watched her carefully.

This detective was clearly no idiot, an unusual but not unknown occurrence in the ranks of the Boston police force. She needed to be careful.

“One of the attendants recognized the good Samaritan,” Allen said. “You are rather memorable, you know.”

“Thanks.”

“It wasn’t necessarily a compliment.” Allen settled in the visitor’s chair. “Hold out your hands, please.”

Red shoved her hands deep in her pockets.

“I can always get a warrant and arrange a trip to the nearest precinct.”

Scowling, Red held out her hands, palms up. Mulligan grabbed her right hand and turned it over, wrenching her wrist.

“Get your mitts off me.”

Allen shook his head. “And the other one, please.”

Red turned over her left hand before Mulligan could do it for her.

Mulligan gave a little guttural cheer and reached for his handcuffs. “Got you.”

“Now, Mulligan, don’t be so hasty.” Allen stood up and moved closer. He took her left hand in his and turned it a little as he studied the scrapes and bruises on her knuckles, his touch surprisingly gentle. “How did this happen?” he asked her.

“I hit a wall.”

“Yeah, right, tell that to the judge. This will get you the chair for sure.” Mulligan sounded so happy, Red almost felt sorry for him.

Allen clearly wasn’t impressed. “Mulligan, please stop being such an idiot. And please back up. You make me nervous, hovering there like an overstuffed mattress.”

Mulligan scowled but he moved away and took a position by the door. So good cop, bad cop, huh? Red thought. Not the first time someone had tried that ploy on her.

“You hit a wall?” Allen asked. “What had it done to you?”

“Nothing,” Red answered. “You’re right, I found Finn at Reilly’s Café. You saw the mess he was in?” When Allen nodded, she said, “That’s why I hit the wall.”

Allen nodded again, apparently satisfied. “Your hands are too small, anyway. The coroner said whoever gave Mr. Finn the beating had very large hands.” Allen looked her in the eye. She met his gaze unflinchingly. After a moment, he gave her the barest of nods. “I don’t think we need to trouble you any longer, Wolverton.”

“What?” Mulligan took a step forward. “You ain’t serious!”

“Completely.” Allen ushered his muttering partner out of the room and closed the door politely behind him.

Sighing, Red sank into her chair. The encounter hadn’t been her idea of fun. Men like Mulligan, she could work to her own ends. Okay, she might end up with a bruise or six, but there was nothing like an accusation of police brutality to take the heat off. The smart ones were another problem altogether. On the other hand, locking horns with Detective Sergeant Allen might be interesting. It would certainly make a change from running circles around chumps like Mulligan.

She rested her elbows on the desk and put her head in her hands. Who was she kidding? Trying to sort out the Criffy case and keep Nellie safe would be hard enough without the cops breathing down her neck.

She scrubbed her face with her hands and sat up straight. No point moping and moaning. She had two choices: tell the cops everything she knew and let them make a mess of it, or get the job done herself. After a moment’s consideration, she decided a visit to the Fouled Anchor was in her immediate future.

Later, picking a path through the snow-topped refuse toward the Anchor’s entrance, Red pulled the collar of her overcoat up around her ears and tucked her chin into her scarf. She recognized Barney, the speakeasy’s less-than-ordinary bouncer, standing outside the ordinary looking door. If Barney’s height and well-muscled bulk weren’t enough to put off any would-be troublemakers, the hams he called fists certainly should.

The bouncer nodded at her as she approached. “Not seen you here for a while.” His breath formed a white cloud in the cold night air.

Red shrugged. “Other fish to fry.”

“Heard you switched to the Lily.”

“None of your damn business if I did.”

He stared at her for a second and then barked out a laugh. “Hell’s teeth, Wolverton, if all the fellas came here with your attitude, I’d never get any peace. Now behave yourself. I don’t wanna be picking your sorry ass out of a fight on your first night back.”

She gave him a cocky grin. “Don’t worry, Barney, I won’t start anything.” Passing through the open door into the hot, smoky space beyond, she added under her breath, “Might finish it, though.”

The unpleasant dive hadn’t changed since her last visit. The smells of tobacco, alcohol, and unwashed bodies assaulted her. A haze of smoke hung heavy in the air.

She’d first been brought in to the Anchor by an old boxer-turned-trainer, Mickey O’Reilly. It was his favorite drinking hole, introduced to her on the day he’d accepted her as one of his “boys.” A good stiff drink, she recalled, had been Mickey’s remedy for a bruised stomach. His sponsorship had smoothed over some, if not all, of the problems she’d have experienced had she entered the place uninvited. The timely use of her left cross, much vaunted by the proud old boxer, had removed most of the rest.

Before her discovery of the Gilded Lily, the Fouled Anchor had been her regular haunt. Mickey’s reputation and her own fists created a little niche of acceptance in Boston.

Red was sweating under her heavy overcoat, sweltering in the heat of the bar. She glanced at the row of coat hooks running along the wall by the door. It was crammed with such a motley collection of clothing she reckoned it was unlikely her stuff would be lifted. If it was, she’d just return the favor.

She hung her overcoat on a free hook, shoved her gloves in a pocket, and added her scarf over the top. She decided not to leave her fedora but hesitated over removing her jacket. Most of the patrons were in their shirtsleeves, but her jacket would keep her revolver out of sight. Ah, well, a little more sweat ain’t going to hurt.

Red moved purposefully toward the trestle tables and the selection of dubious casks and bottles that made up the bar. As she moved through the disreputable, almost exclusively male crowd, she caught the occasional puzzled glance and muttered comment. At least the face at the bar was a familiar one.

“Evening, Red. Long time, no see.” Dusty greeted her with a wary smile. “The usual?”

“Sure.”

He placed a glass of the house rotgut in front of her. “Two bits.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Getting a bit pricey, ain’t you?”

“Costs are going up.”

“Well, you certainly ain’t spending it on the décor, that’s for sure.” She tossed a quarter on the bar top, took a taste of rotgut, and grimaced. “Not on the booze, neither.”

Without comment, Dusty moved to the next customer.

Red headed for her usual corner. Before she could reach it, someone barged into her from behind and sent most of her drink slopping out of the glass and over the floor. She spun around. “Watch where you’re going, you idiot.”

The man stared down at her and scowled. “Who you calling an idiot?”

Red didn’t need to hear the slight slur in his speech to realize he was drunk. “Ain’t anyone else around here who fits.” She turned away. She wasn’t going to get anything but trouble from that idiot. Certainly not a fresh drink. She barely managed a step before her shoulder was grabbed and she was spun back around.

“No one calls me an idiot,” the drunk told her.

She shook off the hand on her shoulder. “Back off, bozo.”

“Leave her alone, Sean,” Dusty said from behind Red. “You don’t want to go toe-to-toe with Wolverton, believe me.”

Sean seemed confused and gave her a thorough look from head to toes. “Hey, you’re a girl,” he said.

“Well, give that man a cigar,” Red muttered. What were the odds on the man taking Dusty’s advice?

A nasty leer appeared on Sean’s alcohol-reddened face. “What you doing here, girly, dressed in them clothes?”

He leaned in until Red could smell the stale beer on his breath, but she resisted the urge to flinch away. “Having a drink, same as you.”

“A nice little Sarsaparilla?”

Why couldn’t she be left in peace? Was it too much to ask?

“If that’s what you want,” she said, anger beginning to override her good sense, “then go get yourself one.”

“Why, you little—”

Dusty interrupted Sean’s tirade. “You really don’t wanna do that, buddy.”

“Why?” Sean asked belligerently. “You gonna do something about it?”

Dusty shook his head. “Nope, not my job. Just wanted to warn you though, seeing as you’re kind of new to the place.”

“Yeah, well, stick to your business, barkeep, and stay outta mine.”

“Fine advice there, friend,” Red said pleasantly. “So why not take it yourself?”

“Smart-ass bitch!”

Red’s adrenaline began to flow. “Yeah, you gotta problem with that?” Over the drunk’s shoulder, she saw Dusty frown at her before sending his boy in the direction of the door. Sending for Barney already, eh? She decided to give the bouncer something to settle.

She smirked, baiting Sean. “Want your Sarsaparilla now, little boy?” Easily ducking his wild punch, she popped back up and deliberately plastered an aggravating grin on her face. “That the best you can do?” she asked to provoke him.

Barely recovering his balance, Sean tried a sloppy combination of blows. Red avoided them but not easily, restricted by the protective little corner. She ducked under his next punch and moved into the marginally more open space behind him.

Sean swung around cursing. The space around Red increased as the other drinkers backed away to give the brawlers room.

“Leave the boy alone, Sean,” someone from her left shouted.

“Boy? That ain’t no boy, that’s our Red,” someone else answered.

Red ducked a blow aimed at her head and followed up with a punch to Sean’s gut that landed with enough force to drive out his breath in an alcohol-laden rush.

He dropped to one knee and stared up at her in surprise that swiftly changed to anger. “I’m gonna tear you limb from limb for that.” He launched himself at her legs.

Anticipating the move, Red jumped sideways, away from the body coming at her. Her tactic would have worked if a flailing arm hadn’t caught her. She fell hard to the floor and jarred her forgotten injuries. The sudden flare of pain made her grimace, but she rolled to her feet. The stabbing ache spread around her ribs and across her chest. Obeying instinct, she pulled her arm protectively against her side.

The crowd’s mood turned ugly once the men realized Red was hurt. Their cheers changed to muttering. She felt rage stir inside her.

Understanding the odds had shifted in his favor, her opponent gave her an evil smirk. He relaxed, confident of his victory. “Not so cocky now, huh?” he taunted.

Red waited for the pain to ease up a little. Stupid, stupid, stupid! she castigated herself. With no sign of Barney, she had to finish the fight while she still could.

Sean would go for her injured side, she reckoned. He would only need a lucky blow to put her in real trouble. For a second, she considered pulling her gun, but she didn’t go any further with the idea. Showing an iron here might turn the bar brawl into a bloodbath.

Sean surged forward with an optimistic roundhouse that Red ducked, though not without a fresh stab of pain. He aimed his next blow at her side. She blocked it sloppily and cursed under her breath. Her reactions were slowing. Worse, any attempt to move her right arm sent more pain shooting through her side.

She deflected his next punch and almost lost her balance. Suddenly, a large, fast-moving fist connected hard with her face.

Stunned, Red stumbled back a couple of steps. The pain in her nose radiated through her head. Her first illogical thought was that Evadne was going to kill her. Her second was much more down to earth. Fucking hell, that hurt!

Her rage flared in earnest. Goaded by a volatile mix of anger and pain, she charged headfirst into Sean’s stomach and knocked him over. She fell with him, their arms and legs tangled together. He was halfway to his feet before her anger overrode her pain. She grabbed his stained shirtfront with her left hand and pulled herself up with him. Before he could brush her off, she brought her forehead down hard into his face.

Howling, he fell backward and tore free from her grip.

Red staggered back a few steps, half-stunned by the blow and the heavy throbbing in her nose. For a moment, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t follow Sean to the floor. She glared down at her bloodstained opponent as he clutched at his face. The brightly burning, all consuming rage sent her forward to kick him in his ribs. He jerked and rolled into a ball with a pathetic little mewling sound that made her hesitate. He was down. She had won. But the crowd urged her on, echoing the dark little voice in her mind.

“Kick the Mick bastard,” someone called.

“Finish him off,” another screamed.

Caught in the grip of overwhelming fury, she obeyed, about to land a second kick to the small of Sean’s back when her shirt collar was grabbed from behind. Half-throttled, she was hauled up on the tips of her toes.

“I should have known.” Barney’s voice rumbled in her ear. He sounded as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether to be angry or amused.

“Hey, I didn’t start it.”

“But you finished it. Yeah, I know.”

She squirmed and tried to break the grip on her collar. “Lemme go, you overgrown lunk.” She lashed out with her left hand, only to have it caught and squeezed. “Argh, for fuck’s sake, Barney, you’re gonna break my hand!”

“Then stop struggling, Red. You know better,” Barney said reasonably, though his grip remained unbreakable.

Red tried to turn in his grasp as rage burned inside her. A shirt button popped. For a moment, she could move a little, but the relief was temporary. Barney tightened his grip on her collar and continued crushing her hand, warning her to stop any attempt at escape.

She kicked backward, unwilling to give up. Her heel made contact with what had to be Barney’s leg but felt more like a brick wall. He hissed and gave her a shake that rattled her teeth, causing the pain in her face to flare.

Abruptly, her rage fled, defeated by the combination of pain and Barney’s unbreakable hold. She finally stopped squirming and relaxed to stand on trembling legs as she cradled her nose. The blinding torment made her feel sick, but she swallowed the bile. Upchucking over the bouncer’s feet was never a good idea.

“That’s better,” Barney said in definite amusement.

“You’re enjoying this, you vindictive son of a bitch,” Red mumbled miserably into her cupped hands.

“Just be glad I wear shin protection, Wolverton, otherwise you would’ve earned more than a rattling.” Just to prove his point, he gave her a gentle shake.

“Aw, that bastard broke my nose.” Red thought her bitter, nasal complaint seemed wasted as Barney frog-marched her away from the scene of her victory.

Glancing back, she saw Sean and his bloody nose being helped none too gently off the premises by a couple of regulars. A few seconds later, she realized she wasn’t being taken in the same direction.

Once again, she squirmed in Barney’s grip. “Where you taking me?”

“The boss wants to see you.” As she stared speechlessly at the bouncer, he smirked. “Probably gonna ban you for life.”

Despite her surprise at being taken to see the Anchor’s notoriously elusive owner, the effects of the fight were catching up to her. Her treacherous knees went suddenly weak as the last remnants of adrenaline faded. In that instant, she was glad for the hand on her collar.

Barney pushed open a door with his shoulder and half-dragged, half-carried Red through. He dropped her on a sofa. “Wait here,” he said. “The boss will be along in a minute.”

“You’re leaving me?” Red asked, wondering if she looked as pathetic as she sounded. When Barney took a look at her face and winced, she decided she probably did.

“I’ll get some ice for your nose,” he said.

After he brought her a cloth and a bowl of ice, she saw no one else. Twenty minutes passed while she sat with a sopping-wet, but blessedly cold, cloth held against her throbbing face. The room was unbearably hot, worsening her headache and the waves of nausea that every so often threatened to make things more unpleasant. She’d already stripped down to her shirtsleeves, but it hadn’t helped.

Wondering if Barney had lied to her about the boss, Red was about to try to stand when the door opened, and a small blonde woman entered the room. Who the hell was this? And where the hell was the boss?

“Are you Red ‘The Wolf’ Wolverton?” The woman sounded both annoyed and faintly amused.

“Yeah, and what of it?” Red replied.

The woman’s stare was disconcertingly direct as she eyed Red up and down. A slight line appeared between her eyebrows. “Barney didn’t say you’d been cut,” she said, frowning.

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Your side?”

The front of Red’s shirt was covered in blood from her nose, but now she could see another stain on her right side. She hadn’t felt a thing. The agony in her injured nose had occupied all her attention.

“Ah, fuck,” she grumbled in disgust. “He musta broke my stitches as well, the crazy son of a bitch.” She lifted her shirt to find the bandage had slipped down around her stomach and the wound was bleeding.

“Here, let me help.” The woman moved to Red’s side. “Come on, out of those clothes so I can get at your wound properly.”

With a shrug, Red slipped the suspenders off her shoulders and raised her shirt, the movements awkward.

“Hadn’t figured you to be so modest, Wolverton.”

Surprised, Red stared at the woman. Okay, if that’s the way she wants it. She pulled her shirt and undershirt over her head while ignoring further complaints from her side and her nose. Letting the bloody mess fall to the floor, she caught the woman giving her an appraising once-over that made her feel unexpectedly self-conscious.

The woman tugged at the bindings around Red’s chest. “What’s this for?”

“Um, it stops them jiggling around too much. Makes things easier, like running and stuff.”

The woman nodded. “Makes sense.” Suddenly, she became all business. Unwrapping the useless bandage, she inspected the bleeding wound.

“What’s the damage?” Red asked.

“It’s reopened about three inches.”

Red twisted and craned her neck in an attempt to see for herself. The bruising had turned a sickly green that contrasted unpleasantly with the red of the reopened gouge and torn stitches.

She was going to be in so much trouble with Evadne. Annoyance at the anticipated lecture rose. What she got up to in her own time was none of Evadne’s business, she decided defiantly.

A gentle hand ran along her side. “It really needs stitching again.”

Red nodded unhappily. She didn’t want a doctor near her again, but neither did she want the wound to fester.

“If you want, I could do it for you. I have some skill in doctoring.”

Red glanced at the woman—the very attractive young woman. If she had to have someone stick needles in her, then someone with a pretty face was a plus.

She grinned nonchalantly and said, “Yeah, sure, enjoy yourself.”

The woman went over to a desk, opened one of the drawers, and withdrew a box with a large, red cross painted on the top. Red didn’t miss her obvious familiarity with the room. She cast a worried glance at the door.

“Should you be here?” she asked. “I’m supposed to be waiting for the boss. He ain’t arrived yet, but I don’t reckon he’s gonna be happy to see you here.”

The woman seemed unconcerned as she threaded a disturbingly large needle. If anything, she appeared amused by Red’s statement. “Don’t worry on my behalf,” she said. “The boss knows I’m here.” The needle ready, she passed Red a bottle. “I think you might need this.”

Red took a couple of healthy swigs of good-quality whiskey and lay down on her uninjured side. She took another fortifying swig from the bottle as the woman moved closer, attention fixed on her side.

“Don’t know your name,” Red said. “Don’t let complete strangers stitch me back together, you know.”

The woman smiled. “My name’s Leona Harriman.” She bent over and, taking the bottle back from Red, poured the spirits over the wound.

Red bit back a cry, refusing to make a single sound despite the fire in her side.

Leona said, “Though most people just call me ‘boss.’”

Numb from the rapidly downed whiskey as well as shock, Red didn’t feel the first stitches. The tugging from the needle didn’t last long, but by the time Leona finished, she had drained the last dregs from the bottle.

“All done,” Leona said. “Can you sit up?”

“You mean I ain’t?” Red grinned. Her side hurt like the devil, but in her alcohol haze, that really didn’t seem to matter.

“Come on, tough guy.” Leona helped Red sit upright.

Despite the room spinning in a very distracting way, Red tried to stay vertical as Leona wrapped a fresh bandage around her ribs.

“You make a good doc, boss, an’ certainly a lot prettier than most,” Red slurred.

“Please, call me Leona.”

“Sure, boss—Leona.” Some part of her noted she was a bottle of whiskey, a broken nose, and a fresh set of stitches out of her mind. “Leona’s a nice name.” She stared into the woman’s concerned face. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” She frowned. “Heard it somewhere before.”

Scowling, she scratched at her itching face. A hot wave of pain rushed over her as she bashed her nose. “Argh! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She cradled her nose, and tears leaked from her eyes. “That really hurts!”

Leona gently removed Red’s hands from her face and lifted her head.

Red stared into Leona’s eyes. Beautiful eyes, she thought. Beautiful, worried eyes. What color were they? Those eyes reminded her of the sky on a hazy spring morning. Pale blue, she guessed, or gray, or somewhere in between.

But why was Leona fuzzy around the edges? She tried to focus but ended going cross-eyed, which made her feel even sicker to her stomach.

“Your nose is crookeder than a two dollar bill,” Leona said. “I’m going to straighten it for you, okay?”

“Okay.” Even seven sheets to the wind, Red knew what was coming. Bracing herself, she closed her eyes. Fingers traced a soothing pattern down the line of her jaw and over her cheekbones.

Leona’s touch felt like a lover’s caress. Red relaxed. Almost without her realizing it, the fingers moved to her nose. Excruciating pain shot though her head. A second later, the alcohol and agony sent her tumbling into a comforting and pain-free darkness.

Chapter 13

December 10: Melodrama and memories

Sighing, Evadne brought the Ford to a halt outside her house.

She’d had a fight on her hands getting Red’s automobile to start after a night on a snow-covered verge. The tantrums hadn’t stopped there, but by halfway through the journey home, she and the Ford seemed to have come to an understanding.

She leaned forward to give the dashboard a pat and stopped herself in time. What was she thinking? She’d be calling the machine by name next.

She got out and opened the carriage house’s double doors. With the LaSalle with James, it made sense to put Red’s Ford under cover. For once, the Ford behaved like a complete lady and rolled smoothly inside. After shutting and locking the doors, Evadne headed for the house and the kitchen. She hoped Maria would have noticed her arrival and put the kettle on.

She wasn’t disappointed. Within a couple of minutes, she was sitting at the kitchen table savoring a cup of freshly brewed tea.

“So you’ve left James to keep an eye on Mrs. Reilly?” Maria asked.

“He didn’t think it proper to stay at the boathouse with her, so he’s ensconced in a small hotel on the other side of the lake,” Evadne answered. “He can see the boathouse from there, and they’ve arranged a signal system should Nellie need anything. I think he’s rather enjoying the cloak-and-dagger.”

She thought Nellie appeared to be enjoying the situation as well, which seemed odd given what had happened to her. Perhaps her upbeat mood was a defense mechanism. In any case, there had been no complaints when Evadne left. In fact, Nellie almost seemed to be looking forward to the time alone.

“Doctor Worth telephoned for you while you were away,” Maria said, sounding amused.

What was Vivian up to? “She did?”

“Yes. Several times. I think she’s worried about the company you’re keeping.”

Evadne made a very unladylike snort. “Well, she’s just going to have to get used to it.” The sound of the telephone interrupted her.

Maria smiled archly. “That’s probably her again.”

Evadne sighed and stood up from the table. “I’d best get it, then.”

She walked into the hall and picked up the telephone receiver. After a second’s hesitation, she put it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Evadne!”

“Hello, Vivian.”

“You’re all right?”

“I’m all right.” Hearing the impatience in her own voice, she suddenly realized how tired she felt. That’s what two nights sleeping in a chair does for you.

“You’re sure?” Vivian asked. “You don’t sound it.”

“Of course, I’m all right.”

“I’m coming over.”

“Viv—” Too late, she realized when the line went dead. She put the receiver back onto its stand and tried not to be annoyed. Vivian was just worried about her, that was all. She should be pleased that Vivian cared, so why was irritation her predominant emotion?

She returned to the kitchen. “Doctor Worth is coming to visit,” she told Maria. “I’m going to have a bath. If she arrives before I’m ready, please try to stop her from climbing the walls or chewing the furniture because I’m not down immediately.”

“Don’t worry, chica. I shall make sure she behaves.”

Evadne headed upstairs. She tried not to think too many uncharitable thoughts about Vivian’s increasingly annoying overprotective nature.

A little later from the safety of the bathtub, she heard Vivian arrive. She listened as Maria ushered her firmly into the front sitting room. From what she could make out, Vivian didn’t seem too happy. She nearly decided to plead a headache, but that would probably make things worse. Instead, she waited another ten minutes before she considered getting out of the tub.

By the time she went downstairs, clean and freshly dressed, Vivian had been waiting for a good twenty minutes. While Evadne had dawdled, her good humor had revived a little, and she felt a tad guilty for treating a guest so rudely, even one who’d invited herself.

Vivian stood abruptly the moment the door opened, and her worried gaze quickly checked Evadne over. Seeing no sign of harm, she appeared to relax a little.

“Vivian, there really was no need for you to come.” Evadne took a seat by the occasional table. A pot of tea and a crumb-strewn plate on the table provided mute evidence that Vivian’s worry was apparently not enough to put her off Maria’s cookies.

Almost as if summoned by the thought, Maria appeared at the door with a fresh pot of tea, this time accompanied by a cake.

“Thank you, Maria,” Evadne said.

Maria gave her a small nod, but her eyes twinkled with ill-concealed amusement.

Caught by a devilish streak herself, Evadne took her time pouring the tea. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Vivian perched on the edge of her seat. She clearly wanted to say something, but was forced by the shackles of polite society to wait.

Only when she handed the cup to Vivian did Evadne relent and give her a genuine smile of thanks. “I really am all right, Vivian. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Vivian seemed to relax another notch as she took the cup. A rueful expression crept over her face. “I overreacted. I’m sorry,” she said, looking embarrassed. She put down the teacup and stood. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forced myself on you like this. I should go.”

“Oh, sit down, Viv, and stop being so melodramatic.”

Vivian sat. After a moment, she picked up her teacup and drank.

Evadne sat with her in a silence that gradually shifted from uneasy to comfortable. Once certain that Vivian had gotten over her embarrassment, she asked, “Any luck with the meeting at the university?”

Vivian looked confused, and then her sheepish expression shifted to eager anticipation. “Oh, yes. It’s wonderful, actually. We had problems finding funding, but all of a sudden this offer came out of the blue. I wasn’t really sure about it at first. It all seemed far too good to be true. But the university confirmed the contributor’s bona fides, and his representative certainly knows what he’s talking about.”

“An anonymous backer?”

“Yes. Can you believe it? Most want their names over everything and can’t resist trying to tell us how to do our jobs. This one seems to be nothing like that.”

“Well, that is wonderful news.”

Vivian beamed. “Isn’t it, though?”

After taking a sip of tea, Evadne put down her cup. “Would you like to see the drawing of the statue I mentioned?”

“Oh, the bird. Of course.”

“Let’s go through to the study.”

Vivian jumped to her feet. She reached the door first and held it open for Evadne to pass through to the hall.

Evadne felt a resurgence of her earlier irritation at Vivian’s eagerness. Did she really think she couldn’t open the door herself? It was bad enough the way gentlemen always insisted on opening doors and the like without Vivian doing the very same thing.

Increasing her speed, Evadne made sure she reached the study door first. Vivian’s hangdog expression nearly made her laugh out loud. Inside, she took longer than necessary to find the drawing, allowing the urge to smile to recede.

“Here you go,” she said at last.

Vivian took the drawing. “I see you haven’t lost your skill with a pencil.”

“If only I could paint as well.”

“Do you still have the sketches you did during the war?”

“They’re around the house somewhere. I couldn’t throw them away, but neither do I want to see them.” She thought Vivian would understand, as would the men who had served in and around the trenches. No one else could.

After a brief silence, Vivian returned her attention to the drawing in her hand. “It certainly appears Roman, or perhaps a later copy,” she said, “but I would have expected an eagle in this position.” She sat down in a chair. Giving Evadne an embarrassed glance, she drew a pair of pince-nez from her pocket and studied the drawing again.

“Corvus Corax. I’m sure of it,” she said, “though I would need to see the actual statue to be certain.”

“A raven?”

“Yes. You do see them in Roman art but not often with the wings spread like this. Usually they’re folded back. The raven with folded wings is most commonly associated with the Cult of Mithras.”

“Mithras?”

“Yes. A fascinating subject. It’s a mystery cult that came from the East originally, but the Romans really seem to have taken to it. It’s an odd coincidence, but the project I mentioned earlier is to excavate what I think is the site of one of Mithras’s temples.” She glanced up from the paper. “Would it be possible for me to see the statue itself?”

“It’s been stolen.”

“Stolen? But if it is a genuine Roman artifact, its value would be immense, even incalculable!”

“I know that, Viv.”

Vivian’s righteous indignation subsided. “Yes, I’m sorry,” she said with a small smile. “Again.”

“Apology accepted,” Evadne said. Should I ask? Why not? “Vivian, if you were to find a lion, a raven, and a wolf referred to together, would it mean anything to you?”

“Well, if it had just been lion and raven, then yes. They are both ranks within Mithraism. Wolf though? That has no connection I’m aware of. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing. Just something I read.”

Vivian didn’t look as though she believed her.

That was her hard luck, Evadne thought.

“If the statue is found, will you let me examine it?” Vivian asked.

“Well, that would be up to the owner. But yes, I think it could be arranged.” Suddenly, Evadne yawned. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Vivian replaced the pince-nez in her pocket and stood. “I’m sorry. You said you were tired. I should go. Perhaps I could telephone you tomorrow? Maybe we could arrange another visit to the Opera?”

“Of course. Just not before midday, please.”

“Good-bye, Evadne. Don’t bother Maria, I can see myself out.”

“Good-bye, Vivian, and thank you.”

Vivian gave her a smile and left.

Evadne listened for the sound of the front door opening and closing, then she picked up the drawing from the desk. Corvus Corax. The common raven. “And just what were you doing under Theo’s floor, little bird?” she murmured. “And more to the point, why was someone so desperate to get their hands on you?”

She put the paper away and went in search of Maria. She found her in the front sitting room clearing away the tea things.

“Have you heard anything from Red?” she asked.

“Not today,” Maria replied. “She dropped by on Thursday to leave something for James. Why?”

“I just thought she might telephone.”

“What, and break the habit of a lifetime?”

Evadne sighed. “I suppose she’s off gallivanting somewhere, enjoying herself.”

“Don’t expect a lone wolf to change her habits overnight, chica.”

*   *   *

Red shrank back into the corner of the horse stall. Sweat trickled down her spine, but she was shivering.

“Where are you, hellion?” Pa asked, his voice closer than before.

She pulled the hay over her and tried to make her eleven-year-old body as small as possible. The horse, Joshua, nickered and began mouthing her hair. She whispered, “Not now, boy,” and tried to push the bay away.

“When I find you, I’m going to be beat you to within an inch of your worthless life.”

The barn door opened, and she froze. Her gaze fixed on the end of the stall, and she watched for him through the strands of hay. Suddenly, he was there, searching for her. To her horror, Joshua took a mouthful of hay, lifted it away, and removed most of her cover. For a second, she thought luck was on her side, and then Pa saw her. His eyes lit up with righteous fury.

“Get out of there, you viper,” he said.

Red shook her head.

“If you make me come in there, you’ll regret it.”

Red pushed against the boards at her back. She knew disobedience was pointless, but she couldn’t get her legs to work.

With a snarl of annoyance, Pa ducked under the board that kept Joshua in the stall. As he reached for Red, she escaped under Joshua’s belly.

“Come back here, you spawn of the Devil!” he shouted.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She sprinted for the door and glanced over her shoulder. Pa followed her, his expression full of thunder.

Her foot caught on something, and she fell. She hit the floor, the air crushed from her lungs. She fought for breath that wouldn’t come as Pa stood over her, watching. He seemed disappointed when she finally managed to breathe again.

He grabbed her arm, his fingers dug into her flesh, and he hauled her upright, barking as she squirmed in his grasp, “Keep still!” He took hold of her other arm and twisted it behind her back. She howled in pain.

Using the only weapon she had left—her teeth—she bit into his arm. He shouted in pain and threw her bodily against the barn wall. Stars danced across her vision. She slid to the floor. He advanced on her, his face black with fury.

“No, Pa,” she begged. “Please, don’t. I’m sorry, I won’t—” The first punch cut off her pleas. She raised her arms in a futile attempt to protect her head from the blows raining down on her. By the time the beating stopped, she was barely conscious.

He pulled her to her feet, and half-dragged, half-frog-marched her out of the barn.

Groggy, scared out of her wits, Red searched for help. Not that anyone on the farm would dare stand up to Pa. Only Ma had ever done that, and now she was gone.

“The Devil has marked you as his spawn,” he said, “but I will not have my blood enslaved to Beelzebub. You will be free of his grasp.”

He threw her to the ground. Before she realized his intentions, something clicked around her ankle, cool metal against her hot skin. After another click, he straightened up.

She focused on him through tears of pain and anger. His rage had been replaced by an icy calm. She blinked and tried to clear her vision.

“You will remain here until you repent of your sins, wicked child, or until the Beast rises up to cast you into the fire of your eternal punishment.”

She snatched at his arm. She feared the cold far more than his earlier violence. “Pa, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

He stared at her. “Sorry? I see no true repentance, only the forked tongue of the Deceiver.”

“Pa, please, I’m sorry, really I am, I promise—”

The slap knocked her on her back. Stunned, she lay there as he strode toward the house without a backward glance. When he was out of sight, she checked her leg and found a manacle fastened around her ankle. The other end of the manacle was attached to the chain that had been used to tether a particularly vicious guard dog until it bit Pa and he had shot it.

A sudden rumble of thunder brought Red’s head up. Dark clouds rolled in from the north, threatening a summer storm. Almost immediately, the baking heat was swept away and she shivered. She needed to get inside before the storm hit.

She alternated between cursing and crying as she tried to remove the fetter. She kicked off her boot and still couldn’t get the manacle over her ankle. All she succeeded in doing was scraping off skin.

The wind plucked at her clothes and picked up dust to swirl into little dancing devils. She searched for shelter and found nothing. Of course, Pa had made sure of that.

She crawled back to the post, rested her back against it, and pulled her knees up to her chest. Thunder cracked overhead and she jumped. In the next instant, the rain started. Hard, heavy drops pelted down on her head, shoulders, and back. In seconds, she was drenched. Puddles formed on the dusty, hard ground.

Red put her hands over her head, the gesture as useless as avoiding Pa’s punches. Lightning forked down, bright against the night-dark sky, followed by an earthshaking crack of thunder. Yelping, she curled into a ball on the ground. Lightning flashed again, followed by a crackling explosion. The smell of burning teased her nostrils, but she didn’t dare look up. Flash. Crash. Flash. Crash. The storm played out over her head until she thought she’d go mad, and then all of a sudden, it went quiet. Dead quiet.

She raised her head. The storm was gone. The farm was gone! She checked her ankle. No manacle, no blood-soaked sock. In a panic, she realized she was buck naked. She was dead, that had to be it, she thought, shivering. Who would have guessed Hell would be cold? Where were the lakes of eternal hellfire Pa had promised?

She wrapped her arms around her chest and stopped in amazement. Staring down, she wondered when she had grown breasts. A second later, she shook her head. Of course she had breasts, she was a grown woman. So was she dead?

She struggled to her feet. A gray mist surrounded her. The ground under her bare feet was cold and rough—large flagstones the same gray as the mist. She walked forward. There didn’t seem to be anything else she could do.

Slowly, a shape appeared out of the mist: a great stone block. Beyond the block stood a figure, tall and broad, with long, shaggy hair. Red moved closer and tried to make out its face. Suddenly, a hand came down on her shoulder. She spun around. Evadne was staring at her with hard eyes.

“Why did you leave me?” Evadne asked.

“Don’t listen to her.”

Red spun around again. Leona smiled at her. Her heart lurched.

“You are mine, my Wolf,” Leona said. “You will always be mine.”

Red frowned. Something was wrong with Leona’s face. Before she could work out what, an ear-splitting roar came from behind her. She spun around in time to see a lion gathering itself to spring. Instinctively, she raised her arms as it launched at her. The lion’s jaws clamped around her forearm and knocked her backward onto the cold stones.

The lion stood on her chest, its sharp talons tearing through her shirt and digging into her skin. Her shirt? Confused, she tried to take stock. Where had she gotten clothes? More to the point, where had the fucking lion come from?

Blood flowed in warm rivulets down her sides, but she didn’t feel any pain. The lion lowered its great maned head until its fetid, bloody breath blew on her cheek. Saliva sprayed on her face as it roared again. Gagging at the stench, she tried to free her arms, but despite her struggles, she remained trapped under the lion’s weight.

She met the creature’s gaze and noticed a disturbingly human intelligence in the amber eyes. A low, rumbling growl echoed around her head.

“You are mine,” the lion said.

“No!” Red protested.

Shivering, she opened her eyes. She was chilled to the bone, and she hurt. The mass of pain was so jumbled up, she couldn’t make out where one ache finished and the next one began.

“C-cold,” she stammered.

A shape loomed out of the darkness. For a moment, she thought she was back in the dream. The figure knelt by her side and said, “It’s okay, Red. It was just a nightmare.”

The voice sounded familiar. Red felt a surge of relief. “Evadne?”

Her head was lifted gently and a glass put to her lips. “Here, drink this. It will ease the pain and help you sleep.”

Red drank the bitter-tasting liquid. Her head was laid back onto the pillow. Already the pain seemed farther away. She closed her eyes.

Chapter 14

December 11: Sitting pretty

Evadne glanced at the clock again. She still hadn’t heard anything from Red, and it was already well into the afternoon. Just after midday, she recalled, Vivian had phoned to arrange a visit to her apartment, but her mind hadn’t been on the trip.

Her attention wandered to the window. A moment later, she realized she was waiting for a familiar figure to walk up the drive but no one was there. Nothing had changed.

Sighing, she tried to concentrate on Miles Kemper’s journal. With the excitement over Bats’s murder and getting Nellie safely away, she’d all but forgotten about the missing man. She couldn’t help wondering if he, too, had been killed. Was there something in his notes that would help with both cases?

Despite her determination, she found she couldn’t concentrate. Her concern for Red had robbed her of her usual focus. After only ten minutes spent staring at the journal, she let out another sigh, stood up, and moved to the window. A bare second later, the telephone rang.

She rushed into the hall to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Is this Mrs. Davenport?” The voice belonged to a woman but no one she knew.

“Speaking,” she replied.

“My name’s Miss Leona Harriman. Red asked me to telephone you.”

Evadne’s stomach tightened into a little knot of dread. “Is she all right?”

“I’m afraid she developed an infection in the injury to her side. She’s over the worst but isn’t completely recovered.”

“Where is she? May I see her?”

“Of course. She’s at my house.” The woman gave an address in the North End, which Evadne noted down. “Do you think you can find it?”

“I’ll find it. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Good-bye.” She hung up without waiting for a reply.

A frustratingly long time later, with the Ford an absolute nightmare throughout the journey, Evadne pulled the recalcitrant vehicle to a halt. Leona Harriman’s address was a small clapboard house dwarfed by a rope factory on one side and a warehouse on the other. She got out of the automobile and resisted the urge to kick the tire as she went past. Red’s bitter complaints seemed mild compared to some of the things she’d thought about the Ford.

Evadne took a moment to study the house, more than a little surprised by its appearance. The house looked old, older than any of the other buildings in the area. She wondered how it had escaped the fires as well as the builders. The amateur historian in her wondered what stories this dwelling might tell. But enough of that, she said to herself. She was there to see Red, not go weak in the knees over an old house.

She walked up to the front door and knocked.

“Who is it?” a woman asked on the other side of the door.

Evadne thought it was her caller, but couldn’t be certain. “Mrs. Davenport,” she replied.

The door cracked open a slit. Evadne caught a glimpse of blonde hair and gray-blue eyes before the door closed. She heard a faint rattling sound. The door opened fully.

“Please come in, Mrs. Davenport,” the woman said.

Nodding, Evadne entered the tidy hall. “Miss Harriman, I presume?”

“Please, call me Leona.”

“And please call me Evadne.” With the pleasantries out of the way, she got on to the reason for her visit. “How is Red?”

“Come, see for yourself.” Leona led the way upstairs to what, judging by the personal bits and pieces, was probably her own bedroom, Evadne thought. Her Brahmin sensibilities balked at the invasion of a stranger’s privacy, but her embarrassment was swiftly overtaken by her first sight of Red.

“Dear Lord, what happened to her face?”

“It had a disagreement with someone’s fist.” Leona seemed amused by the circumstances. Evadne gave her a sharp, disapproving glance before moving closer to the bed. She studied Red’s swollen nose and the purple-black circles under her eyes with professional calm but a queasy stomach.

“Was her nose broken?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Evadne’s chest tightened in sympathy, but the nose, although spectacular, wasn’t what really worried her. Red’s sheets were stained with sweat, mute evidence of the infection Leona had mentioned. She laid her hand on Red’s brow. She expected the heat of a fever but was relieved to find the skin cool and dry.

Glancing at Leona, she found her watching with an interest that made Evadne uncomfortable.

“Fever’s broken, I see.” She pulled down the sheet. Red was naked from the waist up except for the bandage on her side.

Leona seemed to pick up on her surprise. “Her shirt and undershirt were soaked in blood, and I don’t have anything big enough for her to wear.”

Evadne tried to ignore the embarrassment she felt, as well as the odd little flicker of something close to fear in the pit of her stomach. “Would you mind if I checked the stitches?”

“Go ahead, though you’ll find some have been redone.”

“You actually got her to see a doctor?”

“Evadne?” Red murmured.

Instantly, Evadne focused on Red. She felt a surge of relief as she looked down to meet a pair of puzzled and slightly unfocused green eyes.

“Hello, Red.”

“Howdy.” Red frowned. “Nellie?”

“She’s fine.”

A trace of a smile appeared on Red’s lips before her eyes closed. The confusion she’d seen in Red’s eyes and how fast she’d fallen asleep worried Evadne.

“Has she been given drugs?” she asked.

“A little laudanum, just to help her sleep. She was in a lot of pain,” Leona replied, “and I thought she’d had too much whiskey already. It seemed a safer alternative.”

Evadne wasn’t happy about Red being kept in a drugged sleep, but she couldn’t fault Leona’s logic. She carefully uncovered the wound. The end sections were healing nicely, and the stitches had been removed. On the other hand, three inches in the center remained raw, held closed by a new set of neat stitches.

“Did the doctor prescribe the laudanum?” she asked.

“Red didn’t see a doctor.”

“But these—”

“I did them.”

Surprised anew, Evadne stared at Leona. “Really?” She heard the disbelief in her own voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect…”

Leona smiled, easing Evadne’s embarrassment. “Most people don’t.”

Evadne returned to her examination of the wound. The last lingering signs of infection were clearly visible in the red, puffy edges, but the liquid oozing from one end seemed reassuringly clear. Nevertheless, she needed to get Red home so she could be cared for properly. She replaced the bandage and stood.

“Thank you for looking after Red, Miss Harriman. I’ll take her off your hands now,” she said.

“No,” the woman answered.

“I beg your pardon?” The negative reply stunned Evadne. Why would Leona object?

“She shouldn’t be moved.”

“Nonsense, she’ll be much better off at my house.”

“She’s doing fine here.”

“Oh, yes, she looks really fine, I must say!” Evadne snapped, irritated by the refusal.

“Well, perhaps you should consider what made her need to go out, get blind drunk, and pick a fight with a man twice her size.”

Evadne started to respond, stopped, blinked, and stared at her. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Leona’s answering stare was unflinching. “What do you think I mean?”

Remorse flooded through Evadne. Was she smothering Red with her friendship? No. Red only had to say something, and she would have stopped. So why had Red become more and more on edge over the last few weeks? Was that her fault in some way?

The small but constant flame of guilt flickered deep in Evadne’s soul and flared brighter as she studied Red’s battered face. She couldn’t even let her drink in peace when Red stayed at her house, and she’d done nothing but carp about Red’s clothes. Yet Red wouldn’t take anything from her without a serious fight, she thought, recalling the tuxedo. Even when accepting her hospitality, Red made sure she did something to help, to repay her in kind.

She sometimes forgot how lucky she was to live a privileged life few others experienced.

Evadne addressed Leona, retreating but not yet defeated. “She’s my friend, it’s my duty,” she said.

“And she’s my lover.”

“Your lover?” Embarrassment took hold. Red’s lover. Of course. Evadne should have realized. “I should leave.” She backed hurriedly out of the room. “Tell her I came to see her and… and I hope she’s better soon. And tell her I’ll take care of the agency until she is.”

Again. Her guilt immediately trampled the sudden, uncharitable thought as she almost ran out of Leona’s house.

*   *   *

Red drifted slowly back to consciousness. Her head throbbed and her side ached, but the pain was thankfully distant. She cautiously opened her eyes and saw an unfamiliar cornflower blue ceiling above her. Not the hospital and not a jail cell, she thought in relief.

Her mouth felt like something unpleasant had crawled in and died, and she had difficulty focusing. She struggled up onto her elbows, which triggered a more forceful complaint from her aching side. She appeared to be in a woman’s bedroom. How had she gotten here? She’d gone to the Anchor—she remembered that much—and had a fight with some Irish idiot. He’d broken her nose, which explained why her face hurt, but what had happened after that? Why couldn’t she remember?

The room’s door opened. A woman entered. Red was relieved to recognize her. She peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth to croak, “Leona.”

“Back in the land of the living, I see.”

“What happened?” She noticed other things now, too: the cold clamminess of the sheets and the unpleasant smells emanating from them and her body.

“You fainted when I straightened your nose. Your side was infected as well.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Nearly two days.”

Two days? No wonder she felt so off-kilter. Odd fragments of memory vied for her attention. “I remember hearing Evadne’s voice,” she said.

“You asked me to let her know where you were, don’t you remember?” Leona asked.

Red shook her head.

“She came to see how you were. She said to get better soon, and she’d take care of the agency.” Leona sounded reproachful. She also seemed to be holding something back.

“What else?” Red demanded.

“I don’t know.” Leona looked embarrassed. “I thought she was your friend, but she didn’t seem very friendly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well she said something like ‘What on earth did you think you were doing, getting drunk and picking fights with people?’”

“Didn’t you tell her I didn’t start it?”

“I tried, but she didn’t believe me.”

“And I wasn’t drunk. At least not when the fight started.”

“Yes, I told her that, too. It didn’t seem to make any difference.”

“And she just went and left me here?” Red couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, she said I had done a fine job of caring for you and should carry on if I could put up with you. She wanted nothing more to do with your self-inflicted injuries.”

Red lay on the bed, stunned by Evadne’s words. What Leona told her couldn’t be true, could it?

“Here, drink this, it’ll help the pain,” Leona said.

Still confused by Evadne’s reported behavior, Red drank the draft down and grimaced at the taste. “Yuck, what is that stuff?” she asked.

“It’ll help you sleep and numb the pain. Now this.”

The second glass held plain water. Thirsty, Red gulped the water down, ridding her mouth of the medicine’s awful flavor. A wave of tiredness swept over her. Flopping down, she closed her eyes.

Sometime later, she woke to the sound of insistent rumblings from her stomach.

She sat up slowly, stiffly. Every muscle in her body seemed to shriek with unhappiness.

She was no longer alone. She blinked at the tousled blonde hair belonging to the woman lying next to her. Had she been sleeping in Leona’s bed?

She rolled over and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She sat there a minute and let the cool air chase over her skin. That felt so good, it took a moment before she realized she wore only her drawers.

She took a deep breath and stood. Her muscles immediately locked up and sent pain flaring through her aching body. It was all she could do not to collapse back onto the bed. When her muscles finally relaxed enough for her to try to walk, she went in search of the john. She found the room easily enough, but the door handle proved to be a bit more challenging. Try as she might, she didn’t seem able to get a good hold on the porcelain knob. Her grip didn’t have enough power. In the end, she had to use both hands. She was just going in when she heard a shout from the bedroom.

“Take a shower while you’re there, will you?” Leona called.

Taking stock of her stink, Red couldn’t help agreeing she needed a wash. Once she’d seen to her full bladder, she took the shower, her enjoyment tempered only by the need to keep her stitches dry. The hot water eased the worst of her aches and stiffness until she thought she might just pass as human again.

She dried herself off with a large soft towel and then did her best to check the wound in her side. It looked clean, if still a little swollen from the last remnants of the infection that had laid her low.

A gentle knock on the door brought her head up. “Yeah?” she said.

“You okay in there?” Leona asked.

“Yeah, fine.”

“There’s a spare dressing in the cupboard.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you hungry?”

“You’re kidding right? Didn’t you hear the starving monster just now?” She heard Leona’s chuckle through the door.

“That’ll be a yes, then,” Leona said. “Your clothes are on the bed. I managed to find some long johns that should fit.” After a brief pause, she added, “If you want them.”

Interesting. Red hadn’t been with anyone since Jan, and Leona was a damn beautiful woman. What the hell. They were both adults, after all.

Muttering curses, Red applied a new dressing. The stiffness in her hands had eased under the hot water, but she was still all thumbs. Once the dressing was in place and a new bandage wrapped over it, she slipped on the robe she found hanging on the back of the bathroom door. The robe was a bit too short but long enough to prevent embarrassment.

She smirked at her reflection in the cupboard mirror. Time to see whether the Wolf has lost her touch.

Leona glanced up as Red entered the small kitchen area. “Very fetching,” she said, an appreciative glint in her eye. “If a little on the small side.”

“Covers all the relevant bits.”

“Only just.”

“Any objections?” Red gave Leona her best roguish grin.

“None whatsoever.” Leona’s eyes sparkled with mischief and something else that suggested Red’s gamble might pay off. “Now sit down and eat some breakfast,” she said. “You need to get your strength back.”

“Oh, yeah? What for?”

Leona’s answering look was brazen. “I think we’ll find something, don’t you?”

Wishing for a miraculous recovery, Red picked up the knife and fork with aching fingers that felt the size of hot dogs and, as she ate, proved just about as useful.

Chapter 15

December 12: A secret revealed

Evadne glanced across the room at Red’s desk. The office felt oddly empty without her.

She hoped Leona was right, and Red recovered quickly from her injury. If only she’d been quick enough to ask for Leona’s telephone number before she’d ended the call that day. If she had, she’d be able to find out how Red was doing rather than worrying herself into an ulcer. Of course, she could always visit the address, but her ingrained good manners balked at the idea of turning up uninvited. Asking the operator for Leona’s number seemed almost as much of an intrusion.

She picked up her pen and stared at her notes, but her mind refused to be distracted by work. Her thoughts kept going back to Red.

Did Leona have the same difficulty getting Red to rest? Sometimes it seemed that tying Red down would be a lot easier the trying to reason with her. Of course, any proposal regarding bed rest usually brought suggestive comments from Red that sent a blush surging over Evadne’s face. She felt one working its way up her neck, and she searched for a neutral topic to take her mind off such lascivious thoughts. Quadratic equations? Latin translations?

Was it Leona’s skill between the sheets that kept Red in bed?

Evadne’s blush completed its journey in a sudden flaming rush. What on earth was she thinking? She rubbed at her face and tried to remove the evidence of her wayward thoughts. What Red got up to in her own time was none of her business. She really needed to stop thinking about what Red and Leona might be doing before the speculation drove her insane as well as—well, heating up regions south.

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it,” she muttered. She shook her head to dislodge the erotic pictures that kept sneaking into her mind. When had she become so depraved? “It’s all Red’s fault. She and her scurrilous suggestions.”

A rap on the door captured her attention in time to see the door open. Two men entered the office. Pausing, they looked at her in surprise.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” she asked. The honorific was a bit of a stretch. While one of the men might fit that category, the other was a scruffy, slouching mess who made Red seem presentable.

“We’re looking for Red Wolverton,” the unkempt man said.

“And you are?” she asked.

The more neatly dressed man pulled his jacket to one side and revealed the badge pinned to his vest. “Detective Sergeant Allen,” he said. “My colleague is Detective Mulligan.”

“Detectives.” Evadne acknowledged the introduction.

“And you are?” Allen asked.

“Mrs. Evadne Davenport.” She noticed the tiniest flicker of surprise in the detective sergeant’s eyes. If she hadn’t been expecting such a reaction, she would have missed it. Mulligan’s amazed whistle was far less subtle.

“May I ask what you’re doing here, Mrs. Davenport?” Allen asked.

“I work here.”

“You work—” He broke off.

She could almost see the cogs in his mind whirring as he processed the information. Mulligan just looked confused.

“You work for Wolverton?” Allen asked.

“Well, to be precise, we are partners,” she answered.

“For how long, if I may ask?” Allen pulled a notebook from his pocket and seemed to be checking something.

“Just over two months.”

“And you have a license?” Allen asked, glancing at Mulligan, who shrugged.

“Of course,” Evadne said.

“I see.”

“Can I help at all?”

While he studied her, Evadne met his gaze steadily, but inside she wondered what Red had done to get the police interested in her. Nothing good, she was certain. Red and the police got on together like a house on fire—meaning, with lots of running around and screaming.

“What do you know about a man by the name of Patrick Finn?” Allen asked at last.

Evadne frowned. The name seemed to ring a bell, but she couldn’t place it. “The name seems familiar. Why?” she asked.

“He was severely beaten up last Thursday.”

Now Evadne remembered that Red had mentioned finding him at Nellie’s Café to her on the phone the other day.

“You’re sure you don’t know him?” Allen said.

Evadne shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, Detective Sergeant. As I said, the name does seem familiar, but I’m afraid I don’t know him.”

“What if I told you he died of his injuries early on Friday morning?”

“Poor man.” Evadne only just covered her surprise. Why hadn’t Red told her? “Do you know who did it?”

Mulligan spoke for the first time. “That’s what we’re hoping Wolverton will tell us.” His hostile tone made it obvious whom he held responsible for Finn’s death.

Her glance darted to Allen. She saw his annoyance at the way his partner had shown their hand. She almost felt sorry for him.

“Do you know where Wolverton is?” Allen asked. “We tried the address on her license, but the building’s been demolished.”

Well, that explained why Red had been evicted. “I believe she is yet to acquire a new place of residence.”

“A vagrant, huh?” Mulligan made an evil little smirk.

“I think you’ll find a vagrant is a person who has no home and no regular employment, Detective,” Evadne said. “I can confirm that Red most certainly has the latter.”

Mulligan scowled.

It seemed the cachet of the Davenport name would only go so far, Evadne thought.

“Do you know where she’s staying at the moment?” Allen asked.

“Here and there. I’m not sure exactly.”

Allen didn’t believe her. She could see it in his eyes and was surprised when he didn’t pursue the matter. “Well, if you do hear from her,” he said, “could you let her know we’d like a word with her?”

Mulligan snorted. “Yeah, as if Wolverton’s gonna come visit without us using bracelets.”

Evadne finally asked the question that had been niggling away at her since hearing the man was dead. “Do you think Red killed this Mr. Finn?”

“They hated each other’s guts!” Mulligan blurted.

Allen gave his colleague a withering glance before answering her question. “We are considering the possibility. Mr. Finn’s employer, Mrs. Natalina Reilly, is also missing. We know Wolverton visited her earlier in the week.”

“And stayed the night,” Mulligan added with a suggestive sneer.

“Perhaps Finn attacked Mrs. Reilly and Wolverton defended her. We know she has a temper. Once she realized what she’d done, she took him to the hospital. Unfortunately, it was too late,” Allen said.

Evadne tried not to consider the preposterous idea. Or was it? Red couldn’t beat someone to death like that… or could she?

Recalling the feral smile she had seen on Red’s face only three months ago when she’d held a rope across Clara Wight’s throat, Evadne fought down her doubts. Clara and her cronies had taken Red to that warehouse to kill her. Red had only been doing what was necessary to escape the painful death that the vindictive and thoroughly horrible Clara had planned. No, she thought. The question now wasn’t whether she believed Red was guilty, but whether the police did. If she told them where Nellie was hiding, their scenario of Red killing Finn for attacking Nellie would be a bust.

But Nellie was a client. Should she tell the police Nellie was alive? She knew what Red’s answer would be. For the moment, she decided she would keep the secret.

“Detective Sergeant, I’m aware Red has a temper,” she said. “However, I cannot believe she would beat a fellow human being to death.”

“Don’t know her very well, then, do you?” Mulligan muttered.

She didn’t expect Allen’s reaction: he smiled.

“As it happens, I don’t believe she did it either, Mrs. Davenport,” he said, “but there’s something she’s not telling us. If we find she’s been hindering a police investigation, we’ll have her license.” And yours, too. The unspoken threat was unmistakable.

“And this time no weasel lawyer’s gonna get it back for you.” Mulligan’s triumphant leer left no doubt how happy he’d be to take Red’s license away.

“Well, good-bye, Mrs. Davenport. Remember what I said.” Allen tipped his hat politely and left the office. Mulligan gave her a last glare and followed the detective sergeant out.

Evadne closed the door behind them. Why hadn’t Red told her Mr. Finn had died? Perhaps she didn’t know.

We should probably let Nellie know. Lovely. First the poor woman loses her lover, and now her employee.

She felt an uncharitable surge of annoyance. There was no prize for guessing who would get the job of breaking the news to Nellie.

*   *   *

Vivian had gotten lucky with the apartment the university found her. She particularly liked Professor Jones’s living room-cum-study. Even without his personal items, the room was very much a gentleman’s space, full of dark wood and leather with deep red damask wallpaper that seemed to glow in the gentle light provided by the open fire. The room felt warm and comfortable, the way she imagined her father’s study must have been.

A familiar pang tugged at her heart. All she could remember of her parents were smells: warm leather, pipe tobacco, delicate flowery perfume, and fresh bread. She could remember nothing of the house fire that had claimed their lives, or how her father had lowered her into the waiting arms of a neighbor before going back for her mother.

She still wasn’t sure whether her lack of memories was a blessing or not.

A knock on the door broke her train of thought. Evadne. She gave the room a last check. Was the low lighting too intimate? She turned on the main light and opened the door.

“Hello, Vivian,” Evadne said.

“Evadne. You found it all right. Good, good.” Vivian stood back to let her enter.

“What a lovely room.”

“Isn’t it? It was a stroke of luck getting something so nice and so close to the university. It belongs to one of the professors, but he’s away on a sabbatical at the moment.”

Evadne ran a hand along the back of a comfortably worn Chesterfield. “It reminds me of my father’s study,” she said.

“Mine, too,” Vivian replied.

Evadne gave her an odd look. “Don’t you mean your uncle’s?”

“No. I know I can’t really remember, but this is just how I imagine my father’s study might have looked.”

“Ah.” Evadne seemed unsure what to say, so Vivian rescued her from her dilemma.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked.

“A cup of tea would be wonderful.”

“The kettle has just boiled. I won’t be a moment. Make yourself at home.”

When Vivian returned, Evadne was studying the photographs on the mantelpiece. “Are these from your excavations?” she asked.

“Yes. We like to take a photographer along to help with recording the finds, and the backers usually like to have some evidence their money is well spent.”

Evadne picked up a framed photograph and gave it a closer look. “You certainly appear to be enjoying yourself.”

“Oh, yes, I love it.”

“Is William in any of these?

“William?”

“Your husband.”

“Oh, yes.” Vivian crossed to the fireplace and took down a smaller photo depicting two women and a man: herself, Angela, and William. She offered it to Evadne. “This was taken at the dig where we met,” she said.

“In Greece, in the rain.”

“You remember?” Vivian asked in surprise, and then thought, Of course she did. Evadne always remembers.

Evadne studied the black-and-white image. “William’s very handsome.”

“He is.” Vivian knew she shouldn’t sound so indifferent about her husband, but she couldn’t play out that particular masquerade in front of Evadne.

“Who is the other woman?” Evadne asked. “Is she an archaeologist, too?”

“That’s Angela Farnsworth. She’s a historian, specializes in Macedonian Greece.” Angela had also been Vivian’s lover for a short but very memorable couple of weeks, but she wasn’t going to reveal that secret.

Evadne put the photograph back on the mantle.

Would she escape further questioning on the subject of her marriage? Evadne’s concerned expression suggested otherwise.

“Is everything all right, Viv? Between you and William, I mean,” Evadne said.

Vivian concentrated on pouring their tea. She passed a cup to Evadne. “Would you like a Bourbon biscuit?” She indicated a plate of cookies.

“Vivian?” Evadne clearly wasn’t going to give up so easily.

Perhaps this meeting hadn’t been such a good idea after all. She should have remembered how persistent Evadne could be. But on consideration, maybe it would be better if she got everything out in the open. At least she’d know where she stood, even if it turned out to be the fiery pits of her own personal hell.

“How do you feel about Wolve—Red’s preference for the fairer sex?” she asked.

“What?” Evadne said. “What on earth has that to do with your husband?”

“Please, humor me.”

Evadne took a sip of her tea, apparently collecting her thoughts. After a long moment, she spoke. “I’m not sure I approve of her reputation for bed-hopping, but I don’t object to the gender of her bedfellows.”

Vivian hoped her relief wasn’t as obvious as it felt. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be so difficult after all.

“Why?” Evadne asked.

Vivian mentally crossed her fingers and girded her loins. “William and I are married in name alone,” she said.

Evadne seemed confused. “I’m not sure—”

“He prefers men.”

Evadne’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Oh.” After a moment, she frowned. “Isn’t that a little unfair to you?”

“I prefer women, Evadne.” Vivian winced as silence greeted the revelation. The conversation wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped. “Evadne? Evie?”

Evadne continued to stare at Vivian as if she’d suddenly sprouted a second head.

“Please don’t faint on me, Evie. It’s not my china,” Vivian said.

The attempt at humor appeared to work. Blinking twice, Evadne set the teacup down on the table. “You are…”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Vivian couldn’t give her the real reason. Not now. Not yet. “Because I wasn’t certain what you would think,” she said instead.

“Oh.” The surprise faded from Evadne’s face. “Why did you marry William?”

“To protect our reputations. Any whiff of our ‘unnatural’ ways, and we’d never get the tenure we both want.”

“You wouldn’t?” Evadne seemed suddenly angry. “That is so unfair.”

Vivian gave her a wry smile. “Isn’t it just.”

“It’s bad enough the awful things I’ve heard people saying about Red, but that they should stop you from—” Evadne stumbled to a halt. “Heavens, sometimes I could just scream!” she concluded after a moment.

“You don’t mind?” Vivian asked.

“Mind? No, of course not. Don’t be silly. If I minded about anything it would be about the idiots who would prevent you—”

“Calm down, Evadne.”

“Sorry, it’s just so unfair.”

“I know. Have a Bourbon.”

“Thank you.” Evadne took a cookie and bit into it with such force, pieces flew in all directions. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Vivian couldn’t help it. A gale of laughter born of nerves and relief burst from her. Evadne looked startled, but after a moment she joined in. After a while, the laughter faded into slightly self-conscious smiles.

Evadne began to pick the crumbs off her skirt and place them in the tray. “I really am—”

“Oh, Evie.”

“Don’t you start. I get enough from Red telling me I apologize too much.”

“For once, I have to agree with her.”

“Why don’t you like her?”

“I don’t know her well enough to like or dislike her.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” Evadne gave her a small smile. “Just like Red.”

Vivian felt her hackles rise. “I’m nothing like her.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Just because we’re both—”

“That’s not what I mean. You are both stubborn, argumentative, and overprotective.”

“I am not—” Vivian stopped at the glint of triumph in Evadne’s eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“No, actually, I don’t.” Evadne looked tired. “I’m worried about her, Vivian. She’s so angry all the time. I want to help, but all I seem to do is drive her away.” A flicker of anger passed over her face. “And I don’t trust her latest piece of fluff any farther than I could throw her.”

“Piece of fluff?” Vivian couldn’t help smiling. It wasn’t the sort of thing she expected Evadne to say.

Evadne flushed pink. “Leona Harriman. A pretty young blonde thing and Red’s latest bed warmer. On the surface she seems all goodness and light, but underneath… there’s something about her I really don’t like.”

Vivian was surprised by the bitterness in Evadne’s voice. Was she jealous? She opened her mouth to ask, but she shut it. No. That wasn’t an answer she was ready to hear.

Before Vivian could think of anything else to say, Evadne let out a weary sigh.

“Oh, don’t mind me, Viv,” she said. “I’m just a bitter old woman.” She sat up straighter, her expression earnestly expectant. “Now, pour me another cup of tea, and tell me all about this temple you want to excavate.”

Vivian went with Evadne’s change of subject, happy to get her thoughts off Red and her relationship with Evadne. “It’s a Mithraeum, a temple to Mithras, the soldier’s god.” She leaned forward as she warmed to her subject. “The site has never been touched, at least as far as we can tell. It could be the most complete example ever found.”

*   *   *

The sound of singing drifted down the corridor: a breathy contralto in some barely comprehensible cowboy patois—mostly about losing cows or finding gals, or possibly the other way round. Red was back, Evadne concluded. Not only that, she seemed ungodly happy. It appeared having a love life had cheered her up.

Evadne wondered morosely where she could get a lover. If only she wasn’t so choosy, and men weren’t such narrow-minded misogynists!

She entered the office to find Red seated at her desk reading the morning Herald.

Red looked up from the newspaper. “Morning.”

“Good morning. I hope you’re fully recovered?” Evadne hung up her hat and coat and headed for the coffee pot on its tabletop hot plate.

“Yeah, fit as a fiddle.”

She found the pot already full of steaming coffee. How long had Red been in? She poured herself a cup. “Would you like a coffee?” she asked.

“Yeah.” A slight frown creased Red’s forehead. “Thanks”

“You’re welcome.”

She placed the mug at Red’s elbow and said, “For a woman with two black eyes and a broken nose, you seem unusually cheerful this morning.”

“What of it?” Red snapped.

She backpedaled, surprised by Red’s defensive reply. “Why, nothing.”

“Good.” Red’s attention returned to the newspaper.

After a moment, Evadne went to her desk, giving Red a puzzled glance on the way. Why had Red all but bitten her head off? Her remark had been a joke.

Still ignorant of the reason for Red’s reaction to her teasing, Evadne removed her notes on the Kemper journals from her briefcase. Perhaps these would cheer Red up.

“I finished going though those journals Theo gave me,” she said. “I think you’ll find them interesting.”

Red made a noncommittal grunt as Evadne placed the journals in front of her.

Evadne hung back as Red began to read. The easy familiarity they’d developed now felt oddly out of place. Instead of watching over Red’s shoulder, she left her to read in peace.

She pulled the folder that contained the documentation for Mrs. Thistle’s lost dog case from the filing cabinet. It was high time she billed the silly woman for her work. The case would have been finished earlier if the search for Theo’s statue hadn’t taken such an unexpected course. She studied her notes and checked that they were complete.

The search for the Pekingese hadn’t taken her too long. She’d quickly tracked down the recalcitrant canine, filthy and tired, but bright eyed and madly bouncing. Horatio Finneas Barker III’s attitude had changed as soon as he returned to his doting owner’s arms. His ears had drooped, his eyes lost their sparkle, and his boisterous energy dissipated.

As she considered the way the naturally lively dog had been smothered by love, she suddenly wondered if Red felt the same when she tried to help. Was she slowly stifling the life out of her partner?

“Have you heard anything from James about Nellie?” Red unexpectedly asked.

Evadne snapped out of her worrying train of thought. “He called last night to report everything was well. He took some supplies over the evening before and reported that Nellie seemed quite content if a little bored.”

“Good.”

At least Red appeared to be willing to talk about the case. “Did you find anything at the Fouled Anchor?” She was taken aback when her question earned her an angry scowl. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Nothing you’d be interested in,” Red said with a snarl.

Shocked, Evadne stared at Red. She had asked a perfectly innocuous question, hadn’t she? Yes, darn it. “What do you mean by that, exactly?” she asked.

“You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

Red’s expression hardened. “I found booze and a fight. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No,” Evadne said, thoroughly confused. “Red, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Red abruptly stood. “I’m going for a walk.”

Worried and baffled, Evadne didn’t bother offering to accompany her. Red’s attitude made it very clear she wasn’t wanted, but that didn’t stop her from watching Red leave.

*   *   *

For the first time since making Evadne a partner, Red was glad to leave the office and its strained atmosphere. A barrier had risen between her and Evadne almost overnight. It was obvious why and whose fault it was. She hadn’t wanted to believe what Leona told her about Evadne’s reaction to her injuries, but the cold shoulder she’d been getting all morning made it damn clear that Leona had been right.

And it wouldn’t only be the fighting that had gotten up Evadne’s Brahmin nose. Red had no doubt about that. Evadne might appear to have no problem with her attraction to women when she didn’t do anything about it, but the moment Evadne came face-to-face with the reality, she’d run a mile.

Red didn’t make a secret of the fact that her lovers were women. If Evadne couldn’t cope with the reality, that was her problem.

As she walked uptown, she felt her annoyance growing into anger. What the fuck had Evadne thought would happen? She was bound to find another lover sooner or later. Did Evadne think she’d become celibate because she apparently had no sort of love life of her own? Yeah, like that would ever happen.

If not Leona, she’d sleep with some other woman. After all, she wasn’t going to bed Mrs. fucking high-and-mighty Davenport, was she? Anger boiled in her chest. She itched to hit someone. The feeling was so intense, it was almost painful. She changed direction. There was only once place she could safely scratch her itch.

A streetcar soon had her at the docks. She made her way to Mickey’s gym, glad she had left her kit there. The old boxer seemed to sense her mood and let her change without his usual banter. Once she was ready and warmed up, he called her over.

“You look like you have some steam to let off,” Mickey said.

Biting back a sarcastic comment, Red nodded.

“How’s your side?” he asked.

“Fine.” Good thing he didn’t know about the stitches, otherwise he wouldn’t let her anywhere near the ring. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything she could do about the sickly green and purple bruising under her eyes.

“What about those shiners?” he asked.

“They’re fine.”

“Oh?” he said, sounding unconvinced.

Red felt her anger rising. “For fuck’s sake, Mickey, it’s my damn face. I won’t complain if it gets hit again.”

He still didn’t look happy. She fought the urge to plead. If she sounded too desperate, he almost certainly wouldn’t agree to her sparring.

After a long moment, he gave her a wary nod. “Okay, on your own head be it,” he said. “Do you wanna try Nat again?”

Red grinned. Yeah, Nat would do nicely, she thought, and she’d get some payback for those bruised ribs he had given her just before that shindig at Theo Criffy’s place.

“I take that as a yes.” Mickey called Nat over as she readied herself for the bout.

Once she and Nat were ready, they climbed into the ring.

“Okay, you two boneheads, listen up,” Mickey said. “This is a friendly bout, okay? Nat, you leave Red’s right side alone.” Nat nodded his understanding. “Red, this isn’t about getting your own back, got it?” he went on.

Red didn’t answer.

“Red?”

“Got it,” she muttered.

The bout started easily enough. Reining in her anger, she used it to fuel her speed and power. She managed a couple of nice little combinations, skilled enough for Nat to lose the cocky grin. The tightness in her chest eased. She began to relax. That was a big mistake.

Nat attacked with a fast and precise combination of blows that got through her defenses to land a punch on her left side. As she stepped back, he followed. All she could do was defend until Mickey called an end to the round.

When they separated, Nat gave her a mocking smile and said, “Always knew you were a glutton for punishment.”

Red snapped, and her rage flared out of control as she threw a wild haymaker at him. He reacted automatically, avoiding her punch and sending a ferocious hook into the side of her undefended head. Her knees buckled. She was out like a light before she hit the canvas.

Sometime later, Red blinked in surprise at her view of the gym’s rafters. How did she get down here? Her dazed mind finally worked its way back to what had happened in the ring. Fuck, Nat has a punch like a damn jackhammer.

“What’s gotten into you, girl?” Mickey sounded concerned as well as annoyed. “I’ve never seen you lose it like that.” He hauled her up by the arm to stand on shaky legs.

“Shit, I dunno, Mickey.”

“You okay, Red?” Nat asked.

“I’m fine, kid,” she said. “That’s a mighty fine right hook you have there, by the way.”

He returned her smile. “Glad you think so.” He sobered. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that, though.”

She placed a gloved hand on the young man’s shoulder. “No, that’s exactly how you should react. Don’t worry about it, kid. The whole thing was my fault. You reacted exactly as a fighter should.”

“G’won, boyo, scram,” Mickey said. “I’ll take care of our thickheaded idjut here.”

Nat nodded. He ducked under the ropes to join the crowd of surprised watchers.

“Get back to training, you lazy bunch. There ain’t nothing to see here.” As the audience hurriedly dispersed, Mickey gave Red a stern look. “Into my office, now. We need a serious talk about this little display.”

Red slipped through the ropes and went to the office. As she crossed the small space, she noticed the other boxers watching her. Most of them appeared surprised, but a few faces were filled with malicious glee.

She entered the small office and turned to face Mickey as he followed her in.

He shut the door firmly behind him and gestured with his head toward a chair. “Sit.”

She sat. “Mickey, I—”

“Hold out your hands.”

Red held out her gloved hands, laces up. She stared at the top of Mickey’s head as he picked at the laces. She hadn’t noticed his bald spot before. Not for the first time, she wondered about Mickey’s age.

He finished undoing the laces and removed her gloves in absolute silence.

Once her hands were free, she pulled off the snug-fitting head-protection gear. She spat out her mouth guard and put both pieces of equipment with her gloves on the desk.

Mickey spoke, and he didn’t beat around the bush. “What the hell’s wrong with you, girl? You’ve been on the edge of losing control for months. You’d have never gotten punched in the side so bad by Nat last time if you’d fought with your head, not your heart. If I’d known you’d go all emotional on me, I’d have never let you train.”

He had no right to talk to her like that, Red fumed. She weren’t his kid. “I ain’t going all emotional on you.”

“Well, you certainly could’ve fooled me.”

“And even if I were, it ain’t none of your damn business.” Her hands clenched into fists as she got up to stand nearly nose-to-nose with the trainer.

“If it causes a display like what we’ve just seen in the ring today, it certainly is my business.” Mickey’s worried gaze studied her face. “C’mon, Red, what’s going on?”

“None of your fucking business, old man.” She struggled to control her anger, unwilling to show him any weakness.

“If you say so, Red.”

“I do say so!”

“Fair enough.” He looked at her calmly. “You’re banned.”

“What?” The sudden announcement nearly shocked her out of her rage. “You're kidding, right? You can’t!” A wave of desperation swept over her. How could he do this to her?

Mickey opened the door. “You heard me, Wolverton. You’re banned from the gym until you can control that temper or until you let me help you.”

She fought back unexpected tears to give him a cold stare. “Well, fuck you, too!” she snapped. She shouldered past him through the staring crowd, out of the gym, and into the falling snow.

She strode along the slush-covered wharf until she could no longer contain her fury. She put a fist through one of the packing crates stacked along the edge of the dock.

“Fuck him!” Red let fly another punch and another. “Fuck them. Fuck them all!” She vented her anger until tears of frustration came, and then she rested her head against the thoroughly battered crate and let them fall, not caring who saw her.

As the tears slowed, she became aware of footsteps coming closer. She swung around, fists ready, and relaxed as she recognized the young man who stood a few feet away.

“Whaddaya want, Frank?” she asked.

“Just checking you’re okay.”

“Like anyone cares.” When had she become so self-pitying? That wasn’t the Wolf’s way.

“Mickey cares,” Frank said.

“Like fuck he does!”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” Frank smiled easily. He was one of the best boxers at the gym. Red knew she had no chance against him, and he knew it, too. “We reckoned you might like these.” He held out a bundle of cloth she belatedly recognized as her clothes.

As mad as she felt, she couldn’t help giving him a small, embarrassed grin. “Thought it was cold out here.” She put on her clothes over her shorts and singlet. She rammed the fedora on her head and decided to stick with the high-top sneakers for the moment and carry her boots. To distract herself from Frank’s concerned gaze, she took her time tying the laces together.

“Red, you need to let Mickey help you,” he said. “I had the same problem, you know.”

Red stared at Frank in open disbelief. He was the most controlled, most even-tempered boxer she knew. She couldn’t imagine him losing his head.

“I was a wild, angry kid, Red,” he went on. “Mickey got me through, taught me how to control it. He can do the same for you.”

Red let out a long breath and shook her head. “I need to work this out myself, Frank.”

She thought he might argue with her, but he just nodded.

“Okay, if that’s what you want.”

Red watched him walk down the wharf until he was hidden by a stack of bales. Swinging her boots over her shoulder, she wondered what to do next. At least she didn’t feel ready to blow up anymore, so it didn’t take long to come to a decision. She headed for the streetcar that would take her up to the North End.

She arrived at her destination a little while later and knocked on the neat front door. After a minute, she knocked again. Still no answer. Leona was out. She groaned. Just great. Perhaps she should have taken the key Leona had offered that morning. Her stubborn pride was getting to be a real pain in the butt.

She sank down to sit on the stoop. At least it wasn’t a bad day. The pale wintry sun tried its best against the cold. She took off her hat and tipped up her face to catch most of the timid warmth.

Closing her eyes against the brightness, she relaxed another notch and tried to ignore the burning feeling from her skinned knuckles. She was glad the strapping she still wore had saved her hands from even more damage when she’d laid into the packing crate.

Why had she been so angry? She went over the morning. Evadne hadn’t done anything wrong; she saw that now. Where the hell was all this rage coming from?

Something butted against her knee, and she glanced down. A small, scruffy, multicolored cat was rubbing its head against her leg. Leaning down, she scratched it behind the ear.

“Howdy, puss,” she said as the cat purred in appreciation and pushed its head into her hand. “You like that, huh?”

She carried on scratching until her fingers hurt. She unwrapped the strapping, leaned back against the door, and massaged her throbbing hand. As soon as she settled, the cat clambered into her lap, curled up, and went to sleep.

“Well, at least someone likes me,” she murmured.

“Talking to yourself, honey?”

The cat shot off Red’s lap and disappeared around the corner of the house in a blur of ginger, black, and white. Red tried not to wince. For a small cat, it had very sharp claws.

“You’re back early,” Leona said. “Is everything okay?”

Leona’s concern provoked a halfhearted smile. “Yeah, nothing for you to worry about.”

“But enough to bring you straight here.”

Red felt her smile turn decidedly rakish. “Ah, but perhaps I had other reasons for coming straight here.”

“Like what?” Leona teased.

“Like this.” Red stood up and caught Leona in her arms.

“Not here.” Leona prevented Red from completing the kiss by pressing hands against her chest to hold her off. “Not outside.”

Frowning, Red nodded. She released Leona to let her open the door. Once they were over the threshold, she shut the door with her foot and pulled Leona to her, turning so Leona had her back against the door. Leona’s eyes darkened. The need Red saw in those blue-gray depths answered her unspoken question.

She placed her battered hands on the door on either side of Leona’s head. The wood felt warm against her palms as she studied Leona’s face. Her eyes were half-closed, her face tipped up to counter Red’s extra inches of height. Leona looked good enough to eat.

Red was suddenly ravenous. She lowered her head. She meant the kiss to be gentle and teasing, but as soon as their lips touched, she couldn’t stop herself. She crowded Leona against the door, her kiss crushing in its forcefulness.

Leona’s lips parted instantly, and their tongues met in a ferociously needy duel. As she and Leona fought for control, Red pushed her knee between Leona’s legs. Leona gasped and then moaned, low, and throaty, and full of need as she rubbed against Red’s leg.

Red pulled up Leona’s skirt while Leona pushed Red’s overcoat and jacket off her shoulders. She removed her hands from Leona long enough for the overcoat and jacket to be yanked off. Her vest soon followed.

Leona tore at Red’s shirt, ripped it out of her pants, and clutched at the taut muscles of her back.

Red’s brain almost stopped working. All she could think about was the feel of Leona under her hands as she kneaded her ass. She wanted to be inside her so much it hurt.

Fingernails raked over her shoulders and upper back. The sensation brought her as much pleasure as pain, urging her on. Leona was already close to climax. She could hear it in the way her breathing changed.

She squeezed her hand between Leona’s thigh and crotch. Her surprise at finding Leona wasn’t wearing any underwear was swallowed up in a rush of pure lust. Leona was wet—so fucking wet, she couldn’t wait any longer.

Breaking the kiss, Red dropped to her knees and pressed three fingers hard into Leona’s wetness. She came with a low, shuddering groan.

Red withdrew a fraction before pressing deeper, ignoring the growing pain in her hand as she rubbed her thumb against Leona’s clitoris. The second orgasm didn’t take long. Leona released a strangled cry and slumped across her shoulder. Soft breasts pressed against her back as Leona heaved for breath.

Red’s knees ached from the hard wooden floor, but she waited for the pulses still clutching at her fingers to slow, and then stop, before finally withdrawing. A moment later, Leona pushed off Red’s back and stepped away, wild-eyed and panting.

“Animal,” she said.

“Why do you think I’m called the Wolf?” Red growled as she moved forward, ready for more. Leona’s raised hands stopped her.

“Not against the door again, please,” she said. “I don’t think my back can take it.”

“Whatever my lady desires,” Red said.

Leona let out a small shriek as Red picked her up in her arms and carried her slight but deceptively heavy prize toward the stairs. A small shred of common sense broke through Red’s overpowering passion to wonder what the hell she was thinking. If she wasn’t careful, she’d do herself a permanent injury one of these days.

After a stormy encounter upstairs in the bedroom, Red lay on her back in bed and stared up at the cornflower blue ceiling. The comforting weight of Leona’s head rested on her shoulder, her long blonde hair spread across her chest. Leona shifted in her sleep. The possessive arm around Red’s stomach tightened briefly before Leona relaxed and returned to a gentle slumber.

Red played with a strand of pale gold hair, idly twirling it around her finger as she listened to the pattern of Leona’s breathing change.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she whispered.

Leona’s hand trailed indulgently across Red’s stomach and paused at the circular scar above her belly button. “What’s this?”

“Got shot.”

“And the one on your back?”

“Exit wound.”

Leona placed an open hand over the scar on Red’s stomach. The other hand wormed its way under her back. Leona’s eyes closed, and an expression of intense concentration came over her face.

A moment later, gray-blue eyes shot open to stare at Red. “You died but were brought back,” Leona said, a statement of fact, not a question.

Red stared back at Leona. How the hell did she know that? No one knew except Evadne, and even she didn’t know everything.

“Red?” Leona asked.

Red rolled out of Leona’s arms and sat on the edge of the bed. Had someone overheard her telling Evadne how the Golem had restored her life? She’d thought all of Garrison’s men well out of earshot, but perhaps she’d been wrong. She hadn’t exactly been thinking straight at the time. Her mind was dazed from the pain of dying and the agony of being brought back to life.

The mattress moved as Leona shifted position. The touch of Leona’s fingers made her back muscles twitch.

“Come back to bed, honey. I’m getting lonely here,” Leona said.

Red shrugged off Leona’s touch. The mattress dipped again as Leona moved to press soft breasts against her back. Warm hands roamed over her body.

Red caught Leona’s hands. She wasn’t going to let herself be distracted that easily. “Who told you?” She tightened her grip. “Who told you?”

Leona tried to pull away. “Red, you’re hurting me.”

Red released Leona as if burned and shot off the bed. Two strides took her to the wall, and she turned. She leaned against the cold plaster, folded her arms across her chest, and stared at Leona, waiting for an answer.

Leona rubbed her wrists, and her eyes flashed with anger. “No one told me, Red. I can feel it.” Her gaze softened. “I’ve always been able to feel where the supernatural has touched the mortal world.”

Not sure what to think, Red didn’t say anything.

“I’m worried though. Whatever healed you used part of itself. That part is still in you.”

Red struggled to hide her shock. No one knew that. She’d even kept the secret from Evadne. She shivered as she remembered the feeling of the creature in her mind, tugging at her will, trying to bend her to its command.

“You’re cold, honey,” Leona said. “Come here.”

This time, Red did as she was told. She snuggled back into the warm cocoon of the bedclothes. Leona draped a leg over hers and put an arm around her waist. The warmth of Leona’s body helped remove the chill from her skin. Leona’s hand moved up to trace the small white circular mark just above her left breast.

“What about this?” Leona asked. “It looks sort of like another bullet wound. Was it healed the same way?”

Red seized on the chance to change the subject. “No, that’s a birthmark.” She let out a humorless chuckle. “It was blood red for the first few days after I was born. Ma said it scared Pa something rotten. He claimed it was the Devil’s mark on me. Wasn’t surprising he never liked me after that. It faded though, over—” She broke off as Leona’s hand moved distractingly sideways. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

Leona’s sultry purr left Red in no doubt of her intentions. “Watch the nose this time, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Red. I don’t want you put off your stride again.”

“Good girl.”

Leona pouted. “I am not a girl.”

When Red lifted her head to kiss the pout away, she recalled how Evadne had said exactly the same thing. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure what she was doing. Was she unfaithful? But how could she be unfaithful when Evadne would never be any more than a friend?

She gave up on thinking and lost herself in the moment.

Chapter 16

December 14: Fire and music

“Have you had any luck with your informants?” Evadne asked.

Red stopped making notes on what she hadn’t found so far. “Nope. They know nothing.”

“You’ve tried them all?”

“All but three. Two are bozos. Don’t expect to get shit from them.”

“And the other one?”

“Cross-my-heart Nailer. He’s one of my best.”

Evadne raised an eyebrow. “Cross-my-heart?”

Red grinned. “You’ll see when you meet him.”

“I shall look forward to it.” Evadne returned the smile.

Red’s heart did a pitter-patter of joy. It might not be the same beaming smile Evadne had given Vivian, but it was warm, and genuine, and horribly missing for far too long.

“Evad—” she began to say, but the telephone’s strident ring interrupted her. She fought the urge to toss it out the window. Why had she ever thought getting one was a good idea?

“Wolverton Investigation Agency, how may I help you? Hello, James. How—” Evadne’s expression went from amused to grim in the blink of an eye.

“What? When?” Evadne stopped talking and listened intently. “You’re sure?” She sounded upset and angry. “Yes. Yes, we’ll be over right away.” She put the receiver down and swung around to face Red. “The boathouse burned down last night.”

“What boathouse?” Red asked, puzzled.

“That’s where Nellie’s hiding.”

Red stood as her stomach tightened into a hard knot. “Nellie… is she okay?”

“James doesn’t know. He’s going out there now.”

“We’re going, too.”

“We’ll have to use your automobile. It’s at my house.”

Red had already bolted halfway out the door before Evadne stopped speaking, but Evadne caught up with her on the first flight of stairs.

Red fidgeted throughout the streetcar journey. Once they reached their destination, she ran the rest of the way to the Palace. She realized she’d outpaced Evadne again when she caught up in the kitchen, breathing hard.

“I’m going to change into trousers,” Evadne said between great gulps of air.

Red nodded absently. She grabbed the key to the padlock on the carriage house and rushed back outside. In less than thirty seconds, she had the carriage house doors open. Once inside, she tried to persuade Annie to start. The Ford wouldn’t have any of it, which didn’t help with her growing frustration. She flung open Annie’s door, got out, and tried hand cranking the engine.

After the fifth failed attempt to get the engine started, she opened the hood. The engine looked okay. She fiddled with the usual culprits, made sure nothing was loose, and got back into the Ford. She gave the starter another try. The engine turned over once and died.

She thumped the steering wheel with her fist. “Dammit, Annie, not now,” she muttered.

“Perhaps you’ve flooded the engine?”

Red hadn’t noticed Evadne’s arrival. The carriage house falling down around her ears might have distracted her from getting Annie started, she thought, but nothing else.

Resisting the urge to tell Evadne to go jump in the nearest lake, she tried the starter one more time, saying to the car, “Come on, sweetheart, you can do this.”

She held her breath. The engine coughed and spluttered but didn’t die. She dared not breathe out until the engine settled into a regular rhythm. She slammed the gears into reverse and backed the vehicle outside. As soon as Annie came to a halt, Evadne hopped in.

With a crunch of gears, Red changed into low. She had the Ford halfway up the drive before she remembered she didn’t know which way to go.

“Evadne?” she asked.

“Head for Lexington.”

The journey passed in near silence. The only words she exchanged with Evadne concerned directions. The band around her chest tightened steadily the farther she drove. Was this her fault? If she hadn’t been sniffing around, Bats wouldn’t have been killed and Nellie would never have gotten involved. Experience said Bats’s death would have happened anyway, but her guilt said otherwise, and at the moment, guilt had the upper hand.

“Turn right here,” Evadne said.

Red wrenched the steering wheel over. For a second, Annie tilted precariously on the two wheels on the right side, but as the automobile rounded the corner, the wheels hit the ground again with a jarring thud.

“Red!”

Red didn’t say anything, but she did reduce their speed a little. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Evadne’s grip on the door relax a smidgen. She gave Evadne a crooked grin, and the tightness around her chest eased a little.

Evadne asked, “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

Red shrugged but couldn’t stop her grin from widening.

“You are so perverse sometimes,” Evadne said.

Red’s brief flash of humor faded when she saw a lake along the road. “Is this it?”

“Yes.” Evadne sounded somber. “Another half a mile or so, then we have to walk. And please try to remember my legs aren’t as long as yours.”

Red’s stomach began to churn. What were they going to find? Was Nellie okay? Christ, I hope so, she thought fervently. She’d never forgive herself if anything happened to her old friend as a result of being dragged into the investigation.

She gripped the steering wheel hard as anger rapidly replaced anxiety. If Nellie was hurt, someone would pay. She would make damned certain of that.

Despite her plea, Evadne still had to walk as fast as she could just to keep up with Red, who strode angrily through the calf-deep snow as though it didn’t exist, and appeared ready to explode. She just hoped if Red lost control, no one would get hurt in the process.

She and Red were about halfway to the lake when she realized she should be able to see the boathouse through the trees. James had said the building had burnt to the ground, she recalled. It appeared he hadn’t exaggerated.

When they emerged from the woods surrounding the boathouse, Evadne stopped dead to stare at a heap of charred wood and ashes. How could there be so little debris?

After a moment, she noticed three men near the ruins. One was James. He said something to the bulkier of the two men, and they walked in her direction. The slighter figure of the third man went to the ruins and began poking around.

Red walked right past the two men and headed straight for the remains of the boathouse.

Evadne noticed the confusion on the stranger’s face and the concern in James’s expression. Before the stranger could do something to set Red off, she hailed them. “Hello.”

The stranger nodded a greeting. The badge pinned to his heavy fur-lined coat identified him as the sheriff. “Mrs. Davenport,” he said, “I can’t tell you how sorry we are. Your man told us you had a friend staying here, but we didn’t—”

Evadne cut him off. “Thank you, Sheriff…?” She paused expectantly.

“Waters, ma’am. Sherriff Walter Waters.”

“Sheriff, what can you tell me about the fire?” Evadne listened with half an ear to what the sheriff had to say as she watched Red going over the ruins.

“Well, ma’am, I ain’t no expert, but it looks like a plain accident to me.”

James made a small noise of disagreement. “A very convenient accident.”

Evadne wasn’t listening anymore. Red had stopped where the door should have been. She saw Red hunker down and lift some of the ashes to her nose.

The other man—presumably a deputy—stopped his search and headed in their direction. “Hey, sheriff, no sign of any crispy critters,” he called in an overly loud voice.

Red’s back stiffened. Evadne held her breath. For a moment, it seemed nothing would happen. Then Red rose, twisted like an angry wildcat, and charged the deputy.

James reacted nearly as quickly as Red. Sprinting past the surprised deputy, he took Red around the waist in a tackle that would have done his rugby-playing Welsh forebears proud, Evadne thought. James and Red landed in the snow as she hurried toward them.

“Get off me, you bastard,” Red said. She lay facedown, squirming under James’s weight as she tried to escape.

He sat on her back and tried to get a secure hold on her arms. “Stop it, Red, before I hurt you,” he said.

“You fucking Welsh bastard, I’m going to kill you for this.”

Evadne was close enough to see Red’s hate-twisted face. If looks could kill, James would have been dead already.

“Red,” she said.

“Get this bastard off me.”

“Red, please stop.”

The sheriff tried to get his handcuffs over Red’s wrists but missed. Just great, Evadne groaned internally. That’s like pouring gasoline on a fire.

“Don’t do that, sheriff,” she said.

“But Mrs. Daven—”

“Just leave her alone. Please.”

Sheriff Waters looked a little offended but did as he was told.

Evadne switched her attention to the still-struggling Red. “Please, Red, they’ll arrest—”

“Fucking bastards. I’ll kill all of them.”

Red’s reduced vocabulary was wearing a little thin. Evadne glanced at James. He was nearly as flushed as Red, but he had managed to pin Red’s hands behind her back. He was waiting for something, but it took a moment before Evadne realized what was causing the delay. Her stomach rebelled at the thought of causing Red pain, but if James didn’t get her under control, the situation would get even messier. She nodded.

“Argh, fuck,” Red snarled, “you’re breaking my fucking, goddamn arm.”

“Don’t you think—” the sheriff began to say to Evadne.

She turned on the sheriff as her own temper flared. “If your idiotic deputy had shown even the smallest hint of sympathy, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” she said. “Next time he wants to be crass, I suggest he wait until the victim’s friends are out of earshot. Now he’d better get the hell out of here before I kick him into the damn lake.”

The sheriff looked shocked, and the deputy faintly sick.

It served him right, she thought.

“Go wait at the road, Andy,” the sheriff said.

The deputy nodded and moved away, the very essence of repentant humility. Evadne wondered if she’d been too harsh on the boy. Before she could say anything else, an odd sound caught her attention. She glanced at James, who looked just as surprised to realize Red was laughing—choked and bordering on tears, but definitely laughter.

“Way to go, Evadne,” Red said. “Two cuss words in one sentence. It’s a fucking miracle!”

James removed himself warily from Red’s back. After a couple of minutes, the part tears, part laughter finally ended. Red rolled over. Evadne held her breath. At her side, James tensed. Red’s green eyes were red-rimmed, and there seemed only a little anger left.

Red smiled wryly. “You’re pretty handy for an old guy,” she said to James, who snorted.

“Less of the old,” he admonished.

Red stood and winced. Evadne felt suddenly worried. Had Red pulled her stitches again? The question hovered on the tip of her tongue but remained unspoken. Red would probably get annoyed by any show of concern. Instead, she asked, “Did you find anything?”

Red seemed surprised by the question. “Yeah,” she replied. “There’s a strong smell of kerosene around what I reckon was the door.”

“It was the door, and the only way in except by water.”

“Not an accident then.”

“Did you expect it to be?”

“You reckon it’s arson?” The sheriff sounded as though he didn’t believe his ears.

Red gave him a contemptuous look, turned on her heel, and walked away.

Evadne watched her a moment and then glanced at James in time to see him grimace. “Are you all right, James?” she asked.

“I think I may have pulled something—several somethings.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Not your fault, Evadne.” His gaze fixed on Red’s retreating back, he frowned.

Evadne’s stomach knotted. “Are you sure you’re all right? You seem worried.”

She thought he was going to answer, but he shook his head. “Not now.”

Evadne turned around to see Red circling the edge of the trampled snow. “What is she doing?” she asked James.

“I would say she’s searching for signs of the arsonist. She won’t find any.”

“Pardon me?”

“It snowed heavily yesterday,” he explained. “When the sheriff and I came out this morning, the snow was undisturbed.”

Red returned to the group. “Any sign of tracks when you arrived, James?”

“Not a trace.”

“You’ve missed one obvious route,” Evadne said, capturing everyone’s attention.

“What?” Red asked.

“The lake, of course.”

“Of course,” the sheriff said. “I’ll see if anyone rented out a boat yesterday.”

“Good.” Red headed back to the ruins.

“What’s she doing now?” the sheriff asked.

“Heaven knows,” Evadne answered.

James coughed delicately. “I believe she’s trying to find Mrs. Reilly’s remains.”

Evadne swallowed hard as she realized the lack of tracks also meant Nellie couldn’t have escaped the fire. She couldn’t leave Red to search by herself, she decided.

“I suggest you stay here, sheriff,” she said.

He didn’t appear very happy, but he nodded.

As she walked away, she wondered if James had told the sheriff she had been a Van Deemin before her marriage. Her father’s family owned a lot of land in the area and could apply considerable pressure if they wanted to use or abuse that power.

Reaching the heap of blackened, charred wood, Evadne noticed the site stank of wet ash, paint, and tar, but no telltale smell of burnt flesh. Clearly, the fire had been fierce but surely not enough to burn away all signs of Nellie’s body.

She gingerly picked her way through the debris. The iron stove, though blackened and deformed, was still recognizable. She used the toe of her boot to move the charred lumps of wood scattered around it. Something caught her eye. She brushed off the ash to reveal the coffee pot: charred, half-melted, and flattened.

She lifted it up, surprised to find the metal still warm. A glint of silver in the ash caught her attention. She recognized the simple chain bracelet she’d last seen on Nellie’s wrist, the first tangible evidence the café owner had been in the boathouse when the fire started.

Glancing at Red, she saw her gaze was fixed on the frail links curled in her hand. “I’m sorry, Red.”

Red didn’t say anything. Her jaw worked a couple of times. Evadne wasn’t sure whether Red was fighting tears or anger as she held out her hand.

Obeying the silent request, Evadne laid the bracelet carefully in her palm. Red closed her fingers around it. She still didn’t say a word, but her eyes told Evadne all she needed to know. It was Edgar Van Volk all over again. Red hadn’t managed to get the revenge she’d so dearly wanted for his murder of her friend and ex-lover, Janet Baker. Later, Red learned enough of what drove Edgar’s actions to be able to deal with her emotions and maybe even forgive Edgar a little. Unfortunately, it appeared to be a lesson Red was determined to ignore.

“Red, revenge does no one any good,” she said. “Didn’t Edgar—”

“This is nothing like Edgar.”

“Really?” Evadne’s worry-fueled anger flickered to life. “Because the situation seems very similar to me.”

“You don’t know a fucking thing about it!”

“Well, if I don’t, it’s because you won’t tell me anything!” Evadne stared at Red, who stared back at her.

Red broke first. “I’m going back to Boston.”

Red had taken three steps from the ruins before Evadne realized she really meant to leave. Her anger vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Red, wait.”

“James has Bessie.” Red didn’t stop or even glance at her as she walked away. “He can take you back.”

“Red, please,” Evadne said, but Red clearly wasn’t listening. She stopped. If that’s the way she wants it, then so be it. She returned to the waiting men. The sheriff looked confused, while James’s frown got deeper.

“Well, sheriff, haven’t we got some boat checking to do?” she asked.

Blinking, he snapped out of his daze. “Yes, of course. Let’s go back to my office, shall we?” Despite his words, he didn’t seem inclined to move.

“Is there something else, sheriff?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t meeting her eyes. She wondered why. He went on, “It’s about Andy. He’s a good kid, ma’am. He’s not usually so…”

“Brainless.”

The sheriff winced. “Yeah, he was, can’t deny that. What you don’t know is that there was another fire in town a month back. Parents and two kids were killed. Andy found the youngest under what was left of his bed. Poor kid must’ve tried to hide there. Andy threw up for five minutes straight and tried to resign. I wouldn’t let him. He’ll make a fine lawman in time, but he’s still growing a shell.”

“Oh.” Evadne didn’t know what to say. Guilt and embarrassment warred for control as she considered what the young man must have gone through as he searched for Nellie’s body.

“I’m sorry, sheriff,” she said at last. “Please let Andy know nothing will come of his unfortunate choice of words, and I hope he has a long and successful career as a lawman. However, I suggest you counsel him to save his black humor for those who appreciate it.”

“I think he’s learned his lesson, Mrs. Davenport.” The sheriff gave her a wry smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen Andy’s ears go that particular shade of pink before, and I’ve known him since he was in diapers.”

“Good. Now I think you mentioned going to your office? The longer we dawdle, the more time the perpetrators have to cover their tracks.”

The sheriff gave her a business-like nod. “Of course, Mrs. Davenport. Would you follow me, please?”

Evadne gave the charred remains of the boathouse a final glance before following the sheriff toward the road and the automobiles. She hoped Red’s anger didn’t lead her to do something rash or illegal.

At James’s hotel room awhile later, she asked, “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” James replied.

She stared out of the window. She’d been so sure they would find something.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Davenport,” the sheriff said.

“Not your fault, sheriff.”

“We’ve checked everyone we can think of who owns a boat. Nobody’s rented one out in the last week and none are missing. We even made them physically check to be certain.”

“Then there’s nothing more you can do.”

“We’ll keep an eye out, just in case.”

“Yes, thank you, sheriff.”

“Right, I’d best be off, then.”

“Yes.”

“Good-bye and good luck, Mrs. Davenport.”

“Good-bye, sheriff.”

Evadne waited until she heard the door close before asking, “What have we missed?”

James seemed equally frustrated. “There’s nothing, Evadne. There’s no way anyone got to the boathouse on foot without leaving a trace in the snow and no evidence the arsonist came by water.”

“Could they have been there before the snowfall and waited to set the fire?”

“There would still have been tracks from their leaving.”

“Unless they used the canoe,” Evadne pointed out.

“Canoe?” he asked.

“There was a canoe in the boathouse.”

James’s forehead furrowed. “It still doesn’t add up. An attacker would have had to incapacitate Mrs. Reilly once they arrived at the boathouse. I exchanged signals with her after the snow stopped, so she was fine then.”

“Damn it!” Evadne blurted, surprised to see James smile. “What?”

“I think Red’s been a bad influence on you.”

“Oh, don’t you start.”

“I’ve never heard you use so many curse words. It’s quite… impressive.”

Evadne’s cheeks warmed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, James, but she can be so da—darned aggravating.”

“That she can.” James looked thoughtful. “I know you trust her, Evadne, but—” He stopped, appearing to regret what he’d said.

“Spit it out, James.”

“Just be careful. Red isn’t the same woman she once was.”

Evadne wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Wasn’t James just giving voice to her own worries? She’d seen Red angry before but not like this, not constantly on the verge of lashing out.

After Janet’s murder, Red’s anger had been as focused as the flame of a blowtorch. Now it raged around her like a wildfire, indifferent and out of control. The reassurances she’d given Vivian echoed unwanted in her head. Was she still certain Red wouldn’t harm her? She desperately wanted to deny it, but the doubt niggling in the back of her mind wouldn’t let her.

“How long will it take you to pack, James?” she asked.

He seemed taken aback by the abrupt change of topic but answered, “Five minutes, ma’am.”

“Good. I’ll meet you in the foyer in five minutes. Let’s go home.”

*   *   *

“What’s eating you, honey?” Leona asked.

“Nothing,” Red mumbled.

“Bullshit! You were fit to burst when you got back. What happened?”

Ignoring the question, Red pushed a potato around her plate.

“Red?”

“You remember I told you about that case we were working?”

“The statue? The one where that safecracker was murdered?”

“Yeah.” Red speared the potato with her fork and split it in two. “I didn’t tell you before, but—” Should she even be telling her now? But if not Leona, then who? “What I didn’t tell you was that the victim’s girlfriend interrupted his killer,” she said at last.

“Oh, my!”

“She didn’t see his face, wouldn’t know him from Adam if she saw him again. Unfortunately, the killer didn’t know that and probably didn’t care. So we had her holed up somewhere safe. At least it was supposed to be safe.” She speared a second potato. “Except the bastards found her.”

“She’s dead?”

“Yeah.”

“She was more than a client, wasn’t she?”

“She was my friend.” Unable to face Leona’s sympathy, Red’s gaze remained fixed on her plate. She heard the scrape of a chair and footsteps, and then Leona’s hands were on her shoulders, easing the tension away.

“God, Red, your muscles are like iron,” Leona said.

“That feels damn good,” Red said. She sat in silence while Leona massaged some of the tension away. She didn’t expect the silence to last long.

“How did they find her, do you think?” Leona asked.

“Christ knows. I didn’t even know where she was.”

“You didn’t?”

“Nope. I got Evadne to hide her away. Reckoned she would have somewhere suitable.”

“You asked Evadne?”

Red heard the doubt in Leona’s voice. “Yeah. Why not?”

“I just… oh, nothing.”

Red yelped as Leona’s fingers dug hard into a painful knot of muscle at the base of her skull. “Hey, I’m busted enough already without you joining in, too,” she said.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

Red felt the featherlight touch of lips to the back of her neck before Leona began working gently on the sore spot. Little by little, the last dregs of her simmering anger drained away under the skillful fingers. She was on the edge of falling asleep when Leona spoke again.

“Dusty keeps an eye out for anything odd going on at the Anchor,” she said.

Red nodded, only half-listening.

“I asked him if he’d seen Sullivan talking to anyone in particular.”

Red perked up. “And?”

“He was very pally with a couple of men.”

“Does Dusty know who? What do they look like?”

“He doesn’t know their names. One was big, almost certainly the muscle. The other was an older man. Dusty reckons he’s the brains of the outfit.”

“Is he a regular—the older guy, I mean?”

Leona sat back down next to Red. “Most Fridays, according to Dusty. He comes in early, has a couple of drinks, and leaves.” She gave Red a knowing little smile. “Dusty don’t reckon he’s going home to his loving wife, if you get my drift.”

“Got the bastard!” Red exclaimed in triumph.

“Red, I don’t want any trouble at the Anchor.” When Red opened her mouth to argue, Leona laid a finger over her lips and went on, “Let me finish. I don’t want any trouble in the Anchor, but if you want to cause trouble somewhere else, I’ll get Dusty to point the guy out to you.”

Red swept Leona up in her arms. “You’re a doll, sweetheart.” She spun her around once, set her back down, and planted a very thorough kiss on her lips.

Leona looked slightly dazed when they parted. “I need to help you out more often if that’s what I get by way of thanks.”

Red gave her a rakish grin. “I ain’t finished yet, sweetheart.”

“Is that a promise, lover?”

“You can bet your pretty little socks it is.”

*   *   *

The music washed over Evadne, the orchestra’s horns full of sensuous bravado. She closed her eyes. Vivian had been right to drag her out to the opera. She hadn’t wanted to go, more than willing to continue brooding over Nellie’s death and worrying about Red. She hadn’t reckoned on Vivian’s stubborn streak being equal to her own. Add to the fact that both Maria and James sided with Vivian, and there hadn’t been much she could do.

The horns reached a crescendo and then faded away.

“Jetzt sei Er gut und folg’ Er mir,” the Marschallin sang.

“Wie Sie befiehlt, Bichette.”

Evadne barely heard the rest of the act: the Marschallin’s commands to her lackeys to stop Count Rofrano, their barked replies describing how quickly he had gotten on his horse and ridden away. Like the wind. Like the wind. She lifted a handkerchief to her eyes. The Marschallin’s bitter recrimination against the passage of time had never rung so true to her.

“Weisst ja nicht wohin. Zum Grafen Octavian. Gib’s ab und sag’: Da drin ist die silberne Ros’n. Der Herr Graf weiss ohnehin,” the Marschallin sang, holding out a box containing the silver rose to her little Negro page. He took the box, bowed, and scampered off the stage. The Marschallin turned her back to the audience as the curtain swept across the stage. A moment’s utter silence, and then applause erupted. Evadne clapped so hard her hands hurt.

“Are you all right, Evadne?” someone asked.

It took a moment before Evadne realized Vivian had leaned over to whisper in her ear. She nodded. “I saw Der Rosenkavalier in both ’14 and ’22 at the Met. I’d forgotten what a wonderful piece it is,” she said.

“Were you crying?”

“Weren’t you?”

The noise began to subside, followed by chatting voices and rustling clothes as everyone in the audience left to visit the non-alcoholic bar. Evadne and Vivian followed suit. After collecting a coffee each, they headed for a corner.

“So you’re enjoying it?” Vivian asked.

“Yes, though I didn’t realize until now that the story was quite so sad.”

“Sad?”

“For the Marschallin, at least.”

Vivian snorted unsympathetically. “She annoys me. All that poppycock about being too old. She’s probably no older than we are.”

“But in the eighteenth cent—”

“I know, I know. If a woman reached thirty, she was considered lucky, but that was more to do with the dangers of childbirth. The Marschallin should be fighting to keep Octavian, not handing him over to the first chit of a thing he falls head-over-heels in lust with.”

“Well, I think she is very brave.”

“Stupid, more like.” Vivian suddenly grinned. “I wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with her.”

A distinctly girlish and mortifying giggle escaped Evadne’s lips. “You are awful, Viv.”

“Speaking of which, who is that gorgeous creature?”

Evadne glanced over her shoulder at the packed room. “Who?”

“Near the stairs. Tall, dark hair, wine red dress, and a white stole.”

Evadne didn’t need any other details. Recognizing Katherine Dubois, she turned back around as if the sight of the woman had burned her.

“What’s the matter?” Vivian asked.

“I’d stay well away from her if I were you.”

“Why?”

“She isn’t a nice person, Vivian. Take my word for it.”

Vivian glanced over Evadne’s shoulder. “Oh, well, she’s gone now anyway.”

Evadne let out a sigh of relief. She didn’t need another contretemps with Katherine.

Vivian gave Evadne a curious look. “What did she do to you?”

“Not me. Red.”

“Red?”

“Broke her heart and tried to do the same to the Agency.”

“Really. Why?”

“Because she’s a vindictive little cow.”

Vivian’s eyes widened. “You really don’t like her, do you?”

Evadne tried to tamp down the fury that sprang up at the reminder of Katherine’s ill-treatment of Red. “I used to. But now? No, I don’t like her one little bit.”

To Evadne’s relief, the bell for the start of the second act stopped Vivian from asking any more questions. They headed back to the Dress Circle and retook their seats.

“What’s her name, by the way?” Vivian asked.

Evadne stared at her.

Vivian shrugged nonchalantly. “I like playing with fire.”

“Well, don’t come to me if you get your fingers scorched.”

“Please, Evadne.”

“Her name is Katherine Dubois.” Evadne faced the stage as the conductor arrived.

“Thank you.”

Evadne wanted to tell Vivian not to be stupid, that Katherine was a world-class bitch, so why didn’t she? The music started. She pushed the unsettling thought to the back of her mind when the curtain opened.

As the act progressed, Evadne became more and more irritated. The performance wasn’t bad—quite the opposite, in fact. The mezzo-soprano playing the trousers role of Octavian seemed a little too feminine and pretty when viewed through opera glasses, but she had a touch of masculine arrogance tinged with uncertainty that was convincing even from the distance of the Dress Circle.

The singer playing Sophie was excellent as well, full of innocent, girlish enthusiasm that almost prevented Evadne from noticing she was a little too long in the tooth. No, it was the characters the singers portrayed who annoyed her, she decided.

Her applause at the end of the second act was more muted, which didn’t go unnoticed.

“No tears?” Vivian asked.

“No,” Evadne said.

“Young love not doing anything for you?”

“Oh, shut up, Viv.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Evadne and Vivian headed for the bar and settled in another corner of the room. Once again, Vivian sat with her back to the wall and scanned the crowded room.

No prize for who she was searching for, Evadne thought. “That really is a bad idea, Vivian.”

“What?”

“Setting your cap at Katherine Dubois.”

Vivian gave her a small smile and changed the subject—just like Red, Evadne thought.

“Didn’t you like the second act?” Vivian asked.

“Well, yes and no.”

“Helpful.”

Evadne slapped Vivian’s knee. “You are awful.”

Vivian returned the slap. “I know.”

This was a new, playful side to Vivian she hadn’t guessed existed. If it weren’t for the fact that she knew Vivian hadn’t been near alcohol in the last two hours, she would have believed her friend was pie-eyed. Had Vivian hidden this playfulness from her all these years, worried it might have revealed too much?

“So what was it you didn’t like?” Vivian asked.

What, indeed? Evadne spent a moment considering her answer.

“Well?”

Evadne rolled her eyes. She couldn’t remember Vivian being this pushy during the war. “When I first saw Der Rosenkavalier back in ’14, I was on Sophie’s side,” she said. “The bright young thing should get her beau. After all, I had just gotten mine.”

“Evadne…” Vivian’s expression was gently sympathetic, but Evadne plowed on.

“In ’22, I was jealous of them. I couldn’t help wondering what the future would have held. Would innocent, girlish Sophie die in childbirth? Would brave young Count Rofrano end up maimed or killed in one or other pointless war?”

“And this time?”

“I want to give them both a good slap.”

Vivian laughed. “A slap, huh?”

“Yes. They’re both so silly, especially the way that young idiot Octavian falls for the first young slip of a thing to bat her eyelashes at him.”

“They are young,” Vivian agreed. “Seventeen and fifteen according to the libretto.”

“Not young for the time, though,” Evadne said. “You can’t have it both ways, Viv.”

“Touché!”

“I suppose I’m on the Marschallin’s side this time.”

“She’s in just as much need of a slap, giving up as she does.”

“Maybe you’re right. But then, who of us is perfect?”

Evadne fell into thoughtful silence. Neither she nor Vivian spoke while around them swirled the chatter of animated voices.

“Evadne, can I ask you a question?” Vivian said at last.

“That sounds ominous.”

“I hope it isn’t. And please, don’t take this the wrong way, but when you see Octavian, do you see the young man the story requires, or the woman who plays the character?”

A man, of course. At least, that was what Evadne meant to say before she realized it wasn’t true, at least not now. The suspension of disbelief she’d willingly accepted in the past hadn’t been there during this performance.

“I… I’m not sure,” she said.

“I see.”

“You see what?”

The bell rang, scarcely audible over the noise.

“Saved by the bell,” Vivian said.

“Vivian?” Evadne was ready to throttle her. “What do you mean by that?”

“Come on, we’ll miss the start if you dilly-dally,” Vivian said instead of answering the question.

Yes, Vivian really was just like Red, Evadne thought. Irritating and exasperating.

*   *   *

The first sounds of dawn roused Evadne. She rolled over in bed and opened her eyes to stare at the ornate, damask-silk-covered canopy above her. This wasn’t her bed, she thought No, it was her bed… wasn’t it? She sat up abruptly and realized she wore a very lacy, old-fashioned nightgown. Through the bed curtains, she saw a large, elaborately decorated bedroom that was not hers, yet strangely familiar. Where on earth am I?

A sound from the room made her freeze. For a moment, she held her breath, and then she relaxed. What was she worrying about? It was only her lover, Octavian, Quinquin to his friends and lovers. She shifted her position until she could see him through a gap in the bed curtains. He had donned his shirt and was pulling on his breeches.

“Quinquin, what are you doing?” she asked.

A grin spread over his boyish face, and he bounded over and jumped onto the bed. His never-ending energy would be the death of her one of these days.

“Bichette.” He leaned down to give her a long and thorough kiss. “You are beautiful, and you are mine.” He began kissing a path over her jaw and down her throat.

She ran her fingers through his hair and undid the black ribbon at the base of his neck, letting his shoulder-length hair fall free. She loved his hair, so much nicer than the sweaty, graying stubble under her aging husband’s fashionable wig.

His nimble fingers worked at the laces of her nightgown. She gasped when his mouth found her breast. Grabbing handfuls of his hair, she pulled him tighter against her

He grew hard again. She could feel his need against her leg. She moved and deliberately rubbed against the column of flesh. He groaned and pulled away to gaze down at her; desire darkened his eyes to emerald green.

She yanked at his fine cambric shirt. “Why did you put this on again?”

“I was worried. What if your servants—”

“They won’t come until they are called.”

“You are sure?”

“Johann wouldn’t let them.”

He sat up on his knees, unbuttoned his breeches, and pushed them down his legs. She tried to help, but he fell sideways and a playful tussle ensued. The breeches were thrown off the bed to the floor. Octavian’s expression was suddenly serious as he knelt over her.

She reached out a hand, took his, and pulled him down on top of her. The hardness of his arousal pressed into her. She pushed down his drawers. “I need you.”

“Bichette?”

“Now, Quinquin.”

He was gentle, almost reverential as he pushed up her nightgown and drew the garment over her head. Settling back on his heels, he looked at her. His gaze ran over her body like a caress. She tried to resist the urge to writhe, to beg.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

“For an old woman,” she replied.

“No.” He seemed angry. “No, you aren’t old.”

“I am, but you keep me young. Now stop talking and make love to me.”

He grinned. He was still half-dressed, but she couldn’t wait any longer. She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him onto her, and demanded, “Now, Quinquin.”

“As you command, Bichette,” he said as he settled between her legs.

She gasped at the first touch of his manhood. Her legs opened without conscious thought.

“I love you,” he said.

She shut her eyes, and he entered her, filled her for a blissful moment, and then gently withdrew. His lips were on her skin, her neck, her breasts. She grabbed his buttocks, pulling him in again. He entered her deeper and harder this time.

“Heavens, yes, more,” she said.

He obeyed with élan. Soon, little points of light started to dance behind her eyelids. She could feel each thrust deep in the pit of her stomach, driving into her, claiming her. A molten heat built inside her.

His mouth worked each of her breasts in turn, the tantalizing, almost painful pleasure as he raked his teeth over her nipples bringing her ever closer. She tugged at his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Raking her nails over his back, she came in a shower of falling stars. He came a split second later with a long, low groan and collapsed to lie on top of her, his small breasts pressed against her stomach.

Breasts? Her eyes shot open. She stared down at the familiar head with its short, red-gold hair pillowed on her breast.

“Red?” Her whisper seemed barely audible, but the head lifted. A grin appeared on Red’s face as sparkling green eyes that brimmed with desire locked with hers.

“I love you, Evadne Davenport,” Red said.

Fear leapt into Evadne’s chest. “No!” she cried and pushed Red away. Seeing the stunned expression on Red’s face, she winced as the fullness inside her was abruptly withdrawn. She stared in horrified dismay at the alien thing between Red’s legs. “I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s not right, I can’t…” she babbled.

I’m sorry. Evadne woke from the dream with the ghost of her apology still in her head. She sat up and ran her hands over her face.

“Oh, dear Lord!” Confused, disoriented, and trembling, she stared into the darkness. Had she really just dreamed that? She couldn’t believe it, or how aroused she remained.

She lay back and willed her body to calm. What on earth was going on? What did the dream mean? Did it mean anything? She should never have gone to see that darned opera.

She remembered Vivian’s enigmatic, “I see.” What had Vivian meant? Why had she asked her that question about seeing Octavian as a man or a woman in the first place?

And there was Red’s sudden arrival in the dream. Or had her dream Quinquin been Red all along? The dream was fading fast. Trying to remember was like trying to hold fog in her hands.

Did she feel something more than friendship for that annoying, frustrating, yet strangely endearing ruffian of a woman? Was that what Vivian had hinted at?

Her dream self’s abrupt reaction also surprised and concerned her. Although she’d never considered herself attracted to women, she’d always prided herself on being open-minded toward those who did. So why, in that case, was her dream self so upset by what happened?

She rolled on her side and curled up as she continued to analyze her feelings. Was the dream a result of Red’s unabashed flirting, or was it some sort of bizarre, jealous reaction to Red’s latest lover? Where on earth had she come up with Red’s artificial male appendage? Did such a thing even exist, or was her imagination even stranger than she’d believed?

All this thinking wasn’t giving her any answers, nor did it help her other problem. Evadne pressed her legs together as she tried to concentrate on Latin declensions. The insistent throbbing of her arousal was driving her slowly insane.

Clearly, mind over matter wasn’t going to work and a cold bath really didn’t appeal. Time to take matters into her own hands, she decided. It wouldn’t be the first time she needed to relieve her own frustration.

Chapter 17

December 16: Forlorn Friday

“I tell you, Wolverton, I ain’t heard a peep. Cross my heart, I ain’t. If I did, I would tell you. It ain’t right what they did to poor old Bats.”

Red stifled a sigh. Cross-my-heart Nailer had been a bastard to track down. She’d used all the tongue-loosening cash she’d taken from the office and most of her own money—what little she had on her—to find him, barely leaving her enough to pay Cross for any information he might have. It appeared her efforts and her hard-earned dollars had been wasted.

“Come on, Cross,” she said, “there’s got to be something, somewhere.”

“I tell you, Wolverton, there ain’t nothing. Believe me, we’ve been looking. Bats was a good guy. He didn’t deserve being popped like that.”

Neither did Nellie. Red pushed back a renewed surge of anger. Getting riled with Cross wasn’t going to help her. “What made you skedaddle clear across town, Cross?” she asked.

His gaze flickered uneasily around the smoky billiard hall. “Well, if they can do that to someone like Bats, then who is safe?”

“Who?” Red leaned forward to rest her forearms on the table. “Who are they?”

A bead of sweat trickled down Cross’s cheek. He wiped it absently away. “No one,” he said.

“Bullshit. Who’re you afraid of?”

“Anyone who can get into a man’s room in a crowded tenement in the middle of the day, shoot him, and leave without anyone hearing or seeing anything.”

Red laughed cynically. “That happens all the time. It’s amazing how many deaf and blind people there are in Boston.”

“No.” Cross shook his head, which sent another drop of sweat flying to land near Red’s folded arms. He looked really unhappy, she noticed. Really, really unhappy. “No, I mean they really didn’t hear or see anything, cross-my-heart.”

“A silencer?”

“Not what the coppers reckon.”

Red sat back in her chair while Cross squirmed on his seat and appeared ready to bolt. “Okay, Cross. Thanks,” she said. For nothing, she added silently. “If you hear anything…”

“I know where to find you, yeah.” He almost knocked the table over in his haste to leave. He didn’t even wait for his usual fee.

Red left the bills on the table anyway. Cross might come back once she’d gone. If he didn’t, she would at least make the harassed waitress’s day.

She left the billiard hall and walked down the street. She was broke until she got to Leona’s house and could take some money from what was left of her own little stash. She didn’t even have enough change for the streetcar. At least, not all the way.

Thank God it wasn’t snowing. She wondered how much was left in petty cash at the office. Evadne had taken over the petty cash within a week of becoming her partner. She claimed Red’s accounting was too slapdash. What did it matter if she didn’t know exactly how much she took out or put in, as long as there was something in there when she needed it?

Red realized she was grinding her teeth. She willed herself to stop, wondering what to do now. She’d spent the last two days on a wild-goose chase for Cross-my-heart, only dropping by the office once to grab the now spent cash. Evadne had given her a worried look, but she said nothing as she noted down the amount in her little black book.

Forcing her thoughts back on track, Red went over the case. None of her contacts knew a thing about a murder that had taken place in their heartland. That meant Bats’s killer wasn’t one of the mobs or gangs. They always made sure everyone knew the who and the why. Fear was their currency as much as actual violence.

So who? Someone with a private grudge? She’d found no evidence Bats was anything but liked by his fellows. A random killing? No, the death was too clean, too planned, and anyway, how would a random murderer know where to find Bats’s stash?

No, it had to be linked to his work. She had it straight from Bats’s lips that he had recently done only one job. She might not have the physical proof, but her gut, her instinct, and her experience told her loudly and clearly that the death had to be linked to the break-ins and theft from Arden Manor.

What was it that Sherlock Holmes had said? Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

The blast of a horn almost jolted her out of her skin. She jumped out of the way of the truck and its red-faced, fist-waving driver, realizing she’d walked halfway across the street without even noticing.

“Stupid idiot.” Red completed the final few yards to the sidewalk on the double. She didn’t recognize her surroundings until she saw a street name. At Causeway Street already? How long had she been walking? At least she could get a streetcar the rest of the way. There should be one just around the next corner.

Later, Red got off the streetcar and walked along Salem. The street was thick with people, surrounding her with a multitude of accents and languages: Italian, Yiddish, Russian, and more. The crowd made her neck itch and her palms sweaty.

She rubbed her hands on her pants. She’d never been particularly happy in crowds, but the unease had gotten worse over the last couple of months. Give her the night any day. At least then there weren’t so many people around.

She turned off Salem and headed toward Battery Wharf. She could just see the bay in front of her, the water masked by a forest of masts and funnels. The crowds thinned. Soon she walked alone between tightly packed, faceless buildings until she popped out into the little oasis of peace that surrounded Leona’s house.

The cat sat on the backyard fence. “Been waiting for me, little beast?” Red scratched the cat’s ears, which set off a rumbling purr at odds with the animal’s small body. After a couple of minutes of dutiful scratching, she opened the gate.

Red didn’t go into the house yet. Instead, she settled on the step and leaned back against the doorjamb. The cat watched her a few seconds before it began washing a paw. She smiled and the ache in her chest eased a little.

She took off her fedora and perched it on her bent knee. She tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and let the watery sun warm her face. She heard the faint sound of machinery from the rope factory. From farther away came shouts, clangs, and hoots from the harbor—the heartbeat of Boston.

“Meow?”

Red opened her eyes to find the cat standing by her side. She shut her eyes again. Tiny, needle-like claws caught at her legs as the cat climbed into her lap. The cat was a persistent little beggar. A furry head butted at her hand. She began to scratch the cat’s ears as she went over the case again.

She’d investigated all the alleys she could think of, trying to find out who hired Bats. Her only possible leads were the men seen with him at the Anchor. She would check it out later, but the way her luck ran at the moment, that line of inquiry would strike out as well.

She had even less in the way of information regarding Nellie’s murder, except for her certainty that the act had to be connected to Bats’s death. Was Nellie’s killer the same man she’d seen at Bats’s apartment? If so, how had the killer gotten to the boathouse without leaving any tracks in the snow? Perhaps the killer came across the lake the way Evadne had suggested. That would certainly explain the lack of tracks.

“Meooow!” the cat demanded.

Red realized she’d stopped fussing with the cat. “Pushy little thing, ain’t you?”

She glanced around and found a wispy strand of hemp just within reach, probably blown over from the rope factory. She picked up the strand and ran it in front of the cat. The cat watched awhile then pounced and caught the end of the twine in her front paws.

Red’s thoughts went back to the events of the last couple of weeks. Was she concentrating on Bats and Nellie too much? What about the guy who’d disappeared… what was his name? Kemper? Miles Kemper, that was it. He was probably dead as well, but there could be more leads there. Was she looking at things the wrong way around? Perhaps she needed to go back to the beginning and dig into Kemper’s disappearance.

She trailed the twine over her legs, across the step, and back over her legs. The cat followed. Whenever it pounced, she whipped the twine away, unable to stop grinning.

Suddenly the cat stopped dead and stared above Red’s shoulder. The fur along the cat’s spine stood up, and her tail bristled to nearly the same size as her body.

The cat was furious or terrified, Red thought. What had she done to upset it so much?

“What’s the matter, puss?” she asked.

The cat arched her back, hissed, and ran off.

The door handle rattled. Red glanced over her shoulder. “Howdy, sweetheart,” she said as Leona opened the door.

“What on earth are you doing out here, honey?” Leona asked.

“Thinking.”

“About Nellie?”

“Yeah. And the case.”

“Come on in. You’re going to give yourself piles sitting on that cold step.”

Red stood and tossed the string to one side. “Would Dusty point the guy out to me tonight, the one he saw with Bats?”

“He will if I ask him to.”

“And will you?” Red asked. Leona’s eyes sparkled mischievously, but she wasn’t in the mood, not about the case. “No messing, Leona. Will you ask him or not?”

Leona pouted. “You take all the fun out of things.”

“Leona?” Red’s low voice held a threatening edge.

“Yes, of course I will.” Leona apparently realized the danger of refusal. She didn’t seem happy about it, though.

Red regretted her heavy-handed tactics. She tried to take Leona into her arms, but she slipped out of her grasp and disappeared into the house.

“Well, shit, Wolf, that was real clever,” Red said under her breath. What was it with her at the moment? First Evadne, now Leona. Why did she seem to get anyone she cared about riled up against her? How much more messed up could she get? More important, how much groveling would it take to dig herself out of this mess? Sighing, she rose to her feet and followed Leona inside.

Later that evening, after paying the speakeasy’s entrance fee, Red settled in a dark corner. She sweltered in the heat but didn’t think she’d have to sit around for long. Men didn’t come here just for the booze.

The man Dusty had pointed out to her earlier, whom she’d tailed from the Anchor, now stood at the bar with a drink in his hand. After a moment, a scantily dressed woman approached him. Her expression changed from weary boredom to forced friendliness when he noticed her. He gave her a cursory once-over, nodded at the barman, and took a moment to finish his drink before he and the woman headed for a curtained doorway.

Red pulled a flask from her pocket, took a quick mouthful, and rolled the whiskey around her mouth. She swallowed it and followed her target through the curtain. A corridor with rooms on both sides led from the doorway. The smells of sex, sweat, and cheap perfume were overpowering and left no doubt in her mind as to what happened in the fetid semidarkness.

She moved down the corridor, listening at the doors. This early in the evening, most of the rooms were unoccupied. About halfway down the corridor, she was challenged.

“Here, what the hell are you doing?” a male voice asked.

Red swung around. A stocky man stood in the doorway, holding the curtain to one side. Putting on a fierce scowl, she staggered drunkenly back to the entrance.

“Lost my fucking room,” she muttered. She stood toe-to-toe with him, close enough to see his nose twitch as the whiskey fumes hit him.

She forced herself not to smile in satisfaction. Unsullied breath had given her away once and earned her a thorough beating. To make sure it never happened again, she always carried a small flask of whiskey when tailing a suspect. You can get away with an amazing amount if people believe you’re tight.

“Yeah, right, son,” he said. “You old enough to be out on your own, are you?” The man seemed amused rather than suspicious. “Bit young for this, ain’t you?”

“Fucking ain’t.” She prodded the man in the chest with a finger. In this case, an obnoxious attack would be her best defense, she decided. “Want my woman. I paid for her, so I get to fuck her.”

“Okay, okay, whatever you want. You know who it was?”

“Dunno her name. Who asks a whore’s name?”

The bouncer’s eyes narrowed. Red realized she had misjudged the man—he obviously wasn’t a complete bastard.

“Listen, kid, ask their names,” he said, “and you might just get your money’s worth out of them.” After a pause, he seemed all business again. “What’s she look like?”

“Dark hair, big tits, red and yellow dress.”

“You want number eleven. Down to the end then turn right.”

“Right.”

Red turned her back on the man, but before she could move, he grabbed her arm. She resisted the urge to take a swing at him. Instead, she bared her teeth in a feral snarl. “What?”

“Her name is Dominique, boy. She might be a whore, but she’s still a human being.”

Red shook off his restraining grip and staggered in the direction of Dominique’s room.

After a couple of seconds, the corridor turned a shade darker. She checked over her shoulder. The curtain was back in place, the bouncer nowhere to be seen. The adrenaline rush from the encounter buoyed her spirits. She grinned. The thrill of the chase, the narrow escapes, the moments of triumph were what she loved about being a private detective, what made it worth all the boredom and frustration.

She glanced around the corridor to make sure it was still empty and placed her ear against the door stenciled with the number eleven. She could make out a man’s voice on the other side. As she listened, her good humor was replaced by a growing anger. She flinched at the sound of a blow and Dominique’s sob of pain. More sounds of abuse followed. She could hear Dominique pleading for him to stop.

The man cut the prostitute off with a nasty, snickering laugh. “You have no say in the matter, my dear,” he said. “Your employer and I have an arrangement. I do what I want, short of permanent damage, and he uses the building rent-free.”

Red heard the unfortunate Dominique crying. “Bastard!” she exclaimed, the curse far louder and more vehement than she’d meant. The room went silent. Belatedly, she realized the man must have heard her. She tried to back out of the way, too late. The door opened and a fist grabbed her coat.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” the man said. He took hold of her coat with both hands and gave her a vigorous shake. “That how you get your kicks, is it, you punk, listening at the door?”

She didn’t do or say anything. If she played dumb and nonthreatening, she might just be told to clear off. She didn’t expect to be thrown into the room.

“If you’re so interested in what I’m doing, you can stay and help.” The man slammed and locked the door. She was trapped.

Dominique lay on the bed, half-naked and crying. Angry red welts stood out on her arms and legs.

Rage welled up inside Red as she scrambled to her feet.

The man’s face lit up in recognition. “You!” He picked up a short whip from the bed. “Right, you damned interfering dyke, you’re going to get the thrashing of your life.” He grinned evilly. “And then I might just show you what you’ve been missing all these years.”

Red lunged forward. The full force of her rage gave her extra strength as she drove her fist into the man’s solar plexus. He doubled over, let out an explosive exhalation of breath, and fell to his knees. The whip dropped to the floor. She moved behind him, grabbed the collar of his jacket, and pulled it tight around his throat. She whipped out her Smith and Wesson and pressed the revolver’s muzzle into the soft flesh behind his ear.

“Who are you? Why did you get Bats Sullivan to steal the statue?” she asked.

“What damned statue?” he replied.

She hit him in the side of the head with the butt of the revolver. Yelping, he tried to pull out of her grip. She dragged him upright and pistol-whipped him again.

“Don’t move,” she said and searched his pockets. She found a wad of bills, a comb, a couple of used baseball tickets, and a piece of paper folded in half. She flicked open the paper and saw an address scrawled in pencil. No name. Probably wasn’t even related to her case, but she pocketed the paper anyway and gave him a shake.

“Answer me, you bastard,” she said. “You got Bats to steal the statue, and you murdered him. Why? Who for?”

“You’re fucking crazy!”

Red lifted her hand to hit him again, but her arm was grabbed.

“Don’t, please don’t. Just go,” Dominique pleaded.

Surprised, Red stared at the prostitute’s tear-stained face. Her captive took immediate advantage of her distraction by pushing back against her legs. She lost her grip on his collar as she fell against the wall. She managed to stay on her feet but lost her grip on the revolver. The weapon clattered to the floor, out of her reach.

The man stretched out a hand for the whip. “You’ll pay now, bitch,” he said, bringing the whip around in a whistling backhand.

Red raised her arm in time to block the blow. The lash cut through coat, jacket, and shirt, through layers of wool and cotton, and into the flesh of her forearm. Searing, red-hot pain speared down to the ends of her fingertips and up to her elbow.

Hissing, she flinched, and her reaction saved her from the returning forehand blow. The tip of the whip whistled past her face so close, she felt the air move. Had the whip landed, her face would have been laid open to the bone.

That was the man’s second big mistake. The effort to strike her had left him off balance. Before he recovered, she threw herself at him.

They hit the floor hard, but Red barely noticed. A crimson mist settled over her as she tore the whip from his hand and hurled it across the room. She sat on his chest. He tried to fight back, but it didn’t matter. Boiling, incandescent rage had hold of her now.

“You bastard.” She alternated between curses and punches as she rained blow after blow on his face. “You fucking, cowardly, murdering bastard.” She barely noticed when he stopped trying to defend himself, which just made her attack easier.

“No. Stop it!” Dominique said, grabbing at her arms and shoulders.

Red shrugged off the attempts as if she wasn’t there.

“Oh, God! Please stop. Please. You’re killing him!”

The fear in Dominique’s voice finally broke through Red’s rage. She stopped and stared numbly at the bloody mess that looked more like badly ground hamburger than a human face.

“You need to get out. Now,” Dominique said.

Red stumbled to her feet. Had she really done that? She barely noticed when Dominique pushed her in the direction of the door.

“I’m going to call for help,” the prostitute said in a hard voice “If you don’t go now, they’ll catch you, and you don’t want that.”

Red pulled her gaze from her victim, noticing the fear in Dominique’s eyes. Christ, what had she done? “What about you? Won’t they blame you?” she asked.

“Probably, but it won’t be the first time I got beaten for something that ain’t my fault,” Dominique said matter-of-factly. “I’m worth something to the bastards, so it’ll be no more than that. If the boss gets hold of you, though, they’ll kill you.”

Red nodded reluctantly. “I dunno what—I shouldn’t—” She stopped, lost for words.

“No, you shouldn’t, but it’s done.” Dominique picked up the gun and shoved it at Red. She unlocked the door and pushed Red into the corridor as she said, “There’s a way out to the back alley at the end of the corridor. Now get the hell out of here.”

Red ran as fast as her increasingly wobbly knees could carry her, down the corridor and out into the street. Behind her, she heard Dominique shouting for help through the open door. She needed to get out of there fast.

Half a dozen blocks later, racked by a stitch in her side, she stopped and promptly emptied her stomach of what little she’d eaten that evening.

She rested her sweat-covered forehead against the rough brick wall. The pain in her forearm was a bone-deep, burning ache, and her hands were a mass of pain. It would be a miracle if she hadn’t broken a finger or two on the man’s face.

Gulping down a fresh rush of nausea, her head whirling with horror and shame, she realized she had come within a hairsbreadth of beating the man to death with her bare hands. If Dominique hadn’t stopped her, he would be dead. She had no doubt about that.

A week ago, if Barney hadn’t pulled her off the drunk at the Anchor, she would probably have done the same to him.

“Christ, what the fuck’s happening to me?” She slid down the wall onto the filthy, snow-covered cobblestones. “What’s happening to me?”

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Huddled in the darkness of a stinking alley, she buried her head in her arms and wept.

*   *   *

Evadne tried to read. Unsuccessful, she glanced at the other leather armchair, empty of its usual Friday-evening occupant. Sighing, she placed the book on the side table, got up, and stared out the window over the dark, snow-blanketed garden.

The house seemed unusually quiet without Red. Her absence worried at Evadne like a hole in her tooth. It was silly, really. The Friday routine wasn’t something she and Red had decided to do. They’d just fallen into the habit. Each Friday, they would sit by the fire, go over the cases from that week, and plan for the next. Once they finished, the conversation would drift, often in surprising directions.

Evadne smiled, recalling Red’s usually cynical expression brightening as she told one of her impressive collection of legends and folktales.

In return, Evadne often spoke of childhood adventures with her father, sailing on the Great Lakes and riding through the wilderness of the Rockies. At other times, she and Red sat together in comfortable silence and just watched the flickering flames in the fireplace.

Guilt settled slowly over the good memories and reminded her how she constantly badgered Red about her drinking, her clothes, her apartment. Was it any wonder Red spent so much time with Leona?

A fresh fall of snow gently waltzed earthward, but Evadne barely saw it. What could Leona give Red that she couldn’t? Her cheeks warmed at the obvious answer.

A knock on the front door got her hopes up until she remembered Red always arrived via the kitchen. Who could be calling so late in the evening?

She left the sitting room, crossed the hall, and saw a shadowy male figure visible through the glass. When she came closer, she realized her visitor was Theo Criffy. She opened the door and welcomed him with a genuine smile.

“Theo, this is an unexpected pleasure,” she said.

“Evadne.” He bowed his head slightly as he entered. He placed his hat and gloves on the hall table and removed his snow-speckled coat.

“Here, let me take that.”

“Maria or James not here this evening?”

“No, with the weather as it is, I told Maria to go home. James insisted on going out for his poker night.”

Theo seemed relieved. “That may be for the best.”

Concerned, Evadne asked, “Is something the matter? Is Mother all right?”

“Your mother is fine.” He looked around, as if searching for something or someone. “Is Red Wolverton here?”

“No, she isn’t.” Evadne wondered if she sounded as forlorn as she felt.

Theo didn’t appear to notice. In fact, he seemed even more relieved. “Good, that will make this easier.”

“Make what easier?”

“Shall we go into the sitting room?”

Evadne snapped into hostess mode. What was she doing, keeping her guest standing in the entrance hall? “My apologies, Theo. Please, come this way.”

Theo took a seat by the fire. Red’s seat, Evadne thought, smothering a flare of annoyance. “Would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee?” she asked.

“Tea would be wonderful. Earl Grey, if you have it.”

Evadne left Theo relaxing by the fire and went to the kitchen. As she put on the kettle and prepared a pot of tea, she wondered about the visit. It seemed odd he hadn’t telephoned first. The situation was a little cloak-and-dagger but to what purpose? Did he have further information on the missing Mr. Kemper or the theft of the statue? If that was the case, why wouldn’t he want Red present?

She still hadn’t decided on a reason that made any sense when she returned to the study with a laden tray. Theo took the tray from her and placed it on the occasional table as she sat down in her seat. Resuming the role of hostess, she poured Theo a cup and passed it to him.

As he took a sip of his tea, Theo studied Evadne with an appraising gaze. She felt a sudden tightness in her chest. Something was about to happen, she felt, as certainly as two plus two equaled four. She just wasn’t sure whether Theo’s news would be good or bad.

“Have you read Kemper’s journals?” he asked.

“I have.”

“And what did you make of them?”

Evadne took a moment to gather her conclusions into a coherent summary before speaking. “He recorded five separate occasions of unusual activities at the hall. The first was reported to the police, as was the second when the watchman was… taken ill.” She paused to check her memory. “Mr. Kemper observed the third and fourth incidents from a vantage point in the garden. Each time, a different part of the house was entered, the intruders took the time to cover their tracks, and nothing was taken or disturbed.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I have the feeling things were taken and Kemper knew what they were. He was clearly concerned about the thefts, but the safety of something else really had him worried, He never gives his concern a name, referring to the object as ‘it.’ Whatever this thing is, he clearly considered it very important. After the third occasion, he mentions letting someone he refers to as ‘Father’ know, but Kemper’s real father has been dead for years.”

Evadne paused to take a sip from her teacup.

Theo gave her the sort of look a proud schoolmaster might give his ablest pupil.

“You knew this already, didn’t you?” she asked.

She thought he might deny it, but he gave her a small nod and asked, “What about the fifth time?”

Evadne nearly refused to continue, but her curiosity wouldn’t allow it. She didn’t bother hiding her anger.

“As you no doubt already know,” she said, “on the fifth occasion, Mr. Kemper hid in the room. He appeared to work out where the intruders were going to break in next. He was able to secrete himself somewhere and saw what happened. At this point, his notes become rather excited. He mentions something about a Prophecy with a capital ‘P,’ presumably the one included in the journal, and that the ‘Six’ must meet once the Father returns in order to stop—” She broke off, hesitating as she tried to recall the exact words. “To prevent the removal of the final two guardians.” She stared directly into Theo’s eyes. “Kemper seems to have been terrified, yet his last entry states he has to try to stop some sort of ritual.”

“He did try, and he failed.” Theo met Evadne’s suspicious glare without hesitation. “The last guardian was removed.”

“The statue?”

“Yes, the raven statue was the last guardian.” Theo sounded deadly serious, destroying any hope she held that this might be an elaborate joke. “Evadne, did your father ever mention why you have Leona as one of your baptismal names?”

What did that have to do with the goings on at Arden Manor? Not that there was any reason not to tell him the truth. “Papa said family tradition meant that the first born must be called either Leo or Leona. He was Leo as was his father, and his father’s mother was Leona, and so on.”

“He said nothing else,” Theo said, not a question but a statement of fact.

“No.” Evadne was intrigued. “What else was there to tell?”

“Your father died before he could explain your birthright.” Theo seemed strangely guilty. “I should have made myself known to you earlier, made sure you knew what you were born to be. But at the time, it seemed safer to leave you in ignorance. Unfortunately, I may have left it too long.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Leona, as I’m sure you’re aware, is derived from the Latin for lion. I believe you are the Lion of the Prophecy, Evadne. It’s a sign that the Raven has returned and the time of the choice is upon us.”

Evadne’s first instinct was to laugh, but Theo clearly meant what he said. The words of the Prophecy ran through her mind, and Theo’s relief at Red’s absence clicked into place.

“And you think Red is the Wolf?” she asked.

Theo looked grave. “Yes, I’m very much afraid she is.”

“Why? Why do you pay any credence to that piece of badly written doggerel?”

“Because it’s true.”

“What utter tommyrot!”

“Evadne.”

“What?”

“Your father was part of a group known as the Six, as am I.”

Evadne harrumphed. Theo must be more than a little touched in the head.

“Since the fall of the Roman empire, the Six have protected an ancient artifact.”

“That statue?”

“No. The raven statue was part of the protection around the artifact.”

“The statue is some form of protection?” She didn’t bother concealing her incredulity.

“Yes.” Theo didn’t give her a chance to interrupt. “The artifact is a remnant from the very birth of this world, the last fragment of the World Egg. Two great powers have fought over it for millennia. One sought to abuse it, the other to prevent such abuse. The Invincible Sun and the Deceiver were eventually prevented from taking a direct part in this conflict, so they chose from among the humans who worshipped them. The Deceiver chose one and gave him, or her, many powers. The Invincible Sun chose seven, spreading the power it could give more thinly, and relying on the power of the group to outdo that of the individual.”

“I thought you said you were the Six,” Evadne said.

“We are. I shall explain that in good time. If I may continue?”

“All right.”

“The Chosen of the Sun moved their charge many times. It has been in Italy, France, Spain, the Low Countries, Russia, and Britain at different times. Just over a hundred years ago, the Deceiver came within a hairsbreadth of gaining the artifact. His Chosen managed to seduce the Raven—”

“The Raven?”

“The seven have titles: Father, Sun-Runner, Lion, Persian, Bride, Raven, and Soldier.”

Evadne nodded. His story was certainly entertaining, even if it was a load of balderdash.

“The Deceiver’s Chosen seduced the Raven. The bloodline of the Deceiver’s Chosen became mixed with that of the Sun’s. The next Raven succumbed to the darkness in him and nearly succeeded in stealing the artifact. He was banished, and we became the Six.”

“What happened to him—this Raven?”

“He stayed in England when we escaped with the artifact to Boston, but his son followed us to America,” Theo replied. “We tracked the Raven through the next couple of generations until the middle of the last century, when he disappeared. We think he headed West.”

“It’s a wonderful story, Theo, but that’s all it is,” Evadne said.

“I expected you to be skeptical.”

“Yet you told me anyway.”

“You need to know.”

“Why?”

“Will you come to the Manor tomorrow?”

“Why? So you can spin more fantastic tales.”

“No. because there is something I want you to meet.”

Something, not someone. A frisson of anticipation ran down Evadne’s spine. She studied Theo’s intent, anxious face. What harm would it do to play along? If nothing else, she needed to find out what Theo was up to for her mother’s sake. If worse came to worst, she could rely on her pistol.

“All right, I’ll come.”

“Good.” After glancing at the mantle clock, Theo stood. “I should leave. I’ve taken up enough of your time already.” He sounded relieved. His calm gray gaze met hers. “Thank you, Evadne.”

Evadne didn’t know how to reply to the simple thanks, which seemed to hold so much more than polite gratitude. She nodded graciously and followed Theo into the hall.

He already had his coat on when she joined him. “Until tomorrow?” he asked.

“Until tomorrow.”

Evadne shut the door behind him and leaned against it. Well, that was odd. Very odd. What would Red make of it? She wondered whether she should mention the visit. Theo hadn’t seemed to want Red to know. Perhaps she should just play it by ear.

Apparently the Prophecy really meant something. She pushed away from the door, went to her desk, and opened a drawer. She took out a copy she had written of the mysterious words of the poem and read it with new enlightenment.

“When the Raven returns,

And Light joins the Dark.

When defenses be broken,

And Wolf turns on Lion.

When the Deceiver returns,

And the Six meet once more,

Then the time hath come.

When the Raven returns,

At one with the Wolf.

When sanctuary is opened,

And Light harms the Dark.

When the Chosen unite

On the darkest of days.

Then the power can be taken.

Then the choice must be made,

And the future decided.”

What did it mean? How was she involved?

*   *   *

Red was all thumbs—painful thumbs and equally painful fingers She just couldn’t get the damned key into the lock. “Shit, damn, and fuck,” she muttered.

The door suddenly opened. She almost fell through into the kitchen.

“Having problems, honey?” Leona asked.

Red needed to sit down before her legs gave way again. She staggered to a chair and collapsed into it.

“Red, what’s the matter?” All the amusement was gone from Leona’s voice. She crouched down in front of the chair and gently examined each of Red’s hands in turn. “Ow, baby, these don’t look good.”

Red could only nod.

“What happened to your arm?”

Red glanced down. The lining of her overcoat showed red as the bloodstained fabric peeked through the slice in the sleeve. “Cut,” she said.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Leona pulled at her overcoat.

After managing to move enough to help with the overcoat’s removal, Red slumped back in the chair. She felt numb. Even the pain in her arm had receded to a distant ache. She could hear Leona talking, but faintly, as if her ears were full of water.

Her jacket followed her coat, and her bloody shirtsleeve was gently rolled up. She seemed to be watching Leona from far away, like she occupied a stranger’s body and was thinking a stranger’s thoughts. She lowered her eyes. A red line ran across her forearm. She watched in fascination as a bead of blood formed and ran around the curve of her arm.

“Here, put this over your pants,” Leona said.

Red lifted her arm and allowed the towel underneath to catch the first drop of blood. Now she noticed other blood trails running down to her hand and dripping off the ends of her fingers.

Leona brought over a bowl of water and some cotton wool. As she dabbed the wound with the cotton, the water in the bowl turned pink.

“I found that man,” Red said.

“You did?” Leona sounded surprised.

“Yeah.”

“He did this to you?”

Red nodded. She felt sick again. “I smashed his face in. Such a fucking mess.”

“Your rages are worse, aren’t they?”

Unable to deny what she knew in her heart, Red nodded again. “I thought after Edgar’s death, it would get easier.”

“But the anger didn’t go away.”

“I try. Christ, I try, but it’s just too fucking strong, I can’t stop myself.” She rested her trembling hand over Leona’s. “Only when I’m alone with you does it seem to go away.”

Leona kissed the back of Red’s bloody, bruised knuckles. “What happened?”

“I followed him. He hit me with a whip. I beat the crap out of him.”

“Badly?”

Red nodded, not trusting her voice. Was he even still alive? she wondered.

“Will the police be informed?” Leona asked.

“I… I dunno.” Red played with a strand of Leona’s hair, desperate not to let her mental picture of the man’s battered face torment her.

“You’ve made yourself another enemy, I think.”

“If he survives.”

Leona concentrated on cleaning the cut. Red thought the wound looked worse without blood masking the slice through her flesh. Thank God for the cold weather. Without the layers of clothing she wore, the cut would have been much worse. The pain began to make itself known again, a nasty stabbing sensation overlaying the bone-deep ache.

“How bad?” she asked.

“It’s nasty, but I don’t think there’s much in the way of muscle damage.” Leona paused and waited until Red met her gaze.

Red saw sympathy and concern in her face. “Gonna need stitches?” she asked.

“I think it would be best.”

“Okay, Doctor Harriman, do your worst.”

Later that evening, Red couldn’t sleep. Her forearm hurt like hell. As soon as Leona had finished her needlework, Red took the last of the painkillers she’d been given at Arden Manor. She hoped the pills would last the night, but Lady Luck had turned against her.

She lay in bed for what seemed an eternity, staring into the darkness above her, trying to ignore the pain. Unable to stand it any longer, she had to move.

She carefully extracted herself from Leona’s embrace. Leona muttered a little but soon settled again. Red pulled on her clothes and picked up her boots. After a final glance to check that Leona was still sleeping, she padded out of the bedroom and went down the stairs to the kitchen where she slipped on her boots without bothering to lace them up.

She pulled her overcoat around her shoulders like a blanket, unlocked the back door, and stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind her. The night was bitterly cold. She pulled the overcoat closer.

The sky was clear, the stars just specks of light in the velvet dark. The moon’s waning crescent looked bright in the darkness. It wouldn’t be long until the new moon. She let out a long sigh. Her breath formed a white cloud.

Movement out of the corner of her eye had her instantly alert, and then she laughed and said softly, “Damn it, cat, you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Red hunkered down, not wanting to risk her backside on the freezing ground. The cat moved into her hand and rubbed its head against her palm.

“I’ve got a present for you, little cat.” Red fished around in her overcoat pocket. She’d spotted a decent length of string earlier and picked it up, hoping the cat might like to play with it.

Her hand closed over an unexpected piece of paper. She pulled it out, angled the page toward the moonlight, and tried to see what was on it. An address? Suddenly, she remembered where she’d gotten it: the man she had followed from the Anchor had had it in his pocket. If not for the cat and the piece of string, she might never have remembered.

The cat rubbed against her leg. Red put the paper in her pants pocket to examine later and resumed her search for the string. This time she found it.

“Hey, little beast, guess what I have for you?” she asked.

She and the cat spent an enjoyable five minutes with the string. By then, her fingers were numb with cold and she was shivering under the overcoat, but she didn’t want to stop. The simple enjoyment she got from watching the cat play helped ease the ever-present band of tension around her chest. Finally, the cat ended their game. With a fierce hiss and a fluffed tail, she fled. Red turned to see the door opening.

“What are you doing out here?” Leona asked.

Red shrugged and turned back to stare into the starry heavens.

“What on earth is that creature doing?” Leona sounded irate.

Red followed the direction of Leona’s gaze. The cat was walking along the top of the far fence with its back arched, its brush-like tail standing straight up. The cat hissed twice while walking back along the fence, its eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Damn animal.”

Red stared at Leona. “It’s just scared.”

“It shouldn’t be here. I wish you wouldn’t encourage it.”

Red’s anger flickered to life. “It’s only a cat, Leona.”

“I… I just don’t like them very much.”

“I think the feeling is mutual.”

The cat gave a final long hiss and jumped down the far side of the fence. Leona moved down the steps and took Red’s hands in hers. Leona’s hands were warm and soft, and Red’s anger fled so quickly, she wondered if she’d imagined it

“Come back inside, honey, before you catch your death,” Leona said.

There was no point staying, Red thought. Her little friend had deserted her, and the cold was enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. She gave the night sky a last look.

“Okay, sweetheart.” She brushed a kiss over Leona’s  knuckles. “I’ll come in.”

Chapter 18

December 19: Enter the Six

Red was favoring her right arm, Evadne realized. Added to the bandage around her left hand and the scabbed knuckles on the right, it didn’t take a genius to work out that she had been in another fight. Evadne knew she’d been staring too long when Red glanced up, green eyes challenging her.

“What happened to your arm?” Evadne tried to keep her tone neutral. She didn’t want Red jumping down her throat again.

“None of your business,” Red said with a grunt.

So she’s going to be that way. Evadne forced down her own anger.

“Actually, as it’s likely to affect your ability to work, I think it probably is my business, don’t you?” Evadne asked. Red’s jaw twitched, reminding her uncomfortably of the time she’d calmed an injured, scared, and growling dog. “Please, Red, let me see.”

Red’s jaw twitched a few more times before she rolled up her sleeve and revealed a bandage that covered a large part of her forearm.

“May I?” Evadne asked.

“Enjoy yourself.”

Undoing the bandage, Evadne peeled back the dressing and winced at the injury. A cut ran diagonally across the thickest part of Red’s forearm, the bruising around it livid. A dozen tiny stitches held the cut together. Leona’s work, no doubt. She should feel grateful Leona had been able to help since Red would rather lose a limb than see a doctor, so why did she feel an odd mix of anger and longing at the idea of Leona helping Red? Evadne pushed aside her unsettling feelings and gave the cut a closer inspection.

“Dear Lord, it looks almost as if a whip did this,” she said.

“Perfect deduction, Sherlock.”

Red’s voice held a faint trace of amusement. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all, Evadne thought. “What hap—”

Red’s expression hardened.

“I know—it’s none of my business.” Evadne wondered why Red didn’t trust her anymore, and then she remembered what Theo had told her.

Red let out a sigh. “No, it’s okay,” she said. “I followed up a lead on Theo’s case. It got a bit messy.”

Evadne stamped down on her immediate, embarrassing, and uncharacteristic desire to scold, which wouldn’t do any good at all. “Are you in trouble?” she asked.

Again, Red’s expression hardened. After a moment, she let out another sigh. “Officially, it don’t seem so. Unofficially…” She trailed off, the unspoken words more eloquent than anything she might have added.

“Another fine mess you’ve gotten us into, huh?” Evadne joked.

Red seemed to study Evadne’s face for a long while, and she was distinctly surprised when Red finally gave her a wry smile.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Evadne returned the smile, but Red’s sudden and unpredictable flares of anger worried her. She’d seen Red angry before, just not so out of the blue and not aimed at her. Of course, Red’s temper was going to be on edge. Red had lost another old friend to a violent death. Who could go through all that without ending up frayed at the edges?

Sometime later after leaving the office, Evadne stared at the familiar Gothic entrance of Arden Manor. It suddenly felt like a stranger’s house, not the place she had visited so often as a girl.

She still didn’t know what to make of Theo’s story. Was she really supposed to believe she was a member of some mystical group whose sacred purpose was to protect a mythical stone? It seemed so improbable, so unbelievable, so insane. Still, she’d said she would come tonight, and she didn’t break her word.

With a sigh, she passed through the open doorway. Theo met her in the hall.

“Well, I’m here as promised,” she said.

“Thank you for coming, Evadne. I know it’s hard to comprehend,” Theo said.

“You said you had something for me to meet.”

“Yes, I did. Follow me.”

Evadne followed Theo deep into the heart of the house. Halfway along one of the corridors, he stopped. Before she could say anything, a door swung open in the wooden paneling.

“Well, I’ll be—” she blurted.

Theo gave her a small smile. “The entrance can only be found by those who know it’s there.” He moved through the doorway, and Evadne followed him warily. There wasn’t a room on the other side as she expected, but a corridor sloping downward. Almost as soon as she passed through, the door slammed shut. She jumped and spun around. She felt for a door handle but couldn’t find one.

“Follow me,” Theo said.

Evadne wasn’t particularly happy about the turn of events, but she left the door and moved down the corridor. The light was dim, just enough to see her way. She searched for a source. “Where’s the light coming from?” she asked.

Theo didn’t appear to hear her. She hurried to catch up and realized the walls themselves were glowing. She ran a hand over the surface. It felt rough and cool on her palm as if the walls had been cut out of the bedrock rather than built of brick or stone.

“Theo… the light?” she asked.

Before she could repeat the question a third time, the corridor opened out into an area more cave than room, a rectangular shape longer than it was wide. The curved roof glittered with tiny, multicolored specks of light. At the other end, she saw a large stone block on which stood a blackened, heavily banded chest.

“Come closer,” Theo said. He stood by the block and rested his hand on the lid of the chest.

Evadne walked forward. Benches ran along the sides of the room interspersed with small squat pillars. Some were inscribed. A couple of pillars had small statues on them.

“I had no idea this existed,” Evadne said, her voice pitched low.

Theo’s chuckle sounded out of place. “That is rather the point. Only those Chosen of the Light can pass through the guardians.” He frowned. “At least until the guardians were removed. Anyone can enter now, though they would still have to find the entrance.”

He opened the chest, removed the lid completely, and stood back without a word.

Evadne peeked inside and gasped, “It’s beautiful.” On a faded blue cushion sat a glowing rock. One side was smooth, rounded, and speckled with faint darker spots. She saw why the stone might be mistaken for a shard of some giant egg. The other sides were rough and sparkled like some sort of exotic quartz.

“Is this what it’s all about?” Evadne’s pragmatism broke through the mystical aura the setting had produced. “It’s certainly unusual, but I can’t see how it can be considered powerful.”

“Touch it,” Theo said. “Let it introduce itself.”

Evadne smiled at the joke and then realized Theo was serious.

“Touch it, Evadne,” he urged. “If it’s just a rock, what is there to fear?”

Goaded, Evadne reached out to touch the stone’s surface.

Welcome, Lion.

Evadne snatched her hand away and stepped back. “What the Devil?”

“Not the Devil, I can assure you.” Theo smiled encouragingly and gestured at the stone. “Don’t be afraid. It won’t hurt you.”

Evadne tentatively placed her hand on the smooth, warm surface. The strange presence entered her mind once more. Instinct pushed her to shy away, but this was nothing like Clara Wight’s vindictive presence. If anything, the voice was comforting.

My Lion. The voice sounded welcoming, as if its owner was smiling. For too long have you been absent.

Evadne stared in amazement at Theo, her hand still resting on the stone. “This is incredible. It knows me.”

Theo nodded. “The Stone always knows its guardians. I regret having kept you from your birthright for so long.”

“But is it as powerful as the story claims?”

“Ask it.”

“Er…” She hesitated. What did one call a sentient stone?

Stone will do. The voice sounded amused.

You can read my thoughts? she asked the presence in her mind.

Those on the surface, yes.

Are you really so powerful?

I am but a fragment of the great Egg, but even in such a small shard, there is great power.

If you are good, why would you cause damage?

Ah, Lion, you misjudge my nature. I am neither good nor evil. When I was created, neither existed. All creatures are my children, and anyone with the skill to bind me can use my power.

Evadne glanced at Theo. “If the power of the Stone can be used by anyone, why not use it to destroy the Deceiver?”

“We are forbidden to do so. The Invincible Sun in its wisdom realized that such power, even if used for good, would eventually corrupt,” he said. “It is the nature of mankind.”

Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely, she thought.

I see my Lion is as wise as you always were, Stone replied.

Evadne frowned. What of my friend Red? Is she the Wolf? Is she evil?

Yes, your friend is the Wolf.

I don’t believe she is evil. I won’t.

Your loyalty is impressive, my Lion, but again you misjudge. The Wolf is a creature of darkness. This does not mean she is evil. Darkness and Light are natures. Evil and good are chosen paths. A being of the Dark can do good, though it will be a struggle, while a being of Light can do great evil for apparently good reasons.

So she can be helped? Evadne asked.

It is possible, but this Wolf was exposed to an unforeseen external Darkness. It eats away at her and breaks down the walls she built. Her death increased the chance of the lion-headed one to claim her.

The answer startled Evadne. The Golem? You mean when it brought her back to life, it changed her somehow?

Yes, the D’haemon gave part of its life force in order to both heal her and control her. That act shifted the balance within her.

Can the Prophecy be prevented? she asked.

Not even I can tell the future with certainty, and even if I could, I would not tell you. It is my duty to remain neutral in the affairs of this world. Now go, my Lion, you have much to do.

Evadne withdrew her hand from the stone and looked at Theo. He seemed different somehow. She tried to work out the change and decided she felt a sense of warmth and compassion around him she hadn’t felt before.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Evadne blinked and tried to clear her mind of the strange sensation. “Yes, sorry. It’s just… I don’t know. You look different.”

“You are sensing the Light in me.”

“I… what?”

“Now you have made contact with the Stone, your latent powers have awoken. One of them is the ability to sense strong levels of Light or Dark in a person.”

“I can do that?”

“You can.”

“What other powers do we have?”

I can speak to you like this, Theo projected.

Evadne shuddered at his voice inside her head. “Don’t, please.”

“I’m sorry. At close range, we have certain telepathic powers among ourselves, though as you no doubt understand, we don’t use them much.”

Evadne didn’t want to find out any more, not yet. She needed to know something far more important. She turned to study the Stone. “Is it telling the truth? About Red, I mean.”

“The Stone cannot lie,” Theo said. “It came into being before the opposites of Darkness and Light, good and evil, even heat and cold. As such, it’s incapable of telling a falsehood. It also can’t deny a command given to it by anyone who binds it.”

“And how does that happen? How do you bind it?”

“We don’t know.” The exasperation in Theo’s voice was mirrored in his face. He indicated a mural that showed a man in ancient costume apparently about to kill a bull. “If I was asked to make an educated guess, I would say a sacrifice of some sort is required, even as the Invincible Sun sacrificed the Great Bull in order to bring life into the world.” He made a helpless shrug. “Other than that, we have no idea. I’d guess that our opponent has more detailed information as to what is required, otherwise why bother with all this?”

Evadne nodded thoughtfully and looked back at the luminescent Stone. “It said that Red might be helped. That something unexpected made her Darkness worse.”

“That may explain why we could not feel it until recently, as well as her shift toward the Deceiver.” Theo laid a gentle hand on Evadne’s shoulder. “So do you believe me now?”

Evadne met his gaze. How could she doubt him? “I do.”

“Good. Now it’s time to meet the others.”

Evadne glanced at the Stone just before Theo replaced the lid on the chest. Was the increased Darkness the reason behind Red’s increasingly quick temper and foul moods? If so, was there anything she could do about it?

“Coming Evadne?” Theo called.

“Yes, sorry.” Evadne turned away from the chest and followed Theo back into the passage. What was going to be the next surprise? And who were the other members of the Six she was about to meet?

*   *   *

Red watched the townhouse from the shelter of a doorway as she blew on her bare hands to warm them. Although Leona had rescued most of Red’s clothing from the Anchor, some bastard had lifted her gloves, and she hadn’t had a chance to acquire another pair. The cold made her hands ache even more than normal. She tucked them under her armpits in an attempt to thaw out her frozen fingers.

Not for the first time, she wondered why she was freezing her butt off at an ungodly hour of the night when she could be sharing a warm bed with an even warmer woman. The address on Wilkes Street was a complete long shot. Perhaps she should give it up as a bad job.

A picture of the boathouse’s charred remains sprang into her mind and bolstered her resolve. She wouldn’t give up on finding Nellie Reilly’s murderer this side of Hell. She owed her late friend that much.

Catching the sound of approaching footsteps, she shrank back into the protective shadows. She saw a woman and a large man walking down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. They stopped and entered the house. She hadn’t seen their faces, but she could have sworn they were the same thieves who had broken into Arden Hall the night of the soirée. Her pulse quickened. It seemed Lady Luck hadn’t abandoned her after all.

Red waited a couple of minutes to make sure the coast was clear, crossed the deserted street, and went to the house. A light was visible in one of the windows. The curtains were closed, but not the shutters.

She could just make out the gentle murmur of voices through the crack where the window didn’t quite close properly. What to do now?

She noticed a covered alleyway by the side of the house and made her way to the cobbled yard around the back. The ground floor windows weren’t barred. If her luck was still in, she could get into the house and see what was going on.

A break-in would have been a lot easier if she had help. She’d asked Evadne to come, even going so far as to suggest that she needed her there, but Evadne declined with some excuse about having already arranged to visit Theo. She’d been surprised, even a little put out, by the refusal. Had the work gotten too much for Evadne already? The explanation didn’t seem to ring true. She could have sworn Evadne had more guts.

Red put aside her brooding over Evadne’s changed attitude to focus her attention on the problem of breaking into the house.

She moved along the ground-floor windows and didn’t find anything in the way of extra security, just a catch on the sash. She slipped her knife from her boot. A sudden chill ran down her spine, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

Too easy, she thought. No, not that way. The wall on the other side of the yard should give her access to the nearest upstairs window.

She studied the wall. No sign of anything nasty embedded in the top, but spikes might be covered by snow. She jumped and swiped off a patch of snow. Nothing tore at her hand, and still nothing was visible. She jumped again and caught the top of the wall. The expected pain of shards of broken glass or metal cutting into her flesh didn’t happen.

Careful not to knock her injured forearm, Red scrambled up onto the wall. Any noise she made should be covered by the chatter of locomotives and rolling stock from South Station only a few blocks away. After a moment to be sure no one had heard her, she moved to a place where the wall met the house and the window was reachable. Getting back to the wall would be interesting if she couldn’t get the window open.

For a second, she nearly gave up. After all, she had no evidence to support her suspicion, just her less-than-perfect gut instinct. Perhaps she should go for an easier route, but why change the habit of a lifetime? She put the knife between her teeth and carefully worked her way across the expanse of brickwork.

The rough edges of the bricks bit into her fingertips as she made her way toward the window. She bit the blade harder and wondered again whether this was a good idea.

She let out a sigh of relief when her left hand reached the sill. Trying to find the best balance, she shifted position, one foot braced against the wall. The other foot had a tentative toehold in the brickwork. She hung from the fingertips of her right hand as she took the knife in her left. Time to get the window open.

Red slid the blade between the two sashes and felt for the catch. She soon found it, but the window wouldn’t open. Had she misjudged the security? She was damned sure there were no locks on the downstairs windows. The catch must be stuck.

“C’mon, you son of a bitch, open!” she said under her breath.

Her right arm ached like a bastard and already shook badly, but now her hand began to cramp. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. How could she have been such an idiot, putting her wounded arm under so much stress? The cut might be healing nicely, but her arm still wasn’t in full working order.

She wiggled the knife. The clasp moved but didn’t open. Putting all the weight she dared behind the blade, she pushed. With a sudden click, the clasp shifted.

Her triumph was short lived as her right boot lost its footing. She dropped her knife and grabbed for the sill with both hands. It was touch and go for a couple of seconds, but she finally recovered her footing.

She slid the sash up a couple of inches. Despite complaints from her overstretched muscles, she waited long enough to ensure the room was empty before pushing the window up farther and slipping over the sill. While she got her breath back, she checked the room, which appeared to be an unused bedroom, the furniture covered in dustsheets.

Recovered, Red moved to the door and opened it a crack. She could hear voices. There seemed to be three people downstairs: two men and one woman. The woman’s voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite work out why. She crept through the doorway and along the landing until she reached the top of the stairs. Crouching against the wall, she listened to the voices drifting up from below.

“Is everything ready?” the woman asked.

Now she understood why the woman’s voice was so familiar. The precise, upper-class accent reminded her vividly of Evadne. In fact, the voice sounded so much like her partner that she could have sworn Evadne was there if the idea wasn’t so ridiculous.

“Da, boss, she no escape tonight,” a harshly accented male voice said.

The sort of man usually found hanging around the seediest parts of the docks, she thought. He, too, sounded familiar.

“If that idiot hadn’t made such an almighty hash of the job and got himself beaten half to death for his pains, we’d be rid of her already,” the woman said. “I told him that Wolverton wouldn’t be scared off so easily. The only way she’s going to leave this city is in a wooden box. My contacts tell me she took the bait and should come here tonight. This time, there’ll be no mistake.”

Red’s blood ran cold. She’d been fucking set up! She backed away from the stairs and hurried along the landing as her blood pounded in her ears.

The sound of a door closing came from the back of the house, followed by another male voice. “Found this knife, boss, and one of the upstairs windows is open.”

“She’s in the house,” the woman shouted. “Get her, you fools!”

Abandoning all caution, Red ran, almost throwing herself through the open window with the recklessness of the scared shitless. She landed on the snow-covered cobbles hard enough to knock the wind out of her, but she managed to avoid dislocating her shoulder or breaking an ankle.

She scrambled up, gasping for air, and sprinted for the alley. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure emerge from the house’s back door. A second later, an explosive crack split the night and brick fragments showered over her.

Red put her head down and ran for her life. She burst out of the alley and raced for cover. After ducking into the sheltering darkness of an archway, she collapsed to the ground.

For the first couple of moments, she fought for breath, and then she pushed herself up to sit with her back against the wall. Black dots danced across her vision as she fumbled for her revolver. She fought to remain conscious. She really didn’t need to black out, not now, not when someone might be following her.

She fixed her unsteady vision on the archway and took a better grip on her revolver.

Once her breathing was closer to normal and her vision cleared, she peered around the edge of the building, finding no one in sight. She leaned against the wall. That was fucking close, too fucking close. The people in the house had been waiting for her. If she’d come into the building at ground level, they would almost certainly have killed her.

Red let out a long sigh. It didn’t make any sense. She’d hoped to find out something about the Arden case, but now she was certain someone was after her personally. Who? And why such an elaborate setup? Bats’s and Nellie’s murders were straightforward enough, and she wasn’t exactly hard to find if anyone put their mind to it.

She pushed herself up the wall and rose to her feet. No use driving herself mad trying to work it all out. What would Evadne make of it? Should she even tell her? Could she bear the lecture she’d get? You don’t take care of yourself, Red, she imagined Evadne saying. You shouldn’t put yourself in such danger, Red. Yakkity, yakkity, yak, Red!

No. She would keep this development to herself until she had a better idea about what the hell was going on. High time the Wolf headed home to lick her wounds. As the adrenaline rush of the night’s events gave her libido a healthy kick, she grinned. Maybe she could get someone to lick them for her.

*   *   *

Standing in the doorway, Evadne stared. This had to be some sick joke. James’s presence in the room was surprise enough without her being there as well. Her gaze remained fixed on the woman sitting at the table. Her hackles rose. “What is she doing here?”

“Katherine is the Sun-Runner,” Theo said.

Evadne continued staring. Katherine Dubois didn’t have the aloof, sneering expression she normally wore. Indeed, she looked more like the young woman Evadne had known and even liked until her attitude had changed so dramatically.

“You’re surprised to find Katherine among us?”

“I think that is the understatement of the year.” Evadne blushed slightly at the rudeness of the comment.

Katherine smiled sadly. “I’m glad I was convincing in my role.”

“Your role?” Evadne asked. “Why have you been… well, such a bitch this last year?”

“My actions were necessary for our plan to negate the Prophecy and defeat the Deceiver,” Katherine said.

“Katherine discussed this with me, and I agreed with her,” Theo said. “I asked Miles to assist her. The others weren’t aware of what we planned. We’ve survived by keeping our secrets well and sharing only what needed to be known. This is the first time in the current generation that the Six have been summoned.”

Evadne couldn’t believe what she heard. “But what you did to Red… you really hurt her, you know,” she said.

Katherine exchanged a glance with Theo. “Evadne, I think Theo told you we believe Red to be the Wolf of the Prophecy,” she said. “I formed a relationship with Red to drive her away from Boston. At least, that was my plan. How could the Prophecy come true, how could the Wolf turn on the Lion—on you, Evadne—how could the Raven return as one with the Wolf, how could any of this happen if the Wolf was half a continent away?”

“Why are you so sure?” Evadne asked. “Yes, her family name is Wolverton, and Wolf is one of her nicknames, but that could be a coincidence. Why are you certain she is the one?”

“I had it revealed to me in a dream,” Theo said.

Evadne stared at Theo. “A dream? Do you seriously mean that your identification of Red as the Wolf is all from a dream? This is ridiculous. You’re an educated man, Theo, yet you let yourself be guided by your unconscious mind?” She let out a sarcastic laugh. “What happened? Did your all-powerful God pop up in your dream and intone, ‘Red Wolverton is the Wolf?’ Is that the sole reason you’ve tried to wreck her life?”

“No, it’s not that simple,” Theo said, “but the dream offered clues. The Wolf would be an outsider, an outcast, and—” He gave an embarrassed cough. “And would be a renowned lover of women. I have to admit we thought it would be a man, some itinerant Romeo. We were only alerted to Red and her reputation through Katherine’s knowledge of that particular section of society.”

Evadne turned to Katherine. “Your ‘knowledge of that particular section of society?’” she quoted. “You’re a sapphist? Yet you denounce such women so virulently.”

Katherine blushed but didn’t look away.

Evadne was about to give Katherine a piece of her mind when Theo interrupted.

“Our histories indicate the Wolf is, by its nature, a creature of the Dark,” he said, “but also its own master, a loose cannon as it were, allied to neither side in the struggle for possession. That’s why Red is so important to the Prophecy and, at the same time, its weakest link—neither side can control her behavior. Or should I say neither side should be able to. We fear that this condition may have changed, that the Darkness within her is growing, and she is somehow, willingly or unwillingly, now an agent of the Deceiver.”

Theo’s statement was too much for Evadne to accept. A sentient stone living in Theo’s basement was one thing, but this was unbelievable.

“That is complete and utter rot!” she exclaimed. “Red would never do anything like that. She might walk a narrow path at times, but she isn’t evil. She isn’t!”

Even as she spoke, the image of Red’s disturbing feral grin as she choked a young girl flashed into her mind. No! Clara Wight had been pure evil, a monster. Nevertheless, she couldn’t erase the memory, nor could she forget Red’s current behavior, the worrying and increasingly frequent violent anger.

“I’m sorry, Evadne,” Katherine said.

Evadne shook her head in denial.

“The fact that Red refused to leave Boston despite all our efforts also weighs against her,” Theo said. “It’s another fact suggesting a strong connection, be it conscious or otherwise, with the Deceiver.”

“Or that she is just a mind-numbingly stubborn woman with nowhere else to go. Did you even consider that possibility?” Evadne asked. “She loved you, Katherine, and I don’t care whether you thought you acted for the right motives, it was a monstrous thing to do to her. You and Edgar nearly destroyed her. Don’t you realize that? Did you ever consider that you might be making Red into exactly what you fear her to be?”

She glared angrily around the table before returning her attention to Katherine. “I would probably never have heard of Red if it hadn’t been for the gossip after your affair, never have wanted to know what makes her tick, never have become her secretary, then her partner.” She made an angry, derisive snort. “Without you, I wouldn’t be in a position to have her turn on me, whatever on earth that is supposed to mean!”

Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm the anger blazing inside her. If she wasn’t careful, she would say something she would later regret. She asked, “Can’t you see that you’re making this a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

“Edgar’s actions were unfortunate and unforeseen,” Theo said, appearing thoughtful but in no way apologetic. “Please believe us when we say we just wanted her to leave Boston.” His calm and oh-so-reasonable voice had begun to irritate the heck out of her. “But you may be right. We may have inadvertently helped the Deceiver.”

Evadne fumed at the blinkered, unquestioning callousness of the three people gathered around the table. Had they no idea what they’d done? Were they so lacking in empathy? She remembered something else that transmuted her anger into trepidation.

“Is this why you were interested in Red at the soirée, Theo?” she asked. “What have you planned for her this time?”

“I offered her a job as a troubleshooter for my ranching concerns in Nebraska. She said she’d think about it.”

“She said she— But she never said you—” Evadne broke off. Why hadn’t Red seen fit to mention the offer? If not as a friend, then as her business partner.

“Things are moving too fast for that now.” Theo’s voice was tinged with regret.

A flicker of apprehension started in Evadne’s stomach.

“I meant what I said about her, Evadne,” Theo said. “Red Wolverton is a remarkable woman and definitely one of a kind, but the Darkness within her is too dangerous, her alignment with the Deceiver too plausible, and the risk just too great.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Evadne still couldn’t believe what they’d told her about Red. “Kill her?”

“No, that would make us like those we oppose.” Theo’s expression betrayed his disgust. “Surely you think better of me than that.”

“After what you’ve already done, can you blame me?”

James spoke for the first time. “No matter what’s happened in the past, we must now consider the future.”

Evadne had forgotten James was there. “Which one are you?” she asked.

“I’m the Bride.”

Evadne fought a sudden illogical urge to laugh. “The Bride?”

“Yes.”

“What about the rest of you?”

“Theo is the Father, and Miles Kemper, the Soldier.”

Evadne went through her mental list. She was the Lion—assuming she decided she believed what they told her—Katherine was the Sun-Runner, and the Raven was out there somewhere. So that left…

“What about the Persian?” she asked.

“Like you, the Persian is not aware of her heritage. Her parents died when she was too young to know otherwise. The cause of the fire that took their lives was believed to be arson and so, for her safety and ours, we decided she should be brought up abroad. You know her, Evadne.”

“I do?” Something prickled at the base of her skull. “Vivian?” Evadne fought the sudden urge to knock the smug smile off Theo’s face. “You’re her mystery benefactor, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Why isn’t she here, then?”

“We thought one at a time would be best.”

“Too darned right!” Evadne wanted to leave, to slam the door on these lunatics and their strange little stony friend in the cellar.

“Evadne, I know this is hard,” James said.

“Hard?” She glared at him. “Hard? It’s not hard, it’s—” Words failed her. Spinning around on her heel, she left to return to the main house. She was halfway to the front door before she heard footsteps behind her.

“Evadne, wait, please,” Katherine said.

They had sent Katherine to stop her. She turned so abruptly, Katherine nearly ran into her. “What do you want?” she snapped.

“Evadne.” Katherine sounded uncertain. “I know this is a surprise to you…”

“You noticed,” Evadne muttered under her breath.

“Indeed.” A brief smile touched Katherine’s lips. “I… I want to explain.”

Evadne was surprised to see unshed tears shining in Katherine’s blue eyes.

“I really didn’t mean to hurt Red,” Katherine said. “She has such a disreputable reputation, I thought she’d just shake off the breakup, then we’d apply pressure to get her to leave Boston and go back to wherever she came from.”

Evadne found herself struck dumb by Katherine’s naïveté. Perhaps she’d assumed too much. Katherine looked and acted so much older than her twenty-one years, it had led her to expect a maturity of thought, an empathy she obviously didn’t possess yet.

“Red didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Evadne said. “Didn’t you learn anything about her home and her father when you two were together?”

Katherine’s blush made her appear even younger. “Um, no. We didn’t do much talking.”

Evadne wasn’t quite ready to forget Katherine’s or Theo’s callousness. “And you were quite willing to ruin her, destroy what she’d worked for.”

Katherine looked dismayed. “Evadne, you have to realize the stakes we’re playing for.”

“Playing!”

Katherine paused. She seemed uncomfortable, as if she didn’t know what to say.

Evadne decided now was a good time to leave. “I think per—”

“I did care for her you know, perhaps even loved her.” Katherine finally met Evadne’s eyes with no sign of dissembling in her gaze. “Once you get past the bravado and aggression, there’s something awfully endearing about her.” She grinned wickedly. “And her reputation for certain skills is fully deserved.”

Evadne’s anger was disarmed by the treacherous blush that rushed up her neck. “I think that is more information than I wanted, thank you,” she said.

Katherine’s grin widened.

For a moment, Evadne felt the same sense of warmth and compassion she’d gotten from Theo in the underground room. The feeling only lasted until Katherine’s expression changed, and she became deadly serious.

“I did what I did because I believed it was required of me as one of the Six,” Katherine said, “but I have to tell you that once I got to know her, I wasn’t convinced that Red was a danger to us. I wasn’t even sure Red was the Wolf, despite Theo’s dream. I could feel no Darkness in her. Anger, bitterness, and resentment, yes, but no real Darkness. However, when I saw her at Theo’s soirée, I thought I felt something, so deeply buried I couldn’t be sure.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Would you believe James? He felt it without a shadow of a doubt when she tried to attack the deputy. I’m sorry, Evadne, but Red has changed. Something in the last couple of months has shifted the balance within her, and now the Darkness claims her.”

Wasn’t that just what the Stone had told her? Evadne stared at Katherine. It couldn’t be true, could it? She refused to believe it. “Good night, Katherine.”

This time, no one tried to stop her when she left.

*   *   *

Red found herself in pitch darkness, tied down on what felt like a table. Her struggles only served to tighten the ropes that dug into her wrists and ankles. She tried to cry out, but no sound came from her mouth. Her right arm hurt badly. She couldn’t see why.

A light appeared out of nowhere, slowly coming closer, increasing in brightness until she had to close her eyes. Gradually, the light dimmed. She opened her eyes to look for the cause of the agony in her arm and gagged at the bloody ruin she saw in the light: her skin torn away, the muscles and veins visible.

“Who would think she would last so long?” a familiar female voice said.

Red stared at the woman gazing down at her with merciless calm, the raven hair and ruthless blues eyes unmistakable.

“Katherine,” Red said. “What are you doing? What is this place?”

Something cold trailed across her other arm. She turned her head to see a knife slice into her flesh, and she choked back a scream. Tasting blood in her mouth, she spat at the second woman methodically flaying her arm.

The woman raised her dark head. Red met familiar brown eyes holding an unfamiliar, chilling malevolence. “Will you never give up the fight, Red?” Evadne asked. “Will you not just leave? It is the only way to stop the pain.”

“No!” Red screamed. She sat bolt upright, her arms flailing as she fought the bonds of her nightmare. Realization struck. “Oh, crap!”

The imagined feel of the knife still sharp in her mind, she folded her arms across her chest. “What in fucking hell was that?” She shuddered as she remained trapped in the vividness of the moment.

“What’s the matter?” Leona’s sleepy, concerned question was followed by a hand on her shoulder.

Red instinctively flinched away from the touch.

Leona moved at her side, and a lamp flicked on. “Red? What’s the matter, honey?”

“Oh, fuck.” Red clutched at her lover. “It was so real, so fucking real.” Unwilling tears welled up, falling as she buried her head in Leona’s chest.

“Another nightmare?”

Red nodded, not lifting her face from its soft resting place.

“Want to talk about it?”

She started to shake her head and paused. Rolling away from Leona, she stared wet eyed at the ceiling.

“Your father?” Leona asked.

Red shook her head.

“The warehouse?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

Red took a shuddering breath, fixed her eyes on a point on the ceiling, and described the vivid nightmare. By the time she finished, she had recovered her self-control. “Hell’s teeth, I must have a seriously twisted imagination to come up with that bit of nastiness.”

“My poor little Wolf.”

Leona’s fingers brushed gently through her hair. Red stared into her sympathetic eyes. After a while, Leona’s expression became thoughtful.

“Do you believe dreams can send messages?” she asked.

Red snorted. “Load of crap. It’s just my own mind playing nasty, vicious little tricks.”

“So you don’t think perhaps your subconscious is trying to tell you something?”

“What do you mean?” Red didn’t like the way Leona seemed to be picking up on the traitorous, laughable, ridiculous thoughts nibbling away at the back of her mind.

“I know you think Evadne is your friend, but it seems to me she is a false friend.”

“That ain’t true.”

“How has she been since we became lovers?” Leona asked.

“Different,” Red admitted sadly.

“She doesn’t like it, does she?” Leona’s gentle, insistent questions got past Red’s defenses. She found herself answering questions she’d normally refuse to consider.

“Dunno, maybe,” Red said. “She says it don’t bother her.”

“But that isn’t what you think, is it?”

“She seems so guarded, so careful. She don’t even seem to want to touch me anymore.” Red laughed bitterly. “Jeez, her over friendly attitude was enough to drive me crazy at times, but now a barge pole wouldn’t be long enough.”

“Perhaps your subconscious has picked up on that.”

Red considered the idea. “Why such a fucking sick dream? Why was Evadne there with Katherine?”

Sighing, Leona lay back on the bed. “I don’t know, honey. Perhaps because they’re from the same class. Perhaps because they’ve both hurt you.” After a moment, she rolled on her side and regarded Red a long moment before speaking again. “When you were healed in the warehouse, was Evadne touched as well?” she asked.

“I… I dunno.” Who was she kidding? Evadne had been crying on her chest. How could the power that healed her not have touched Evadne as well? She avoided meeting Leona’s gaze, suddenly wary about giving too much away. “I suppose she must have. Why?”

“The power that healed you was used up in the process, but even then it left a stain. What could it do to someone who wasn’t injured?”

“You mean Evadne might’ve been changed by it somehow?”

Leona snuggled into the crook of Red’s shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Has she?” she asked.

“I dunno, I really didn’t know her that well beforehand. I’m not sure I would notice unless the change was obvious.”

“And that’s unlikely. Whatever the stories say, evil is rarely obvious.”

The more Red thought about it, the more it seemed to her that Evadne had changed. To begin with, there was all that shit about her starting the fight at the Anchor. But the change didn’t make any sense. After she burned down the sanitarium, Evadne still helped, even against her better judgment. Why should a fight—and it was hardly the first fight she’d had since meeting Evadne—cause her friend to become indifferent? Evadne hadn’t even phoned to see how she was doing, although Leona had given her the telephone number. It certainly didn’t seem like the Evadne she knew. Or at least, the woman she thought she knew.

“She’s been different recently, ever since the start of the Arden Manor business,” Red admitted.

“I hope I’m wrong, Red,” Leona said. “I know you consider her your friend.”

Red wrapped an arm around Leona’s slight figure and pulled her in tight. She placed a kiss on top of Leona’s head.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” she said, feeling Leona smile against her skin, and a faint tickle of breath.

“Don’t worry, my big bad Wolf, I’m sure you’ll be worth the trouble,” Leona said.

What seemed like hours later, Red awoke to the warmth of her lover’s body against hers. She gazed at her lover’s sleep-rumpled face, the woman’s eyes still closed. She placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. The eyelids fluttered, and a lazy smile soon followed.

“Morning, lover.” Red lowered her head to take those soft lips with her own.

“Hmmm.” Her lover lifted her face to meet the kiss. A hand moved to the back of Red’s neck to run through her fine short hair.

Encouraged by the response, Red sucked on her lover’s lower lip and bit it gently, begging access. When the lips parted, she entered. Her tongue soon met its mate, touching and entwining like silk and satin as the kiss deepened.

Red’s desire built rapidly. Her lover’s hands tangled in her hair to hold her close. She pulled away a little. The grip on her hair tightened but soon relaxed as she moved to a perfectly formed ear. For a while, she contented herself with whispering sweet nothings and tracing the edge of the ear with the tip of her tongue before moving down her lover’s neck. She started gently, but grew increasingly forceful as she nibbled, sucked, and kissed a path between her lover’s full breasts.

Her lover arched into her touch with a moan. Red cupped a breast in her hand and savored the warm weight before running her tongue around a pebble-hard nipple.

“Heavens, Red, that’s so good,” her lover murmured.

Red couldn’t resist any longer. She took the nipple into her mouth. Her moans mixed with her lover’s as she shifted position. Her knee pressed against her lover’s hot, wet center, prompting an answering reaction that shivered through her body.

Hands reached up and pulled her down. The sweat-slicked skin pressing against her felt wonderful, and she moved a hand to take the place of her knee. She cupped her lover’s sex. The warmth was incredible, the slick wetness arousing her even further. She groaned and ground against the leg she straddled as well-manicured nails raked across her back.

“Look at me, darling,” her lover said.

Red lifted her head to meet brown eyes full of love and lust.

“I love you, Red Wolverton.”

Red smiled, her heart full of joy and love. At last, she’d found a woman she both loved and was loved by, someone she loved with an intensity that made her chest hurt and her stomach knot, and no one could take it from her.

“I love you, Evadne Davenport,” she answered.

And Red woke up, blinking into the darkness. She released her breath in a long sigh.

A quick glance showed that she hadn’t disturbed the long-suffering Leona. She rolled on her side and gathered her real lover in her arms. Leona murmured in her sleep and shifted in the embrace until her head rested on Red’s chest.

Red held the innocently sleeping Leona and tried to dismiss a vague sense of guilt, as if she’d been unfaithful. After her earlier nightmare, the intense sexual dream was peculiarly upsetting. Why had she dreamed about Evadne that way when it was as plain as the nose on her face that Evadne had become even more unobtainable than before?

Wishful thinking—that’s what it was. Why couldn’t she just count her blessings rather than go pining after the impossible?

She kissed the top of Leona’s head, closed her eyes, and tried to concentrate on the warmth of the woman in her arms, not the phantom flesh of her dreams.

Chapter 19

December 21: Wolf turns on Lion

“Red?” Evadne asked.

“Hmm?” Red didn’t look up from cleaning the revolver currently in pieces on her oil-stained desktop.

“I came across an interesting story when I was researching the Arden Manor case.” Theo hadn’t told her not to say anything about her membership in the Six, but she thought it was probably a good idea to be cautious about what she said, at least in the beginning. If Red was the Wolf of the Prophecy, perhaps she’d prompt some sort of reaction. “I wondered if you had ever come across it.”

Red glanced up, and her green eyes sparkled with curiosity. She moved the scattered bits of metal out of the way and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the desk. “What’s the story?”

“It tells the tale of seven men given the task of protecting an ancient and powerful treasure. This object was a fragment of the World Egg from which their god was born. The fragment was the only part to survive the creation of the world and was reputed to hold great power. These men were chosen to protect the fragment both from disbelievers and from the followers of their god’s mortal enemy—the Deceiver.”

Evadne watched Red as she spoke, wondering if she would see any traces of Light or Dark as Theo had said. Would she even recognize the signs if she did?

“The Deceiver?” Red asked. “Isn’t that in the Prophecy you found?”

“Indeed. Each man had a title: Raven, Bride, Soldier, Lion, Persian, Sun-Runner, and Father.” Evadne noted recognition blooming in Red’s expression at the mention of the Raven and the Lion. She also saw the faintest glimmer of some other emotion, though exactly what she couldn’t fathom.

“Over the generations, the knowledge of what they protected was passed down to the eldest child,” Evadne said. “So the lines continued unbroken, and the Seven protected the relic, occasionally moving it so the Deceiver couldn’t find it. Some hundred years ago, the Deceiver’s Chosen inveigled its way into the Raven’s heart. When her child was born, it carried the blood not only of the Raven but also of the Deceiver’s Chosen. The next Raven soon felt the Darkness in his blood and was bent to the Deceiver’s way. His treachery was discovered before it came to fulfillment, and he was banished from the Seven. The remaining Six once more moved the relic, bringing it to America, where it is said they still protect it.” She stopped, not daring to tell more of the story. “Have you heard of this?”

Red was silent for a moment. “No, I ain’t. It certainly fits with what the Prophecy says, though.” She stood and began to pace the room, occasionally brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Kemper’s journals keep mentioning something that has to be protected.” She took a battered Latin dictionary from the bookcase and flicked through the pages before smiling triumphantly. “Thought so. Miles is Latin for soldier.”

“You know Latin?” Evadne asked in surprise.

“Hey, I ain’t just a pretty face, you know. I picked up the odd bit here and there. You’d be amazed how many crooks reckon ‘magic’ has to be in some long-dead lingo.” Red flicked through a few more pages and stopped. “And guess what’s Latin for Lion, or should I say Lioness.” Red glanced at Evadne.

Had her secret been discovered? Evadne quickly realized Red was thinking about her lover.

“Leona.” Red whispered quietly. “If Wolf turns on Lion…” she murmured.

She doesn’t know. Evadne’s relief didn’t last long. Red would work out the solution sooner or later. She put a tentative hand on Red’s shoulder and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“What if I’m the Wolf?”

Evadne was shocked to see fear in Red’s eyes. She desperately wanted to reassure her, but what could she say that wouldn’t be a lie?

“Don’t it seem remarkable that me, Red Wolverton, the little old Wolf, is shacked up with someone called Leona just at the time this ditty falls into our hands?” Red asked.

“Red, I’m sure it isn’t Leona. Katherine says—” Evadne realized her mistake too late.

“Katherine?” Suspicion flared in Red’s expression. “Katherine who?”

“I… I…” She didn’t know what to say, and she saw her hesitation added to Red’s distrust.

Red closed on her. “Katherine who?”

“Red, don’t—” Evadne stood her ground—another mistake.

Red pushed her backward, her green eyes hard as steel. “You’ve been talking to that bitch?”

“Red, please.”

Red shoved her. Evadne retreated, terrified by the pure rage that distorted her face.

“You set this up, didn’t you, the pair of you?” Red said. “Bet you’ve been having a fucking good laugh over it.”

Evadne saw a flicker of pain in Red’s dark expression. “Red, plea—”

Her plea was cut off when Red slammed her against the wall. The back of her head bounced off the plaster and left her dazed and slightly sick. Red held her there, and hard knuckles dug into her chest.

“What had you planned this time? Dupe the fucking pervert into falling for another one of you, and get me fucking driven out of Boston for good?”

Evadne tried to push Red away, but it was like trying to move a mountain. “Red, please, it isn’t like that.”

Red’s eyes widened in shock. “It was you!” she cried. The shock disappeared, swept away by betrayed fury as she let out a roar of anguish and rage, shocking in its raw aggression. “You’ve been trying to fucking kill me!”

Evadne barely heard the words. The Dark energy radiating from Red held her transfixed. The power should have been tangible in the air, but there was nothing, no smell, no taste, no touch. The Darkness was just there, around them and on them, an overwhelming, suffocating blanket that clutched at her heart and tore at her soul. She felt a sudden, jarring pain in her jaw, and her knees buckled as she lost consciousness.

Evadne woke with a sore jaw. Her heart ached with the sickening realization that Theo had been right. Red had an overwhelming Darkness inside her, so much it had made her feel physically ill. Now the increasing rage-filled outbursts and the antagonistic attitude made sense. Red was no longer the woman she called friend. This was a darker, far more dangerous, perhaps delusional creature. Even that night at the Van Volk’s house, or in the warehouse, Red’s rage had been controlled and channeled. She’d not seen such Darkness in her before, such overpowering, uncontrollable, terrifying rage.

When the shaking subsided, she picked herself up from the floor and made her way to the telephone. She picked up the receiver with steady hands and called her own number.

“James, can you please come around to the office,” she said when her chauffer answered.

“Now, ma’am?” he asked.

“Yes, now.” Her voice trembled.

“What’s the matter, Evadne? Are you all right?”

“Yes, I…” She wanted to reassure him, but her tears wouldn’t let her. “No, I’m not all right. Please hurry.”

“Is Red there?”

“No, she’s not here, not now. James, I think it’s coming true. I’m afraid the Wolf has indeed turned on the Lion.” She winced when she heard James hurriedly hang up the phone.

She slumped into Red’s well-worn chair. A familiar scent surrounded her, a mixture of carbolic soap, gun oil, whiskey, and an indefinable smell she identified as Red herself. It should have been comforting. Instead, it was another reminder of how much things had changed between them.

Evadne let the tears come, not sure whether she wept out of anger, grief, or despair.

*   *   *

The bottle was nearly empty. Red glowered at it. How dare the whiskey run out on her like that? She was drunk but not drunk enough, still seeing the fear in Evadne’s brown eyes, the way her unconscious body had fallen to the floor. She took another swig from the bottle and hoped for welcome oblivion, but her conscience wouldn’t allow her mind the relief it craved.

Through alcohol-fuzzed senses, she heard the front door open.

“You’re back early,” Leona said, giving Red a look. The pleasure on her face changed to concern. “What’s the matter?”

“None of your business,” Red said with a snarl. She didn’t want to speak about her shameful, despicable act, not even to Leona. She took another swig and stared at the empty bottle. “Need ’nother one,” she slurred.

Having a simple, practical goal distracted her briefly from the guilt. She pushed herself up from the table, finding the floor strangely mobile. She cautiously moved to one of the cupboards and opened the door. She reached in to get the bottle of whiskey and found she couldn’t touch it. Her arm wouldn’t move. She peered down to find Leona’s hand around her wrist.

“Lemme go.” She jerked her arm out of Leona’s grip. Her balance failed. She fell to the floor and sprawled there while the room spun around her. How the hell had she ended up down here?

Carefully, she sat up. “Want my whiskey.”

A blurry Leona shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“Is a brilliant idea.” Why didn’t Leona understand?

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Leona half-helped, half-hauled Red to her feet and held her steady.

“Bed?” Red leered drunkenly. “Sounds like a great idea. Go to bed with you anytime, Leona.”

“Yes, Wolf, I’ve noticed that.” Leona smiled as she fended off Red’s hands.

Red scowled. Why didn’t her hands obey her commands? She’d almost got them past Leona’s defenses when Leona grabbed her wrists. Red grinned and pushed Leona back against the wall. Leona was nowhere near as strong, and she easily overwhelmed her.

Leona hands were on her chest now, trying to push her away, which just increased her desire. She bent her head to Leona’s neck.

“Stop it, Red!”

Something in Leona’s tone finally made its way through to her drunken libido.

“Spoilsport.” Red pouted. Taking an unsteady step backward, she fell on her butt.

Leona let out a sigh of relief that made Red suddenly ashamed.

She studied Leona, unsure what to do. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” Leona said. “Now, let’s get you upstairs.”

Red struggled to her feet and allowed herself to be guided up the stairs and into the bedroom. The backs of her knees hit something firm. She fell backward with an “Oof!” of surprise and stayed where she lay, staring at the ceiling.

Something tugged at her right foot. It felt cold. Only when the same thing happened to her other foot did she raise her head to watch Leona.

“What you doin’?” she asked.

“Getting you undressed,” Leona said.

Red’s libido roared back to life. “Does that mean I get to undress you, too?”

“Not this time, Red. You need to sleep this off.”

“S’not fair.”

Leona gave her an enigmatic smile. Red’s head hurt. What did the smile mean? Was it a good thing or not? She struggled up onto her elbows. “Come on, sweetheart, wan’ me to show you a goooood time?”

Something flared in Leona’s eyes. She pushed Red down on the bed. “Stay there, Wolf!”

Red couldn’t get her head around anything anymore. Why was the room spinning? And what was Leona doing? One of Leona’s hands rested on her head, the other over her heart. She heard pounding in her ears. It sounded fast. Very fast. Why was it so fast?

She felt suddenly afraid. “What you doing?” she asked.

“Go to sleep, honey,” Leona said.

Red shook her head, mulishly determined. “Shan’t!”

“Go to sleep.”

Leona closed her eyes and murmured something under her breath. Red tried to fight the sudden urge to sleep. Animal instinct struggled like a snared rabbit against the overwhelming drowsiness, but try as she might, she couldn’t fend it off. Slowly, irresistibly, her heartbeat slowed, her breathing deepened, and she plummeted into a deep and dreamless sleep.

*   *   *

Evadne wasn’t surprised when James insisted on driving to Arden Manor after he picked her up from the office.

“I called Theo,” he said. “He thought it would be better.”

Still too shaken to argue, she nodded her agreement. By the time the journey finished, her shock had been replaced by a new sense of purpose.

Theo greeted her at the door. Evadne followed him to his study, finding Vivian there, apparently shell-shocked. Had her friend just been introduced to the Stone? Vivian’s presence as well as her expression certainly seemed to indicate that was the case.

Evadne blinked for a moment. The peculiar, strong sense of warmth and compassion coming off the three of them hit her like a physical blow. James, Vivian, and Theo seemed to be bathed in a Light that comforted but didn’t actually illuminate. She wondered if she looked the same to them. The prospect was beautiful and a little daunting.

“James told me that Red hit you,” Theo said, bringing her back to earth with a bump.

“Yes.” Evadne swallowed hard as the admission sent her emotions skittering like spooked horses all over again.

“Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I’m not really sure.” She needed to stop being such a weak sister and pull herself together, Evadne told herself sternly. She’d never succumbed to vapors before, and she’d be darned if she would now.

“I was talking about the Prophecy,” she said, “trying to find out what Red knew. She worked some of it out, but seemed to think her lover, Leona Harriman, is the Lion. I mentioned Katherine—a terrible mistake. Red exploded. She accused Katherine and me of plotting against her, even trying to kill her, then she hit me. When I came to, she had gone.”

Vivian looked furious. “I warned you Red was dangerous, that she might hurt you.”

Evadne glared at her, but Vivian met her gaze unflinchingly.

“Well, it could have been worse,” Theo said.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” James sounded outraged. “She struck Evadne, knocked her out, for God’s sake.”

“And that was all she did.”

Evadne felt a slight ray of hope. “If Red was fully taken over by the Darkness, would she have stopped there? Perhaps there’s still a chance—” She gulped back a sudden rush of nausea when she remembered the murderous rage in Red’s eyes. If the revolver hadn’t been in pieces, she’d probably be dead. The truth—first realized and then denied in the warehouse over two months ago—came crashing down on her: Red was more than capable of killing. It was a miracle she hadn’t been added to her tally today.

“We need to stop the Prophecy from coming to pass,” James said. “I’m sorry, Evadne, but whatever the cost, we must do that. Even if it means—”

Theo was aghast. “James, I will not—”

“I’m sorry, Theo,” James interrupted. “I know how you feel about this, but we can’t afford to be squeamish. I don’t want to hurt Red, or anyone else for that matter, but dire needs call for dire measures.”

In her head, Evadne knew James was right although her heart rebelled against it. “We need to find out what’s happening. The Deceiver appears to have had it all his own way so far. Removing the statue. Red’s increased Darkness. It’s about time we turned the tables.”

“How?” Theo asked

“The Prophecy. There must be something in there to help us, give us a clue as to what’s going on.”

“What’s this Prophecy you keep talking about?” Vivian looked in puzzlement between Evadne and Theo. “And is Evadne one of us, too?”

Evadne glanced at Theo. “Not told her everything yet?”

“We were distracted.” He opened a drawer in his desk, retrieved a sheet of paper, and handed it to Vivian. “Evadne is the Lion. We believe Red is the Wolf.”

After glancing around the room, Vivian pulled out her pince-nez and started to read.

“Don’t you think we’ve tried to decipher the Prophecy before, Evadne? It’s far too vague to be of any practical use,” James said.

“What about the Stone, would it be able to help?” Evadne asked.

“The Stone is by its nature neutral and will not give undue preference to either side,” Theo answered. “If we could come up with a definite question it could either confirm or deny, then it might be able to help.”

“Like when I asked about Red being the Wolf?” Evadne asked.

“Yes, indeed. Although I must admit I was surprised at how much it told you.” His voice held a guilty edge. “Perhaps it thought in order to retain the balance, it had to fill the gaps in your knowledge due to my keeping you ignorant of who you are.”

Evadne gave Theo a brief, reassuring smile before she returned to the matter at hand. “So the Stone can’t help us, and everything seems to be controlled by that darned Prophecy.” Frustration finally broke through her natural restraint. “If whatever we do can’t change the future, what the hell is the point of all this?”

“There is one thing.” Vivian peered up from the paper. “This Prophecy or whatever it is mentions a choice, and that suggests more than one possible outcome.”

Theo frowned thoughtfully. “I think a reevaluation of the Prophecy is a sensible step. Previous attempts have assumed it to be rhetorical, but recent events would suggest it’s far simpler than we assumed.”

Regaining her broken composure, Evadne focused her mind on the contents of the Prophecy. “Let’s work through it line by line. ‘When the Raven returns, and light joins the dark.’ Lion and Wolf appear to relate to specific people, so logically the Raven should, too. But where does he or she return to? The Stone, the Six, something else?”

“The Stone,” Theo said with conviction. “That’s the center of everything we do. But you’re right, perhaps the Raven will return to the Chosen of the Sun and we’ll be the Seven again.”

Evadne wasn’t quite convinced. “Then why does the Prophecy mention the Six later?”

“All right, so that means the Raven will come here,” Theo said.

“What was the name of the last Raven, the one who disappeared?”

“Obadiah Ravenswood.”

“Ravenswood?” Evadne raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that just a teeny bit obvious?”

Theo shrugged. “I agree, but the Ravens were always a little conceited. The addition of the Deceiver’s bloodline made them prideful and arrogant.”

“I wonder,” James said. “Theo, don’t you know the chief clerk of the Records Office?”

Evadne couldn’t help thinking it was a forlorn hope. What were the chances that they would find anyone by that name in time to do anything about it?

She tried to concentrate her thoughts on solving the puzzle of the Prophecy, but her mind kept returning to worry over what part Red would play.

*   *   *

Red sat up, baffled to find no trace of a hangover and no corpse-like taste in her mouth. In fact, she felt nothing of the usual nastiness that followed one of her drinking binges. The dim light visible through the window showed it was either dawn or dusk, but what day?

She sat up and swung her legs out of bed, finding she’d been stripped down to her drawers and undershirt. A fuzzy memory of Leona trying to get her undressed surfaced. Why had she been so desperate to get drunk? The frantic need remained vivid in her mind, but she couldn’t remember why. Frustrated, she scowled at the wall. Was it something to do with Evadne?

“How are you feeling?” Leona asked from her position in the doorway.

Red grinned wolfishly in her direction, trying to distract herself from the gnawing guilt in the back of her mind.

“Howdy, sweetheart. Wanna finish off what we started earlier?” she asked.

Leona’s expression held an odd mix of regret and something else Red couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it made her feel uneasy.

The look vanished when Leona gave her an exasperated smile. “That’s a one-track mind you’ve got there, Red.”

“You never complained before.”

Leona’s expression turned unquestionably sad. “Not now, Wolf, I think we have more important things to do. I’ll be in the kitchen once you’re dressed,” she said, and left the room.

Red pulled on just enough clothes to qualify as dressed and ventured down to the kitchen. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“We need to talk about what you did.”

“What I did?” Since Leona seemed so serious, the indefinable guilt Red had tried to ignore came surging back to the forefront. “What did I do?” she asked apprehensively. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“You really don’t remember?” Leona’s searching gaze made Red feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. “No, it appears you don’t.” Leona took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You told me what happened.”

“I did?” How drunk had she been? She couldn’t remember telling Leona anything. Hell, she couldn’t even remember what there was to tell.

“You remember what you said about what happened at the warehouse? How I could feel the Darkness in you, right?” Leona asked.

Red nodded, not sure where this was going. Leona seemed to be choosing her words carefully, which made her even more uneasy.

“Well, that Darkness is in Evadne as well.”

Red shook her head. “Bullshit.”

“Red, I have to tell you that I am here for a purpose, that I seek a fragment of the World Egg.”

Red started. The World Egg? Hadn’t Evadne talked about that in the office?

“So you’ve heard of it?” Leona asked.

“Yeah, Evadne told me about it and some evil god called the Deceiver.”

“I’m afraid it’s you who’s been deceived, my Wolf. Come with me, I’ll explain.”

Taking Red by the hand, Leona led her to the sitting room where she pulled her down to sit on the sofa.

“Many centuries ago, the last fragment of the Egg from which the world was born was stolen by a group of legionaries and taken to Rome,” Leona said. “The thieves wanted to use its power to bolster their crumbling empire, but they couldn’t. Furious and frustrated, they tried to destroy it. When it became clear nothing on Earth could harm it, they determined to keep it from those who would use it for the betterment of humankind. They set up a secret cabal of Seven men, and for many centuries they succeeded in keeping the fragment hidden. Eventually, one of the Seven realized the mistake he’d made and tried to help the true believers. His attempt failed. He was forced to flee and barely escaped with his life. At the same time, a Prophecy was revealed to both the leader of the Seven and the true believers. That Prophecy is about to be fulfilled.”

A cold lump settled in the pit of Red’s stomach. “This Prophecy, does it talk about the return of the Raven?” she asked.

“Indeed it does.”

“Evadne showed me something like that. Her tale was like yours, but not like yours. In hers, the Seven were the good guys.”

“That is ever the Deceiver’s way.”

“Are you saying Evadne’s one of them?”

“Possibly. There may be a way of telling. The Seven are not the most original creatures. They tend to use the same names throughout the centuries.”

“Like Miles being the soldier?”

“Exactly. Evadne doesn’t fit the bill, neither does her surname. Do you know her maiden name?”

“Van Deemin.”

“No, that doesn’t fit either. Does she have a middle name?”

“Yeah, she has two. What the fuck are they. Damn it, I can’t—” Sudden recollection had Red staring at Leona in bewilderment. “Rosemary Leona. That’s it. Leona, like you. I thought you were the Lion. Could she be the Lion?”

Red stood and paced the room in her agitation. She couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t. “It’s all a load of shit,” she said. “Evadne ain’t evil. She helped me after Janet was murdered, even after that stunt I pulled at the sanitarium. For fuck’s sake, she pretty much saved our lives at the warehouse. You can’t tell me them tears weren’t real. No, I won’t believe it. It can’t be true!”

“But didn’t the Wolf turn on the Lion?” Leona asked. “Just like the Prophecy?”

Red’s memory flooded back: the rage burning through her, the fear in Evadne’s wide brown eyes, the way Evadne fell over after she hit her. Red stared fixedly out the window at the fast-falling snow. Pain in her hands forced her out of her shock. She glanced down, puzzled as to why her hands were hurting, and found they were bunched into fists so tight her knuckles had gone white.

“It had to happen, Wolf. Don’t regret it.” Leona moved to stand behind Red, and her hands snaked around her waist, holding on tight. A cheek rested against her shoulder. Leona spoke quietly, her tone almost reverential. “The last Raven we have any record about was called Ravenswood.”

Tensing, Red tried to pull away from Leona’s grasp. It can’t be! she protested silently.

“And now I think you understand the line about the Wolf being at one with the Raven, don’t you, my Wolf?” Leona asked.

Red let out a sigh. What was the point of fighting? “Yeah, I reckon I do.”

Leona gave her a comforting squeeze. “My poor Wolf.”

Red covered Leona’s hands with her own and held them against her body as she took strength from the comforting warmth at her back. Her mind returned to the start of their strange and disturbing conversation.

“You said I told you what made me want to get drunk,” she said. “What was it?”

“You said that… that Evadne tried to kill you.”

“Bullshit!” Red ripped herself away from the encircling arms. Fury tightened around her chest. She pointed an accusing finger at her lover. “That’s complete and utter fucking bullshit! Evadne wouldn’t try to kill me even if the rest of what you say is true.” A faint memory stirred in the back of her mind, a familiar voice in a darkened house ordering her death. She ruthlessly mowed the memory down. “I won’t have you accusing her like that when you know nothing, nothing about her!”

Red pounded back up the stairs, pulled on the rest of her clothes, and sat on the bed to do up her bootlaces. Leona followed her. Of course, she damn well did!

“Red, please listen to me.”

“Just leave me alone. I don’t want to speak to you right now.” Leona’s hands cupped her face, but Red shrugged them off and stood. Leona’s hands moved to rest on her waist. She could feel the rage beginning to fade, almost as if it was being drained away.

“Stop that.” Red stepped away and broke the contact. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t want her anger to fade. She rammed her fedora on her head and reached for the revolver on the bedside table. The weapon wasn’t there.

“Where the fuck is my iron?” she asked.

“You left it at the office.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Perhaps because your desire to kill Evadne scared you so much.”

Red moved so fast, Leona couldn’t get out a gasp before she was pressed against the wall.

“You’re lying again,” Red said. She held Leona’s arms in a merciless grasp, pinning them to her sides. She gave Leona an angry shake, “Why are you lying to me?” Frustrated to feel her anger inexplicably draining away again, she thrust Leona aside and left.

Leona called out for her to stop, to wait, but Red ignored the demand. Almost falling down the stairs in her haste, she slammed the front door hard behind her and ran. Her sense of self-protection urged her to get away from everyone: Evadne, Leona, the lot of them. She needed some time and space to think.

*   *   *

Evadne’s head ached from studying the Prophecy.

James had excused himself from the group to let the other members know what had happened, leaving her, Vivian, and Theo to get the most possible out of the information they had. Shortly afterward, Theo excused himself, too, which left her and Vivian alone.

Vivian still seemed to have a problem getting over her surprise. “I still can’t believe it,” she said. “The cult of Mithras still continuing, after all these years, and protecting something everyone considered just a myth.”

Ignoring Vivian, Evadne tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

“It’s all there in what Theo told me. The legend of Mithras’s birth. The seven levels of the cult. Even the mural in the basement. It wouldn’t be out of place in any Mithraeum I’ve seen. It’s going to give such a new outlook in my next paper.”

“Vivian!” Evadne protested.

“What?” Vivian asked.

“As much as I wish you success in your work, we have a more pressing problem here.”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I just got—”

“Carried away? Yes, I noticed. If you could focus that fine brain of yours on solving this puzzle rather than planning your next thesis…”

“Yes, of course.”

Silence fell. Evadne stared at the paper until the words danced in her vision.

“Could Light joins the Dark mean you and Red becoming partners?” Vivian asked.

Evadne stared at Vivian, who now seemed unsure.

“Well, if I understand what Theo told me,” Vivian said, “then we are of the Light.”

“And Red is of the Dark.” Theo had reentered the room without Evadne hearing. “It’s certainly a most plausible explanation.”

“Does that mean Light harms the Dark refers to Red and Evadne as well?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “One of the gifts given to the Chosen is protection against direct physical harm from the Chosen of the opposing deity. Since the Wolf is neither, perhaps she can both harm and be harmed.”

Evadne really hoped the lines didn’t mean what they were suggesting. She shook off the ominous thought and considered the rest of the Prophecy. “Could defenses are broken relate to the removal of the guardians?”

“Makes sense,” Theo agreed.

“And we know what was meant by Wolf turns on Lion.” Vivian glanced up at Evadne, giving her a small, apologetic smile.

“The Six have met again,” Evadne said. “At least that’s straightforward enough, and we can only presume the Deceiver’s Chosen is around somewhere.”

“What about the darkest of days?” Vivian asked.

“The shortest day of the year?” Theo said.

“December 21. That’s tomorrow.” Vivian frowned. “Doesn’t leave us with much time.”

“How about when the Raven returns at one with the Wolf? If Red is the Wolf, what does it mean about her being at one with the Raven? Unless…” Evadne’s inexplicable unease at Leona’s presence came to mind. Had she sensed something without realizing it? She hadn’t seen Leona since her meeting with the Stone, so there was no way of knowing whether she was right or wrong. Could Red and Leona’s relationship be the key?

“Could the Raven be Red’s current lover?” Evadne asked. “Is that perhaps what the at one with the Wolf means?”

“It is a possibility,” Theo said. “Who is this woman? I don’t remember you mentioning her before.”

“Leona Harriman. She and Red have only been an item a couple of weeks. She rescued Red from the results of yet another bar brawl.” Evadne winced at the unconscious disdain in her voice. Why was she so intolerant of the way Red led her life when she wanted such tolerance herself? “Leona’s the owner of a rather disreputable establishment known as the Fouled Anchor. Her name’s nothing like Ravenswood, though.”

A frown appeared on Theo’s face. “That doesn’t seem right somewhere,” he said with a mirthless half smile. He shook his head. “Well, it won’t be long before we find out anyway. If we’re right, tomorrow should see it all over and done with, one way or the other.”

“What are we likely to be up against?” Evadne asked.

“On the face of it, the Deceiver’s Chosen should have the upper hand. Balance would not allow either of the First Ones to grant one side more power than the other, but while the Invincible Sun chose seven followers, preferring to rely on their natural and varied talents, and granting to each some minor abilities, the Deceiver chose only one,” Theo said.

“So he—” Evadne started to say.

“Or she,” Vivian interrupted.

Evadne rolled her eyes at Vivian and got a small smile in response. “He or she has more powers than we do?” she asked.

“Yes. In particular, they can control a person’s thoughts, and for a short while, their actions, too. They can also disguise their nature. That’s how the Deceiver’s Chosen was able to get close enough to the last true Raven and worm its way into her heart.”

“Even if we met the Deceiver’s Chosen, we might not know?”

“That’s right.”

“And he—” Catching Vivian’s eye, Evadne corrected herself just in time. “He or she can recognize us?”

“Yes,” Theo said. “Once you were acknowledged by the Stone, you were marked as one of us, one of the Six.”

“Well, isn’t that just wonderful.” Vivian didn’t seem at all impressed.

Evadne agreed with her. “Will it be three against six: the Deceiver’s Chosen, the Wolf, and the Raven against us?”

“They may bring some extra help. I’m not sure,” Theo said.

“So we might not even have the benefit of numbers?” Evadne struggled not to shout. How the hell could Theo be so calm? “Do you have any good news for us, Theo?”

“Why don’t we get some extra help, too?” Vivian asked.

Evadne stared at Vivian for a second before turning back to Theo. “Yes, why can’t we?”

“We can’t.”

“We can’t, yet they can? That’s ludicrous.”

Theo frowned. “I know you’re upset, Evadne.”

“She isn’t the only one,” Vivian said. “Why can’t we get extra help? I’m sure we could find some. Perhaps the police.”

“No!” Evadne and Theo said at the same moment, leaving Vivian looking a little shocked.

“All right, no police,” Vivian said, “but surely—”

“Vivian. Evadne.” Theo let out a small sigh. “I don’t know how to explain this, but I just know that we can’t bring anyone else along. Just trust me.”

Evadne glanced at Vivian, who looked as happy about it as she felt.

After a moment, Vivian gave Theo a grudging nod. “But I don’t like it one little bit.”

“Evadne?” Theo asked.

She looked up at the ceiling and then out the window into the rapidly falling dusk. Did she really have a choice? “Fine, Theo. We shall do it your way.”

*   *   *

Red’s hands shook as she put the stripped and cleaned revolver back together. Even as her fingers automatically performed the familiar task, her gaze went to the place where Evadne had fallen. At least she wasn’t there. She hoped that meant Evadne was okay.

Returning to the office had brought back her memories. Her stomach twisted in guilt and revulsion. As much as she’d denied it to Leona, she’d had murder in mind when she put all her strength and fury into that one punch.

“Thank Christ, Evadne has such a thick skull,” she muttered.

The attempt at black humor failed to distract her. How could she have wanted to kill Evadne? Who would she hurt next? Leona? Joe? The kids?

Finished reassembling the revolver, she slipped it into her holster. She needed to get out of this God-awful place, go somewhere she could sort out this fucking mess, and get her head back in order.

“I wonder if that job of Theo’s is still open,” she mused aloud. Then the realization of who’d offered her the job in the first place struck home. She let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “You’re such a fucking idiot.” No way she would get any help from that neck of the woods, not anymore. She was on her own again.

She pinned a hastily scrawled notice on the door, locked it, and hurried down the dark stairs and onto the street. When she left the office, her mind cleared a little. She decided she would phone Joe later and get him to tell Evadne to do what she wanted with the agency. Her stride relaxed as she headed for the nearest streetcar south.

There was nothing more she needed to collect, nothing to keep her in Boston. She would head for New York City. A train from South Station would get her there within a day. The last of the petty cash would take her that far. Once in the city, she could disappear while she decided what to do in the long run.

Red was within fifty feet of the stop when a familiar figure appeared out of the darkness. She glanced in Leona’s direction and continued on her way.

“Red, please wait,” Leona said.

The hint of desperation in Leona’s plea surprised Red but didn’t slow her. She’d just reached the stop when a startled cry made her spin around. Leona was struggling with a man. No matter how much Red wanted to stay uninvolved, she couldn’t let Leona be harmed.

After giving her holster a reassuring touch, she made her way toward the struggling pair. “Hey, buddy, leave her alone,” she said.

The man glanced in her direction. “Shove off. This bitch is mine!”

“I think you’ll find she’s mine.” Red grabbed the man by the shoulders and pulled him backward. He lost his grip on Leona. Red used the momentum and her hold on his jacket to throw him to the snowy sidewalk.

He rolled to his feet and watched her as she moved to stand between him and Leona. “She has a protector, I see,” he said with a snarl.

“If that’s what you wanna call me,” Red said. The man was young, slightly built, and looked like he hadn’t been near hot water in weeks. His reddish-brown hair was a greasy, tousled mess, and a good growth of wispy beard covered his chin. At first glance, he seemed like a typical street bum, but his accent and the good quality of his filthy clothes suggested otherwise to her.

“He is the Soldier, Wolf. He means me harm.” Leona’s warning held urgency and fear.

Recognition dawned on the man’s face. “So the Wolf has chosen her side. I told Father everything was happening as the Prophecy foretold.”

Red frowned. “You’re Miles Kemper, aren’t you? Where the hell you been? The cops have been searching for you for weeks.” What was she going to do now? After all, she’d been hired to find this man, not fight him.

Kemper made up her mind for her. He attacked swiftly but not recklessly. She had enough time to raise her guard and steady her stance before he threw the first punch.

Red dodged to let the blow pass harmlessly in front of her face and stepped forward into the attack. Kemper deftly avoided her return punch. He backed off a little, but she didn’t follow. Kemper’s eyes glinted uncertainly in the dim light from the streetlamp. He didn’t seem so sure of victory, but neither was she. This was no unschooled street brawler, all bluster and no skill. Kemper clearly knew what he was doing.

She and her opponent spent a few seconds weighing each other. Kemper’s guard was high and solid, his elbows tucked into his sides: a good defensive guard that protected ribs and head, she decided, but not so good for a quick attack and not easy to defend the lower parts of the body. Of course, a boxer in the ring didn’t have to worry about that, but there were no Queensbury rules out here. Any target was fair game. It was as plain as the nose on her face that the kid was no street fighter.

In contrast to Kemper’s textbook stance, Red’s open, lazy-looking guard would have had Mickey tearing out his hair, but it was easier to block blows to both body and legs. She kept her left shoulder slightly forward in a right-handed stance, knowing she would only switch to her natural left hand when it would be to her advantage. In the meantime, she would let Kemper think he fought another right-hander

The standoff didn’t last long. The moment Kemper glanced at Leona, Red attacked with a left jab followed by a punch to his body. He avoided both blows, but as he stepped back, she kicked at his knee. The heel of her boot made contact just above its target, the blow hard enough for Kemper to yelp in surprise and pain. He blocked her next punch, broke off, and limped slightly as he moved away.

In contrast to the growing anger on Kemper’s face, Red felt oddly calm. There was no hint of her ever-present rage. She felt strangely off balance without it, acting as if fighting Kemper was nothing more than a training bout, not a fight that could have serious consequences for her and Leona if she lost.

Kemper moved so suddenly he caught her flatfooted. With a surge of panic, she realized the exchange of blows with him had moved her away from Leona. Now Kemper used her mistake to his advantage and headed straight for Leona.

She launched herself sideways in a futile attempt at interception, but she was too late. Trying to avoid Kemper’s attack, Leona tripped and fell to the ground. Kemper paused and stared down at Leona in apparent surprise.

His pause was the only opening Red needed as her rage flared to life.

“You bastard!”

Kemper turned to face her as she scythed a kick into the side of his knee. Her boot contacted the joint squarely. He screamed in pain when his knee gave way. She followed up by smashing her boot into his face as he fell. He collapsed in a crumpled heap. Blood flowed down his face to mix with the dirty, churned-up snow.

Red’s rage vanished as if it had never existed. She spun around and saw Leona struggling to a sitting position. A quick glance at Kemper confirmed he was still out for the count.

She helped Leona to her feet. “You okay?”

“My head hurts a bit, but other than that I’m fine.”

Red ran a finger over Leona’s cheek, thankful she appeared uninjured. “I’m sorry. I should never have let him get close enough to do that.”

“It’s okay, my Wolf, you stopped him for me.”

Red glanced back at Kemper’s unconscious body. What the hell had happened to her during the fight? So cool to start with, and in the blink of an eye blazing with rage, almost like someone had flipped a switch. Leona claimed she could feel things. Was she able to do more than that?

“Are you doing something to me, to my anger?” Red asked. “When I was with you earlier, it kept draining away even when I wanted it. And just now it didn’t appear until you were out cold. As soon as you were awake, it went away again.”

“I don’t know the how or why of it, Red, but I’m able to ground your Darkness and rage. If you’re the lightning, I’m the lightning conductor.” A worried smile flickered across Leona’s face. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I… I dunno.”

“Red, behind you!”

Red whirled around. Kemper had risen halfway to his feet. She pushed him back down on his face and held him there with a knee in the center of his back. Once he stopped struggling, she undid the belt from around her waist. She slid off the holster, tucked it into her coat pocket, and used the belt to tie Kemper’s hands behind his back.

“Now you can get up.” She hauled him to his feet. Hissing, he hopped a moment before getting his balance. “What do we do with him now?” she asked Leona.

“I don’t know.”

“Hand him over to the law?”

Leona shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Red yanked at the glowering, bloody-faced young man. “Why did you attack us?” she asked.

“As if you don’t know.” The hatred in his voice sent a cold shiver down Red’s spine. “I’ll stop you, or the others will,” he said. “The Deceiver won’t succeed.”

“Like hell you will.”

His pale blue eyes bore into her. “You have no say in the matter, Wolf. You’re a whipped cur that runs to do her errands without any idea why. You’re worse than her. She at least believes. You just blindly obey.”

Red fought the urge to punch his lights out. “I ain’t no cur, whipped or otherwise, you bastard. Do you like beating up women, you and your band of thieves?”

Kemper glared at her but didn’t say anything more.

Something he said worried at her memory. “Leona, what did he mean by the Deceiver?” she asked. “I thought they were—”

“Don’t you see he’s trying to turn you against me, Red? One of the Deceiver’s favorite tricks is to drive the opposition apart, weaken them from the inside before attacking.”

“Don’t belie—” Kemper began to say.

Red shook him into silence. “Shut the fuck up!”

His expression uncertain, Kemper’s gaze flicked from Red to Leona and back to Red, who wasn’t sure whether it was bravery or just plain stupidity that drove him to attempt escape. He charged at her, knocked her off balance with his shoulder, and made a run for it. He didn’t get far. She soon dragged him to a halt, but he continued to struggle.

“Help. Kidnap! Murder! Help!” he shouted.

Red hit him squarely in the back of the neck with her fist and put him back in an unconscious and thankfully silent heap on the ground. She glared down at him as she shook out her aching hand. “Fucking idiot,” she muttered.

“Red, we need to get out of here, and we need to take him with us,” Leona said.

Leona’s urgency cut through Red’s anger. She gave Kemper a kick, which felt like kicking a sack of meal. No sound, no reaction, and no doubt he was out cold.

“You stupid bastard,” she said. “Now I’m gonna have to carry your sorry carcass out of here.” She dragged him into a sitting position. Making a grunt of effort, she hauled him over her shoulder and stood, wincing at the strain on her knees. For a skinny guy, he was damned heavy.

“So where we going?” she asked Leona.

“I think we need to go to the heart of the problem, don’t you?”

“Where’s that?”

“Arden Manor, of course. We’ll use my automobile.”

“Your what?”

Leona laughed. “There’s quite a lot you don’t know about me, lover. Now come along.”

Following Leona around the corner of the block, Red saw a Studebaker standing by the side of the road. When they came closer, she realized someone was in the driver’s seat, a man. He got out as they approached. She slowed, thinking there was something familiar about him, something she didn’t like.

The man’s smile wasn’t reassuring. “How your side feel, vilcēns?” he asked her.

Where had she heard that accent before? Realizing he was the same man she and Evadne had caught trying to break into Arden Manor, the man who had bashed her ribs, she dropped Kemper and drew her revolver.

“Watch out, Leona,” she warned.

Leona turned around to look at her. She didn’t move or seem at all worried.

“Leona, he’s one of the people who tried to steal the statue.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I was the other one.”

“You what!”

“Breaking into the house was the only way we could get to the fragment.”

Red stared at Leona, utterly astonished. “But… but you shot me.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“You’re fucking sorry?” Red’s voice edged closer to a shout.

“I meant to miss.”

“Well, whoop-de-fucking-do!” Red wasn’t sure who to point the revolver at anymore.

“Red, please, let me explain,” Leona said.

“Yeah, go on… explain how you fucking meant to miss.” Her rage flared, only to stutter out once more in Leona’s calming presence. “And how the hell did you change what you look like?” she asked. “I saw Evadne’s face, not yours.”

“Red, don’t you think we should take this off the street?” Leona asked.

“What?”

“Well, we are a bit obvious.”

Red blinked. Leona was right. She imagined a copper coming around the corner and witnessing their little scene. “Okay. You.” She pointed her gun at the man. “Turn around.”

“His name is Vaska,” Leona said.

Vaska looked at Leona, apparently awaiting her instructions. When she nodded, he turned to face away from Red. She approached him cautiously, patted him down, and removed the automatic pistol she found inside his jacket. She put the pistol in her coat pocket and backed away.

“Okay, now bring Kemper over,” she told Vaska and moved to the back of the Studebaker without losing sight of either Leona or her henchman. She tried the trunk. Finding it unlocked, she opened it.

Vaska stood patiently with Kemper hanging over his shoulder, clearly awaiting his next order. Leona seemed amused. Red risked a quick glance into the trunk. The space was empty except for a couple of lengths of thin rope. It would be a tight fit, but Kemper wasn’t a big guy. She picked up the ropes and threw them toward Vaska.

“Tie Kemper up with these, then dump him in the trunk,” she said. “Tie his hands in front of him.” She retreated a few steps and watched as Vaska bound Kemper and lowered him into the trunk. “Okay, back off.”

Vaska did as he was told. Red peered into the trunk. Kemper lay on his back with his knees bent. Not too comfortable, but not life threatening. After she shut the trunk, she retreated to where Kemper had lain on the ground. She picked up her belt and stuffed it into her increasingly full coat pocket.

“Okay, big fella,” she told Vaska, “now get into the front seat and put your hands on the steering wheel. If you move them a whisker, I’ll blow your head off, got it?”

He obeyed, apparently unfazed. Probably not enough imagination to get worried, Red thought. She watched him get into the driver’s seat and put his hands on the wheel.

“Now you, Leona. Into the backseat.”

“Really, Red.”

“Just do it.” Red’s anger flared, only to drain away in an instant.

Leona obeyed. Red slid onto the rear seat from the other side. She kept her revolver on Vaska, and her gaze locked on both of them as she spoke to Leona.

“Okay, now you tell me why you shot me,” she demanded.

“You took me by surprise, and Evadne’s presence panicked me. I had to get out of there. I really wasn’t trying to hurt you, Red.”

“And that face trick? How the hell did you make yourself look like Evadne?”

“I looked like Evadne? But that’s not—” Leona broke off. “I don’t think you want to know about that.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me!”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Leona sounded almost pleading.

“You don’t trust me,” Red said flatly. Why wouldn’t Leona tell her the truth? What was she trying to hide?

“No, it’s not that. I’m just not sure you’ll be comfortable with what I say.”

“Tell me or I’m outta here.”

“All right, I’ll tell you. The spell was a defensive illusion, something to give me a moment’s surprise, to give me time to get out of the place.”

“And that’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you there in the first place?”

“Removing the guardians that protected the hiding place,” Leona confessed.

“The what?” Red asked, confused.

“That statue of a raven and others like it bind the fragment of the Great Egg. We had to remove the magical guardians before we could try reclaiming the fragment.”

“So you hired Bats?”

“Yes.”

Red’s stomach began to churn uneasily. She tightened her grip on her revolver.

“We didn’t kill him, Red,” Leona said.

“How do I know that?”

“He double-crossed us.”

“Sounds like a good reason to pop him.”

“No, you don’t understand. All we wanted was the statue out of Arden Manor. We planned to hold onto it to stop the guardians being replaced, but it now appears someone else paid Bats to get their hands on it first.”

“Who?”

Leona shrugged. “I really don’t know. Those men he talked to at the Anchor, perhaps?”

Red stared. Did she believe Leona’s story? Did it really matter if she did? Did she even care? “What about Nellie?” she asked.

“We had nothing to do with that either, Red. I swear it.”

The intensity in Leona’s voice made Red think maybe she could believe her on that point at least. She still wasn’t sure about the rest. The explanation sounded a little too pat even though it fitted the facts as she knew them.

Easing back in her seat, Red relaxed a little, but the revolver stayed pointed at Vaska. There was no way this side of hell she’d let her guard down completely. “So what now?”

“We go to Arden Manor.”

“And?”

“We claim what belongs to us and to all humanity.”

Red remained unsure whether or not to believe what she had been told. Not that it really mattered. Arden Manor was clearly the center of whatever was going on, and Leona clearly knew a lot more than she was saying. If Leona could lead her to whoever stole the statue and, more importantly, Nellie’s killer, she was going to follow.

Chapter 20

December 22: The Prophecy is fulfilled

Red stared at the bulk of Arden Manor just visible through a screen of trees. The last time she’d been there, she had been trying to discover how someone had broken into the place. This time, she was the one doing the breaking and entering. She glanced at Vaska, who was dragging the bound—now also gagged—Kemper out of the Studebaker’s trunk. A struggling Kemper wasn’t making it easy for him.

“Stop, idiot bastard.” Vaska gave Kemper a shake that must have rattled his teeth. It certainly subdued him into sullen compliance.

“Why don’t we leave Kemper here?” Red suggested to Leona. “Him fighting us all the way’s only gonna make things more difficult.”

“No, we all need to be there for the Prophecy to be completed.”

Red wasn’t happy about the prospect, but Leona seemed to know what was going on so she let it pass. After watching Vaska hoist Kemper over his shoulder, she turned back to Leona. “What now?”

“We break in.”

“Won’t they be expecting us?”

“Probably.”

Red considered their options. The front door had a big, heavy, but relatively simple lock and no bolts, which had surprised her. Just walking through the front door was tempting.

“Red,” Leona said, getting her attention.

“What?”

“I presume you don’t plan just to sit here and wait.”

Leona wanted her to take the lead? Not what she’d expected, but it didn’t matter. She shrugged off her overcoat and threw it on the Studebaker’s backseat. She’d need the ease of movement. The freezing night air immediately started to bite through her shirt. After a last look around, she set off through the trees, followed by Leona, and Vaska carrying Kemper.

She and her little group moved to the edge of the lawn that surrounded the Manor, using the trees to cover their approach. The Manor appeared deserted. No lights could be seen anywhere. To her, it seemed that no one was at home, not even the servants.

“I don’t like the look of this one little bit,” Red muttered under her breath.

“The Six might have worked out that tonight is the time of the Prophecy,” Leona whispered in her ear. “But it doesn’t matter. The events will proceed as ordained.”

“If you say so.” Red’s blunt common sense currently had the advantage in her internal battle over the Prophecy.

One part of her believed you made your own fate. No one could predict the future. Another part of her was shaken by the events that had already happened. Wolf had turned on Lion, and the line about the Wolf and Raven being as one was eerily apt.

If she didn’t believe in the Prophecy, why was she there? Because of Leona, or because she didn’t want to believe what Leona had told her about Evadne? Perhaps she just needed to find out the truth, whatever it turned out it be.

Red studied the dark house, trawling through the memories of other visits for the layout of the place. In the end, she decided against the front door. The lack of security seemed far too inviting. Instead, she took them around to the same window that Leona and Vaska, and then Bats Sullivan, had used to enter the storeroom.

It took her less than a minute to pick out the still-soft putty and remove the pane of glass from the window. She put her arm through, undid the lock preventing the catch from being sprung, and pushed up the sash. The room was quiet, no sign they’d been spotted.

She climbed through to the storeroom and gestured for the others to come along. Leona, followed, but Vaska had problems with their struggling captive. If they weren’t careful, Red thought, Kemper would smash the window as he was pulled through it.

Her patience snapped, and she rabbit-punched Kemper into unconsciousness. Vaska gave her a look of surprised admiration, but she felt uneasy at hitting a helpless man.

She and Vaska pulled and pushed Kemper’s dead weight through the window. Vaska quickly followed and slung Kemper’s unconscious body over his shoulder once he was inside.

After a final check that Vaska and Leona were ready, Red led them out of the storeroom.

The corridor was unlit. Leona turned on her flashlight.

“That ain’t a good idea, sweetheart,” Red murmured.

“Trust me, Wolf,” Leona replied, taking the lead. She obviously knew the layout of the house inside and out and led them unerringly through the maze of corridors.

“How do you know the place so well?” Red asked.

“I have my ways.” Leona glanced over her shoulder and gave Red an enigmatic little smile. “Do you sleep on the stairs a lot, Wolf?”

For a moment, Red didn’t know what Leona was talking about, and then she remembered the night of the soirée. She grabbed Leona’s arm and brought her to a halt.

“You were the ghost?” she asked.

“I can let a small part of myself wander in a spirit form. It’s useful for checking places out.” Leona’s expression became rueful. “I should have realized you were involved somehow. Only those touched by the First Ones can feel my presence.”

“But I—” Red broke off when she recalled the overwhelming fear that had accompanied the ghostly presence.

“What?”

Red tried to find a suitable answer. Failing, she switched subjects. “Shouldn’t we keep moving?”

“Yes. It’s not far now.”

Leona turned a corner, Red on her heels, and Vaska behind them carrying Kemper.

The darkness beyond the beam of Leona’s flashlight wasn’t complete, Red noticed. She grabbed Leona’s arm again.

“Wait, there’s a light on up ahead,” she said.

“It’s all right.” Leona switched off her flashlight and continued walking.

Red’s instincts were going haywire. Leona’s lack of concern seemed plain crazy. Nevertheless, Red pulled her revolver, followed Leona, and soon found herself walking along a lit stretch of corridor.

“We’re there,” Leona said.

“Where?” Red looked around in confusion. No doors or windows in sight, just wood-paneled walls much like every other corridor she’d seen.

“Here.” Leona pressed a knot in one of the panels.

Red heard a click. A section of paneling sprang forward. Leona grasped the edge and opened the hidden door fully. Red stared at the dimly lit tunnel beyond.

“I hope that revolver of yours is loaded,” Leona said. “We may need it.”

Red’s hackles rose. Of course, her revolver was loaded, she thought indignantly. What fucking use was it otherwise?

“Someone come, boss.”

Vaska’s low warning came just in time. Red heard footsteps moving closer. She pushed Leona through the hidden entrance.

“Inside,” she whispered and gestured for Vaska, still encumbered with Kemper, to follow.

“Red!” a familiar voice gasped.

Red turned, bringing her revolver to bear in a smooth movement. The shocked silence was shattered as a china-laden tray hit the floor.

Red was the first to regain her power of speech.

“Howdy, Katherine,” she said. “Should’ve guessed you’d be involved in this little setup.” She stared at the woman she’d once loved, the woman who’d betrayed her. Anger roared through her, as loud as thunder in her ears. “That vicious nasty streak of yours is inherited, is it?”

Katherine seemed to regain her composure. Points of color burned in her pale cheeks. “Don’t believe everything you hear about me, Red,” she said.

“Yeah, right. I don’t have to listen. I’ve seen what you can do, remember?” Red laughed hollowly. “That Deceiver fella sure has a dandy practitioner of his skills in you, don’t he?”

Katherine took a step forward and reached out. “Please, believe me—”

Red closed the gap between them and brought the Smith and Wesson up to point between her ex-lover’s eyes. Raw terror appeared on Katherine’s face. Red’s finger began to squeeze the trigger. Having the vindictive bitch at her mercy felt good, so damned good.

“Red, don’t!” Leona said. Her touch on Red’s arm dampened the blazing rage but didn’t extinguish it completely. “We need her to be with us when the time arrives.”

Easing off the trigger, Red lowered the revolver. The moment of immediate danger had passed, but the rage still roiled around inside her as she fought to control it. She grabbed Katherine’s arm and grinned when she winced.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I ain’t gonna kill you—yet!” She jabbed the barrel of her revolver into Katherine’s back. “C’mon, let’s go meet the rest of your band of thieves, shall we?”

Prodding Katherine ahead of her into the tunnel, Red found Leona and Vaska had stopped a couple of yards inside.

“The rest of them are down there,” Leona whispered.

Red moved forward until she reached the end of the tunnel and hunkered down in the relative darkness. Her chest tightened when she spotted Evadne pacing the center of the long, narrow room. Leona was right, she thought. Evadne was one of them, and she was carrying the Colt 1903 she’d proudly shown her.

Was that only a month ago? Red couldn’t help smiling at the memory of Evadne enthusiastically informing her that the pocket-sized automatic was the same type carried by the infamous Al Capone. How could things have changed so fast? They’d been friends, for fuck’s sake… or had they? Had the friendship been a game right from the start, lulling her suspicions, lowering her defenses? But why? Had Evadne and Theo set her up for a permanent fall because she’d finally stamped on too many shiny Brahmin toes?

Red didn’t want to think about Evadne anymore. She turned her attention to the others in the room. On one side, James and Theo sat on two easy chairs, with a couple of cots and a table close by. Dr. Vivian Worth had her nose pressed to some sort of painting on another wall.

She realized with an odd start that she wasn’t surprised by their presence. Everything seemed to fall into place. They were all in it: Evadne, James, Theo, Vivian. All of them stringing her along, no doubt setting her up for one hell of a fall. At least Maria wasn’t there. That would have been too much. She couldn’t see that good, God-fearing woman being involved in this sort of duplicity. On the other hand, if someone had asked her a month ago if Evadne was capable of a betrayal like this, she would have laughed in their face.

Red tried to work out if the others were armed. Dr. Worth wore a well-used gun belt. Red suspected Vivian knew how to use the revolver in the holster. Digging up old bones must be more dangerous than she thought. She couldn’t tell with Theo and James, although she would lay odds that they had guns, too. Two to one, now she’d given Vaska back his gun. Not good odds, but at least they had surprise on their side.

She returned to Leona and Vaska and described what she’d seen. “We’ll dump Kemper here,” she said. “He should be out for a while yet. When we get in there, shoot anyone who pulls a gun, except the woman in the center of the room.”

Clearly surprised, Vaska seemed ready to argue. She cut him off.

“Leave her to me, got it?” Red waited until Vaska gave her a grudging nod. She looked at Leona. “Stay out of the way until we’ve got them all docile, okay?”

“Okay.”

Grabbing Katherine’s arm, Red let a mocking grin spread across her face. “Let’s go play with your friends, shall we, sweetheart?” She indicated to Katherine to lead the way with a twitch of her revolver.

Katherine seemed scared half out of her wits, but she did as she was told. Red followed, beginning to release the fragile control she’d regained on her rage. She briefly wondered why Leona’s presence didn’t seem to be having its normal effect.

Not that it mattered. If ever she needed the edge anger gave her, it was now.

Evadne thought she might explode if something didn’t happen soon. The others seemed so relaxed, so at ease, except perhaps for Vivian, who was still oohing and aahing over the murals, the pillars, and the damned statues. She wondered how much longer Katherine would take before returning with refreshments. She was gasping for a cup of tea, and at least the break would use up a couple of minutes.

Taking a deep breath, she counted to ten, which didn’t calm her nerves. The waiting was killing her, not that she could do anything about it. If today was indeed the day the Prophecy referred to, then she and the others would guard the chest and its contents until the day was over or the Deceiver’s Chosen made his, or her, move.

She had started the watch with Theo, James, Katherine, and Vivian on the first stroke of midnight. The hands of her watch had crept slowly around the dial and now showed the time as nearly six in the morning. So far, nothing had happened.

Evadne wasn’t sure she’d last another eighteen hours of boredom. She just wanted to get the expected confrontation with the Deceiver’s Chosen over and done with. Anything had to be better than sitting and waiting for something to happen. She glanced at Theo, who sat in one of the chairs they had brought down to the secret room, apparently completely at ease. How could he just sit there? Such calm patience wasn’t natural.

Although she would never admit it to the others, her biggest worry was that Red might be involved in whatever happened. How would she react if she came face-to-face with her erstwhile friend? Could she do what was needed to protect the Stone? Of course, she had no idea how Red would react to her, either. She ruefully rubbed her sore jaw.

Evadne went over the situation in her mind. They’d taken precautions against the possibility of extra muscle in the form of firepower. She had her new Pocket Colt, and James and Vivian were also armed. Theo and Katherine had declined the suggestion—Katherine on the grounds that she’d be as much a danger to friend as to foe, and Theo because he’d need all his concentration for another task. What he meant by this cryptic remark, she didn’t know, and judging from their confused expressions, none of the others knew, either. It was typical of the man, she thought, and another reason for her elevated blood pressure.

A shriek broke the quiet. Evadne turned to see Katherine tumble headlong from the entrance. Her head hit the stone flags with a sickening crack. A fraction of a second later, Red burst from the tunnel accompanied by a large man. Both of them brandished guns.

“Hands where I can see them,” Red barked.

Her instruction was followed by shocked silence. Evadne froze. Vivian recovered first. With surprising speed, she drew her revolver and fired. A chip of rock exploded from the wall above Red’s head as she threw herself to the side to avoid the shot.

The man’s revolver coughed flame. With a cry of pain, Vivian fell against the wall, tipping over a cot as she collapsed. Before the cot settled across her legs, another shot cracked the air. Red’s accomplice took a half step backward and stared at the small but growing bloodstain on the front of his shirt.

Evadne had barely managed to take in the scene when Red rolled to her knees, raised her revolver, and fired. James’s head snapped back on his neck, and a fine spray of blood misted in the air. He fell in a boneless heap to the stone floor, while the man he’d shot toppled forward.

The silence afterward was nearly as shocking as the gunfire that had erupted. Evadne stared in horror at the bloody spray on the wall behind Vivian and the expanding pool around James’s head. She heard Vivian moaning softly, but James lay still as death. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t!

She stared at Theo in shock and disbelief. His gaze was painfully sympathetic. In that instant, she knew what had happened was no nightmare, and she also knew who was to blame. She drew her pistol and turned to find Red’s revolver already trained on her.

“Don’t, Evadne,” Red said, her rage-hoarsened voice forced through clenched teeth. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Evadne’s arm trembled with the effort of controlling her anger. She thought of Vivian and James. He was more than her chauffeur; he was her mentor, her friend. Her friend!

Red took a step closer. “C’mon, Evadne, just give—”

A fifth shot echoed around the chamber. Red made a little grunt of pain as her arm fell to her side. A second later, her Smith and Wesson clattered to the floor.

“You shot me?” Red stared at the hole in the shoulder of her jacket and then at Evadne with anger, surprise, and even a little admiration on her face. “You fucking shot me!”

Evadne watched with cold fury as Red dropped to her knees. A second later, Red’s legs slid out from under her. She sat on the floor and slumped forward with her hand pressed against her wounded shoulder.

Evadne quickly retrieved the fallen revolver. Red might be wounded, but she knew that wouldn’t stop her from being dangerous. She needed something to bind Red, but what? She looked around the room for inspiration. There had to be something she could use.

“And Light harms the Dark.”

The familiar voice drew her attention as another figure appeared in the archway. Evadne raised her pistol.

“Leona Harriman,” she said. “So you are the Raven.”

Leona’s laugh sounded mirthless. “Wrong, I’m afraid. You just shot the Raven.”

Evadne glanced at the man who lay on his face near the entrance.

“No, not him,” Leona said.

She surely didn’t mean… Evadne looked at Red. Even through her anger, she couldn’t help marveling at the stubborn way Red refused to complete her collapse.

“Red is the Wolf and the Raven?” she asked Leona.

“Of course, what did you think the Wolf and Raven being as one was all about?” Leona gave her a sly smile. “I take it she didn’t tell you her family name.”

“Wolverton, of course,” Evadne snapped.

“Ah, no, that’s her mother’s maiden name. You didn’t think she would keep her father’s name after all he put her through… or didn’t you know about that either? And I thought you were supposed to be her friend,” Leona said in a mocking tone.

Evadne fought the urge to slap the gloating expression off Leona’s smug face. “Well, enlighten us. What is her surname?”

“Ravenswood,” Red replied in little more than a whisper.

Evadne met pain-filled green eyes that blazed with anger.

“My surname was—is—Ravenswood.” Red fell over onto her side, even her formidable obstinacy unable to resist gravity.

“The Raven has returned,” Theo said.

Evadne turned in surprise at Theo’s even measured tone. She’d forgotten he was there.

“You are the Deceiver’s Chosen,” he said calmly to Leona.

“And you are the Father. Good, we’re all here. Time to get this over with, don’t you think?” Leona moved forward until she stood over Red with a chilling lack of concern.

“Stay where you are.” Evadne tightened her grip on her pistol. “I’ve already shot someone I thought was my friend. I’ll have no compunction about shooting you as well.”

“You can try.” Leona moved a step closer, then another.

Evadne backed away. “I warn you.” Despite her brave words, the thought of shooting someone else horrified her. She was already battling growing nausea over shooting Red. When Leona took another step, she pulled the trigger without further thought. The bullet fell out of the air a couple of feet in front of Leona’s chest.

“You can’t hurt me, Evadne. I’m protected from the Light.” Reaching out, Leona took Evadne’s pistol as well as Red’s revolver from her unresisting hands.

“Now see to your friend,” Leona said. “You didn’t quite manage to kill her, and I’ll need her later.”

Evadne obeyed. It seemed the easiest thing to do. Her mind whirled with the magnitude of what she’d learned as she knelt at Red’s side and none too gently rolled her over.

Red groaned and opened her eyes. Her gaze fixed on Evadne. She blinked twice. Confusion became recognition. Red’s blood-smeared hand shot up to grab her by the throat.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Red rasped.

Evadne tried to pull away, overwhelmed by the oppressive Darkness that swept over her, but Red followed her up and shoved her onto her back.

Red’s hand fastened around her throat. Evadne tried to push Red off, but her arm was trapped and she didn’t have the strength to do it one-handed. She grabbed at Red’s wrist and tried to wrench out of the iron grip, but the arm was as unmovable as stone. Black spots appeared at the edges of her vision. Terror surged through her as she realized that Red meant to do exactly what she had said: kill her.

Bearing down with all her weight, Red dug her fingers into the soft flesh of Evadne’s throat to cut off her air. She hardly noticed when Leona’s hand laid on her injured shoulder.

“Not yet, my Wolf.”

Red’s rage fled as quickly as it appeared. She stared down at Evadne’s contorted, blue-lipped face. What the hell was she doing? She snatched her hand away. The abrupt movement caused her to lose her balance. She fell backward, and pain speared through her shoulder when she hit the floor. The pain radiated out, down her arm, through her chest, and up into her neck. She curled into a ball, clutched her shoulder, and tried not to whimper.

Eventually the pain eased until she could think about something other than how much it fucking hurt. She saw Evadne sitting on the floor, rubbing her throat and taking in great gulps of air. Had she really tried to strangle her? Thank Christ Leona’s touch stopped me from completing the job.

She struggled up to sit cross-legged on the floor. Her numb left arm hung like a deadweight from her shoulder. She opened the top two buttons on her shirt and lifted the material away. The skin around the freely bleeding hole in her shoulder was already bruised and inflamed. She still couldn’t believe Evadne had actually shot her. Not even the pain stopped her from feeling an odd sense of pride.

“Atta girl, Evadne,” she murmured.

“Get up, Wolf. We haven’t finished yet.” Leona urged her onto her feet.

With Leona behind her, Red staggered the remaining length of the room to a large block of marble. A sturdy chest sat on top.

“Is this what it’s all about?” she asked.

“Open the chest,” Leona said.

Red struggled to open the box with only one hand. Eventually, she manhandled the lid off. “No lock? Don’t think much of the security around here.”

“The chest will only allow access to the Seven,” Theo said.

The answer surprised Red, but that was nothing to what she felt when the lid dropped to the floor with a dull thud. Light from the Stone filled the chamber.

Red stared, awestruck. “It’s beautiful.” She reached out to touch the Stone.

“Don’t!” Leona cried.

Red paid no attention. Her bloodstained fingertips brushed the Stone’s surface.

A voice echoed in her head, welcoming but infinitely sad. Ah, my Raven, finally you return to me, the Stone said.

Red was overwhelmed by regret as the voice continued, There is an imbalance in you, my Raven, which gives an unnatural advantage and must be removed.

A jolt ran up Red’s arm. Excruciating pain exploded in her stomach and bent her double. The second pain in her thigh paled in comparison to the red-hot pokers that stabbed her insides. Blood seeped through the front of her shirt just above her waistband.

She couldn’t believe what was happening. She couldn’t have been shot again, not in the same fucking place. It wasn’t possible. For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t even fair! She tried to remove her right hand from the Stone, but it seemed glued in place.

Another flare of brutal pain, and she plummeted into darkness.

Evadne watched from her position on the floor as Red’s knees buckled, leaving her hanging against the marble block, her hand still on the Stone.

For a second, she stared in shocked fascination. How was Red’s hand being held in place? At last, reality kicked through her befuddlement. She glanced at Leona, whose expression had gone flat with anger. It seemed things weren’t going completely her way.

Evadne moved to help Red, though she wasn’t sure why. The damned woman had tried to kill her. She should just leave Red to her fate, but she couldn’t let her dangle there like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

She expected Leona to try to stop her, but she finally remembered what Theo had told them earlier: Evadne might not be able to harm Leona, but neither could Leona hurt her.

Kneeling, Evadne hoisted Red up so she rested against her legs. Red’s right hand remained attached to the Stone, but at least her shoulder wasn’t in danger of being dislocated.

A moment later, Evadne noticed the front of Red’s shirt felt warm and wet. The area was too far from her shoulder wound to be related, and the location was also horribly familiar. The left leg of Red’s pants—where Edgar had shot her—was also stained with blood. Had the wounds the Golem healed reopened? But how?

Fear surged through her as she placed a hand on the Stone. What are you doing? she asked inside her mind.

Do not worry, Lion. I do not kill my guardians, the Stone replied.

You could have fooled me!

I’m removing the Darkness that eats at her from the inside. She will be left with the balance of Dark and Light that is her birthright.

Red will die if the healing is undone. Evadne was surprised to realize she still cared whether Red lived or died, despite what she had done to James and Vivian.

You are mistaken, my Lion. The Bride still lives, will live, as will the Persian.

James is alive? Evadne stared at him. Finally noticing the slight movement of his chest as he breathed, she whispered a fervent, “Thank the Lord.”

She turned back to Red. To her relief, she saw the ominous stains had stopped spreading.

The Stone said, I have re-healed the wounds. Her balance is now as nature intended.

Thank you.

I need no thanks. It was my duty.

Red’s right arm flopped down across her chest. Her full weight fell against Evadne, who eased her to the floor. Evadne pulled up the blood-soaked shirtfront and sighed in relief when she saw an old-looking scar instead of a fresh wound.

“Not tonight, darling,” Red murmured. A heartbeat later, she sat bolt upright with a groan and then curled up, a hand pressed to her shoulder. “Shit, that really weren’t a good idea.”

Evadne rested her hand on Red’s back. “Breathe, Red. Just concentrate on breathing.”

“I told you not to touch it, Wolf!” Leona shouted in palpable fury. With an obvious effort, she schooled her expression into a calm mask and said, “It could have killed you.” She glanced at the glowing Stone and added, “And now to bind the Stone to our cause.”

“You don’t know how to do it.” Theo sat in his chair as if the chaos that had erupted in the room mere minutes ago had never happened.

“Ah, but I do. It requires a blood sacrifice. A sacrifice of love to be precise.” Leona fixed her implacable gaze on Red.

A chill ran through Evadne. What would Leona do now?

A strange presence forced its way into Red’s mind.

“What’re you doing?” she asked. She stared at Leona, unsure whether her eyes were playing tricks on her. Blinking didn’t help. Darkness came off the woman in pulsating waves. “Leona, stop it!”

“You asked about the spell I used that night,” Leona replied with a humorless smile.

Red fought against the mental invasion, trying to push the alien presence out.

“It’s quite a clever little one,” Leona said. “It casts a glamour on the caster which makes the watcher see the face of the one they most fear hurting.”

Evadne? Leona’s spell had made her look like Evadne, but why? Red’s surprise lasted a fraction of a second before she realized the truth. She didn’t have time to wonder about it. She was losing the struggle for control of her own mind. Hunching over, she held her hand to her head as she tried to concentrate.

“I thought you could kill Evadne, the person you most feared to hurt. Perhaps, for the sake of argument, we could say the person you love?” Leona’s voice hardened. “You do love her, don’t you, Wolf? You might sleep with me, but you love her, don’t you?”

Red couldn’t think straight. She was overwhelmed by the pain, her confusion over Leona’s actions, her feelings for Evadne. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

Something was placed in her right hand. Her fingers automatically closed around a familiar, well-worn handle. She stared down at her knife, the one she’d lost while breaking into the house on Wilkes Street. How the hell had Leona gotten hold of it? Red looked into her cold gray-blue eyes as she was pushed farther into the depths of her own mind. Leona had been setting her up for a fall all along. Not Evadne—Leona! She’d been a fucking idiot, and now there was nothing she could do about it.

When it seemed her sense of self would be banished into the deepest, most unreachable parts of her subconscious, Red became aware of another presence in her mind, then another, and even more. She seemed to hear multiple voices calling to her, telling her not to worry, to continue resisting.

She fought with all her willpower and gradually shoved back the Darkness until her mind was free. Searching for the source of the help, her gaze met a pair of clear blue eyes.

“You?” she asked incredulously.

A wry smile curved Katherine’s lips.

“No! I shall not be prevented!” Leona stalked toward Theo. “I shall not be prevented! There must be a way!” She turned around to face Evadne, and fury marred her beautiful face. A cruel smirk appeared when she raised Red’s revolver. “Ah, well, it’s worth a try,” she said.

In that instant, Red knew what Leona planned to do. She rose from the floor and stepped in front of Evadne as Leona pulled the trigger.

“Red, no!” Evadne exclaimed.

The bullet hit her just below her left breast and knocked her into Evadne’s arms.

Evadne cried, “Red!”

“Ah, fuck, not again,” Red whispered.

She was confused. The bullet strike had felt like a punch in the chest rather than being shot. For a second, she wondered if Leona had missed, but when she put her hand to touch her chest, she felt the warm, slightly sticky, wetness of blood.

Without warning, pain tore through her, making up for its late arrival with ferocity. Red’s legs gave way. If not for Evadne, she would have fallen. Her strength drained away as she struggled to breathe, but at least the pain seemed to lose its edge.

Evadne lowered her to her knees, but Red refused to go any farther. Sheer stubbornness stopped her from collapsing completely. She forced herself to lift her head enough to meet Leona’s amused gaze.

“Well, we can always try your blood first, if that’s what you want, Wolf,” Leona said.

Summoning her waning strength, Red stood. Almost immediately, her vision blurred. She staggered sideways, and her legs banged into the large block of marble that held the chest. She started to fall and put out her bloody right hand for support. Her palm touched something hard, smooth, and warm.

The sacrifice is accepted. The Lion may bind me. I am hers, Red heard the Stone say inside her mind.

“Evadne, touch the Stone,” Red said. She slid down to sit on the floor, propped up against the marble block. When she saw Evadne hadn’t moved, she tried once more, as commandingly as her fast-waning energy allowed. “Touch it! It says it’s yours.”

“No, it isn’t possible.” Leona sounded desperate. She fired the revolver at Evadne again, but missed, Red guessed.

Above her head, Evadne reached for the Stone.

The block at Red’s back started to throb as warmth flooded through her. She felt so good, she wondered if she had already died. Not that she ever expected to end up anywhere nice when she kicked the bucket. Clenching her jaw, she bit back on a moan as the pain intensified for a second. Why the fucking hell did it always happen to her? At least it didn’t hurt as bad as the gut wound… not quite, anyway.

“You see now, Leona?” Theo asked with not a shred of triumph in his voice, just an infinite weariness. “The sacrifice of love wasn’t the sacrifice of someone loved, but a sacrifice out of love. By taking the bullet meant for Evadne, Red provided the sacrifice.”

“No!” The scream torn from Leona’s throat sounded appalling and inhuman. She screamed her fury a second time, the sound more like a roar.

Red watched in pain-hazed, detached curiosity as Leona seemed to change. Her mind must be playing tricks on her, she decided. She’d lost too much blood. That was it.

She blinked a couple of times, but Leona’s body continued to shift and change, growing broader and taller. Her pale gold hair darkened, thickened, and lengthened, falling over her shoulders and down her back. After a final animal roar, Leona’s transformation was complete, her petite, female form replaced by a tall, male, lion-headed figure.

The Deceiver! Red had no idea where the recognition came from, but she went with it since there seemed little point in denial.

“Welcome, Ahriman,” Theo said. “I’m afraid you’re too late. Your Chosen is defeated.”

“I shall still prevail,” Ahriman the Deceiver said, his deep, powerful voice distorted by a mouth never intended for human speech. “You may have bested my Chosen, but no mere mortal can stop me.” The enormous head turned, and the amber-flecked eyes stared malevolently at Evadne. “So you are the one who dares to snatch my prize?” His lion’s mouth moved into a gruesome, yellow-fanged parody of a smile. “Never mind. I can take you, and with you comes the power.”

Suddenly, Ahriman showed surprise, followed by a spark of fear. “You wouldn’t dare!” he roared.

The light from the Stone steadily intensified above Red’s head, and the throbbing from the block strengthened. She wondered if she should be afraid, but decided she would be dead soon one way or the other. The iron taste of blood coated the inside of her mouth, which meant only one thing—Leona’s last shot had punctured her lung. She would drown in her own blood. Oh well, she’d heard drowning wasn’t a bad way to go. In the meantime, she might as well enjoy the show.

“Think of what you will be losing,” the Deceiver almost pleaded.

“I am.” Evadne sounded calm and determined. “I will be losing the fear I’ll misuse this power, the fear someone could force me or trick me to do the same… just as you plan to do.”

The light reached a level of incandescence that was painful even through Red’s closed eyes. The Deceiver made an ear-splitting roar of rage. A split second later, a noise she felt deep in her bones rippled out from the chest above her head.

For a moment, she felt sure they were all dead. The unbearable brightness vanished, the noise receded, and a distant voice echoed in her mind: Thank you, Raven, for your sacrifice. Thank you, Lion, for freeing me. The choice is made. My purpose is complete.

The voice faded to silence. Red opened her eyes, surprised to find she was still alive.

The Deceiver had disappeared. And the Stone was gone.

“We did it.” Evadne looked the picture of stunned exultation.

Relief washed over Red. Evadne was okay. It didn’t matter what happened now.

“We did it, Red.” Evadne gave her a triumphant grin. “We did it!”

Red managed a weak smile before she toppled sideways. Ah, crap, not again, she thought as oblivion swept her away.

“Red!” Evadne cried, staring at Red’s unconscious body. All her anger and suspicion vanished. Red had taken a bullet for her. It didn’t matter that Leona couldn’t have harmed her. Red clearly hadn’t known.

She fell to her knees at Red’s side and felt for a pulse. Her relief at finding a reassuring beat was short-lived. The faint rhythm of Red’s heart seemed too weak. Red needed help quickly. If only she’d had time to use the Stone’s power! But she’d felt the Deceiver trying to bend her mind to his will, and she hadn’t been willing to risk losing control. Freeing the Stone from being bound to her was the only answer.

Evadne eased Red to the floor. The front of her shirt was soaked crimson. Alarmed, she noticed blood on Red’s lips. Despair tightened around her chest and robbed her of breath. It’s going to happen again, she thought numbly. Red’s going to die. This time, nothing’s going to bring her back.

“Here, use this,” Katherine said. She sounded concerned.

Evadne glanced up, took a deep breath, and accepted the lengths of torn linen from Katherine. She recognized them as coming from the cots they had brought down earlier. She became aware of the activity around her.

“What about the others?” she asked.

“James has already come to. He’s going to be fine.”

“Vivian?”

“Theo’s taking care of her. You concentrate on Red.”

Evadne finally noticed the blood running down Katherine’s face. “What about you?”

“I’m going to have one heck of a headache, but that’s all. Now get to work.”

Using Red’s knife to cut away her clothing, Evadne exposed the shoulder wound. It pulsed in time with Red’s heartbeat but, thankfully, not with the dreadful spurt of arterial blood. The bullet hole in her chest oozed rather than pulsed. Although the blood on Red’s lips clearly indicated some level of injury to her lungs, Evadne was relieved to hear no hint of the hissing associated with a sucking chest wound. She wadded up a couple of fabric strips, placed the makeshift bandage over the hole in Red’s chest, and wrapped another over it and around her ribs. She did the same for Red’s shoulder.

“Miles has the LaSalle ready,” James said.

“James? What are you doing? You shouldn’t be doing anything until a doctor has seen you,” Evadne said.

“I’m all right.”

“Rubbish. You were unconscious far too long.”

“It’s all right, Evadne.” Theo appeared beside James. “I shall make sure he’s checked, but first we need to get Red to Massachusetts General. I’ll make sure they’re ready for you.”

Evadne hesitated and finally nodded. She stood and moved a couple of steps away. James and Theo bent, ready to take hold of Red’s shoulder and legs.

“No, wait,” Evadne blurted.

The two men straightened and gave her quizzical looks. “What’s wrong,” Theo asked.

“If you carry her like that, it’s could make her wounds bleed more.” She looked around for inspiration and spotted the toppled cot. It was a matter of seconds for her to drag off a blanket and lay it on the floor at Red’s side. “Now that should be easier for us and for Red, don’t you think?”

James nodded his agreement. “Yes, much better. Theo, you and Evadne take the top corners. I’ll look after the foot end.”

Together, she and the two men lifted Red and gently carried her out of the chamber.

Chapter 21

December 22 (continued): The fight for life

Evadne helped James and Theo carry Red up the tunnel, through the house, and out the front door. Cold air bit through her clothing and chilled her overheated skin. She was surprised to see the red tint of dawn coloring the horizon. It looked horribly like the blood that covered her hands. Shivering, she got into the LaSalle’s backseat.

James and Theo gently put Red into the car so that she lay across the seat on her left side, her head pillowed on Evadne’s lap.

“Miles will drive you.” Theo gave her a reassuring smile and shut the door.

A filthy, unkempt young man got into the driver’s seat. Evadne took a moment to realize he had to be Miles Kemper. He didn’t look any better than the rest. The lower part of his face was smeared with dried blood, his nose was swollen, and a beauty of a black eye was on the way. What had he gone through in the weeks he was missing?

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Ready?”

Evadne nodded.

The trip to Boston was the fastest she could recall. Even Red would have been impressed. The speed didn’t prevent every second from seeming like an eternity as she hung onto every breath Red took. Twenty minutes later, about a block from the hospital, Miles brought the LaSalle to a halt.

“Why’ve we stopped?” Evadne asked.

“You need to drive the last part,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“You and Red were investigating the theft from Arden Manor. You were separated. You heard shots. You found Red injured and a man dead. You drove to the nearest hospital.”

Evadne stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Do you know where that woman lived?” he asked.

She had no doubt who Kemper meant. She gave him Leona’s address.

He nodded. “Good. We’ll make sure the police have a body to find.”

Evadne realized her mouth was hanging open. She snapped it closed.

“Are you okay, Mrs. Davenport?” Kemper asked.

The “Mrs. Davenport” snapped her out of her daze. “Yes. I understand what I have to say. But what about the others?”

“Don’t worry. Theo will deal with them. Doctor Worth will be on her way to the City Hospital with another story.”

Of course, it didn’t matter what Vivian told the authorities. All she had to remember was her own story.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.” Evadne opened the automobile’s door and eased her way out from under Red as Kemper exited. She made a last check of Red’s pulse before she got into the now empty driver’s seat. She didn’t look back as she drove the last block to the hospital.

She brought the car to a halt. As she got out, she saw an orderly with a gurney heading in her direction. A handsome, dark-haired man in a doctor’s white coat accompanied the gurney. She hoped his aura of calm competence wasn’t all bravado.

“Mrs. Davenport,” he said. “I’m Doctor Henry Charles. Theo phoned me. Your friend is in good hands.”

Evadne stood back to let them work.

Within seconds, Dr. Charles and the orderly lifted Red out of the LaSalle and onto the gurney and pushed it back toward the hospital.

Evadne’s legs began to shake. She had to sit down on the edge of the driver’s seat, feeling suddenly sick. She stood in a hurry and managed to get to a conveniently located bush before she emptied her stomach.

It was a little while before she felt well enough to even think of entering the hospital. She hurried up the path and through the main doors.

“Mrs. Davenport.”

The nurse looked vaguely familiar. Perhaps she had met her at one of the many charitable events she had helped organize over the years.

“Your friend is receiving the best of care,” the nurse said.

“I want to see her,” Evadne said.

The nurse took her by the hand. “I’m afraid you can’t. Not now. As soon as we hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

Numb, Evadne nodded, barely listening.

“Perhaps you should visit the restroom and freshen up.”

Suddenly, the foul taste in her mouth made her want to retch. She nodded.

“This way, Mrs. Davenport, then I’ll show you to the waiting room.”

Evadne nodded again. Exhausted, she allowed herself to be led to the restroom where she freshened up as best she could manage. The nurse showed her to a small, semiprivate waiting room. She settled into a slightly tattered but thankfully comfortable chair. How long would she have to wait? Was Red going to be all right?

The nurse popped in every now and then with a much-appreciated cup of tea and reassuring words but no news of Red. Evadne’s eyelids drooped as sleep threatened to claim her. Minutes became hours and still there was no news. She dozed, jerked awake at every unexpected sound, and soon drifted off again.

“Mrs. Davenport?” a vaguely familiar voice said.

Evadne blinked her gritty eyes, trying to remember where she was. The hospital, she recalled. Red!

She looked at the doctor who’d greeted her earlier and now was regarding her with a worried expression. What was his name again? Charles? Yes, Dr. Charles, that was it. He seemed younger than she originally thought, probably no older than her own thirty-five years. She searched his expression for any hint about what he might say. She recognized fatigue, but no sign of the compassion she assumed would accompany bad news.

“How is my friend?” she asked.

“Better than she has any right to be,” Dr. Charles answered.

She found his comment neither helpful nor tactful. He seemed to realize his mistake.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “She’s past the immediate danger.” He frowned. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“Like what?” Evadne’s relief at hearing that Red was alive so great, she couldn’t help humoring his obvious need to talk.

“It’s very odd. All the external evidence suggests both bullets were fired at close range.”

Evadne swallowed back a rush of bile. She had put one of those bullets in Red. She’d looked her in the eye and pulled the trigger. How could she do such a thing?

“The shoulder wound backs this up,” Dr. Charles said, “but the bullet in her chest stopped dead after only a short distance—enough to graze her lung but nothing like the damage we expected to find in surgery.” He shook his head in obvious disbelief. “It’s almost as if it hit a brick wall in her chest. The wound makes no sense, no sense at all.”

Distracted out of her guilt by the doctor’s description, Evadne paused. As if it hit a brick wall? She recalled when Leona had shot at her the second time, the bullet had dropped out of the air a good two feet away.

Red had been barely a foot away when she’d stepped in front of her. The protection around her must have stopped the bullet inside Red. If Red had been a few inches closer, she wouldn’t have been hit at all. Evadne’s legs went weak. Only a couple of inches!

“Are you all right, Mrs. Davenport?”

“Yes, sorry, I just—” Noticing the doctor’s concern, she considered he probably thought she was about to succumb to the vapors. Well, she would show him.

“How exactly is Red doing?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she tried again. “Doctor?”

He still didn’t appear happy, but he responded, “She got through the surgery better than we expected, but she’s lost a lot of blood. We’ve given her the O-type blood we have as we don’t know what type she is yet, and we’re looking for donors.”

“What about me? I’m a universal donor,” Evadne said.

He stared at her. “How, may I ask, do you know that?”

“I occasionally gave blood while I was in Belgium.”

“In Belgium?”

“I drove an ambulance during the Great War.”

“You…” He stared at her. She began to wonder if she’d suddenly grown a second head when he shook himself out of his astonishment. “I apologize, Mrs. Davenport. Thank you. That will be a great help. I presume you took part in vein-to-vein transfusions?”

“Yes.”

“It isn’t necessary to do that anymore. We can draw your blood ahead of time. We now use sodium citrate to prevent coagulation.”

Evadne nodded, but she wasn’t paying that much attention. At last she could do something to help, rather than just wait and worry.

Several hours later, she sat in the private room Red had been taken to. She was mesmerized by the sight of her blood flowing from the glass bottle hanging on a stand above Red’s bed, through a tube, and into Red’s motionless body. The amount of the transfusion seemed so little compared to how much blood Red must have lost, but despite her offer, the doctor hadn’t taken any more.

Her gaze moved to Red’s pale face.

Red looked so young and fragile, as if the real woman had been replaced by some faerie doppelganger. Bandages swathed her shoulder and chest, almost visible under the thin sheet that covered her nakedness. Not that Red would have minded the lack of clothes. She seemed to have no modesty worth mentioning.

The inside of Evadne’s elbow itched. She resisted the urge to rub the growing bruise. She felt drained, listless, and wrung out, and not only as a result of the blood she’d given. There didn’t seem to be any emotion left inside her. She was so far past exhausted, even ordinary tiredness would have been an improvement.

A gentle knock on the door got her attention. Theo came into the room and gave her a warm if weary smile.

“How’s Vivian?” Evadne sat more upright and tried to get her mind into some sort of focus.

“Frustrated and in pain, but otherwise doing well,” he said. “The bullet passed through her upper leg and just nicked the bone. She should be up and about in a couple of weeks with no permanent damage.” His voice faded after he spoke the last words.

“Unlike Red,” Evadne finished for him.

“They don’t know for certain, Evadne.”

Gritting her teeth, Evadne fought the urge to cry at the unfairness of it all.

“Any sign of infection?” Theo asked.

She shook her head. “Too early to tell.”

That was the next hurdle for Red, which frightened her far worse than the surgery. Watching the sweating, delirious heat of fever as infection destroyed fit, young bodies wasn’t something she wanted to endure ever again.

“How about the others?” she asked.

“My doctor saw to them at the Manor. James now sports a shaved patch on his head and some stitches. Katherine has an egg on her forehead and a couple of stitches as well. Last I heard, she’d converted her bandage into a color-coordinated clothing accessory. Otherwise, they’re all right as rain,” Theo said.

“And Miles?”

“Mostly in need of good food and sleep. His face looks like he went several rounds with Jack Dempsey, and his knee is swollen to the size of a football. Heaven knows how he managed to drive you here last night. Apparently, he had an ass-kicking competition with Red and lost—his words, not mine.”

Evadne gave him a wan smile. “I would never have guessed.”

“You look exhausted.”

“I feel it.”

“You should go home.”

“I can’t.”

“Red’s sleeping now. So should you.”

“I—”

“Go, Evadne. If anything changes, the hospital will let you know.”

“Someone should be here.”

“I will.”

“But you can’t have slept anymore than I have.”

“I managed a couple of hours and in a proper bed.”

Evadne knew she was losing the argument. “I don’t want to leave her.”

“I know, but you should go home and let Maria know you’re all right. James tells me she’s having kittens worrying about you.”

Maria. Lord, yes. The housekeeper could have no idea what had happened in Arden Manor. Since James had arrived back at her house with his head stitched up and without Evadne in tow, Maria had probably assumed the worst.

“Promise you’ll let me know if there’s any change,” she said.

“I give you my word.”

Evadne met Theo’s steady gaze, finding no sign he was humoring her. “I shall hold you to that.”

“Good,” he said. “There’s a cab waiting for you at the main entrance.”

After leaving the hospital and returning to Arden Manor, Evadne barely had the strength to pay the driver and open the cab door. Getting out of the taxi seemed completely beyond her. As she tried to gather her strength, the front door of the house opened. Maria stood silhouetted against the light for an instant before she headed in the cab’s direction.

By the time she arrived, Evadne had managed to swivel around in the seat so her legs were outside the cab. “Hello, Maria,” she said.

“Are you all right, chica?”

It seemed Theo hadn’t exaggerated, Evadne thought. She had never heard Maria sound so anxious. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Maria switched instantaneously from worried to mothering mode. “Come on, let’s get you inside. Give me your hand.”

Evadne decided she wasn’t going to fight Maria’s need to fuss, though she instinctively resisted. Surely the diminutive woman wasn’t up to helping her. “Perhaps James—”

“I sent him to bed, which is where you should be.” Maria prevented any further discussion by grabbing Evadne’s hand and pulling her upright.

Maria was definitely stronger than she looked, Evadne thought in surprise.

Once Evadne was on her feet, she felt a lot better. She managed the first couple of steps toward the house with increasing certainty, but Maria’s support at her elbow made her feel self-conscious. If her legs gave way, which they might, she’d probably squash the woman.

“I’ll be all right now, Maria,” she said.

Maria didn’t appear convinced, but she stepped away a little.

Evadne felt Maria’s gaze on her back all the way to the door. When she entered the hallway and squinted at the bright light, her stomach rumbled.

“Hungry, chica?” Maria asked.

Her appetite had returned with a vengeance, Evadne realized. “Absolutely starving.”

“Then head on up to your room.” Maria pinned her with a searching stare. “You can make it there by yourself?”

Evadne nodded, unsure whether to be amused or offended by the suggestion.

“Good,” Maria said. “You go on up, and I’ll fetch you something to eat.”

“Thank you. That would be wonderful.” Evadne gave Maria a smile of thanks and switched her attention to the stairs. She climbed the steps without much difficulty, made it to her bedroom, and pushed open the door.

She managed only a half-dozen more steps before a wave of nausea swept over her. She collapsed on the bed, feeling weak and slightly sick. How long had it been since she’d eaten? She held a shaking hand in front of her face. Clearly, her last meal was too long ago.

She lay on the bed awhile, unable to summon the energy to do anything. She really should at least take her shoes off, but even that seemed too much effort.

A gentle knock on the door got her attention. “Come in,” she called.

Maria entered with a tray and set it down on the bedside table.

Evadne said gratefully, “Maria, you are a saint.”

Maria gave her a tight smile. “I certainly need the patience of one.”

Evadne decided she wasn’t out of the woods yet as far as Maria was concerned.

She managed to sit up and take one of the sandwiches. After a moment, she bit into it. The mouthful made her ravenous. She ate a sandwich so quickly, it barely touched the sides of her throat on the way down. The first sandwich was soon followed by two more. Only after finishing the third did she remember her manners.

“Thank you, Maria,” she said, her attention still on the sandwiches.

Maria didn’t answer, which surprised Evadne. She looked around, wondering if Maria had left. She knew the housekeeper could come and go like a ghost when she wanted, but no, Maria was still there, her expression set and unusually strained. A chill ran down her spine. Why did Maria look like that? What did she know?

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“What’s the matter?” Maria sounded angry. Her eyes blazed, but her fury didn’t last more than a second before her shoulders sagged.

In that instant, Evadne thought Maria looked every minute of her fifty-odd years. She felt suddenly guilty for all she had put her through. Not just now, but for the years since she’d first employed her.

“Please sit down, Maria,” she said.

Maria hesitated. She finally moved the dressing table chair to face the bed and sat down. She studied Evadne’s face, apparently searching for something. “You really are all right? James was telling the truth?”

“I’m fine, honestly.”

“What about Red?”

Evadne took another sandwich, aware that would only delay the inevitable.

“Evadne?”

The sandwich turned to dust in her mouth. She nearly choked. What could she say to Maria? That she had shot Red. That Red had shot James. Everything was such a mess!

“Is… is Red dead?” Maria asked in a voice so small, Evadne nearly didn’t hear it.

The grief she heard in the woman’s tone snapped her out of her indecision. “Oh, no. No. Red isn’t dead, Maria. Lord, no,” she said.

“She is hurt though?”

“Yes.”

“Badly?”

Evadne hesitated before answering, “Yes.” She studied her hands, unable to meet Maria’s gaze.

“Will she be all right? Evadne?”

“I don’t know.” Evadne’s defenses crumbled. Dropping her head into her hands, she wept, barely noticing the gentle movement of the mattress as Maria sat by her side or the hand gently rubbing her back.

“Oh, Maria, I don’t want her to die. Not again. I couldn’t bear it.”

“The little one’s a fighter,” Maria said. “We both know that. She won’t give up, so neither should you.”

Eventually, Evadne’s tears receded into sniffles. She was surprised to see Maria’s cheeks were also streaked with tears. A surge of gratitude and wonder swept over her, and she wrapped Maria in a hug. “What would I do without you?”

Maria didn’t answer; she just returned the embrace.

Evadne wasn’t sure how long she and Maria sat on the bed, silently holding each other. At last Maria pulled away and wiped her eyes on a handkerchief that appeared in her hand. She offered the damp fabric square to Evadne, who wiped her eyes and returned it to its owner.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“You should finish your supper, then go to sleep,” Maria said.

Evadne nodded unenthusiastically. Despite her exhaustion, she doubted she could sleep. She was certain worry would keep her eyelids open.

“Sweet dreams, chica.”

“Thank you again, Maria… for everything.”

Maria smiled and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Evadne finished the food and the cup of hot milk, undressed, and crawled under the sheets. Despite her earlier concerns, she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

“Wake up, Evadne.”

Rolling over, Evadne tried to ignore the voice.

“Evadne, wake up, please.”

Someone shook her by the shoulder. How dare they? Didn’t they know she was trying to sleep? she wondered drowsily.

“Mr. Criffy telephoned,” Maria said.

The statement woke her as effectively as a bucket of cold water. Sitting up, she stared into Maria’s worried face.

“What’s happened?” She got out of bed and pulled on her clothes without waiting for an answer.

“Red’s developed a fever.”

Evadne glimpsed bright daylight behind the heavy curtains. She scrabbled for her watch. Nearly midday. She’d slept over twelve hours.

“James is getting Bessie ready,” Maria said.

So Red has gotten Maria to call the automobile by that darned silly name, too. Red was impossible. The woman had better be all right, or she would kill her.

Evadne walked out of the kitchen door when the automobile drove out of the garage. She got in as soon as the vehicle came to a stop.

James drove to the hospital in silence, which suited her. There was nothing to say.

When they arrived, Evadne rushed up the steps into the main building. She had to stop herself from breaking into a run. As she neared Red’s room, her pace slowed.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know how Red was doing. She berated herself for her cowardice but still didn’t move a step closer. What would she do if her worst fears came true? Yet she couldn’t just stand there and hope. She reached out to slowly push the door open.

The bed was empty. She stared at it in shocked disbelief. No. It couldn’t—

“Evadne,” a familiar male voice spoke.

Evadne spun around to see Theo coming down the corridor.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I missed you at the entrance.”

“Theo.” Evadne’s throat was so tight, she could hardly speak. Her knees felt like they might give way any second.

“Red’s in surgery,” Theo told her. “Her shoulder wound’s infected, and they’re trying to clean it out again.”

Evadne stared at him, not quite sure she understood. “Red’s alive?”

“Last time I checked.”

“I want to see. Now.” She hurried past him and walked toward the operating theaters.

“Evadne, I’m not sure—”

“I will try each room until I find her.”

Theo caught Evadne’s arm. She turned around, glared at him, and snapped, “What!”

“This way.”

Theo went down a side corridor. After a moment, Evadne followed. She found him standing in front of a small window. On the other side, gowned and masked figures were clustered around a figure on the operating table. She could only see the patient’s covered legs and head, but the glimpse of red-gold hair was all the evidence she needed.

She had to sit down. Fortunately, chairs stood along the opposite wall. She collapsed on one. Her legs weren’t the only things shaking.

“She’s in the best of hands,” Theo said. “Henry might be a little on the youthful side, but he’s one of the best surgeons in the city.”

Evadne didn’t trust herself to speak. Her stomach churned unpleasantly. She wondered if she would be physically sick. When she’d seen the empty bed, she’d been so certain Red had died. That she was undergoing surgery again was only a minor improvement.

She had a sudden thought. “Do they need more blood?” she asked.

“They have enough.”

“How? Doctor Charles said they needed donors.”

“The hospital found them.”

“Who?” Something in Theo’s eyes told her the answer. “You?”

“Yes. I’m O-type. Of course, that’s no longer a concern. The doctors got the results of her blood-matching while you were asleep, and she is AB-type. Not many of those around.”

Evadne gave him a weary smile. “Trust Red to be different.”

As a universal recipient, it didn’t matter what blood the doctors gave Red, not a bad thing considering her propensity for getting shot. Evadne’s stomach churned guiltily when she recalled who had shot Red this time.

The door to the operating theater opened. Dr. Charles came out, looking exhausted.

How long had Red been in surgery?

“Hello, Theo. Mrs. Davenport,” Dr. Charles said.

“How did it go, Henry?” Theo asked.

“Well, we got all the infected tissue out.” The doctor sounded annoyed.

Evadne realized he was annoyed with himself.

“There was a tiny fragment of cloth still in the wound,” Dr. Charles said. “I don’t know how I missed it the first time.” He seemed worried, glancing from Theo to Evadne.

“Don’t worry,” Evadne told him. “I’m not going to complain about an honest mistake.”

He relaxed noticeably. “I just wish all my patients and their relatives were so considerate.”

Evadne rose from the chair and moved to the window. She saw a couple of nurses still bustling around Red, but she could now see her face. From her vantage point, she could almost count the beads of sweat on Red’s brow.

“She still has a fever?” she asked.

“Yes. We cleaned the wound, but she still has to fight the infection in her system. She isn’t out of the woods yet.”

Evadne turned back to the doctor. He was a lot more forthcoming about Red’s condition than she expected. He seemed to pick up on her puzzlement.

“Theo told me not to bother trying to beat around the bush with you, Mrs. Davenport,” he said.

“Thank you, doctor,” she said. “I appreciate your frankness.”

He gave her a small, almost shy smile. “Well, I have to go now. I will check up on Miss Wolverton later.”

“Red. Call her Red.”

He acknowledged the correction, but Evadne doubted it would do any good since it wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get doctors and nurses to call Red by her first name.

“Good-bye, Mrs. Davenport. Theo.” After giving them a polite nod, Dr. Charles headed down the corridor.

Evadne returned to the window to see Red being wheeled out of the theater into another room. Once Red disappeared from sight, she began to worry

“Come on, Evadne,” Theo said. “It will be awhile before Red’s back in her room. Let me buy you a cup of tea.”

She didn’t want to leave, but she knew Theo was right. A cup of tea sounded wonderful.

A half hour later, she was back in Red’s room.

Red lay on the bed, tossing and turning fretfully as the anesthetic wore off and the fever took hold. Evadne sat by Red’s bedside and held her hand. Red’s skin felt far too warm. Before too long, the rasping breaths began to wear on her nerves.

At one point, Red seemed to wake. Her eyes opened and she looked around.

Evadne’s hope soared. “Red?”

Fever-bright green eyes flicked from side to side, never coming to rest. Red couldn’t see her or anything else in the room, Evadne decided.

“Gottago. Gotta—” Red tried to sit up and almost threw off the sheet in her efforts.

Evadne gently held her down, shocked by the heat pouring off Red’s bare skin. Once Red quieted, she went to the door.

A nurse stood a little way down the corridor.

“Nurse?” Evadne called.

“Yes.”

“I think Red’s fever is worse.”

Frowning, the nurse walked to Red’s room. Evadne stood aside to let her pass.

The nurse felt Red’s forehead, and her frown deepened. She took a thermometer from the table by the bed and put it in Red’s mouth. When she removed the instrument to check the reading, her expression became distinctly worried. She left the room without a word.

Sitting down, Evadne took Red’s hand in hers again. Not for the first time, she found herself studying the scabbed knuckles and the collection of scars. A strong hand. A fighter’s hand. She rubbed the back of it with her thumb.

“I need you to fight this, Red,” she said. “You promised me you wouldn’t die anytime soon. Don’t think I’m going to let you get away with breaking your word.”

Chapter 22

December 27: Ramifications

Evadne hadn’t felt so helpless since the showdown at the warehouse when the Golem, its human servants, and Edgar were killed, and Red was mortally wounded.

For four days, she’d watched Red’s fever rage despite all efforts to control it. Red was fading away as her body fought the infection. Most of the nurses clearly expected her to lose the fight, even if they didn’t say it out loud. Only Dr. Charles appeared to think Red had any chance of survival.

Evadne sat by Red’s bedside in silent vigil. At least Red no longer tossed and turned, with risk of reopening her injuries. But Evadne took little comfort in the fact. It showed how weak Red had become.

So tired she could barely keep her eyes open, Evadne still wouldn’t leave. Red couldn’t go on much longer like this. Either the fever would lift or Red would die. She alternated between fear and hope as she hung on every slow, raspy breath, willing Red to take the next.

Concentrating so much on willing Red to breathe, Evadne nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand gripped her shoulder. She looked up into Katherine’s tired face and said, “You should be resting, Katherine.”

“I can’t.” Katherine glanced at Red.

Evadne saw her own fear reflected in the younger woman’s face.

“She’s going to die, isn’t she?” Katherine asked.

Evadne’s throat tightened. She wanted to deny it, but the words wouldn’t form.

Katherine took the second chair at the side of the bed. “This is my fault.”

Evadne wanted to agree with her. If it hadn’t been for the Six’s stupid plan to drive Red out of Boston, would things have happened as they had? But what then? Red might already be dead. She’d almost certainly be facing the electric chair for killing Edgar in revenge for Janet’s murder. Too many ifs; too many maybes.

“Katherine, if it’s anybody’s fault it’s mine,” Evadne said. “I’m the one who put a bullet through her shoulder.”

“You did what you thought was right.”

“No, I wanted revenge.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Katherine watching her.

Katherine seemed to study her a moment before asking, “What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t shot her?”

Out of nowhere, a surge of anger blazed. “She wouldn’t be lying on this blasted bed sweating her life out,” Evadne snapped.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Katherine said calmly.

Evadne wanted to tell her to shut up, to get the hell out of there. She nearly did. Katherine’s question bore down on her. What would have happened if she hadn’t shot Red? If Red had been more alert, less dazed from the pain, would she have obeyed Leona’s order not to touch the stone? Would Red have gone through with whatever unpleasantness Leona had planned if the balance of Light and Dark within her hadn’t been restored?

Evadne’s thoughts went around in circles that tied up her mind in a tangled knot of actions and consequences. What did any of it matter? What was done was done.

She looked down at Red’s hand held in her own and squeezed it gently. Her heart jumped into her throat when the gesture was weakly returned. She stared at Red’s face. Was it her imagination, or did Red seem more relaxed? Her breathing sounded easier, too.

“Red?” she said.

“Evadne, what is it?” Katherine asked in a voice heavy with dread.

Evadne leaned forward to touch the skin of Red’s shoulder, which felt warm but no longer burned. She felt Red’s forehead with the back of her hand.

“I think her fever has broken,” she said and stood up.

Katherine’s chair rocked and nearly fell over as she bolted for the door. Evadne barely heard her shouting for a nurse. Relief surged through her like a tidal wave, sweeping away her fear and guilt. She gazed down at Red and murmured, “Thank you.”

Was it her imagination, or did the slightest smile touch Red’s lips? She decided it didn’t matter. Tears streamed down her face. The nurse—a blurred figure scarcely visible through her tears—came into the room to take Red’s temperature and shook her head in disbelief.

Evadne’s legs went weak. She abruptly sat back down in her chair.

“Here, use this,” Katherine said from nearby.

Evadne stared at the indistinct white square that Katherine held out. After a moment, she realized what she was offering. Evadne took the handkerchief and wiped her eyes dry.

Beaming, Dr. Charles hurried into the room. “Ladies, there’s good news, I hear?” He checked Red over, took her temperature, and peeled back the dressing on her shoulder. “Yes. Her fever has definitely broken, and there’s no sign of fresh infection. I do believe the redoubtable Miss Wolverton will prove the doomsayers wrong.”

“Red.” Evadne and Katherine corrected him at the same time. Smiling, Evadne looked at Katherine, who grinned. Laughter soon followed. It had a slightly hysterical edge, but what else could anyone expect? Poor Dr. Charles appeared a little confused.

Evadne recovered first. “I’m sorry, doctor. Yes, I believe you’re quite right. Thank you for not giving up on her.”

He gave her an oddly shy smile. “You and your friend are most welcome, Mrs. Davenport.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, doctor. How many times have I told you to call me Evadne?” She expected his usual polite refusal, but he surprised her.

“I shall be glad to, Evadne,” he said. “And you must call me Henry.” He smiled at her again. “Now, I need to check on my other patients. Evadne. Miss Dubois.” Making a little half bow, he left the room.

“Uh-oh,” Katherine said with a knowing smirk.

Evadne turned to confront her. “What?”

“I think you’ve made a conquest, Mrs. Davenport.”

“What? Rubbish.” Evadne felt a blush working up her neck. Katherine’s smile wasn’t helping matters.

Katherine’s expression turned teasing. “If you say so.”

Evadne remembered the doctor’s shy smile. Was Katherine right? Dr. Charles was a handsome and likeable man and most certainly eligible. Why did the suggestion make her feel uncomfortable rather than thrilled?

“Are you all right?” Katherine asked, seeming to regret her words.

“I’m fine,” Evadne said.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know. It’s just the last thing I had on my mind.”

Katherine’s worried frown relaxed into a huge yawn. Evadne’s own yawn came a split second later. The exhaustion she’d held at bay so long was fighting back, but she wasn’t ready to leave Red quite yet.

“Go home, Katherine,” she said. “I’ll sit with Red a little longer, just to make sure.”

Unexpectedly, Katherine didn’t argue. She looked at Red and then at Evadne, and an odd expression passed over her face as if she’d just understood something puzzling.

“I’ll be back later,” she finally said.

After watching Katherine leave, Evadne returned to her vigil.

The slow, gentle rise and fall of Red’s chest was hypnotic in its regularity. Soon, Evadne’s eyelids began to droop. She really needed to sleep, but she didn’t want to move, not even as far as the cot she and Katherine had taken turns using for naps.

Bending forward, she pillowed her head on her arms, Red’s hand still held in hers.

Red awoke to a dull, throbbing pain coiled around her chest and left shoulder. Her only consolation: if it hurt like that, she was probably still alive.

Sensing light through her closed eyelids, she opened her eyes a crack. As they adjusted to the brightness, she saw a plain, ominously white ceiling. She managed to lift her head just enough to glimpse the foot of the white-painted, wrought-iron bedstead she was lying on and the clipboard attached to the foot. Just great. A fucking hospital.

She tensed, ready to try moving, but a gentle pressure on her chest held her in place. Looking for the source of the restraint, her gaze met a pair of familiar, unexpected, tired, and concerned brown eyes.

“Please don’t try to move,” Evadne said.

“Y—” Red tried to speak, but only a hoarse croak came out.

“Here, drink some water.”

After drinking from the offered glass, Red gave Evadne an accusing glare. “You took me to a hospital?” she asked as soon as she could speak.

Evadne appeared exhausted as well as exasperated. “Don’t get all upset now, Red. If we hadn’t brought you here, you’d almost certainly be dead.”

Red’s memories were fast returning, including why she hurt so much. “I got shot again, huh?”

“Twice actually.”

“I said you were bad luck.” Red chuckled and winced as her side and shoulder complained. “Hell, that hurts.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Evadne brushed back the hair falling across Red’s eyes, the gesture oddly unsettling. Red had the strongest feeling she didn’t deserve such compassion. A vivid memory flashed across her mind. She twisted her head away, unable to meet Evadne’s steady gaze.

“I killed James,” she said.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I saw him fall. I shot him in the head, for fuck’s sake!”

“I thought you had, too. That’s why—”

Surprised by the anguish in Evadne’s voice, Red said, “That’s why you shot me. Can’t say I blame you. I would have if I was you.”

“But James isn’t dead, Red. The bullet just creased his skull. It knocked him out for a while, and he’s got half a dozen stitches in his scalp, but he’s going to be fine.”

Relief flooded through Red. She rolled her head to face Evadne, searching for any sign she wasn’t telling the truth.

“You’re not kidding?” she asked.

“Cross my heart and—”

Red caught Evadne’s hand. “Don’t. Please.”

Evadne studied her a long moment before nodding slightly. “I promise you, James is fine,” she said.

Sighing, Red let her head fall back on the pillow. She could still see Evadne out of the corner of her eye. Noting the worry flickering over Evadne’s face, she wasn’t sure there was anything she could do about it. She felt so damned tired, certain she could sleep for months. Her eyelids started to droop. She blinked her eyes open again.

“Go to sleep, Red,” Evadne said.

“Okay.” Red didn’t have the energy to argue. She closed her eyes and let sleep take her away from it all.

The next time she woke, the room was empty. Staring at the ceiling, she took stock, starting with her own physical state. Her mind was clearer, although that meant the pain was more noticeable. The feel of bullets ripping through her flesh remained fresh in her memory.

Her left arm was strapped across her chest, and her hand rested just below her chin. Her hand felt oddly numb, as if it didn’t quite belong to her. She tried wiggling her fingers to ease the feeling, which helped a little.

Next, she checked the bandages around her ribs, still unsure how the bullet hadn’t killed her. She’d been shot in the chest at nearly point blank range, for Christ’s sake. Perhaps it hadn’t hit where she thought, but why could she remember the iron taste of her own blood?

She tried to find the exact site of her chest wound, feeling for the extra thickness of dressings, but after a couple of abortive and increasingly uncomfortable tries, she gave up.

The brief activity exhausted her. Lying back, she waited for her breathing to calm and the pain to recede. Shocked by her weakness, she wondered how long she had been in the hospital. Was there an infection? Was that why she felt like a newborn kitten?

Her attempts to check her injuries also revealed she was buck naked under the sheet. That certainly didn’t bode well, either. Was she in such deep shit they didn’t think she deserved any clothes? In that case, why bother keeping her alive?

Catching movement, she swiveled her head and saw Theo Criffy enter the room.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

Theo sounded genuine, but she wasn’t ready to take anything at face value yet. No siree.

“Just peachy,” she said.

He gave her a rueful smile. “That really was a stupid question, wasn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.” She managed a small smirk and grimaced as pain radiated out from her shoulder.

“It should be about time for your next morphine shot. Should I get the nurse?”

Finally, common sense overrode bravado. Even she wasn’t that stupid. “Yeah.”

Theo left the room and spoke to someone out of sight. When he returned, he moved to stand behind one of the bedside chairs. “Do you mind?”

“Help yourself.”

He sat, but didn’t say anything. Why was he here? Come to think of it, why had Evadne been there earlier? And where were the cops? Not that she could do anything more ambitious than bleed all over them.

Theo finally broke the silence. “You had us worried, you know,” he said. “The doctors didn’t give much for your chances.”

Red snorted in disgust and winced. She really needed to stop doing that.

A nurse entered the room carrying a covered kidney-shaped dish. She put it on the table by the side of the bed and removed the cloth. Red stared at the hypodermic needle inside. The damned thing was fucking huge! Did they really mean to put it in her?

The nurse eased the sheet aside to uncover Red’s arm and swabbed a patch of skin with a cotton ball soaked in something cold and wet.

Red stared at her forearm, shocked by its paleness. The veins showed blue through the skin, which was marked with a rash of puncture wounds and small bruises.

As the nurse picked up the syringe, Red turned her face away. She hated injections as much as hospitals, but if it helped ease her pain, she would grin and bear it. She looked at Theo and tried to ignore the jab of the needle.

“How long have I been here?” she asked.

“Five days,” he replied.

Red raised her eyebrows in surprise. Five days? No wonder she felt like a whole herd of cattle had trampled over her repeatedly. Much to her relief, the morphine began to dull the pain, but the drug also made her light-headed. She fought the impending unconsciousness. She needed to know what she’d missed.

“What happened?” she asked. “Why do I feel so weak?”

“You developed an infection in your shoulder. The fever lasted four days,” Theo said.

Four days? Christ. “Lady Luck must’ve been on my side for once,” she said.

“You were lucky in more ways than one, Red. The bullet that hit you in the chest would probably have killed you instantly, but because you stood in front of Evadne, the bullet stopped before it did serious damage.”

“What?”

Theo stared at her, his smile weak. “Ah, of course, you weren’t in much of a state to notice. The Chosen are protected from each other. When Evadne shot at Leona, the bullet stopped before it could reach her. The same thing happened when Leona shot at Evadne.”

Red frowned. His explanation didn’t make sense. “But I’m the Raven, right? One of the good guys.”

“You are both the Raven and the Wolf.”

“Then how the hell did I end up full of perforations?”

“We couldn’t be hurt by the Deceiver’s Chosen, but Light could harm Light, and vice-versa. You have both natures within you, therefore the protection was cancelled out. That’s why Evadne and Leona could shoot you, and you could shoot James and Vivian, and you could have shot Leona.”

Anger welled inside her. “I wish I had.” The anger soon faded to self-disgust. Leona had duped her like some snot-nosed kid. She had been stupid enough to let a pretty face and a tumble in the hay sucker her for a second time. “She took me in like a real fucking dope.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. The Deceiver and his Chosen are formidable foes.”

“Are? Weren’t they destroyed when the thing blew?”

“Unfortunately not. However, with the Stone gone, the Deceiver’s one chance of real power is also gone. It won’t stop him meddling, though, of that I have no doubt.”

“Another riled big shot to add to the list.” Red gave him a defiant smirk. “A really, really big, big shot!” She felt suddenly triumphant, which didn’t make a lot of sense given the mess she was in. The morphine definitely affected her in strange ways. At least her sporadic jauntiness was better than going berserk at the drop of a hat.

“You could say that.” The smile faded from Theo’s lips, replaced by what Red could have sworn was an expression of guilt. “I need to apologize to you, Red.”

“About getting shot? Weren’t your fault.”

“No, not that.”

The sound of the door opening interrupted the moment. Evadne and Katherine Dubois entered the room together.

Why did it feel like she had seen this pair together before? Red wondered.

“Hello, Red.” Katherine sounded weary. In fact, both women appeared exhausted.

“Katherine.” The name came out as a snarl, though the fury she expected remained absent. The anger and bitterness she felt toward Katherine was not so easily dismissed.

Red glanced at Evadne, surprised at seeing her and Katherine on friendly terms. Evadne stared in apparent fascination at her chest. She couldn’t resist the urge to tease. It had to be the damned morphine.

“Still got a thing for my tits, Evadne?” she asked.

Evadne’s eyes snapped up to meet Red’s gaze. She seemed confused and, to Red’s secret delight, just a little guilty.

“Um. No,” Evadne said. A second later, she pinned Red with an exasperated glare. “Don’t you ever let up on the flirting?”

Red tried to come up with a suitably cocky reply, but her mind felt like it was wrapped in cotton wool.

“You’re moving your fingers,” Evadne said.

“What?” Nonplused, Red finally realized Evadne must have spotted the small movements of her left hand under the sheet. “Yeah, is that bad?” She studied the other people in the room who had a similar expression of surprised hope.

“Fingers feel a bit odd, as if I’d slept on my arm,” she explained. “I was just trying to get some circulation going.” She let out a little snarl of frustration. “At least as much as I can, all hog-tied as I am.”

Evadne moved to the side of Red’s bed and reached for the sheet.

“Hey! I’m naked under there!”

Evadne blushed while Red grinned. Evadne’s expression was just like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. So damned cute!

“I’m sorry, Red,” Evadne said. “I’m used to you being unconscious. May I take a look?”

Red’s grin widened.

Evadne rolled her eyes. “At your hand.”

“Help yourself.”

“Does morphine always have this effect on you?”

Red tried to shrug, but the movement made her wince again. How dumb was she? “Not had it before,” she said as disbelief flashed across Evadne’s face. “Honest, I ain’t.”

Evadne folded back the sheet enough to uncover Red’s left hand.

“Still feels odd.” Red moved her fingers experimentally. “Do you reckon they’ve tied it too tight?”

“Let me check.” Squeezing the end of Red’s exposed thumb, Evadne watched the speed at which the color returned. “No, it seems fine.” She sent a swift, pleading look at Theo that started Red’s stomach churning.

What was Evadne so worried about?

“We need to find the doctor and tell him about this,” Theo said, apparently in answer to Evadne’s unspoken request. He and Katherine left the room.

“Red, I want you to shut your eyes and tell me which finger I’m touching,” Evadne said.

Puzzled, Red did as she was told. In the beginning, she could feel nothing, and then a slight pressure became noticeable.

“Third finger,” she said. “It still feels odd, though, sort of distant.”

“And this time?”

She and Evadne went through the routine on each finger and the thumb. Each time Red gave the same sort of response. Remembering how her arm had hung like a deadweight, she began to understand what was happening to her.

“You can open your eyes now. I’ve finished.” Evadne’s obvious relief confirmed Red’s suspicions.

“You thought my arm was paralyzed?” she asked.

“We weren’t sure. The bullet came out so close to your neck, Doctor Charles thought it highly likely there’d be nerve damage.” Evadne’s expression clouded over. “There may well still be some, Red. I had to squeeze quite hard to get a reaction.”

“Doctors, what do they know?” Red’s skeptical reaction was automatic, but a small thread of panic built in the back of her mind. What if she couldn’t use it? It was her left arm, for fuck’s sake. What would she do then? What use was a one-armed private detective? Her stubbornness answered, assisted by the morphine. What did the doctors know? She’d prove the bastards wrong again.

“I’m so sorry, Red. I never… I didn’t… I—” Tears welled in Evadne’s eyes. Standing abruptly, she turned to leave the room.

Initially, Red wanted to let Evadne go. She needed to get her head around what she’d just been told, but Evadne’s distress plucked a familiar chord in her heart.

She called out, “Don’t go.”

“How can I stay after what I’ve done?” Evadne kept her back to Red but didn’t make any further move toward the door.

“Come here, Evadne.” Red patted the side of the bed with her right hand. She wanted Evadne to take the chair Theo had left. “Please?”

Evadne sat but kept her head down.

“Evadne, look up,” Red said, but her gaze remained stubbornly downcast. “If you make me make you, it ain’t going to do me any good, you know.” She rustled the bedclothes with her good hand, hoping Evadne would take it to mean she was trying to move. It worked. Evadne lifted her head.

Red grinned. “Got you!” She spoke before the contact could be lost. “Don’t blame yourself, Evadne. It won’t help either of us in the long run.”

Evadne kept her head up, but she was clearly struggling. Red wished she could think of something to ease the guilt in her sad brown eyes.

“But I might have crippled you,” Evadne said.

“Yeah, you might’ve, then again maybe not. You might’ve killed me. I could have killed James and Vivian. If Leona hadn’t stopped me, I would have killed Katherine.” Red’s voice was flat with repressed anger. “What if I hadn’t been such a complete fucking idiot?”

She took a deep breath and waited for the anger to ease before she said wryly, “There are a lot of what-ifs and might-have-beens. You did what you thought was right. I can’t blame you even if I wish you hadn’t plugged me.” She sighed, feeling God-awful tired again. “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”

Her head flopped back onto the pillow. She let out another sigh. “And I’d have a whole corral full of the little bastards.” She shut her eyes. The talk with Evadne had left her exhausted, which scared her more than she would admit, but she wouldn’t show her fear. Evadne had more than enough guilt to carry without her adding to it.

“When did you get so wise, Red Wolverton?”

Red opened one eye a little. “Not me, sweetheart. That’s Joe speaking. We had pretty much the same conversation the first time I killed a man.”

Evadne’s wide-eyed expression was worth seeing, she thought. After a moment, her eye closed. She listened to the gentle rhythm of Evadne’s breathing, relieved when she didn’t leave, but wondering why. Was there something Evadne wasn’t telling her?

Red opened an eye again. “Still here, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t keep away from me?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“It’s about the only thing keeping me sane.”

“You really don’t like hospitals, do you?”

Red’s jaw tightened. “No.”

“I talked to Doctor Charles,” Evadne said. “He’s agreed you’re well enough to be nursed at home.”

“Home?”

“My house.”

Red shut her eye. Home? Was that what Evadne’s house was? After a moment, she sighed. She was doing a lot of sighing, she noticed. Perhaps it was the morphine.

“Red?” Evadne asked.

“I was wondering what I ever did to deserve you.”

“Red, you’re my friend. What else could I do?”

“I’m still your friend, huh?”

“You don’t get rid of me that easily.”

Red grinned, caught up in a sudden wave of exhilaration.

“And that isn’t a challenge,” Evadne said, forestalling any chance for further smart-alecky comments. “So is coming home all right with you?”

“I’d be an idiot to say no, wouldn’t I?” Red pointed out.

“It hasn’t stopped you before.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll stay with me?”

Opening both eyes, Red turned her head so she was gazing into Evadne’s face. “Yeah, I’ll come stay with you,” she said.

Evadne’s beaming smile seemed as bright as the sun. In that moment, she was the most beautiful woman Red had ever seen. She couldn’t help smiling back.

Evadne’s joyful expression faded until she seemed confused. She had probably expected a much harder fight, but Red didn’t have the heart for it, even if she wouldn’t admit that out loud.

She shifted in her bed and tried to get somewhere close to comfortable. Her mind drifted to how thoroughly Leona had duped her. She should have realized something was wrong with the way Leona had bad-mouthed Evadne and all that shit with the way she could control Red’s anger. Not that someone hadn’t tried to warn her in their particular furry, feline way.

An unexpected ache tightened around her chest. “I miss the cat,” she said.

Evadne looked the picture of utter confusion. “What cat?”

“At… at Leona’s house. There was a cat. One of those multicolored ones, you know, a bit of black, a bit of ginger, a bit of white. She didn’t like her one little bit.”

“What, Leona didn’t like the cat?”

“No. Well, yes, but that’s not what I meant. The cat really didn’t like Leona. Should have listened to what she told me.” Red’s eyelids drooped closed once again.

“She’s a cute little thing. I miss our talks,” she murmured as she fell asleep.

Chapter 23

December 28: Homecoming

The next time Red awoke, she found a much less pleasant set of mugs staring down at her: Detective Sergeant Allen and his pet bloodhound, Mulligan.

“Damn, what’s this, feeding time at the zoo?” she asked.

“I see being shot hasn’t improved your attitude,” Allen said.

“What do you fucking expect?” She scowled at them. “Hey, Mulligan, ain’t you on the wrong side of the bars? The monkey cage is somewhere down the hall.”

“Why you—”

“Leave it, Mulligan,” Allen said.

Red gave Mulligan a grin. He was so damn easy to get going, it was a miracle he hadn’t lost his badge years ago. She turned to Allen and asked, “What do you want with me now?”

“Doc said you were lucky.”

Red made an unimpressed grunt. Allen seemed to be considering something, probably how badly he could rough her up without leaving any obvious signs now that she had no strength to fight back. Fucking cops.

“Mrs. Davenport gave us an account of what happened, but I’d like to know what you can remember.” Allen watched her like a hawk

Fuck. What had Evadne told him? She closed her eyes. “I’m tired.”

Mulligan tried. She had to give him points for effort. “Stop playing for time, Wolverton,” he said. “We found a stiff at the Harriman place. Did you shoot him?”

Opening her eyes, she glared at Mulligan. A body? What the hell? “I dunno. I can’t remember.”

“Ain’t that convenient.” Mulligan’s little piggy eyes glinted with glee. “Did this one fight back, huh? Not so easy as poor old Patrick Finn?”

“That’s enough, Mulligan,” Allen said.

Red closed her eyes again, hoping they’d go away. A body at Leona’s house, she thought. Vaska? Was it Vaska? Is that what they did with him? Why didn’t Evadne tell me?

Something tugged at the back of her mind. Distant, hazy words, barely heard and only half-remembered: Kemper telling Evadne something. Yeah. Now what the hell was it? She dredged up the memory and hoped her recollection would be enough to satisfy the cops.

“We were following up the theft from Arden Manor.” She felt truly tuckered out now, and her shoulder throbbed like hell. Where was a nurse when you needed one? As if by magic, Dr. Charles arrived.

“Gentleman, I said you could speak to Red on the condition you didn’t tire her,” the doctor said. “It is quite clear you have. She’s due to be discharged from the hospital today, and I don’t want her exhausted before she leaves.”

“All right, doctor. Mulligan, wait for me at the main door.” Allen waited until Mulligan left and glanced at the doctor. “Just another minute?”

Dr. Charles looked at Red, and then at Allen. Red willed him to give the copper the boot.

“All right, just one minute,” he said.

Red glared at the doctor’s departing back. Fucking traitor!

“Red.”

Red stared at Allen. He had not called her by her nickname before. Why now? “What?” she asked him defiantly.

“I don’t think you killed Finn.”

“I didn’t.”

“But I think you know who did.”

Red faced him squarely, not saying anything.

“I also don’t believe you killed Mikel Vaska.”

So it was Vaska. “Why?”

“Wrong sort of bullet for your Smith and Wesson.”

“Might have used another iron.”

“True, but I don’t think you did.”

What was he getting at? More to the point, what was he after?

“I’ve been reading your file.” Allen smiled. “Quite a thick one, I have to say.”

“Yeah, well, for some reason you guys don’t seem to like me very much.”

“Yes, I would have to agree with you there.”

This was a new tactic—being nice to her. His attitude put her off balance, unsure what was going to happen next. Her shoulder continued throbbing. She tried to relax.

“Do you know a woman by the name of Leona Harriman?” Allen asked.

Red nodded cautiously, trying to decide what Evadne might have told him about Leona.

“We thought she might’ve been involved in the theft,” she said.

“We searched her house. The evidence suggests she cleared off in a hurry. Only her clothes and personal items are gone.”

Shit, my stuff’s still there. She waited for him to ask the fatal question.

“There was a locked trunk under the bed,” Allen said. “When we opened it, we found the statue stolen from Mr. Criffy’s house, along with a number of similar items.”

The statue had been under the bed the whole time? It had been that damned close? Red noticed he was watching her closely. She needed to say something. Had he found her stuff or not? Surely Leona wouldn’t have taken it with her.

“We were right, then. She was in on it all,” she said.

“Yes,” Allen answered.

“And I’m in the clear for Finn’s murder?”

“Yes.”

“So why are you here?”

“I thought you would like to know what else we found out.”

Here it comes.

“It appears Harriman hired Bats Sullivan, the cracksman, to steal the statue.”

She nodded.

“He was then killed. We don’t yet know by who.”

The killer had to be Vaska, Red thought. The events fit with what Nellie had seen. Poor Nellie.

“Did you know Sullivan was walking out with your friend, Nellie Reilly?”

“I’d heard rumors.”

“We believe whoever killed Sullivan also did away with Mrs. Reilly and Patrick Finn.”

Red clenched her jaw. Christ, how she wished she had shot Leona!

A stern looking Dr. Charles appeared in the doorway. The cavalry was here at last, she thought in relief.

“Detective Sergeant, I really must insist,” he said.

“Yes, doctor, all right. Good-bye, Red.” Allen gave her a brief farewell nod and headed toward the door.

“Why?” Red wasn’t sure what she was asking. Why had Allen told her? Why hadn’t she been arrested? Why was he being nice to her?

Turning in the doorway, he gave her an enigmatic look. “Because you remind me of my sister,” he said.

She didn’t have time to wonder what the hell he meant. As soon as he left, Evadne darted into the room. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Peachy,” Red replied.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you what the story was.”

“Shush, Evadne.” She wouldn’t put it past Allen to have someone listening at the door.

Evadne glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, I see.” She got up and went to the door. After a good look around the corridor, she returned to report, “Not a person in sight.”

“It’s okay,” Red said. “Seems like I’m off the hook anyway.”

“You are?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

Evadne blushed.

“Cute.”

“What?”

“That blush.”

Evadne’s blush instantly deepened. Putting her hands over her face, she tried to scrub the mottled color away. “You’re awful,” she said.

“I try.”

“Yes, you’re very trying,” Evade said with a faint smile.

“Oh, har-de-har-har,” Red muttered, just managing to keep a straight face.

Evadne paused before speaking again. “What did they say? The police, I mean.”

“Looks like they’re blaming Leona for the whole thing.”

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer woman.” Evadne’s expression hardened.

“It was weird, though,” Red said.

“What was?”

“My stuff must have been all over her house, but Allen said nothing about it.”

“Theo cleared out Leona’s house.”

“Theo?”

“Yes. He took Vaska’s body there, and he and Miles cleared the house of anything they thought might be yours.”

“Theo?” Red still wasn’t quite sure she believed it.

“Yes. I must admit he surprised me. I’d never have thought he could be quite so devious.”

“Good thing he’s on the right side, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“The doc still okay with me leaving today?”

“If you are.”

“Just try to damn well stop me!”

Red’s joy at leaving the hospital proved short-lived. Each bump and shudder of the gurney felt like a fresh bullet through her shoulder. The morphine shot the nurse had given her took the edge off. She didn’t want to think what her pain might be like without drugs.

She only relaxed when the attendants lifted her into the back of a motor ambulance. Her relaxation didn’t last once the journey commenced. Was the driver deliberately taking the ambulance over every pothole in Boston?

To take her mind off the trip, she wondered what her hired nurse would be like. Pretty? Someone she could tease mercilessly? A middle-aged dragon with a mustache?

To her utter relief, the motor ambulance finally came to a stop. The doors opened and she was lifted out. She sent out a silent thank you to whatever deity might be listening when she saw the front of Evadne’s house. She’d still had a niggling fear that the trip was a ruse and she’d be sent somewhere much less pleasant.

The sound of the LaSalle’s engine heralded Evadne’s arrival. Red heard Bessie’s doors open and close and then the muffled crunch of footsteps on snow-covered gravel.

She turned her head to watch Evadne coming nearer. She couldn’t help smiling when Evadne issued orders with an air of natural command. Red found her both impressive and irritating, but at least the orders weren’t aimed at her for once.

With remarkable efficiency, Red was carried through the front door and up the staircase. The door to the bedroom was held open by a six-foot-tall Amazon with iron-gray hair tightly pulled back in a bun and hawk-nosed features, dashing her hope for a pretty nurse. If this probable harridan was Evadne’s idea, she wasn’t impressed.

After installing Red in her bed, the ambulance men departed and left only Evadne and the nurse in the room with her.

Red studied the nurse and tried to distract herself from the pulsating pain inflicted by the journey. The nurse was certainly not pretty, nor was she young, but the laugh lines around her eyes seemed to belie the formidable first impression. Something military in the nurse’s bearing made her wonder if she’d been with the Army Nurse Corps.

She smiled. This could be fun after all. Nothing like a good battle of wills to keep her from going stir-crazy.

“Mrs. Davenport?” The nurse’s voice sounded low and a little rough.

Probably too much shouting, Red decided. Yeah, this could definitely be interesting.

“Yes, Nurse Griffin?” Evadne replied.

Griffin, huh? A gruff Griffin. Well, that nose is very nearly a beak.

“I’m going to check Miss Wolverton’s dressings,” the nurse said to Evadne. “You might like to leave the room.”

Red glanced at Evadne, who wouldn’t like being ordered out one bit. She could almost see Evadne’s hackles rising at the suggestion. She lay back and waited for the fireworks.

“Nurse Griffin, I’m not one to faint dead away at the sight of blood,” Evadne said. “I’ve seen more than enough to harden my stomach against such things.” Her statement seemed to puzzle Griffin. “Were you an army nurse?” Evadne asked.

“Why, yes.” The nurse stood a little taller.

Evadne’s lips twitched, as if fighting the urge to smile. “During the Great War?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Chatel Guyon. That’s in France.”

“A base hospital?”

The nurse seemed to pick up on the dismissive edge in Evadne’s tone. “Yes. Base Hospital No. 20. What I saw there would make your hair curl.”

Red winced.

Evadne’s chin went up. Her back stiffened. Red was glad not to be on the end of what she felt sure was a withering stare. Evadne was very good at those, as she knew to her cost.

“Hey, patient in the room.” Red waved her hand in the air. She didn’t quite know why, other than winding the women up. Evadne and Griffin ignored her.

At least the morphine shot the nurse had given her before leaving Massachusetts General had fully kicked in by now, she thought, subsiding.

“Nurse Griffin, I drove an ambulance for over a year between frontline aid posts and field hospitals,” Evadne said. “I doubt anything you saw could be any worse.”

Bored with the wartime memoirs, Red said, “Hello! Anyone bothered about me? You know, the one shot full of holes.”

Looking ready to have kittens, Griffin stared at Evadne. Red wondered if she might quit. Maybe they’d get a nurse easier on the eyes and ears next time.

Griffin’s surprise turned fleetingly to open admiration and then professional neutrality.

“Would you like to assist in Miss Wolverton’s care, Mrs. Davenport?” she asked.

“Don’t call me that,” Red growled, more than a little peeved “Nurse Gruff” wasn’t storming off in a huff.

“Yes, I would,” Evadne said. “And please, call me Evadne. And for heaven’s sake, don’t call Red ‘Miss Wolverton’ or she’ll make your ears burn.”

“I’m going to make them damn well burn in a second if you don’t stop ignoring me,” Red said.

At odds with the severe appearance, Griffin seemed to be struggling not to smile. “I presume you’ve no formal nursing training?” she asked Evadne.

“No, nurse, you have the lead where that’s concerned,” Evadne said. “I’ll follow your instructions, but I won’t be mollycoddled.”

Griffin visibly surrendered. “You certainly weren’t what I was expecting, Mrs. Dav—Evadne.”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” Evadne said.

“So do I.” Griffin turned to the bed and eyed Red. “Shall we start?” she asked Evadne.

“Yes, nurse,” Evadne replied.

“About fucking time.” Red gave a snarl in frustration.

The nurse folded the sheet down to Red’s waist, leaving her naked from the waist up, except for the bandages that covered her chest. Flannel pajama pants covered the lower half of her body, courtesy of Joe Martelli.

Her old friend had visited her in the hospital the previous evening. He’d looked contrite and worried. She knew the late visit wasn’t his fault. He’d only just heard about her wounding. Still, she could really do without constantly having to soothe other people’s worries and guilt. She was the one with the perforations, for Christ’s sake.

As soon as Evadne had realized Joe was there, he was commandeered to get Red some night things. He had blushed like a virgin in a brothel. Red still wasn’t sure why. Joe had done far worse things for her over the years. Perhaps the problem had been with the person who made the request. Whatever the reason, she would definitely have fun with him later.

She was brought back to the present when Griffin began to remove her bandages. She uncovered her shoulder first and instructed Evadne to lift, hold, and roll as if she was no more than a junior assistant.

Red succumbed more-or-less obediently to being pushed and pulled. She wanted to make a smart-aleck comment, but despite the nurse’s deft, gentle hands, the pain brought on by her movements soon robbed Red of any desire to speak.

By the time the job was finished, Evadne was looking a little pale around the gills. Red didn’t want her keeling over and hurting herself out of a stubborn desire to help.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked. “You don’t look too good.”

Evadne’s expression fell somewhere between guilt and embarrassment.

“Are you all right to continue, Mrs. Davenport?” Griffin asked. “I can finish on my own, if you wish.”

Evadne shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

Griffin studied Evadne, who stood taller and met her gaze, obviously waiting for the nurse’s decision.

Half-expecting Evadne to be dismissed, Red readied herself to complain long and loud if the banishment came to pass. To her surprise, the nurse just smiled.

“Excellent. Now, let us continue,” Griffin said.

Red slumped back on her pillow, scowling. That hadn’t gone as she’d hoped. How dare this Griffin woman be reasonable as well as competent! It seemed any chance of a prettier-looking replacement was fading fast.

Red woke up several hours later and checked her surroundings, still unsure recent events weren’t some dream and she’d wake up one morning in the State penitentiary. Good. She was still in her bedroom at Evadne’s house without a guard or a cop in sight.

A sound made her turn toward the doorway. The door slowly opened. She soon realized why and gritted her teeth as she glared at her ex-lover. How the hell had Katherine Dubois gotten past Evadne? She then recalled seeing them together at the hospital.

Katherine didn’t move past the threshold. She seemed uncertain, no sign of the mocking, sneering expression Red remembered.

“Hello, Red,” she said.

“Why are you here?” Red asked.

“To apologize and to explain.”

Red turned her face away. Evadne might be ready to make peace with Katherine, but she wasn’t. Unfortunately, Katherine didn’t take the hint and leave.

“We thought you were the Wolf for some time, Red. We knew what the Prophecy said. We wanted you out of Boston, away from the Stone and the Lion,” Katherine said.

Red tried not to listen, but her natural curiosity won out. “Who’s ‘we?’”

“Theo and I.”

Theo had been in on it? “That son of a bitch!” Red struggled to rise. Katherine covered the space between them and gently pushed her back. Red tried to fight, but the little strength she’d recovered wasn’t up to the job.

She stared into Katherine’s blue eyes and snarled, “Get your hands off me.”

Katherine hesitated and then straightened up. “I’m truly sorry, Red.”

Ugly words fought to be free, but Red bit them back. Studying Katherine’s face for signs of deceit, she found none, but her track record on that front really stank.

She heard a faint tap on the door and saw a young man standing in the doorway.

“May I come in?” he asked.

The moment he spoke, Red recognized him as a clean-shaven, washed, and tidied Miles Kemper. The results of her boot to his face had receded to a swollen nose and greenish purple shadows under his eyes. She felt a sudden stab of guilt. How many times had she sucker punched the poor guy?

“Sure, come on in,” she said. “The more the merrier.”

He moved to stand by Katherine’s side, giving a fine impression of a nervous rabbit ready to flee at the slightest sound. The contrast to the filthy, ferocious, slightly crazed young man she’d fought in the street seemed almost ridiculous.

“We got off on the wrong foot, didn’t we?” she asked.

Grinning sheepishly, Kemper ran a hand through his unruly mop of reddish-brown hair. “Yeah, we did.”

She held out her hand. “Red Wolverton. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Kemper leaned forward to shake her hand. “Miles Kemper. Likewise.”

She put all her effort into making the handshake a strong one and waited a moment before she could summon up the energy to speak again. “You okay?”

Kemper rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. “A bit sore, but not so bad.”

“Good.”

He finally seemed to relax and gave her a teasing little grin. “I got off better than you, it seems. You look a mess, Wolverton.”

Katherine didn’t appear impressed by his comment.

Red couldn’t help grinning. “Thanks, I like to make an effort to please my visitors.”

The ludicrousness of the conversation made her chuckle, Kemper laughing as well. Katherine stared at Red and Kemper in complete bafflement.

“You think this is funny?” She glared at them. “Men!”

Red tried not to laugh—it still hurt too much—but she couldn’t quite stop a half-stifled snort from slipping out. “Not the last time I checked, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean,” Katherine said, smiling at last.

The smile made Red’s heart lurch. She certainly didn’t love Katherine anymore. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever really loved her, but when Katherine smiled that way, she couldn’t help falling in lust all over again. She really was a glutton for punishment.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Kemper finally broke it.

“Do you know Katherine and Evadne stayed with you the whole time you were in the hospital fighting the fever?” he asked.

Surprised, Red stared. Evadne doing something like that she could understand, but Katherine? “Why?” she asked.

Katherine lowered her eyes and stared at her hands.

Red was amazed to spot a gleam of wetness on her face.

“We didn’t want… we didn’t want you to die among strangers.”

Red felt dumbfounded. Even after what she’d been told, she hadn’t truly considered how ill she’d been. “I was really that bad?”

“Yes.”

“And you both stayed with me, after what I did?” Red shook her head in a mixture of exasperation and admiration. “For fuck’s sake, Katherine, I wanted to kill you. I was pulling the damn trigger!”

“And look what I did to you. If we want to compare the bad things we’ve done to each other, I think it will probably end up even in the long run.” Finished speaking, Katherine moved to the window, her back to the room.

Red glanced at Miles and noted his rabbit impression had returned. He seemed so uncomfortable, she felt sorry for him.

“I think I’ll just go and find Mrs. Davenport, tell her you’re awake.” He almost ran out of the room.

Katherine spoke without moving away from the window. “I had no idea how badly my behavior would affect you, Red,” she said. “Your reputation was so rakish, I never expected you to take our love affair seriously.”

Red stared at Katherine, struck by her naïveté. “Why? Why did you do it?”

“We wanted to make Boston uncomfortable enough that you’d return to wherever you came from. We didn’t know you had nowhere to go back to.”

Red slumped into the pillows, the explanation too much for her drug-clouded brain to comprehend. She decided to give up trying to understand.

Katherine seemed to sense her change of mood. “I won’t visit again, if that’s what you wish.”

Red wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. “I’m tired,” she muttered.

“Sleep, Red. It’s the best thing for you.”

Red listened to Katherine’s footsteps cross the room, muted by the thick carpet, and she heard a slight creak as the door was gently closed. A moment later, she fell asleep.

“Red, wake up, it’s the most marvelous news,” a familiar voice said.

Red didn’t want to wake up, not even for Evadne. “G’way,” she grunted.

“No, Red you have to hear this, it’s about Nellie.”

Nellie? Another friend she’d lost. What the hell sort of good news could Evadne have about her?

“Red, she’s alive.”

That got her attention. She opened her eyes to look at a beaming Evadne. “What? How?”

“Here, see for yourself.” Evadne held a letter out to her. “It came while you were in the hospital. I’ve only just opened it.”

Red took the letter and stared down at the untidy scrawl.

Dear Mrs. Davenport,

Please excuse my writing to you like this, but I have no address for Red. Fortunately, yours was not hard to find. I’m sorry I burned your boathouse down. I wasn’t quite truthful to you both. I had a better idea of who Bats was working for than I told you, and they have a bad reputation. I needed to leave Boston for good and change my name. Then I had the idea of pretending I died. I set the fire and used the canoe to cross the lake. I sank it not far from the town and filled it with stones so no one would find it. No one noticed me. They were all looking at the fire. I won’t tell you where I am, just in case, but I wish you and Red much happiness. Thank you for helping me.

Yours truly,

Nellie Reilly

Evadne checked the envelope. “It has a New York City postmark.”

New York made sense, Red thought. Wasn’t it where she’d planned to go herself? Nellie was alive. She felt oddly empty. Shouldn’t she be happy that Nellie wasn’t dead after all?

“Red?”

“What?” Red asked.

Evadne seemed confused. “Aren’t you pleased?”

Yes, she was, but she also felt a surge of anger. Didn’t Nellie know what she’d put her through, all the sorrow and the guilt? Christ, she’d been ready to commit murder to revenge her, and Nellie hadn’t thought it worth letting her know what she’d planned. It would have only taken a fucking phone call.

Evadne sat on the bed. “Are you all right?”

Red realized she was scowling. She forced herself to relax and gave Evadne a wan smile.

“Yeah, I’m glad she’s alive but—”

“It would have been nice if she’d told you earlier,” Evadne said. “Yes. I agree with you, but I can only presume she had her reasons.”

Red let out a long sigh as her anger drained away. Would she have done the same thing in the circumstances? She handed the letter back to Evadne, who refolded the sheet of paper and tucked it into the envelope.

“I should have guessed something was up when she asked me to fetch her savings,” Red said.

“I’d forgotten about that. Yes, it does make sense. And then there was the lack of remains. I should have realized at the time there was something odd about it all.”

Red clenched her teeth. She wanted to hold onto her anger, to rage against what stupid, thoughtless Nellie had put her through.

“Let it go, Red,” Evadne said.

Red scrubbed her face with her hand. God, why couldn’t life be easy? Especially hers. “Fine pair of detectives we make.”

“Did you know she could use a canoe?”

“Nellie hated water.” The memory brought Red up short. Nellie must have been terrified witless to venture out on the lake at night. Her anger began to fade, replaced by a grudging admiration.

“Yet she took a canoe out in the dark like that,” Evadne said.

“I never said she didn’t have guts.”

“There was no return address. Do you want to try to find her?”

“What for?”

Evadne’s expression was unreadable. What was going on behind those soft brown eyes? Red hoped it was nothing bad.

Finally, Evadne nodded. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Yes, good.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”

“Are you being aggravating on purpose?”

“Not so much fun when you’re on the other end, huh?” Evadne’s smile was teasing.

Red scowled at her. “Hey, don’t the wounded hero get any respect?”

Evadne stood and curtsied—very gracefully, Red thought. She would have probably tripped over her own feet and ended up face-first on the carpet.

“Whatever the hero requires,” Evadne said.

Red smirked. “You really don’t wanna know what the hero requires.”

Evadne straightened abruptly and stared at her. “Doesn’t anything stop you?”

“Nope.”

Evadne rolled her eyes.

Red grinned. She’d missed the eye-rolling in the weeks since the mistrust, nurtured by Leona, had taken hold.

Evadne shook her head in familiar and much-missed exasperation and straightened Red’s sheet. “Go to sleep, hero,” she said.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Red closed her eyes. She listened to Evadne leave, quietly closing the door behind her, and smiled. God, she loved teasing Evadne. It was so easy and so much damned fun.

Red awoke the next morning to find a strange woman in her room. Not the first time it had happened, though generally she had at least a vague memory of how the stranger had gotten there. The women in her past also tended to be less formidable and more fluffy. The nurse’s uniform was a nice touch, though.

“Ah, you’re awake. Excellent,” the nurse said.

Red remembered. Nurse Griffin. Gruff Griff, as she called her—at least in the secrecy of her own head.

Griffin towered over the bed.

“Damn, you’re going to give me a crick in my neck,” Red said. Had she spoken aloud? From the glint in the nurse’s eyes, Red guessed she must have let it slip. Now the question was whether the glint boded ill or not.

“How is the pain today?” Griffin asked.

At least she hadn’t asked how Red felt. Red considered the question.

“Better,” she said at last.

“How much better?”

Shifting tentatively, she bit back a groan. Moving hadn’t been a good idea.

“Not too much, from the sound of it,” Griffin said.

Red peered into her face. Was that humor? Damn. What was the world coming to?

Nurse Griffin busied herself at the side table for a couple of minutes. When she turned around, she had a hypodermic syringe ready. Red watched the needle coming closer, all the way to her forearm before she looked away. Almost immediately, her pain began to ease.

“Would you like to sit up?”

Red hesitated. Moving would probably hurt like hell, but she was fed up with being flat on her back. After a moment, she nodded.

Before she realized what was happening, Griffin efficiently but gently lifted her into a half-sitting position and placed pillows behind her back. She was impressed.

“Would you like some water?”

Once again, Red nodded. Griffin offered her a glass, which surprised her a little. She’d gotten used to not being allowed to feed herself. In the beginning, she’d been so weak, even she had to admit that something as simple as holding the glass was beyond her, but the restriction had begun to chafe.

Griffin said, “Try to take it.”

Red took the glass in her right hand, finding the touch pleasantly cold. She took a firm grip and lifted the glass to her lips. The water tasted like pure bliss. She soon drained the glass and handed it back.

“Excellent. Your strength appears to be returning nicely.”

A sudden crash, a small scream, and a chorus of shouts made them both look at the door.

“What the hell?” Red wondered aloud.

“Where’s it gone?” she heard a woman asking.

That’s Evadne’s voice.

“I don’t know, chica, but I did warn you it wouldn’t be happy,” she heard Maria say.

Nurse Griffin opened the door. The moment she did, a blur of color shot past her legs, across the room, and to the top of the wardrobe. The blur was closely followed by a tousled Evadne, who peered around the room frantically.

“Did it come in here?” she asked the room in general.

Evadne’s cheek was bleeding from three small parallel scratches. Red couldn’t stop a perverse grin. A furry, multicolored feline was just visible crouching on top of the wardrobe. It took Red a moment to realize what that meant. When she did, she could barely believe it.

“You found her?” she asked.

Evadne finally seemed to notice her. “I damn well hope I have, because I’m not going through all that again.”

“Mrs. Davenport… Evadne, you need to get those scratches treated,” Griffin said.

Evadne touched her cheek absently. “Oh, that. I’ll put some iodine on it later.”

“Now.”

“Later, nurse.”

Griffin looked as if she might argue, but she finally nodded. “I have a few things I need to see to. I shall be back in half an hour, at which point I will see to it if you haven’t.”

Evadne nodded as Nurse Griffin left.

“She’s on the wardrobe,” Red said. “The cat, I mean.”

Evadne glanced at her, obviously not comprehending. At last, she peered up at the wardrobe where the cat still crouched. “Oh, isn’t that just wonderful.”

“She’ll come down when she wants to.”

Evadne glanced between Red and the cat, her indecision clear.

“Sit down, Evadne,” Red said. “She isn’t going anywhere.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Evadne sat on the edge of Red’s bed. After a moment, she flopped down to lie beside her and let out a weary and exasperated sigh.

“Small cat one, humans zero?” Red said.

Evadne rolled her eyes. “Trust any cat that’s a friend of yours to be difficult.”

“So what happened?”

Evadne’s gaze focused on the ceiling. “I found her easily enough. She was sitting on the fence like you said she did. I was surprised she didn’t run away when I went up to say hello.”

“Sound’s okay so far.”

“I think the hamper was the first mistake.”

“Hamper?”

“Well, I don’t have a cat basket.”

“You put her in a hamper?” Red stared at Evadne. What the hell had she been thinking?

“I put a blanket and everything in it, so it was cozy.”

“But a hamper?”

“She let me pick her up, even seemed to be quite happy to see me. Even the hamper didn’t seem to upset her, at least not until I put the lid down.”

Red struggled not to laugh. “You shut her up, and you’re surprised she didn’t like it.”

“Well, she was quiet until that part. Anyway, it wouldn’t be safe having her running free in the automobile.”

“Safer then getting her out of the hamper afterward.”

Evadne slapped Red’s leg. “It’s not funny. I’m not used to cats. Dogs, yes. Cats, no.”

“What was the crash?”

“Mostly the hamper and some baking trays. Nothing breakable or we would have Maria up here wanting to make violin strings.”

Red’s sides shook with silent laughter. It hurt but not enough to make her stop.

Propping herself up on elbow, Evadne glared at Red. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Who? Me?” Red’s attempt to keep a straight face failed, but the moment she laughed out loud, pain exploded through her body. She tried to curl up. That didn’t help. All she could do was shut her eyes and try not to cry.

“Relax, Red. Try to relax,” Evadne said.

Red tried. God, she tried. Through the streaks and flashes of agony, she became aware of Evadne’s hand on her shoulder, and then on her back, rubbing in small, soothing circles. Gradually, she relaxed into the pillows.

When she finally opened her tear-fringed eyes, she saw Evadne’s face within inches of her own. Gripped by a sudden urge to brush away the tendrils of dark hair that curled over Evadne’s cheek, she lifted her hand, but stopped. Not now, she decided. Probably not ever.

“I’ll get Nurse Griffin to give you some morphine.” Evadne stood, clearly about to leave.

Red grabbed her hand. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” Red gently tugged Evadne’s hand. “Sit.”

Evadne sat.

Red didn’t let go of her hand.

“Are you being stubborn?” Evadne asked.

Red gave her a tiny grin. “Griffin gave me some morphine just before you arrived. It’ll be okay. I just need a second or two.” Or two hundred, she thought, but she wasn’t going to admit that. She looked at the wardrobe so Evadne wouldn’t see the truth in her eyes. A familiar furry face peered over the edge.

“Seems we got someone’s attention,” she said.

Following the direction of Red’s gaze, Evadne seemed to stare at the cat for an awfully long time before falling back onto the bed.

After a moment, she pulled Red’s hand over and cradled it against her chest. “I was so worried about you,” she said.

Red gazed into Evadne’s face, aware of the gentle heat of her body and the touch on her hand.

Completely oblivious to the effect she had, Evadne continued to stare at the ceiling.

Red saw tears in Evadne’s eyes. She guiltily stomped down on her improper enjoyment of her friend’s closeness. “Hey, I’ll be fine,” she said.

“What if you aren’t?”

Not that again. She really didn’t have the energy for reassurances. Fighting the pain took every bit of her strength. She just wanted to sleep and escape for a while, but she damned well wasn’t going to let Evadne blame herself for an act she’d been forced into committing.

“It’s not your fault,” Red said. When Evadne opened her mouth to argue, she overrode her. “Evadne Davenport, just you listen to me. It wasn’t your damn fault.” She heard anger creeping into her voice, but she couldn’t help it. Leona had fucked them all up, one way or another. “If I have to say it again, you are going to seriously regret it. Got it?”

Evadne blinked a couple of times. “I’ve got it,” she said, nodding.

“Good.”

“Meow!”

“Oh, so everyone’s a critic now.” Red glowered at the top of the wardrobe. The cat had collected herself, ready to jump on the bed. “Here she comes,” she warned.

The cat landed between her legs with a thump and a gentle bounce.

Once more, Evadne propped herself up on an elbow. “I don’t believe it.”

The cat stared at Evadne, walked daintily up Red’s right leg, and onto her stomach.

“Not the bladder, cat,” Red said. “For Christ’s sake, I’m fit to bursting as it is.”

Evadne started upright. “Should I fetch the bedpan?”

“Don’t you fucking dare! I’m not having that instrument of torture shoved under my ass and then be expected to piss. You and your giant of a nurse can get me to a proper john.”

“Red, I’m not—”

“I’ll tie a knot in it.”

“I hate to break it to you, Red, but you are not equipped with the correct bodily parts to tie a knot in.”

Red smirked. “Okay, I’ll shove a cork—”

“Red!” Evadne’s face went a fetching shade of pink.

“Cute blush.”

Evadne glared at her a moment longer. At last, her gaze drifted down the bed.

Red already knew what Evadne would see. She’d felt the cat curling up on her pelvis while they’d argued.

“I really don’t believe it,” Evadne repeated.

“Hey, I can’t help it if the ladies like me.” Red got another glare and then a small smile from Evadne.

“You really are going to be all right?” Evadne asked.

“You bet your pretty little cotton socks, sweetheart,” Red said. She grinned, trying to ignore the whispers of doubt that told her she was crippled, that she would never be able to use her left arm again, and that her brave words were the worst kind of lies.

Chapter 24

January 1, 1928: Resolutions

“Leaving already, Theo?” Evadne asked.

“Sorry, Evadne,” he answered. “Your mother will wring my neck if I’m not back by midday. She wasn’t very happy about my going out as it was.”

“What did Red want?”

“I think I’d better let her tell you that. She said to send you up.”

Evadne didn’t like the sound of that. What kind of stupidity was Red about to commit? She had better not try moving out, because she would have a fight on her hands. By the time Evadne entered Red’s bedroom, she’d built up a formidable array of counter arguments to that possibility.

Red stared out the window, her right hand gently playing with the cat’s ears as it lay curled up in her lap. Evadne still found this new side of Red’s character a little unexpected. She’d never considered Red a pet sort of person, though she wasn’t sure the cat would be happy to be called a pet. From her experience of other people brought up in farming communities, they tended to deride any suggestions about animals being cute or loveable. As her school friend Deidre always said, being kicked through a wall by a cow soon robbed you of any such tendencies. However, the Wolf and the little cat were apparently firm friends.

The cat gave Evadne a baleful glare from eyes very nearly the same color as Red’s. The feline probably hadn’t forgiven her for the veterinarian visit, let alone the hamper, but she hadn’t wanted fleas or any other “guests” in the house.

As it was, there would be some extra mouths to feed in a couple of weeks, Evadne thought ruefully, still not sure how she felt about that particular piece of news.

She stood in the doorway a few moments more, but it soon became obvious that Red wasn’t going to start the conversation. She hunted for a neutral subject and finally thought of one. “How is the mother-to-be?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Red looked at her and then down at the cat. “Okay.”

“Did you know she was pregnant?”

“Nope.”

One word answers again. The depression that had settled over Red was expected, but that didn’t make it any easier for Evadne to witness.

She wondered about Red’s request to see Theo. She hadn’t expected her to forgive him or Katherine for their manipulations. Then again, Red had a hard time forgiving herself for what she did, so perhaps their faults didn’t seem so bad to her.

“It’s New Year’s today, ain’t it?” Red asked.

“Yes, it is.”

Red turned away to stare out the window again. “Time for making resolutions and the like, deciding on your future.”

“That’s the tradition, yes.” When Red didn’t seem to want to say anything more, Evadne plowed on. “Theo said you wanted to speak to me.”

“Can you help with my exercises?”

Evadne felt a small leap of hope. After the first painful and frustrating session, Red had insisted Nurse Griffin help her. She wasn’t sure which of them Red had been trying to protect.

Red removed her left arm from its sling. Evadne chafed at the pain even this simple action obviously caused, but she resisted the urge to help. Once Red’s arm was free of the support, Evadne took her wrist in one hand, her elbow in another, and began to rotate the shoulder as Henry Charles had instructed.

She was pleased to see the range of movement, though still small, had definitely improved since that agonizing first session. She steeled herself against the occasional hisses of pain. The muscles and tendons needed to be gradually stretched if they weren’t to atrophy, not that this knowledge prevented a sick feeling from building up in the pit of her stomach.

Red’s eyes were closed in concentration. A slight wince now and then showed when her shoulder complained at the activity. Not for the first time, Evadne thanked whatever Powers-That-Be that the chest wound was healing fast. Not much in the way of good news, but she would take any she could get.

She and Red completed the rest of the exercises in silence.

Red tucked her arm back into the sling and lay back against the pillow with a groan. The gray tinge to her face was a clear indication of her pain. “Christ, it ain’t getting any better.”

Evadne felt another surge of remorse for the pain she’d caused. Since the showdown in the cellar, barely a night had passed when she hadn’t awakened, sweating profusely from the nightmare of Red lying dead on the floor. The vision remained fixed in her mind even after she woke. If she could take back the moment when she’d pulled the trigger, she’d do so in a heartbeat.

She pushed the memories away. It would do no good for Red to be burdened with her guilt. She gave Red what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“It’s moving more, Red,” she said. “It might hurt as much, but it’s definitely improved.”

The crease of pain between Red’s brows relaxed. Her eyes opened. “You reckon?”

“Definitely.”

“What if it never gets better?”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Give it some more time.” Evadne strove to sound optimistic in the face of Red’s skepticism. “Even if it doesn’t, you’ll cope. You’re already getting good with that right hand of yours. If nothing else, you’re too damned pigheaded to let a little thing like this beat you.”

Red’s drawn face went still. After a moment, a slight smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Wonders never cease. Evadne Davenport used a cuss word. Again!”

“It’s your bad influence.”

“Hey, I try my best.”

Red turned serious. “As soon as I can, I’m going back to Nebraska.”

“You’re leaving?” Evadne was stunned. “Why?”

“I need to be someplace where the walls ain’t closing in on me, where I can see for miles, where I can go for days without running into anybody.”

The coincidence of Red’s announcement with Theo’s visit tugged at Evadne’s memory. “You accepted Theo’s job offer?” she asked.

Red stared at her in surprise. “You knew about that?”

“Theo told me.”

“I reckoned it was just another attempt to get me out of Boston, but I thought it was worth a try, so I asked him if the offer was still there. Turns out it’s real. He’s been after someone for a while. He only came up with the idea of killing two birds with one stone when I mentioned my time on the ranch.” Red’s gaze dropped to the sleeping cat in her lap. “And yeah, I’ve accepted it.”

Evadne was surprised by the wave of emotions she felt at the news: an unsettling mixture of hurt, anger, and above all, sadness.

“You’ll get the agency, of course,” Red said with a wry smile as she continued stroking the cat’s head. “You’ll probably make a better job of it than me, anyway.”

“You’re going away for good?” Evadne tried to hide her sadness and disappointment. Leaving Boston was something Red clearly needed to do.

“I dunno. Maybe yes, maybe no.”

“Then leave the agency as it is. You can be a silent partner until you return.” She saw the objection forming on Red’s face. “Or until you know for sure what you mean to do.”

She and Red exchanged a little battle of wills over the fate of the agency and, by extension, their partnership. Eventually, Red surrendered, a brief nod indicating her defeat.

“Okay, we’ll do that,” Red said slyly. “’Course, I expect you to come visit. Gotta have someone to stop me developing all them rough country ways again, don’t I?”

“Of course I will.” Evadne forced a bright smile. “Just you try to stop me.”

Epilogue

January 26: A departure and a promise made

Evadne followed Red to the train station platform. Red’s mood was happier than she had seen in weeks, and she wasn’t sure how that made her feel. Shouldn’t she be happy if Red was happy, especially with the way Red had struggled against depression the last month? Unfortunately, she still felt annoyed and upset. Wasn’t Red going to miss her? Because as sure as eggs were eggs, she would miss Red.

Red let her duffle slide off her right shoulder to hit the platform with a soft thud. She glanced at the train. She pulled out her watch with her right hand and fumbled a little with the catch.

Evadne didn’t say anything. Red really didn’t take sympathy well.

“Ten minutes to go.” Red glanced over her shoulder to give Evadne a small smile. “Then you get your house back.”

Is that really what she thinks? Evadne fought the urge to shout at Red, not sure why she cared so much. “Hardly,” she said, “I still have four guests who seem to have taken up permanent residence.”

“I feel rotten for dumping you with the cat and her kittens, but I can’t take them with me. At least not yet.”

Evadne’s heart sank another fathom. Was Red really planning on moving permanently away from Boston?

“They’ll be fine,” she said, “and at least the cat didn’t give birth in the house. Maria might have forgiven her for the dented roasting pan, but that might have been too much.”

“Nah, sensible cat like her was bound to find somewhere nice, safe, and out of the way.”

“Well, it’s certainly out of the way.” She recalled the way Red had seemed to realize when the kittens were born. At the time, Red had claimed she knew because the cat hadn’t been to see her that morning, but Evadne suspected there was more to it than that. The way Red tried to hide her concern when they’d hunted for the cat’s nest was almost comical.

Evadne hadn’t been taken in. The more she’d gotten to know the rough, tough Westerner, the more she’d seen the big softy underneath. It had taken the best part of the day before James found the cat and her three newborn kittens. They were curled up in a pile of old sacks in the loft above the tack room that now doubled as his workshop.

“I’m gonna miss you, Evadne.” A mischievous expression flitted across Red’s face.

Before Evadne knew what was happening, she was nearly lifted off her feet in an embrace.

“Please put me down, Red,” she said, half-embarrassed, half-amused by the unexpected display. “You’ll hurt your shoulder.” She had never seen Red initiate a hug before. In fact, Red was usually unhappy about receiving them.

Red released her from the bear hug and took a step back.

Oh, yes, there’s no doubt Red is happy to be going. Evadne needed to stop being such a wet blanket about it.

“Well, someone is certainly in a good mood this morning,” she said.

Red smiled as she slipped her left arm back into its sling. Not one of her usual teasing or cynical grins, but an open, uninhibited smile that Evadne hadn’t seen for months.

“Glad you’re so happy at leaving us,” Evadne joked.

Red’s face fell. “I…” She gazed earnestly at Evadne. “You understand I have to do this, don’t you? It ain’t anything you did. You know that, right?”

Evadne squeezed Red’s good arm affectionately. “I know. I just hope you find what you’re searching for out there in the back of beyond.”

“Thanks.” A wicked glint came into Red’s eyes.

Evadne was wondering what that glint heralded when Red closed the space between them and kissed her on the mouth. For the tiniest fraction of a second, the kiss became more than the teasing peck Red had almost certainly meant it to be. She felt herself responding as she leaned into the contact.

Red stepped back, breaking the moment. For a split second, she looked nearly as dumbfounded as Evadne, and then she grinned.

Evadne stared at her, flummoxed and just a tiny bit pleased. Kissing her was an outrageous thing to do, so typically Red. She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Incorrigible just doesn’t cover it anymore,” she said. “Now get on that train before it leaves without you.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Red ripped off a credible imitation of a military salute and bounded up the steps and into the railway car as well as her injuries allowed. After slamming the door shut, she pulled down the window and leaned out. “Don’t forget your promise to visit.”

“Don’t worry,” Evadne said. “I still need to get even for that little stunt, Red Wolverton.”

“See you soon, Evadne.” The train began to pull away, but Red carried on waving until the train moved around the corner, out of sight of the station.

“See you soon, too, little Wolf,” Evadne whispered as a wave of sadness crept over her.

She missed the irritating, impossible, exasperating scoundrel already. God knew how she would survive the months without her. She didn’t even want to consider the possibility that their separation might be permanent.

Evadne shook away the melancholy thoughts, a small smile on her mouth as she lifted her hand to touch her lips where the surprisingly gentle kiss had landed. She still couldn’t believe Red had actually dared do such a thing, and in such a public space, too.

What she really couldn’t believe was how she’d started to reciprocate. For the first time, she wondered if anyone had seen them. She glanced around. No one seemed to have noticed, or if they had, they’d taken Red for a young man—not the first time that mistake had been made. Certainly, there were no outraged expressions as she looked at the other people.

Her gaze fell on an elderly woman sitting on a bench. The woman nodded sagely and gave her an indulgent smile.

That knowing look embarrassed Evadne far more than the kiss itself.

About the Author

Jamie lives on the edge of the rugged beauty of the Peak District with her American Civil Partner, Mary Ann, and their four cats.

Brought up in rural South Warwickshire, Jamie gained a degree in Architectural Studies at Sheffield University and then stayed. After drifting into software design and development some fifteen years ago, she still hasn’t escaped. While she works with the technology of the present, what interests her is the past. After years as a reenactor and living historian, she is now studying archaeology part-time. She is a keen reader, and writing is a recent development, drawing on her favourite genres of historical and speculative fiction.

Return of the Raven is the second book in the Wolf’s Tales series, and is the captivating sequel to the thriller Thirty Days Hath September.

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Survived by Her Longtime Companion

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A Kiss Before Dawn

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Soulwalker

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Table of Contents

Also written by Jamie Scarratt and availableable from Blue Feather Books:

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

About the Author

Make sure to check out these other exciting Blue Feather Books titles:

Table of Contents

Also written by Jamie Scarratt and availableable from Blue Feather Books:

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

About the Author

Make sure to check out these other exciting Blue Feather Books titles: