CHAPTER 27

“YOU’RE A LITTLE LATE,” MIKANI OBSERVED, AS RITSUKO strode into the duty room the next morning. It was nearly noon, and he’d been at work for over an hour already.

Actually, I was about to go check on you.

“I had some errands.” Her brow was a bit damp, as if she’d been running up and down flights of stairs. “They took longer than I expected.”

“Problem?” He was a bit surprised to hear she’d managed to do anything but sleep, but that was Ritsuko. She hadn’t risen to inspector by failing to exceed expectation.

“Just personal business. What do you have there?”

Mikani had found a report waiting in his bin; he scanned it while Ritsuko checked her messages. “Two of these girls aren’t in House holdings . . . but it seems they’re keeping better track of their errant daughters these days. One of them’s renting a studio not far from here. Shall we check on her?”

“Certainly. I have some questions.”

He glanced at her. A night’s rest had done them both a world of good; they no longer looked like they’d just crawled out of a weeklong bender. Well, she doesn’t, anyway. But then, Ritsuko’s always cleaned up well.

“I’ve a shortage of answers, but shoot.”

Ritsuko laughed, a rueful tone to it. “I meant for the girl.”

“Very well. I’ll drive, you question them.”

Nodding, she fetched her jacket from the coatroom. Mikani sometimes slung his over the back of his chair, but not Ritsuko. She was tidier than that. It was hardly worth it to hang it up, no longer than she’s staying. As she shrugged into it, he caught sight of five purple marks on her arm.

“That looks . . . Did one of those thugs grab you?”

He stepped closer. I wasn’t paying attention, damn it. Should’ve gotten some reinforcements before we rushed in.

Ritsuko rubbed her arm, seeming surprised. “No, that was Shelton, actually. We tangled last night before I received the writ from Gunwood.”

Mikani made a sound deep in his throat. That bastard’s gone too far. “I’ll just have a word with him, then we can head on out.” He grabbed his walking stick, fist clenched tight around the metal handle as he started toward the lounge, where that pair could often be found dawdling.

“He’s not in. Gunwood has Cutler and him on protective duty with Miss Wright.”

He stopped and turned to her. “He did what? Those two?”

“And he gave us the arrest.” She shifted, her expression quietly imploring. “I appreciate the concern, but . . . let’s get to work.”

Mikani hesitated, rubbing his thumb along the carved handle of his walking stick. “Very well. Let’s see to these girls, then. Shelton can wait.”

This is not over.

Just before they arrived at the building where the first girl kept a flat, Ritsuko said, “I didn’t realize you’d reconciled with Saskia.”

Mikani started and turned toward her. What the hells? Then he swerved as they nearly ran over a cycle messenger; the rider spat a few choice words as he sped past.

“How in Winter’s name—” He paused. “We haven’t. Reconciled, that is.”

“She isn’t as I pictured from the way you used to describe her.”

He chuckled wryly. “It was around that time that we started talking about our lives outside HQ, yes. I was angry back then.”

I was furious. And not ready to deal with what happened.

“Yes, your confidences did possess a rather . . . rantish quality.” Her eyes laughed, though her lips didn’t so much as twitch. Ritsuko’s voice carried a throaty edge, too, as if from suppressed amusement.

He snorted. “I tried to get her arrested, you know.”

“Oh, Mikani. Your women should be offered a manual and a waiver to sign before they get involved with you.”

He turned at the corner and pulled the brake hard. “Would that have helped you?”

“I’m your partner, not your woman.”

“True. You’re paid to put up with me.” He smirked and slid out of the cruiser.

“Not nearly enough,” Ritsuko muttered as she headed for the building.

The apartments had a carefully cultivated artistic air. Shutters and doors were distressed, but the locks and fittings were new. The light sconces were antiquated but clean. Even the threadbare carpeting of the aisles was obviously expensive. Mikani pushed the door open and went up to the second floor, where the Reinert girl believed she was hiding from her interfering parents.

A muffled thump and a choked shriek drove him forward; he shouldered the door once, twice, and the jamb split. He tumbled in to see the girl half-dressed and cowering in the corner nearest the doorway. A man lay on the floor in the middle of the room, his features rendered indistinguishable by swelling, and blood smeared the wood beneath his head. There was only one person moving in the room; after a lightning glance between the prone victims, the attacker sprinted toward the window. Not even gunfire slowed him down; Mikani emptied his revolver, and one of the bullets struck the suspect’s calf as he crashed through the glass. Mikani ran after him while Ritsuko checked on the other two, but by the time he got to the sill, the assailant had vanished from sight.

Impossible.

“Did you get a good look at him?” Ritsuko asked, kneeling. “Was it Nuall?”

“Tall, dark-haired, and fast. I didn’t get a look at his face, but I did wing him.”

There was a spatter of blood on the window ledge, and he could distinguish a trail on the ground below. “He can’t keep running for long. How’s she?”

Ritsuko shook her head. “She hasn’t said a word. I don’t see any physical injury, so she must be frightened out of her mind. We need to summon a physician.”

Mikani knelt by the man and shook his head. “I don’t think her companion’s breathing. I’ll get the landlord to send couriers to HQ and to her House.”

That was too close. A few more minutes, and we’d have missed him and lost her.

“Track him down,” Ritsuko said. “If you hit him, he can’t get far. I’ll stay with her until her family arrives.”

He stood, hesitating. She can take care of herself. “All right . . . be careful, partner.”

“If he comes back, I’ll shoot him in the face.”

Hell and Winter, at this point, I don’t even know if that would be enough.

Mikani loped off down the stairs and around the corner, reloading as he moved. Before he left the building, he ordered the landlord to notify HQ. Hopefully it won’t take long. The delay might have cost him the chance to capture the attacker, but there should be officers swarming all over this building soon.

That accomplished, he ran outside. As soon as he spotted the shattered glass and bloodstains on the cobbled street, he slowed and looked around while he tracked the attacker into an alley. He glanced into the shadows and paused, trying to sense him. There’s that familiar reek. It’s him. He proceeded carefully, senses open and gun at the ready. The detritus cast long shadows and offered too many hiding spots; crates, sacks of litter, and unidentifiable piles of refuse made for slow going.

A dark figure lay slumped by the wall.

“Identify yourself.” Gun in hand, Mikani crept toward the body. He didn’t think he’d hit the assailant in a vital artery. But maybe I got lucky. He braced for a trick, but when he shook the person’s shoulder, he tumbled forward.

Damned be.

It was a scrounger, his throat torn away. The trail Mikani had been following mingled with the growing pool of fresh blood under the body. He looked around with growing frustration, but could spot no other exits. Just sheer brick walls on three sides. The lowest window was at least four stories up on the right and looked undisturbed. But on closer examination, he noticed narrow runnels scraped into the bricks; they were staggered, almost like . . .

Claw marks. As if the killer dug his nails into the walls and hauled himself up. Mikani remembered Miss Wright claiming that Nuall’s hands had turned into talons the night she saw him kill four men. Now I have another body with the throat torn open and no plausible explanation for how the suspect got away. Cursing beneath his breath, he headed back to the apartment. Hope Ritsuko got something from the girl, at least. I can’t follow a blood trail up the wall and on the rooftops.

When he stepped into the flat, he spotted Ritsuko still on the floor, but she had the sobbing girl in her arms. There were constables on the scene, mostly looking bewildered. Mikani understood their confusion; it was improbable that a normal man could jump through a glass pane, down a full story, and land strong enough to run away. He didn’t look forward to writing this report.

“There’s another body in the alley down the block, heading east. Two of you get over there, secure it for transport. Get this poor chap covered, at least.” He nodded to the young man in the middle of the room as the uniformed constables sprang into action. “Statements from the landlord and neighbors. Move, men, move!” Gunwood’ll be so impressed at how quiet we’ve kept this. He came up to Ritsuko, lowering his voice. “Is she better? Bastard got away.”

She whispered, “Crying instead of rocking. I’m not sure. I can’t leave her until—” At that moment, a woman burst into the room; she was overdressed for the flat, but she paid attention only to the young woman clinging to his partner’s neck. When the girl saw, she stumbled toward the newcomer with a broken, “Mama!”

“It looks like I’m dismissed.” Ritsuko pulled to her feet. “There’s another girl you need to secure.” Without explaining why, she snagged two constables and wrote down the information. “Make sure she’s safe, then notify Commander Gunwood.”

“But, ma’am—”

“No questions. Just do it.” Then she strode out the door, and it felt more like flight to him than a purposeful exit.

Mikani could tell she was thinking hard as she ran down the stairs and pushed out of the building onto the street. “I know that look. Tell me.”

“It seems this maniac has every advantage. You shot him . . . he didn’t stop. He’s faster, stronger, and presumably more powerful. How are we supposed to fight that?”

He caught up to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they got to the cruiser. “Ritsuko—” Hells and Winters, she’s right. “I don’t know. But I’m sure you’ll figure something out, then I’ll improvise, and we’ll stop him. Because we have to.”

“Actually,” she said grimly, as if she expected him to argue, “I have an idea.”

•   •   •

RITSUKO DIDN’T SPEAK after Mikani handed over the keys. She drove in silence, mentally mapping the address she recalled from Aurelia Wright’s statement. After this errand, it would be prudent to check on her, ensure that Shelton and Cutler were doing their jobs. It should be safe enough, though. He has no way of locating her. That was the one comfort in this situation.

Hansoms and carriages clogged the road, and parking was difficult here. Pedestrians crowded the walks, fighting for space with the vendors. Muttering, she slammed the brake on and turned off the cruiser, some three blocks from their destination.

“It’ll be faster to walk from here,” she said, climbing out.

Mikani looked up and down the street, rubbing his temples. “Where to?”

“Just . . . come on. It’s bad enough that I’m doing this. I refuse to discuss it.”

She set a rapid pace, weaving in and out of the shoppers. This was the lower-class version of the park’s lake promenade with cheap wares and copious bargains all spread out over raw wooden tables. Farther on, the shops had walls and ceilings, too. She passed all the goods and swung into an alley that had Chen the tattooist on one side and Sad Sue’s pharmaceutical emporium on the other. Sandwiched between them was a nondescript doorway—unmarked, just as Aurelia had said. Ritsuko knew she had the right place by the crescent moon etched into the door. Though it was Sunday, the stores didn’t close up, as it was the only free day many citizens had to do their marketing.

She entered without knocking.

The room was dimly lit, two gaslights flickering on the back wall. Though some shops had bright windows as a showcase, in this one, they had been blacked out, probably to discourage prying eyes. It looked like a jewelry store with various necklaces and amulets laid out on blue cloth. None of the items were marked with description or price.

She felt Mikani’s gaze on her, and Ritsuko turned with a quiet sigh. “Do you know what this place is?”

He nodded, his voice low. “The question is, why are we here? We’ve a suspect on the run, and we nearly had a third victim. I’m not sure how much a luck charm will help.”

“If there’s anything here that can give us an edge, then we need it. And you have no idea how stupid I feel saying that.”

The curtain leading to the back room stirred, then parted. A man stepped out; Ritsuko placed him in late middle age. He had a crop of salt-and-pepper hair and a well-groomed mustache; he didn’t look as seedy as his shop did from the outside. Possibly that was the point.

“May I help you?”

Ritsuko felt ridiculous. Though she had no extra senses like Mikani, she felt keenly that her partner thought she was wasting time better spent elsewhere. She was aware that time was ticking away; by this point, it was late afternoon, and they had neither the means to catch the monster nor any method of defeating him should they happen to stumble on him.

Sadly, she didn’t even know what to ask, but that didn’t stop her from trying. “I . . .” she started. Then she tried again. “Do you have anything to help win a fight, when the odds are stacked against us?”

“That’s . . . a rather unusual request.” The arched brow told her the charm merchant suspected she was mentally unstable.

Lovely. Even in a place like this, the gentleman thinks that proper young ladies don’t engage in behavior such as I’m describing.

“We need something quiet and fast. Can’t spend five minutes focusing, and nothing flashy.” Mikani stepped up beside her; he still looked dubious, rubbing at his temple as he examined the displayed items. He held his open hand an inch above them, as if searching for one in particular.

The proprietor watched him with a furrowed brow. “I deal in subtlety. So if you’re looking for . . . stronger items, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Mikani scoffed. “Of course you would—” He paused, tilting his head. “This one, I think.”

“Ah.” The amulet vendor hesitated a second before picking up the charm. It looked like a misshapen man, cast in pewter and roughly finished. “You’re not fooling around, I see. This could be dangerous, if misused.” He wrapped the figurine in a small square of silk. “You realize I can’t be held responsible for any malfunctions or if harm befalls you—or anyone else—as a result of its purchase.”

Her partner looked over at her, brow arched as if to ask, Are you sure?

Not even slightly.

But Ritsuko nodded. “That’s what we’re looking for. How does it work, exactly?”

The man waited until Mikani handed over a handful of coins. Then he smiled, handing her the wrapped charm. “Quite simple. First, you attune it to your target. An image, his name on a piece of paper. A strand of hair . . . blood, if you have it, or tears. Those would be best, dripped over the charm. And when you face your enemy, touch him with it. That triggers the hex.”

“What kind? Like a curse? What does it actually do? Or are we supposed to . . .” She trailed off, unable to ask the question in a way that didn’t sound ridiculous.

If I have to shape a spell with the power of my mind, then Mikani just wasted those coins, and I threw away our valuable time.

“I can’t answer that. Generally speaking, these are purchased by people who know precisely what to do with them. In the hands of an amateur, the results can be . . . unpredictable.” The salesman offered a cool smile. “Hence the warning.”

Nothing I can say to that, is there?

Ritsuko actually laughed as she shoved open the shop door. Outside, she said to Mikani, “I’m sorry about that. I thought . . .” She shrugged, feeling foolish. “That it might help. But it was probably pointless, and now we have . . . this thing. Which might blow up in our hands.”

Mikani offered a bemused look. “You thought of something. Now, I improvise. Told you that’s how it always works, partner . . . but we need to get back to the Reinert girl’s flat. Fast.”

It took her a moment, but she worked out the why of it, then threw him the keys. “What happens if the blood’s dry? Or mixed with other things, like dirt?” Then she added, “I bet Miss Braelan would know.”

“I’m sure she would know. She promised me something like this after I threatened her with that stay on the penal farms.” He smirked. “Let’s get to the apartment, then we’ll worry about the details, shall we?”

His relationships always sounded so colorful. Ritsuko had only ever been with Warren, who wasn’t dramatic about anything. It was probably best, however, that she remembered one thing about Mikani—his women always went away in the end. As his partner, she had the better end of the deal. So she couldn’t afford to mind if she turned up at his cottage and found a woman there unexpectedly. The absurd part was that she’d actually been surprised.

No more of that, please. You have work to do. It was just the case, she told herself. The past few weeks had been intense, creating intimacy where none had existed before; and once they apprehended Nuall, life would return to normal. Gunwood had said they were both getting commendations, but she wasn’t sure if he still meant for that to happen since Toombs hadn’t been working alone.

She climbed into the cruiser after Mikani unlocked it. “I can’t help worrying. I suspect it might be part of my job.”

“You’re probably right. I never read my job description. It just seemed like a good way to get paid for getting in trouble.” He kicked the boiler’s throttle into high heat, and the cruiser leapt forward, startling a vendor who had set up near the front wheels.

“Is that why you joined the CID?” Ritsuko couldn’t recall if she’d ever asked.

He was silent for a few seconds. “No. I joined to try to right some wrongs.”

“A knight fighting for justice?” She grinned and pressed a hand to her heart, wondering if he’d hear the sincerity beneath the teasing. “You’re my hero, Mikani.”

He’d be unbearable if he realized that it’s true.

“If that were so, you’d do all my paperwork so I could get on with the fighting.”

Ritsuko didn’t answer. She was too conscious of the weight in her palm, even through the layers of paper. The thing felt heavy and cold, and she fancied she could feel it burning clear through to her skin. Her momentary good humor fell away. This was a desperate gambit, provoked by an intimidating foe.

But if we don’t finish this, who will?

They got to the flat in time to use the still tacky blood, but there was only one way to find out if it would work—and perhaps neither she nor her partner would survive it.