He has kept me waiting in his parlor for hours. There is a chance Levi is not even in today—his housekeeper refused to even hint at his location. I imagine she is putting on airs by just believing herself privy to such protected and, I'd wager, dangerous information. That's if she even knows. 

I have been here since the building was cleared out early this morning.

When I knocked on the door to his home this morning the housekeeper, a rotund woman by the name of Mrs. Barton, nearly turned me away. She thought me a solicitor, looking for a gentleman. I suppose she is not entirely wrong. 

I was distraught, clutching a letter and begging for Leviathan's help. I must have been a ghastly sight, pale and trembling, my dress hanging off of me in places, my hair a mess. Regardless of her doubts, Mrs. Barton placed me upon the sitting room sofa, fetched me a pot of tea and a few warm rolls, and then left me to wait on the master of the house to return. I took a pen and piece of parchments from the letter desk in the corner and now here I sit, trying to pass the time by writing. 

My father would surely laugh at what has become of me. Wasn't I meant to be strong, alluring and unshakable? And yet, my writing wavers with the twitching of my fingers, the paper is damp with still drying tears. 

Perhaps once upon a time, back before I was made a character in Lucius's vile game. Maybe I was strong then.  I am not the type to be keeping a diary, but I worry that my words might be drowned out if I do not pen them. 

Now I am afraid for my life—and what is more, I am afraid for the life of a complete stranger, one whom I do not even claim to like. I must tell Leviathan what I have done. Although I do not understand what has happened, I know that Miss Holbrook is most certainly in danger.

Let me slow down. Let me start to explain, the best I can.

Lucius found me in the early hours of this morning after the building was cleared out, after the officials arrived—after Viviane was found dead in the kitchen blue from what the medics called asphyxiation. I am told this means she suffocated. She stopped breathing due to some outside force. They made it sound so medical, so scientific. 

My friend has died and I am entirely to blame—the letter Lucius gave me was proof enough of that. I must admit, he is a beautifully wicked man. I should already be dead, and if he were a lesser man then certainly I would be, but he is too patient for that. Like a snake he waits to strike when the moment is right. When my death with suit him most.

He found me in a local pub a few doors down from the Ballantyne. I am not sure if he was waiting in that dark corner just to see me, or if he stumbled upon me on accident—knowing who he is, I would stake the former. All the girls were corralled together, some crying, some still caressing the men they'd been with before the building needed to be evacuated—after all, we still had a quota to meet.

I sat separate from the rest, although I had not received proof of my guilt, I knew that Lucius had gone after Viviane because of me. I had not been out after the show and Viviane had taken my slot, used my longue for her work—it did not help the situation that we resembled one another in complexion, stature and dark eyes. We shared the same dark curls, wore the same chorus costume. I wonder if he set out after her, at least initially, because—if viewed from the wrong angle—we could be mistaken for one another.

I do not know, I supposed it no longer matters. 

So, it was after all of that, when Lucius found me in my quiet corner and sat close to me. Because of the dark and the overall company, no one noticed the way his hands touched me—or the way I recoiled. He was too close, smelt too strongly of liquor and sweat. His gruff fingers pulled at the laces of my bodice. I pushed his hands away, too tired to hide my disgust. 

I may not be a lady, but I would not stoop so low as to disgrace myself publically. At my rejection, he grew angry and shoved me further into the corner, almost knocking my chair backward. In my fear, terrified that I might tip entirely over, I caught his collar in my hands.

He pulled me close to him, his lips finding my neck, his voice tickling my ear. "You will tell me where Leviathan is." I tried to pull away, but he held me against him. To anyone else in the pub, it would look like we were kissing.

 It looked as if I were just another girl, another whore. 

Lucius scrapped his teeth against the soft skin of my neck, ran his tongue from the base of my ear down towards my collarbone, across the tender skin in the tender hallow of my throat. He growled, "Do not try me, daughter of Gressil." 

My chest heaved with labored, frightened breaths. "I do not know where he is."

"He told me you were ill."

I spoke without thinking. "I was ill. I was confined to my bed."

He laughed, the sound deep in his throat. "That is a lie."

I braced my palms against his chest. "Perhaps—but not knowing where Leviathan is not a lie. You know I speak the truth."

His lips moved from my throat to my jaw. "Your little friend, what was her name...?" He shook his head, dismissing the thought and continued, "She had quite the loose tongue—she told me where you were yesterday."

My heart stopped in my chest. Does he know I was at the chapel? Does he know I prayed? Guilt, a feeling I was all too familiar with, flooded my very being and I shook with it. 

Like a child, begging for forgiveness, I pleaded. "I am sorry. I was stupid. Please—"

He did not let me finish. "Hyde Park." His hand cupped my breast through my dress and said, "Tell me, what were you doing in Hyde Park with Leviathan? What is it you now know?"

My fingers curled at my sides, cutting into my palms in an effort to keep from shuddering in disgust. "I know nothing."

His teeth were distracting, scratching at my neck, my cheeks, my shoulders. It was as if he was everywhere and nowhere all at once. He laughed against my skin. "You wicked little liar."

His fingers were again on my bodice. I did not trust him to be a gentleman, it would not matter to him that we were in public, that I was in view of the street outside the pub. To refuse him, to scream or ask for help from a stranger, would only make matters worse. I let him tug at the laces of my corset as I whispered, "He is loyal to you."

Lucius sighed and pulled away from me, his eyes scanning the planes of my face. "Oh," he tsked, "I had hoped we could avoid all of this."

I cried out, a soft cry of alarm, as I felt the sharp point of a knife press against my neck, the smallest of cuts forming. We were sitting in a way that allowed his body to conceal mine, keeping his weapon and my fear from resonating past the darkness that surrounded us. He smiled, like a cat, pleased to have corner his mouse. 

He has the whitest teeth I have ever seen.

"You would not do this calmly, so we shall do this my way. You will tell me all that you know of Leviathan Desmott and Merritt Holbrook. You shall tell me what you know of his interactions with Gabriel Farley. Every detail—do you hear?"

I am a wicked, horrible girl. A whore. A damned soul that is wretched and deserves none of the kindness Leviathan has shown me. All of these things had been beliefs of mine, but they became etched in stone, turned into facts as I said, "Leviathan and Merritt were arguing." 

Lucius smiled, as if he had known that I would cave, that I too would concede to the wickedness inside of me and form to his will. I wished it had been a hard choice. I wished I would have fought him or screamed. I wished that he had not been right about the type of person I am. 

I continued to speak. "When I arrived at the park he was on the ground with her, she had pushed him—I saw that much from afar. He lied to me, told me that they were fine. That she had tripped, but he was unnerved. She—She did something to him." As I spoke, the knife slowly receded from my skin and I exhaled.

Lucius prompted, "What do you mean, 'she did something to him'? What did she do?"

I shook my head and slide backward, getting as far from his knife as I could. "I don't know. They were both on the ground, I suppose she was fine but he was bleeding, and she cried out in pain—"

Lucius's head tilted to the side, contemplative before he said, "She cried out in pain."

I shook my head, "It was like...like for a second she did feel something."

"And you think that what she was feeling was pain?"

"I—Well, I don't know—"

His hands grabbed my shoulder and he shook me, so hard my head hit the back of the wall behind me. "You must know." He urged.

"She made a noise. She made a noise and she looked ill."

He laughed and stopped shaking me. "And what of Desmott?" His hands dug into my shoulders, pulling my dress off my shoulders, baring the tops of my arms. 

I tried to pull out of his embrace, to escape to the group of girls sitting a few yards from me. I made it to my feet, but a firm arm around my waist hauled me back and threw me back down into my chair. 

The knife was again against my skin, dragging across the top of my chest. "I am not done speaking to you, you little bitch," he snarled. 

I closed my eyes and whispered. "He was bleeding from his head. She'd crushed him when they both fell."

"Was he hurt? Was he in pain?"

I met his eyes, a green so pale they almost had no color. "I don't know."

He let out a frustrated cry, the noise attracting a few gazes. No one came to my rescue. The other girls had seen me try to leave, they'd heard me cry out, but they did not appraoch. no one interceeded for me, no one ever did. 

"Think!" Lucius hissed, "You must think. Your very existence depends on you remembering this. Was Leviathan hurting? Did he make a sound? Did he cry out in pain or clutch his head?"

"No. Or at least he never complained of it. He merely looked at her. She was acting oddly and he just looked at her, like she was mad." I let out a nervous laugh. "She is mad. She's absolutely insane." My smile faltered when Lucius did not smile too, when he did not laugh or agree. "Well, isn't she?" 

He left me after that, not even bothering to answer me. I am not his equal—I do not deserve justification. The letter he left in his stead is still in my hand. In it, he asks me to contact him so we can speak about Levi. I'm sure he was going to leave it for me at the theatre but there is no need. He gained what information he required. 

I shall show it to Leviathan—show him proof of the danger that now plagues us all.