After finishing with the rugs, Trinket and Daphne dined on bread and cheese and baked potatoes in the dining room. It was strange not having Booker there with them. He rarely left the house for any extended period of time. Trinket was so used to dragging him up from the laboratory or down from the library and reminding him that he was human and needed to eat. Hopefully he wouldn't forget to stop and take a meal at some point during his journey. He couldn't very well subsist on tea alone, no matter what he claimed.

They played cards in the parlour until nearly midnight before Daphne finally yawned and nodded towards the stairs.

"You can go. I think I'll stay up a little longer," Trinket said.

Daphne furrowed her brow and laid the back of her hand against Trinket's forehead.

Laughing softly, Trinket shook her head. "No, no, I'm fine, really. I'm just not that tired. But you should rest. Don't let me keep you up."

Though she still seemed concerned, Daphne left her alone and retired to her room.

Staring off at the fireplace, Trinket drew her feet up onto the settee and tucked them beneath her skirts. A thousand thoughts were racing through her head, and she couldn't decide which one to concentrate on.

People bleeding to death on the streets.

Human body parts showing up in the butcher shop.

Threats from vicious thugs.

Deadly, venomous snakes.

A young blonde woman with wild eyes.

She hadn't told Booker about the familiar girl yet. She really should have, considering the mystery girl seemed to be the vampire who was attacking folks. But she didn't want to say anything until she was absolutely certain this was the same person she believed she was. It'd been some months since Trinket had last seen her, so perhaps she wasn't remembering her correctly. This could be a complete stranger, someone who had no connection to Trinket's past or Elysium.

Elyyyysium. Elyyyysium.

Trinket closed her eyes and swallowed. Or the girl could be exactly who she thought she was.

Pulling her knees up closer, she watched as worms wriggled across the freshly beaten carpet, leaving behind brown streaks from their dirt-covered bodies. Their movements were rather mesmerizing and served as a good distraction from her tumultuous thoughts. She wondered whether or not she would feel their slimy bodies if she were to touch them. Recalling the warm, gooey blood between her fingers from when the walls were bleeding, she assumed touching the worms would be much the same.

When had tactile sensation been added to her hallucinations? She couldn't recall. The voices had come first, when she was only a small child. The visions, as far as she knew, began when she was well into her adolescence. They could have started earlier, but it was hard to know for sure when so many of her hallucinations were normal everyday things. The monstrous visions, however, were easy to pinpoint. She could remember exactly when they started.

Never forget.

You'll never forget.

Nobody will.

Shaking her head, she forced those memories away and returned her thoughts to the blonde girl. If this was the person she thought she was, and she was indeed the vampire running rampant, Trinket feared the city was in more danger than it knew. But how could she be certain? Every time Trinket saw the girl, something inevitably pulled her away or sent the girl running. She needed to approach her on her own, without anyone else around.

No one's here now, hmm?

She glanced over at the stairs, listening for Daphne. Had she already gone to bed? Would she notice if she snuck out?

Rising to her feet, Trinket fetched her shawl from the back of the settee and quietly made her way to the front door. She looked back at the stairs for a moment. Maybe she should leave a note for Daphne. But it would only be an hour or so. Besides, she would have to go up to her room to get paper and a pen, and that might wake Daphne up. So instead, she slipped out the door soundlessly and headed into the dark street.

She knew this was a bad idea. It was reckless and stupid and irresponsible. With each step she took, she told herself she was being ridiculous and that she should turn around and go home. And yet, she continued on, scanning the shadows, searching for blonde hair and wild eyes. Perhaps Gin was right. She was becoming more like Booker every day.

Monsters do tend to stick together, don't they?

Despite the late hour, there were plenty of folks milling about the center. Mostly night flowers and drunks, but there were a few familiar urchins, as well. Some were searching the dirt roads for loose change and stray fruit, while others dipped their fingers into the pockets of the overly inebriated men who had passed out on the ground.

Keeping her head down, she hoped she wouldn't happen upon Gin. The urchin would surely scold her for acting so impetuously and would insist on tagging along to protect her. Though normally she would have welcomed the girl's company, Trinket needed to be alone for this. If she found the familiar blonde, she would need to confront her with no one else around. If it was just the two of them, she was sure she could talk to her without risk of being bitten.

That is, if she were, in fact, who Trinket thought she was.

"Ah, there's a pretty dollymop," came a rough, slurring voice behind her.

"Little chicken-breasted, don't you think?" replied a second voice, just as inebriated as the first.

"Make it a three-penny-upright, then it don't make no difference."

"How 'bout it, little lady? My weapon, your notch, and we both have a sweet death."

Someone grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. Two men were standing before her, red-faced and drunk. "Excuse me?" she said, trying to pull away.

The man's grip tightened. "Come on, now, won't take long, just a quick storm of heaves, eh?"

"Let me go," she said, pushing at his chest in an effort to escape.

This only proved to make him angry. Grabbing hold of her wrists, he pushed her against the wall of a nearby shop. "Now, that ain't no way to treat a customer, is it?"

Customer? Her eyes widened. Oh, no. Did he think—

Before she could even scream for help, someone spoke up from behind the men.

"Don't want that one, boys. Rumor is she has a flap dragon."

The men turned, and Grace came sauntering over, an easy smile on her lips.

"So unless you want to be pissing fire for the next few weeks, I'd move on to cleaner flowers," she continued.

The men released Trinket quickly and stepped away. One of them turned to Grace and attempted a charming smile. "How's 'bout you and I bread and butter it, Grace?"

With a smirk, she scoffed and tossed her hair. "You boys couldn't afford me, you know that. Best go sleep off that ale before you come away with more than a sting of pleasure."

The two men exchanged a look and shrugged before shuffling off to another night flower across the street. Letting out a sigh of relief, Trinket slumped against the shop wall and drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

"You have no idea what you nearly got yourself into," Grace said as she came closer. "Those two are notorious for not taking 'no' as an answer. More than one night flower has been forced into service by them."

"Thank you, Grace, really," Trinket said.

"Well, you are a fellow woman, after all." Grace glanced around. "Where's Booker? Shouldn't he be the one keeping you out of trouble?"

"I'm on my own tonight."

Turning back to her, Grace raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? What on earth could have compelled you to wander these streets alone?"

Trinket shrugged. "Fresh air?"

Grace stared at her for a long moment before bursting into laughter. "Strange girl," she said as her eyes wandered about the street. "Best watch yourself, though. It's not only drunk men posing a danger lately."

"You mean the vampire?"

"Indeed. Heard she attacked someone else yesterday. An innocent shopgirl this time."

"Yes, I did hear that."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Grace shook her head slowly. "I tell ya, this city is becoming more and more dangerous. More interesting, too."

Hesitating, Trinket took a step towards her. "Grace, may I ask you a question?"

Grace's attention turned back to her. "You may, but I can't guarantee I'll give you an answer."

"Have you seen a young blonde woman about?"

Looking her up and down, Grace knit her brows together. "Other than you?"

"Yes, other than me."

"Blonde isn't a lot to go by."

"Someone unfamiliar. With wild eyes."

"Wild eyes? What exactly are wild eyes?"

Trinket sighed. "Never mind. You'd know if you'd seen her. Thank you, though."

Grace narrowed her eyes. "You should really head on home, you know. Tinkerfall is hardly safe in the daylight, never mind at night. Without someone savvy by your side, you're bound to run into trouble."

"Gracie girl, fancy meeting you here."

A grimace twisted Grace's face at the sound of a loud, boisterous voice. "Like I said, trouble. Get out while you still can."

Spinning on her heel, she pasted on a flirty grin and walked towards the large, bald man in a bowler hat who was calling out to her. There were two other men by his side whom Trinket recognized as Mice. Was this man part of the gang as well? He looked vaguely familiar.

"If it isn't my favorite customer," Grace said as she threw an arm around the man's neck and playfully ran a finger up and down his chest.

"Who's your friend?" the man asked, eyeing Trinket.

Grace glanced back at her. "Oh, pay her no mind. I was just recommending a good doctor to treat her itchy madge. Think she might've caught something. Come on, let's go to my place."

The large man grinned, and the two of them turned away, leaving the other Mice behind. Trinket noticed a tattoo running down the side of the bald man's head, peeking out from under his hat. It looked like—a snake? She would've remembered meeting a Mouse with that sort of conspicuous feature. He must've been a member of the gang with whom she had yet to cross paths.

With Grace no longer there to bail her out of another sticky situation, Trinket decided going home might be her best option. Not wanting to deal with the two Mice still lingering about, she took the long way around to avoid them. She quickened her pace, keeping her head low as she avoided eye contact with any and all she passed.

This had indeed been a bad idea, and all for naught. She hadn't learned anything new about the blonde girl. Would she have to wait until another attack to find her again? If only Trinket knew where she was staying. She had seen her out in the slums, so there maybe? Unless that had been Trinket's imagination. Could the girl be living in St. Spittel? Perhaps she should check there?
Something hard hit her in the stomach, causing her to stumble back. A low chuckle came from the shadows, and as she righted herself, someone stepped into the lamplight.

Scales.

"Miss Trinket, what brings you out tonight?" he asked, twirling his walking stick in his hand.

Wrapping her arms around herself to keep her hands from shaking, she drew up to her full height. "I was just headed home, so if you'll excuse me—"

She tried to walk around him, but he caught her by the waist. "Not so fast. I thought you and I could have a nice chat."

A tremor ran through her at the feel of his hand on her body, but she did her best to remain calm. "I'm not looking for clients if that's what you're fishing for," she said.

Scales lifted his lip in a snarl. "Please, I have no time or interest in whores."

She raised an eyebrow. "A man of virtue?"

"Oh, you are sassy, aren't you? A far cry from the terrified girl you were when you first showed up here. How many months has it been now?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been working for Mr. Larkin for—"
"Save that tripe for someone who'll actually swallow it. I know you haven't been working for Larkin for years, and I know you're not twenty-five. I know everything."

She resisted the urge to swallow the knot in her throat. "Well, aren't we well-informed?"

A grin spread over his face. "Oh, you have no idea. I know everything that happens in this city. I know Larkin recently performed an autopsy on the first vampire victim. And that the latest victim was treated by him but is not faring too well."

The shopgirl? The carbolic acid hadn't worked?

"And I know that Larkin is not home tonight," Scales continued. "Which would explain why his little strumpet is wandering the streets alone at midnight."

This time she couldn't resist swallowing. "What does it matter where Mr. Larkin is?"

"It matters because it means we won't be interrupted during our little chat."

"What do we have to chat about?"

"Oh, all sorts of things." He tightened his hold on her waist, drawing her closer. "Like what Larkin found out during the autopsy. And where he was going on that steam engine."

"I thought you knew everything that happened in Tinkerfall?"

Scales smirked as he traced her lips with a gloved finger. "Oh, that mouth of yours. It just may get you killed. Or at the very least maimed."

Sucking in her lips, she narrowed her eyes at him. He let out a sharp laugh and released her. She backed away, practically tripping over her own feet to get away from him. He leaned against his walking stick, clearly entertained by her panic.

"How quickly do you think Larkin would betray his friend's secrets if you disappeared?" he asked.

She clutched her shawl to still her shaking hands.

"Or would it take receiving pieces of you in the mail for him to talk?"

"Mr. Larkin has no more information on the vampire than the rest of the city does," she said. "So you can chop me up as much as you'd like. You'll learn nothing new."

Scales leaned forward. "Is that a challenge?"

Her spine stiffened, but she refused to look away.

"Maybe I should talk to that urchin friend of yours," he said as he brushed by her. "She might talk with enough persuasion."

Trinket spun around. "Leave Gin out of this," she snapped.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, I hit a nerve? Good to know."

Squeezing her hands into fists, she shot him a cold glare.

"You may want to keep those emotions in check, dear," Scales said. "They give away your weaknesses."

"And you're an expert on the matter?"

"Indeed. I am an avid student of what makes people tick."

She called to mind what Booker had told her. About Scales' dead sister. "Either that or you're speaking from experience."

Scales' jaw clenched and his nostrils flared as he took a sharp breath. "Watch yourself, little strumpet. If your weaknesses don't kill you, that mouth certainly will. Best remind your employer of that, as well. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

With a flourish of his hand, he went on his way, a spring in his step.

As soon as he was out of sight, Trinket hurried home, eager to return to the safety of the slums. Once inside the house, she secured the door behind her, checking the locks twice and then slinking upstairs to her room. She tossed her shawl over the standing mirror and sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at her trembling hands.

Scales' words played through her head.

Blast it all. Why had she been so emotional? Who knew what damage she had done by the way she'd acted? Was Gin in danger now? Would Scales go after her to get to Booker? No, she had only made it clear that Gin meant something to her. She hadn't given away Booker's feelings. Still, showing such weakness had been foolish around someone as dangerous as him. And why had she goaded him like Booker did? How could she be so stupid?

With a groan, she fell back on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. What sort of mess had she created?