It took a moment for the leader of the Mice to regain his footing, but once he did, he squinted at Booker and Trinket. "Don't I know you two?" he asked, his words slurred.

Two other men appeared by his side, one of whom was Squeeze. Trinket inhaled sharply and edged closer to Booker, attempting to hide her face behind his shoulder. "I'm afraid not, my good sir," Booker said with a quick smile. "But we were on our way to an important appointment, so if you—"

Viper put out an arm to stop them from leaving, and Booker pulled Trinket close, his body tense and rigid. "No, no, no. I do know you. You're the ones who showed up at Lydia's door the other day," he said. "Yeah, cuz you're that little blonde strumpet with the clap. I remember now."

Squeeze turned his eyes to her, and she ducked her head down, hoping he wouldn't recognize her. "Ah, right. Sorry, I have a terrible memory," Booker said. "It's good to see you again, sir. But we do indeed have somewhere to be, so if you'll excuse us."

He tried to leave again, but Viper wouldn't let him go. "Has your girl cleaned up a little?" he asked, nodding at her. "Cuz if she has, I'd pay you some good money to try my hand at her. I'm rather partial to blondes."

The thug leered at her, making her skin crawl.

"That ain't no night flower, sir," said the other Mouse whom she did not recognize. "She's his assistant."

"Assistant? He a magician or something?"

"Doctor. This here is Larkin."

Viper's eyes widened, and a smile spread over his face. "Larkin? The chap Scales keeps going on about? Well, I'll be. You cause quite a bit of excitement, don't you?"

The three men stepped forward, forcing them back. "I do like to keep things lively, yes," Booker said, his grip on Trinket tightening.

"Scales seems to think you know something about these crazy things happening in the city," Viper said, moving ever closer. "Keeps mentioning your name."

"I'm flattered."

"Not the flattering sort of mention, boy."

Their backs hit a wall, and the three Mice closed in on them. Squeeze's gaze kept straying back to Trinket, and she could see the gears turning in his head, recognition slowly dawning on his face. She held her breath and prayed some miracle would save them.

"Hmm, looks like I caught you here all unawares-like," Viper said. "Maybe I should haul you in and question ya a little. I've been looking for some entertainment. Whaddya say, boys?"

The other Mouse cracked his knuckles while Squeeze continued to stare at Trinket, the corner of his mouth lifting in a cruel smile. She clutched Booker's arm. His eyes darted between the Mice frantically until suddenly they lit up.

"Oh, so you're one of Scales' men," he said, giving a soft laugh. "I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive me. It's been a long night. I thought I'd met all of the Mice, but you must be new."

Viper's face twisted into a confused scowl. "What're you talking about, boy?"

"You are one of Scales' underlings, right?"

"Underlings?" The man spoke the word as if it were bitter gall. "Are you wet behind the ears?"

Booker tilted his head innocently. "You're not one of Scales' Mice?"

"I am the leader of the Dead Mice," Viper said, jutting his thumb at his chest. "I ain't no underling."

Blinking in feigned bewilderment, Booker looked him up and down. "You are?"

"Course I am!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I mean, surely you can understand my confusion, though."

"I'm sure I can't."

Viper stepped towards Booker, his hands clenched into fists. Even though the intimidating man's face was only inches from his own, Booker somehow managed to remain calm. "Well, it's just that I see Scales wandering about the city all the time," he said.

"Yeah, I send him to do my dirty work so's I don't get put in the line of danger."

"Ah, well, I suppose that makes sense."

Booker didn't sound convinced, and Viper could clearly sense it. "Course it makes sense. I'm the most important person in the gang. That's why Scales suggested it in the first place."

Raising his eyebrows, Booker said, "Scales suggested it? Interesting."

It took Viper a moment, but the thought seemed to sink into his alcohol-clouded brain. "Well, yeah, he did."

"All right, so important men don't do the dirty work themselves. I can understand that. It's why I have an assistant. But I assumed Scales was the one in charge because of the way he struts around the city like he owns it."

A deep crease formed between Viper's eyes. "He does what now?"

"Haven't you seen him? He garners a whole lot of respect. Lord, the entire city is terrified of him. And with good reason. He's probably the most vicious and feared man in all of Tinkerfall."

Viper's face turned an ungodly shade of red, and the two Mice beside him exchanged nervous looks. "The most vicious and feared man in all of Tinkerfall?" he said, his voice hushed and his eyebrow twitching as he spoke the words.

Booker shrugged. "Can't blame people, can you? I mean, you're basically nothing but a name, a legend folks aren't completely sure is real. Scales, though—he's real, all right. And he's the one who has all the respect. My guess would be that if asked, most people would say they thought he was the true leader of the Dead Mice."

Trinket was certain the vein in Viper's head was going to pop right out of his skin. He ground his teeth and flared his nostrils like an enraged animal. Finally, he spun around, his lackeys stumbling back a few steps when they were met by the anger in his eyes.

"What are you standing around for?" he barked at them. "Go find Scales! Now!"

The two men hurried off, and Viper grumbled to himself as he clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white. Booker took that moment to grab Trinket's hand and slip into the shadows, leaving the seething Mouse to fume on his own. They didn't stop until they reached the house. Booker was careful to lock the door securely once they were safely inside.

"What were you thinking?" Trinket gasped as she sat on the stairs, trying to calm her nerves and catch her breath.

"I was thinking we needed to distract him before he dragged us into an abandoned building to tear the nails from our fingers and pull our teeth out one by one," Booker said.

"Scales is going to be furious with you."

"Scales is always furious with me."

"This is different. You just slandered him to his boss. You made Viper think Scales is trying to usurp his position."

Turning to her, Booker leaned against the door. "Isn't he?"

She squinted at him. "What?"

"Isn't Scales trying to usurp Viper's position? Look at the way he carries out his business. He acts like he's the one in charge. People might whisper Viper's name on the street, but it's Scales' name that makes their blood run cold."

"Yes, but—"

"And you saw the way he was with Viper the other day. There was clear resentment in his tone, in his body language. He hates being under the thumb of someone he believes is undeserving of his position."

She couldn't deny that. There didn't appear to be any fond feelings between Scales and Viper.

"And if that wasn't enough, what Viper just said back there cinches it. Scales is trying to force Viper into the background by telling him it would be safer for him to stay out of the limelight and let him do all the dirty work. I don't know all the history behind the current members of the Dead Mice, but I'd be willing to bet that Scales has had this planned from the beginning. He's slowly trying to push Viper out so that he can take over. So nothing I said back there was untrue."

Heaving a sigh, she ran her hands through her hair, pulling strands loose from her braid. "All right, but even if it's all true, why did you have to be the one to tell him?"
"I needed to distract him. Maybe Viper isn't as terrifying as Scales, but he's still a Mouse. He still poses a threat."

"Scales is going to find out it was you. There are going to be repercussions."

Booker waved away her concerns. "So he gets in trouble with the boss. So what? Scales is a big boy, he can handle it."

The heavy pit in her stomach said otherwise. She rubbed her forehead and gazed off into the parlour where several chickens were sitting on the settee, pecking and scratching at the red silk. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. It had been a very long night, and she wasn't sure she was up for an argument with Booker. It wasn't like he'd get it anyhow. He never got it. These risks he took were going to come back to bite him someday. She only hoped this wasn't that day.

"I hope you're right," she said at last, opening her eyes and looking up at him. "Because if you're not, Scales is going to get back at you. And it's going to be ugly. You know it is."

He gave a soft smile and sat beside her on the stairs. "It'll be fine. I promise. I'm not an amateur. This isn't the first time I've poked a beast worthy of a little trepidation."

Desperate to move on to a new subject, she cleared her throat and glanced back at the chickens in the parlour. "Are you hungry? I could heat something up if you'd like."

There was no response from Booker, and when she turned her attention back to him, she found him gazing at her thoughtfully. She raised her eyebrows, and he smiled.

"No, no, I'm fine," he said.

"Tea?"

"I'm fine, Trinket. Thank you."

Nodding, she rose to her feet. "I think I'll retire to bed, then. It's been a rather long night."

As she made her way up the stairs, Booker called out to her. She glanced over her shoulder to find him standing on the bottom step, staring up at her.

"Everything is going to be all right, you know," he said.

Biting her lip, she nodded as she held back her objections. "I certainly hope you're right. Goodnight."

She turned and continued up to her room, leaving him in the foyer with a promise she wasn't sure he could keep.

~

The news came quickly the next morning. Gin practically broke down the door with her desperate knocking. When Daphne let her inside, Gin raced over to Booker who was standing in the hallway, not even bothering to beat around the bush.

"Scales got kicked out of the Mice."

Trinket, only halfway down the stairs, gasped and gripped the railing as Booker's brow furrowed in confusion. "Kicked out? Scales?" he said.

Gin nodded. "Yep. Got ousted last night."

Booker glanced up at Trinket, and she swallowed down the anxious knot that had formed in her throat. Turning his eyes back to Gin, he asked, "How did you find out?"

"Listened in on a conversation between some Mice at the Clocktower. One of them was there when Viper and Scales had it out. Apparently, Viper got mad that people seem to think Scales is the leader of the gang. He accused him of trying to take over. I guess Scales tried to fix things, but Viper wasn't having it."

There was a long silence as Booker's gaze wandered off, his face drawn and pale.

"So that's it? Viper just threw him out?" Trinket asked.

"That's the rumor," Gin said. "And by the looks of those Mice, I'd say it's true. They looked terrified. And confused."

Trinket turned to an unusually quiet Booker. "What do we do now?" she asked him.

He snapped out of his daze and met her eyes. "Nothing. We do nothing."

"Nothing? But this is because of last night."

"Last night?" Gin repeated. She looked to Daphne who just shrugged and shook her head.

"Booker, Scales is going to be furious," Trinket continued. "And he's going to take it out on you."

"I'm not afraid of him," Booker said, straightening the lapels of his jacket.

"Stop being so stupid!"

He narrowed his eyes at her, but she would not back down. Gin and Daphne exchanged a nervous look as they watched the tense scene, neither of them daring to speak. After a long, cold stare-down, Booker let out a breath and sagged against the wall.

"What would you have me do?" he asked so softly that Trinket almost couldn't hear him.

Sucking in her lips, she shook her head. "I don't know. I just . . ." Squeezing her eyes shut, she whispered, "I don't know."

Another long silence filled the foyer, which seemed to be getting smaller and smaller with every second. Gin was the one to finally break the awkwardness when she cleared her throat.

"All right, so I don't know what happened last night and all, but I'm guessing Booker did something reckless?" she said.

Booker tore his eyes away from Trinket and focused on Gin. "We ran into Viper," he said.

The urchin's eyes widened. "You actually met Viper?"

"Yes. This wasn't exactly the first time, either."

"How'd you know it was him?"

"Deductions. Anyhow, we—" He stopped, his gaze darting to Trinket momentarily. "I used his ego to my advantage so that we could get away. And it seems I may have hit more of a sore spot than I realized."

Gin shook her head slowly. "Geez, Booker. You really know how to get yourself into hot water, don't ya?"

Swallowing, he again let his eyes wander to Trinket. "It's a bad habit of mine, yes."

She took in a trembling breath as she held his gaze, uncertain of how to take his contrite yet stubborn expression.

"Well, don't worry," Gin went on, patting Booker's arm. "I'll keep an eye out for ya. And Trinket. I won't let Scales or the Mice touch either of you. And if they try, I'll break every one of their fingers. Thumbs, too."

Daphne chuckled at the young girl's bold declaration. Booker ruffled Gin's hair. "Glad you're on our side," he said.

Turning to Gin, Daphne rubbed her stomach and raised her eyebrows.

Gin shrugged. "Depends on what you're offering."

"I think we have some bacon in the icebox," Trinket said.

With a nonchalant shrug, Gin replied, "I guess I could eat, then."

Giving another chuckle, Daphne motioned for the urchin to follow her into the kitchen. The two disappeared around the corner, leaving Trinket and Booker alone together. Still gripping the railing, Trinket gazed down at Booker. It was a long moment before either of them spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

She shook her head. "I don't know what else you could have done in that situation. I'm just afraid of what Scales will do now."

He stepped closer to the stairs, looking up at her as he took hold of her hands. "I'm smarter than he is. He won't beat me, I swear."

"But he's merciless. He'll do anything and hurt anyone to get back at you."

Scales' words about herself and Gin replayed in her head, sending a chill through her veins.

"He doesn't even know that this was my doing," Booker said.

"Don't fool yourself. You know he's going to figure it out. And when he does?"

He squeezed her hands. "I won't let him hurt you."

"It's not me I'm worried about, Booker."

"Or Gin. Or Daphne. Or anyone."

Leaning over the railing, she freed a hand from his grip and laid it gently on his cheek. "He's out to hurt you, Booker. And as bloodthirsty and violent as he is, I don't think he has any interest in killing you. What he wants is to break you. Destroy you. Cause you unthinkable pain and suffering."

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Scales has no idea who he's up against."

"And I don't think you do, either."

"It's going to be all right. I'll take care of everything.

He pulled her hand away and placed a kiss on it before going to join Daphne and Gin in the kitchen, from which the savory scent of bacon was emanating. Trinket watched him go, clutching her hand to her chest. There was an ache inside her that his reassuring words could not soothe. And seeing a small, blood-red snake slither down the hallway and into the kitchen did not help to comfort her in the least.