They found Booker emerging from an alley by the chemist's shop. Relief washed over his face when he saw them, and he came running over. The rain had soaked his jacket through and collected in the brim of his hat. The water poured out when he dropped his head to catch his breath.

"Where on earth did you go?" he asked, fixing his gaze on Trinket.

"I'm sorry, but I saw the girl from the apartment."

His eyes lit up. "The one who was at the scenes of the vampire deaths?"

"Girl? What girl?" asked Gin.

"We think she might be connected to the vampire," Booker said, his attention still on Trinket.

"When I saw her at each murder scene, I just felt like there was something about her," Trinket explained. "The expression on her face was more than fear. It suggested involvement."

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Gin asked. "I coulda been looking out for her."

Trinket turned to the urchin. "She's not very recognizable. No outstanding features at all. But when I see her, I know who she is."

"So? Did you find her?" Booker asked.

Hesitating for a moment, she finally nodded. "I did."

He took a step towards her, gripping her shoulders. "And?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but again, the words wouldn't come out.

Tell him.

Tell him who else you met.

See how that goes.

"Do you think maybe we could discuss this somewhere warmer and drier?" she asked instead.

Blinking away the rain, Booker gave his head a quick shake. "Right, right, of course. Let's head back. You, too, Gin. I think we all need a good cup of tea to warm our bones."

They huddled underneath the umbrella and quickly made their way home. Daphne met them at the door and immediately went to the linen closet to fetch some towels. Trinket went straight to the kitchen to start the tea, though her true motive was to have a few moments alone to collect her thoughts.

Booker needed to know about Tory. Not only had it been confirmed that she was the vampire, but based on her escape from the asylum, she had met Benedict. She had been in Benedict's laboratory. Perhaps she would be able to call up more memories that could lead them to him. She was the break in this case that Booker had been waiting for.

Go ahead. Tell him.

Let him see how crazy you are.

Let him see you for who you really are.

She stared at the kettle as it began to boil. No, telling Booker posed too many risks. If she told Booker and they found Tory, he would learn about Tory's past, including her time spent in Elysium. Which meant he would learn more about Trinket's life in the asylum. The thought of him finding out about her former life—even the parts she had given him small glimpses of—was terrifying. What could that lead to? Would his curiosity be whetted? Would he next dig into her earlier years? Her family? Her childhood?

Her sins?

The kettle let off a high-pitched whistle, and she pulled it off of the heat and set it on the pull-out cutting board in the table. Why was she so anxious about Booker learning more about her? He had proven to be a trustworthy friend. Surely he wouldn't condemn her if he knew the truth. Well, at least some of the truth. He, too, had something of a dark past, one that he'd started to share with her. Shouldn't she be doing the same? Even if it meant he may never look at her the same way again?

He'll hate you.

Despise you.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head and fetched a jar of tea from the dresser. She would tell him. Eventually. First, she would tell him about Tory, and then, at some point, she would begin to reveal the secrets of her own past.

Well, some of them.

Maybe just the bits concerning Elysium? After all, he already knew she was mentally unwell, and that hadn't kept him from making her his assistant.

But would the whole truth stop him from loving her?

Who could love a monster like you?

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she stopped spooning out the tea leaves to grip the edge of the table. These were the thoughts she had been avoiding. The looks, the moments, the words they had been sharing as of late. Though she was never one to hope, she couldn't help but hold out some sort of wishful thinking that Booker shared the feelings that had begun to develop in her. She couldn't ignore the intense looks they'd been exchanging or the tender gestures he'd been displaying. There was something there. Something more than business and something more than friendship. It was something she had never dared to entertain before, something that had always seemed an impossibility. But she could not deny the growing desire within her now, the hope she was selfishly clinging to.

Would telling Booker the truth destroy all of that?

Pushing all those worries aside, she finished preparing the tea and brought it out to the parlour where Daphne was vigorously drying Gin's hair with a towel despite the urchin's mumbled protests.

"So, the girl?" Booker asked, passing Trinket a towel after she set the tea tray on the table.

She sat between him and Gin on the settee, holding the towel tight against her chest as she tried to decide how much to reveal to him. "I believe she may be acquainted with the vampire."

Booker raised his eyebrows. "What led you to that conclusion?"

"When I finally caught up to her, she was searching the alleys and calling out for someone named Victoria."

"Were you able to speak to her?"

"Yes. I asked her who she was looking for. She tried to tell me it was her cat, but her nervous demeanor said otherwise."

"But she was definitely not the vampire?"

"No, she was not. No fangs."

Sitting back, he let out a thoughtful hum. "Could it be possible that the vampire is a relative of hers who went to Benedict to make some extra money?"

Tell him.

She hesitated before shrugging. "Who can say?"

"If only we had more to go by than ash blonde hair."

"Actually, I did learn that her name is Theo."

His attention turned back to her. "Theo?"

"A diminutive of her actual name, I'm sure, but it's better than nothing."

Booker's eyes flickered to Gin who was finally free from Daphne's fussing and was now sipping at one of the cups of tea. "Do you think you could do some investigating, Gin?" he asked.

The urchin stopped mid-sip and sputtered a little. She nodded and wiped her mouth with her wet, filthy sleeve, leaving a streak of grime across her face. "Theo and ash blonde hair? I might be able to work with that."

Trinket rubbed the grime away with the towel still in her hands, garnering a scowl from Gin. "Did we ever find out the identity of the first victim?" she asked Booker, setting the towel back on her lap while casting Gin a teasing smile.

"Omer Henderson. Couldn't find much on him. I believe he lived in the same apartment building we've been staking out, but no one had any further information. Pretty much hit a dead-end with him."

Omer. Hadn't Theo said that name when calling for Tory?

"Theo mentioned him," she said, turning back to Booker.

"Mentioned him how? Did you ask about him?"

She shook her head. "No, it was when I was following her. She was calling out for this Victoria person, and she said something like being sorry about Omer."

Booker gazed at her steadily, drumming his fingers against his knee and chattering his teeth as he sat in thoughtful silence. "Hmm, Omer, huh? He couldn't be a relative or else she would have addressed him with some sort of title like 'Grandpa' or 'Da.' And what could she be sorry about? Maybe this Victoria was close to Omer?"

"No, I don't think so. She also said she wouldn't tell the police, which leads me to believe that the person Theo was looking for is, in fact, our killer."

"Then she was apologizing for something Omer did to Victoria."

The memory of the old man's unbuckled belt came to mind. "Or tried to do."

Attempting to meet her eyes, Booker dipped his head closer. "Do you have an idea?"

She turned to him, her stomach sick at the thought of something so horrible happening to her friend. "Remember the old man's unbuckled belt? Maybe he hadn't been doing business with a night flower. Maybe he was trying to force himself onto an unwilling partner."

Booker widened his eyes slightly and nodded. "That would make sense. And Victoria, fearing for her well-being, would certainly use whatever she had at her disposal to keep herself safe."

"My new weapons."

"Like man-made fangs," Trinket mumbled.

Daphne gagged, drawing their attention as she sat in the armchair with a cup of tea. She caught Trinket's eye and scowled, running a finger across her neck and then crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, I'd've killed the guy, too," Gin agreed.

Trinket gave the girl a pleasantly surprised look. "You understood that?"

"Not too hard to understand disgust," she said, glancing over at Daphne. "I think any woman, young or old, would feel the same way."

"True, we can't really blame the girl for attacking him," Booker chimed in. "But the shopgirl?"

"She felt threatened," Trinket said defensively.

Booker knit his eyebrows together and turned to her. "She was robbing them."

Collecting herself, she replied calmly, "Clearly she was hungry and afraid. She must have panicked about being caught and defended herself with the only means she had."

"I suppose, but I doubt the shopgirl's friends and family would feel so sympathetic."

"And I do understand that. I'm only trying to see things from the vampire's perspective in order to better grasp her position, thus aiding us in our search."

"See, you're good with the people part of these cases," Booker said, taking a cup from the tray. "Your humanity is often what gets us the vital details."

"Trinket, are you bleeding?" Gin asked, leaning back to look at her head.

Booker's face fell, and he nearly spilled the cup of tea in his rush to return it to the table. "Bleeding?" he repeated, turning Trinket's head to inspect it.

She had almost forgotten that Squeeze broke the wound open. "It's nothing, just the cut from before," she said, pulling away from his grasp and lifting her hand to the gash.

"But why is it bleeding again? What happened?"

Panicking, she rose to her feet. "Nothing, nothing, it's fine. I'll go clean it up, it'll be fine," she said, quickly exiting the parlour to escape any further questioning.

Going straight to the scullery, she fetched a rag and ran it under the faucet. It wasn't long before footsteps approached from behind. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Trinket, why are you bleeding?" Booker asked. "What happened?"

Sighing, she shut the water off and turned to face him. "I fell," she said, pressing the wet rag against the cut.

Her explanation did not satisfy him. He furrowed his brow and moved closer. "You fell? How did you fall? What did you fall on?"

Resisting the urge to heave another sigh, she leaned against the sink. "It was raining, and the streets were basically giant mud puddles. I tripped on something and slammed into a wall. It's really nothing, just a bump that reopened the wound from before."

Booker's eyes wandered back and forth, and his fingers twitched. Finally, he let out a long breath and held out his hand. "Let me take care of it."

"Booker, really—"

"I can see it better than you can. Also, I'm a doctor."

She reluctantly pushed herself away from the sink and handed him the rag. He very carefully dabbed at the cut, his free hand resting on her shoulder. His gentle touch put her frazzled mind at ease, and her muscles slowly relaxed.

"So what happened at the coffee house?" she asked after a moment of pleasant silence.

"Oh, that was a complete bust. A young man passed out and was bleeding from his nose, so everyone went hysterical, thinking it was another vampire attack."

"What happened to him?"

"Drugs, I suspect. Looked like an overdose. Likely courtesy of our dear friend Emma."

"Was he all right?"

"He will be if he stops taking the drugs. Gin and I managed to rouse him. Nothing too bad, just a knock on the head."

"You sound disappointed."

"Well, I had hopes we were on the right track. But we're no closer to solving this case than we were at the beginning."

"At least we know about Theo now. And the snake venom."

"Yes, small strides, I suppose."

She bit her lip, struggling with her warring emotions. She wanted to help Booker. She wanted to see him succeed and be happy, even if it meant reuniting him with a man she wasn't so sure was a good or decent person. However, the anxiety brought on by the thought of him learning about who she really was, about why she'd been sent to the asylum—it seized her heart and rendered her tongue useless.

Tell him and it's all over.

You'll ruin everything.

Taking a deep breath, she forced her fear down. "I saw her."

Booker paused. "Saw who?" he asked carefully.

"The vampire. Or whatever she is. I saw her."

The room was silent for a heartbeat. Then he grabbed hold of her shoulders and turned her to face him. His eyes were almost as wild as Tory's, and the excitement and anticipation were perspiring off of him.

"Where? When? Do you know who she is?"

The questions came so quickly, he practically choked on them. Trinket clenched her teeth. She had to be careful about how she spoke.

"Out in the street. After I had lost Theo. I saw her in the shadows."

His grip on her shoulders tightened. "Did you get a good look at her?"

She nodded. "She was blonde. Not like Theo. More like my blonde. She was thin. Similar height to mine. Around my age, maybe a year older."

Completely deadpan, Booker asked, "Are you trying to tell me you're the vampire?"

She gave a breathy laugh. "No, I think I'm missing some of the necessary characteristics that come with being a vampire."

She bared her teeth to show him her lack of fangs.

"Just checking. All those comparisons were sounding a little suspicious," he said with a hint of a smile.

Sobering up, she continued her description. "But I did see her teeth."

"And?"

"She had fangs. Like a snake. And they were made of metal. They reminded me of the Wolf."

Booker stared off in thought. "But they can't just be metal. To be able to inject venom, there must be some sort of mechanism involved. And where is the venom coming from?"

"Maybe Benedict is taking a page from your own book."

His attention returned to her. "What do you mean?"

"Perhaps he's seen what you've done with your mechanical limbs and devices and has decided to implement your methods into his own work."

Though he tried to hide it, there was a glimmer of pride in Booker's eyes at the suggestion that his friend might be imitating his creations. "Well, whatever it is, we won't know anything until we find this girl," he said, schooling his expression into seriousness. "But at least we're making progress. You've seen both the vampire and the girl we think is connected to her, so you'll recognize them if you come across them again, right?"

She nodded, hoping he couldn't detect her guilt. "Yes. Yes, I certainly could."

"Excellent. Thank you, Trinket. I don't know what I would do without you."

He was still holding her shoulders, beaming at her as she returned his gratitude with a hesitant smile. "Well, if you're finished with the bump on my head, maybe we should return to the parlour. I wouldn't want Gin or Daphne to worry," she said.

"Oh, right. Yes, of course."

He released her, and though she was slightly disappointed to have his comforting touch gone, she was relieved to no longer be under his scrutiny. Lying to him was becoming increasingly more difficult. It made her fear that soon she would spill her darkest secret. How would he react to that?

Like any decent human should, you monster.

"Maybe Gin will be able to dig something up about this Theo girl," Booker said as he tossed the wet, blood-stained rag into the sink and headed towards the door. "Perhaps she could even help us get an audience with her."

They returned to the hallway and made their way back to the parlour. "The challenge then will be getting the truth out of her," Trinket said. "She was terrified when I tried to talk to her."

Booker grinned and put an arm around her shoulders. "Ah, the truth will out, my dear. It always does."

Her stomach twisted into an anxious knot, but she forced a smile nonetheless. "Thank goodness for that."