been the morphine before. How could she hear such things now, so pure her blood, so immortal her body? The Jackal and Dr. Schneider were long dead; no one poisoned her mind or her blood; there was no one to lock her in an asylum again. Was that where she truly belonged? This she couldn’t share with George. Her hands shook as they hadn’t in weeks.
She stumbled toward home, and a woman practically collided with her, a mere silhouette in the blinding setting sunlight. A lilac eau de toilette had been applied so profusely that it created a sickly sweet curtain around the woman, who, rather than offering an apology, chuckled.
Lillian’s head ached so that she didn’t turn to see who had been so rude.
“You can’t ignore me forever, my dear!”
But had the woman spoken, or was it the city again?
CHAPTER SEVEN
A honeymoon is over before it starts.
“I thought you’d be happier.” George tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. Lillian had been through enough in the last months to last an average mortal a lifetime. Still, why didn’t she seem remotely pleased about the plan Phillip and he had constructed over three hours of debate?
She would stay with him in Baltimore and be free to search for her child. Kitty, albeit a very angry woman, would be spirited away by Phillip to New York, where Phillip would recruit Sullivan and any of the New York House he could convince to help fight Marie. On the way back he would rustle up some of the “ruffians” of Philadelphia if he could, hoping to appeal to their mercenary instincts. Whether any of it would work George had grave doubts, but he was certainly willing to try, as the alternatives were running, perhaps forever, or dying a gruesome death at Marie’s hand.
“I’m not feeling well, George. Just a bit of a headache.” Lillian rustled through her satchel, banging her pistol on her desk.
“I’ve not seen you so careless, Lil. That isn’t loaded, is it?”
She didn’t answer but continued to fumble through her bag.
“What are you looking for?” he asked. But he knew and his heart sank. What desperation she must be feeling to search for a pill so openly. “How did it go with the Adencourts? Off safely? We must discuss your household, for surely Marie will target those living in—”
“I said I’m not feeling well! Cannot I have a moment’s peace?”
George sat, stunned. In the few months he’d known her, Lillian had not once spoken so sharply. She’d already gone through the initial anger and shock that came with the change, and he’d found intense relief that she hadn’t come to loathe her maker—at least, not yet. At least, he had thought that the case. His heart ached at the possibility his unexpected fortune—no, his unexpected salvation—might be at an end. Perhaps she didn’t love him.
But, such a change in the space of a day? Why, just last night they’d shared a bed, shared secret thoughts and desires, expressed love and devotion. No, this was an aberration.
“Come on, let’s dine. Down to the docks for your favorite menu—”
“I’ll eat a rat or a cat, as that’s all I seem to manage on my own!” She looked up at him, eyes rimmed in red and hair falling from its chignon.
“Lil?”
“May I not have this night alone? I have been so worried of late about Marie and about your safety, about finding my child…I must recoup my strength a bit. I must have some quiet. Do you understand?”
She might as well have taken a knife and plunged it into his chest. Why didn’t she want to share her troubles with him? He was her maker. And her lover.
“Of course.” He would not argue, so George stood and gathered up his coat and hat, wondering how such simple acts could feel so unfamiliar and awkward. He felt frozen in time, as if each motion were captured by an artist. Was it the end? If so, he would remember this moment forever. She had loved him despite his evil, loved him for his peculiarities. He had loved her for
She stumbled toward home, and a woman practically collided with her, a mere silhouette in the blinding setting sunlight. A lilac eau de toilette had been applied so profusely that it created a sickly sweet curtain around the woman, who, rather than offering an apology, chuckled.
Lillian’s head ached so that she didn’t turn to see who had been so rude.
“You can’t ignore me forever, my dear!”
But had the woman spoken, or was it the city again?
CHAPTER SEVEN
A honeymoon is over before it starts.
“I thought you’d be happier.” George tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. Lillian had been through enough in the last months to last an average mortal a lifetime. Still, why didn’t she seem remotely pleased about the plan Phillip and he had constructed over three hours of debate?
She would stay with him in Baltimore and be free to search for her child. Kitty, albeit a very angry woman, would be spirited away by Phillip to New York, where Phillip would recruit Sullivan and any of the New York House he could convince to help fight Marie. On the way back he would rustle up some of the “ruffians” of Philadelphia if he could, hoping to appeal to their mercenary instincts. Whether any of it would work George had grave doubts, but he was certainly willing to try, as the alternatives were running, perhaps forever, or dying a gruesome death at Marie’s hand.
“I’m not feeling well, George. Just a bit of a headache.” Lillian rustled through her satchel, banging her pistol on her desk.
“I’ve not seen you so careless, Lil. That isn’t loaded, is it?”
She didn’t answer but continued to fumble through her bag.
“What are you looking for?” he asked. But he knew and his heart sank. What desperation she must be feeling to search for a pill so openly. “How did it go with the Adencourts? Off safely? We must discuss your household, for surely Marie will target those living in—”
“I said I’m not feeling well! Cannot I have a moment’s peace?”
George sat, stunned. In the few months he’d known her, Lillian had not once spoken so sharply. She’d already gone through the initial anger and shock that came with the change, and he’d found intense relief that she hadn’t come to loathe her maker—at least, not yet. At least, he had thought that the case. His heart ached at the possibility his unexpected fortune—no, his unexpected salvation—might be at an end. Perhaps she didn’t love him.
But, such a change in the space of a day? Why, just last night they’d shared a bed, shared secret thoughts and desires, expressed love and devotion. No, this was an aberration.
“Come on, let’s dine. Down to the docks for your favorite menu—”
“I’ll eat a rat or a cat, as that’s all I seem to manage on my own!” She looked up at him, eyes rimmed in red and hair falling from its chignon.
“Lil?”
“May I not have this night alone? I have been so worried of late about Marie and about your safety, about finding my child…I must recoup my strength a bit. I must have some quiet. Do you understand?”
She might as well have taken a knife and plunged it into his chest. Why didn’t she want to share her troubles with him? He was her maker. And her lover.
“Of course.” He would not argue, so George stood and gathered up his coat and hat, wondering how such simple acts could feel so unfamiliar and awkward. He felt frozen in time, as if each motion were captured by an artist. Was it the end? If so, he would remember this moment forever. She had loved him despite his evil, loved him for his peculiarities. He had loved her for
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