Chapter 8
THE CREATURE
The steam engine hissed, the metal whining and creaking as it settled like the industrial beast that it was. I could practically taste the coal in the air, the carbon burning the roof of my mouth.
Out of all things, smoke should be the least irritating, but for some reason, the steam engines were overpowering.
Maybe it was the buildup of whatever else they burned in their furnaces to make these mammoths go forward.
At least cigars and cigarettes attempted to hide some of that tar with cocoa and cedar.
The platform bustled with passengers, passing us left and right as they filtered into the doors of the station to relieve themselves of the frigidity between platforms.
“You do not pay me to be your footman.” Luka placed our suitcases down beside us with little care.
“I could pay you enough to be anything I wanted, greedy thing. Are you too weak to carry another bag?” I glanced at him.
“Do not be unpleasant; it is too early.” Luka adjusted his fur-lined jacket. “Are we ready for the hotel?”
“There should be a coach in front of the station. Should not be too much longer to travel.”
“Will you look for her tonight?”
“No. It can wait for tomorrow.” I was hesitant to give him any more details than that. While he knew not to touch her and there was seemingly no ill-will toward her for the marks she had left on him, I couldn’t help but be cautious.
“I still have not received word from Detective Moore. His assistants gave us the address, but I have yet to hear more about his findings from the horse’s mouth himself.”
“How odd. Relay to his assistant where we are staying in case he decides to crawl from whatever tavern he’s inevitably holed up in.”
I checked my timepiece.
If I could distract him for just a couple of hours, I could make headway on finding her and settle this wager of ours.
Upon our arrival at the hotel, bellhops trotted around and took our things before much notice could be granted. We were given our room keys—two keys for two separate rooms. I needed space from my irritating travel partner.
I preferred the company of the bar rather than my room, as an empty room was not good for a brewing mind. My mood was becoming more unstable the more visions of her seeped deep into the cracks of my skull.
The bar was decently populated for a weekday and full of interesting company. The light from the bar illuminated the bottles and counter, fading anything in my peripheral vision into darkness.
The tender opened his mouth to ask me to pick my poison, but I was already pointing to the top shelf.
“Bourbon. Any of them.” I propped an elbow on the countertop to rest my head in my hand.
“Are you celebrating?” a timid voice asked.
I followed the sound to a petite woman. She had curly blond hair that was gathered neatly in some elaborate knot. Her eyes were a deep green that reminded me of a summer forest. Pretty, no doubt, but I was in no mood for that kind of company.
“Yes, celebrating,” I muttered as a drink was poured before me and the bottle placed neatly beside.
“Is it too forward to ask the occasion?” She took a seat next to me.
“I am not buying.”
“And I am not selling.” She frowned. “Just a curious patron.”
“Aren’t there a handful of idioms about the danger of being nosy?”
She lifted a dainty shoulder. “I wouldn’t imagine your reasons would put me in any danger.”
The corner of my lip flicked up at the remark, “Well, if you insist on knowing, I am celebrating . . . a lost lover of sorts.”
“Oh.” Her face twisted in concern. “Has she passed?”
“No,” I took a sip, “but she is surely a danger to be celebrated.”
“You say that fondly,” she pointed out.
“That is because I am fond of many vices, her included.” I reached past the bar for another glass, pouring her a drink as well.
The woman’s shoulders slumped, relaxing as I spoke. She was curious, derailed from whatever her original motive was for joining me.
“Do you do this often?”
“Do what?”
“Prowl around establishments for men.” I poured more bourbon for myself.
“Oh . . . well it is not often. I am not usually here—I am usually taking night shifts.” She played with her own cup nervously.
“Night shifts?”
“The hospital,” she sighed.
Amateur.
I leaned close, taking a deep breath by her neck. A strong perfume may have masked her scent—a sweet, metallic one, like brass. “Is a bar the best place to hunt for food?”
Her face paled, and her shoulders visibly tensed as the question registered “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“You smell like blood and bleach,” I told her, a gentle clicking coming from my throat as I glanced down at her, “but do not fret, I’ll forgive you, if you tell me one thing—are you with a Nest?”
“I-I don’t exactly belong to a Nest,” she stuttered, too embarrassed to look at me.
“Tell me about it.” I twisted a piece of her hair that had fallen out of place.
“It is a female-only home; it isn’t quite a Nest. There are some in town, but I do not belong to any of them.”
“How interesting. Are you here with your housemates, then?”
“No, but they are expecting me home soon.” She glanced behind her. “I must go.”
“If you must.” I shrugged. “I would take more care in who you hunt next time.”
She nodded quickly, mumbling a form of apology paired with a wild blush on her face. She slipped away as soon as she could.
Her panicked expression was the perfect treat to end the night. I would be seeing her again, no doubt.