Chapter 7 #2
“You’ll catch her.” Joren’s confidence shakes me to my core.
I know how to steel myself against doubt, how to meet disrespect with defiance, but my hunt for Diavola has always been solitary.
Suddenly I have Dávid, Joren, de Haas, and even Inge on my side.
For the first time I have more than determination. I have…hope.
The carriage arrives at my house. I step out to find the front window open, a pale white hand flinging oats out to the gathered ducks.
“That’s going to make a mess of the pavement,” Inge observes. “Duck poop is very slimy.”
“I’m aware.” I’m so relieved and happy to see my mother that I’ll clean all the duck poop in the world. She waves at me, then scatters more oats. I was worried the officers would upset her, but she seems her usual self.
“I’ll keep you updated,” Joren says.
“Thank you.” I want to say more. I want to hug him. I want to be Inge, firmly managed but also indulged and beloved. I want to be anyone but myself, about to go in and tell my mother that I found Papa’s murderer but lost her again already, and that now we’re both in grave danger.
The carriage pulls away. I nod to the man standing by the front door and he nods grimly back at me. He doesn’t look cross or annoyed, which surprises me.
“I saw that man’s body,” he says, skin pale beneath his dark beard. “Whoever this monster is, we won’t let your mother be hurt. My partner is here, too, patrolling the area.”
“Thank you.” I wonder when the relief of being believed will stop overwhelming me. I step inside and take a deep breath. Nothing but the scents of home. Dust and bread and a stew already on for supper in the kitchen below us. No lingering hint of deepest winter. Diavola hasn’t been here.
I take off my cloak. I’ve been wearing these same clothes for two days, and I long for nothing more than to sink into a bath. But I need to talk with Mama and let her know the danger. And then let Joren, Dávid, and perhaps even de Haas know about the idea that’s taken root in me.
“Mama,” I say, sinking onto the bench to remove my boots.
Mama meets me in the entry. She puts one soft hand against my cheek, studying me with a sad smile. “My poor darling. You’re exhausted.”
I lean my head against her hand. “I am.”
“I’ll make more food.”
I’m starving, but that’s not what I need right now. Taking her hand in mine, I stand so I can be certain she meets my eyes and understands what I’m saying.
“I found her. The woman who killed Papa.”
Her eyebrows, once fine, now barely visible as her hair silvers with age, draw together. “Your father destroyed himself.”
“No he didn’t. It was her. This woman. This Diavola. She killed him, and I found her. I lost her again. But I swear to you, I will not rest until—”
“You’ll rest as soon as you’ve eaten.” Mama’s voice is as hard and unyielding as iron.
“It’s not safe, though. She knows where we live, where you are, and—”
“And I have been fine for the last five years, and will be fine for the next five. I’m not frightened.
Whatever your father did, I haven’t done.
Whatever he was tangled in, he didn’t involve us.
” She pulls me close. I breathe in her bergamot scent, floral and spiky and warm.
“He left us long before that night. Don’t take on a burden that was never yours. ”
“But Mama,” I whisper. “Other people are suffering. Other people are dying.”
I feel something in her sag. Her weight becomes less supportive and more in need of support. But when she lets me go, her face is firm and her eyes are clear. “Well, then. A cake, I think. For after you’ve bathed and slept.”
And just like that, she bustles back down to the kitchen. In a canal house as fine as ours, and with a pedigree as prestigious as my mother’s, kitchens are on the subfloor and considered the domain of servants. But Mama allows no one in, and does the work of running our entire house on her own.
There’s a light knock on the door. I open it to find the young officer from the murder scene, his large ears backlit by the sunlight so they practically glow.
He smiles shyly and I smile back reflexively, charmed by his awkwardness.
In a few years, he might be handsome. Especially if he finds someone who helps him style his hair and a beard to both accentuate and balance out his ears.
“Miss Van Helsing,” he says.
“Yes?”
“I’m taking over for the rest of the day, and wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything.”
His smile suddenly makes sense. I’ve had enough experience to know lovesickness when I see it. I’ll have to be careful not to be too kind to him. He can’t be more than a year or two younger than me, but he seems brand new in a way I’ve never been.
“Thank you—” I reach for his name and cannot find it.
“Berend,” he says, then corrects himself. “Berend van Zijl.”
“Thank you, Officer van Zijl.”
I’m about to close the door when he slaps his forehead, dislodging his hat so he has to scramble to catch it midair. He only just manages, quickly replacing it, his face now as red as his backlit ears.
“I nearly forgot!” he says. “This was delivered for you.” He reaches into his uniform pocket and retrieves an envelope in a familiar creamy shade.
“Where was it delivered?” I try to keep my voice calm so I don’t alarm Mama.
“At the station.”
“Did a woman give it to you?”
“I’m not sure.” He stares down at it, puzzled.
“You’re not sure if she gave it directly to you, or if she gave it to someone else and they gave it to you? Or if it wasn’t delivered by a woman at all?”
“It’s been a busy morning.” But his look of vague concern makes me wonder if there isn’t another reason he can’t quite recall the details. We have to figure out what she’s doing, and how she’s doing it.
I take the envelope. “Thank you. If anyone else delivers something for me, hold them at the station until I arrive, would you?”
He nods eagerly. I try not to scream in frustration as I close the door and rush upstairs to my bedroom.
Diavola was inside police headquarters and no one noticed.
She wants me to know she can come and go as she pleases.
But then why not visit the house? Why leave the threat at the station, instead?
I sit on my bed and stare down at the letter from my devil. My diavola. “I’ll never stop hunting you,” I whisper.
Then I crack the seal and open it.