Chapter 1 #4
“We have to follow the clue,” Biz declared as she rerolled the tiny scroll.
“By walking into a sleeping tiger’s lair?” Ezra raised his eyebrows. “Jungle cats aren’t nearly as nice as night guards. They don’t take bribes.”
Lord Blackwood’s daughter didn’t look the least bit intimidated.
In fact, it seemed to Ezra that she could grow claws of her own as she crossed her arms under the moonlight.
“I’m not going to run away when things get difficult,” she said pointedly.
“If you’re so worried about me getting mauled, then perhaps you should join us. ”
“Oh yes!” Rose brightened. “Bring your gun!”
Ezra was suddenly very aware of the pistol tucked in his waistband. Many men who’d come back from the war had kept their guns close. Under pillows. In the back of bedside drawers. In hidden holsters. As if they hadn’t made this world safe enough, even after all that fighting.
He supposed the Webley would stop a tiger if things at Regent’s Park got out of hand.
But who will stop you?
The whisper in his head was as dark as the coffin.
Ezra clenched the strap of his satchel and tried to push the thought away.
This never entirely worked. How could it?
The darkness was him, just as much as the want of wings.
No matter how many books he buried himself in, no matter how many angels he tried to find, or how much metaphorical glass he used to contain himself, Ezra’s madness always broke through.
He couldn’t afford to have another… episode.
Not here, in front of these women. It was why Lord Blackwood had banished him from Thornhill in the first place.
Stay away.
You’re not safe.
“I don’t know, Elizabeth. I’m not feeling too well.” He pulled the pistol from his belt. “Why don’t you take my gun instead—”
“Nonsense!” Minnie’s cry sounded a little too similar to a peacock.
“We’re more likely to end up shooting ourselves in the foot than slaying a tiger.
We need you, Mr. Bright. Especially if you’re as good at these games as Biz claims!
” The brunette fished a ruby-studded cigarette case from her clutch and offered Ezra its contents.
“Here! Have one! They’re good for your health!
A quick drag and you’ll be right as rain! ”
The cigarettes were lined up in a neat little row, reminding Ezra of infantry. He’d smoked quite a bit during the war, mostly because everything else was on fire.
“No, thank you,” he told Minnie.
Biz grabbed the gun, checking the safety before stuffing it into her own clutch. “Suit yourself.”
“Oh, don’t be like that!” her friend scolded, then looked back at Ezra.
“She misses you terribly, you know! Not a week goes by when we don’t hear about some strange misadventure from Thornhill.
The capsized rowboat, the litter of kittens you saved from that farmer’s sack, the ancient queen you told her was sleeping in the old oak tree… ”
Tales from another life. So many of his memories at Thornhill had taken on a gilded edge, like the countless books of its library. But Ezra knew that if he handled them too much, without gloves, the shine would peel back. Become soaked in George’s blood.
“If Ezra wishes to leave, he should leave.” There was a cold note to Biz’s voice as she tucked her hair behind her ears.
I don’t wish that, Ezra wanted to say. I never did.
“Minnie’s right,” Rose broke in. “Think about it—what are the odds that you two would cross paths in a museum after midnight? This is fate! You can’t just walk away from each other now!”
He could.
He had.
Even though Ezra had handed over his pistol, he felt heavier than ever.
His satchel might as well have been stone.
Biz, on the other hand, was starting to look less stiff.
Color came back to her cheeks. There was a glimmer in her eyes.
Green like the bottles that studded the mud of the Thames at low tide.
He could see George there—in the color and the hurt. He could see himself too: that smallest sliver of belonging. A shard that shoved straight through his heart. Emerald eyes didn’t make Ezra an Ellington, but George and Biz had still treated him like a brother. He’d missed that.
Missed them.
“I suppose a quick visit to the zoo wouldn’t do any harm,” he said.
Rose did a little dance around the coffin. “Not if you’re with us!”
“That’s the spirit!” Minnie pulled out a fresh cigarette and wedged it between her lips.
To Ezra’s surprise, Biz took one too. He wondered what Lord Blackwood thought of his precious daughter smoking—not to mention the shingled hair and the hemline that rose well above her knees.
Yes, she was chasing tigers, but she wasn’t a child anymore.
That much was clear as she pulled a matchbook from her clutch.
She left the pistol cradled against its velvet lining, only meeting Ezra’s eyes after she struck her match and brought the flame to her newest vice.
“Right, then.” Her words slipped out with a ribbon of smoke. “Let’s go find ourselves some treasure.”