Every Exquisite Thing (Ghosts of the Shadow Market #3)

The girl looked up at Jem.

“I’ll take care of her,” she said. “I am well trained in healing. I was taught by Silent Brothers while I lived in Idris. Anna’s right. Go after Stain.”

You are sure? Anna will need an amissio, a blood-replacement rune —

“Quite sure,” the girl said, easing Anna to her feet. “Believe me when I say Anna would rather lose a bit of blood than have her parents find out what we did tonight.”

“Hear, hear,” agreed Anna.

Take care of her, said Jem.

“I will.” Ariadne spoke with a firm confidence, and from the way she was handling the wound, her words appeared true.

“Come,” Ariadne said to Anna. “My house is not far. Can you walk?”

“With you,” Anna said, “I can go anywhere.”

Thus assured, Jem turned in the direction of Leopolda Stain.





They walked back to Ariadne’s house, Anna occasionally leaning on her friend for support. The poison on her skin was starting to have an effect, which was a bit like having too much wine, too fast. She tried to keep herself steady. They were glamoured now, walking unseen through the street.

When they arrived, Ariadne let them in quietly through the front door. They took the stairs gently, so as not to wake anyone. Luckily, Ariadne’s room was on the opposite side of the house from her parents’ room. Ariadne led Anna in and shut the door.

Ariadne’s room was like the person who inhabited it—perfumed, perfect, delicate. There were lace curtains on the large windows. The walls were papered in silver and rose, and there were fresh-cut lilacs and roses in vases around the room.

“Come,” Ariadne said, leading Anna to her bureau, where there was a water basin. Ariadne removed Anna’s jacket and pushed up her sleeve. Having mixed a few herbs into the basin, she poured the mixture over the wound, which stung.

“It is a nasty injury,” Ariadne said, “but I am a good nurse.”

She moistened a cloth and gently cleaned the wound with soft strokes, careful to wipe away any poison that had splashed on Anna’s skin. Then she got her stele and drew an amissio rune to speed blood replacement and an iratze to encourage healing. The wound began to close.

Throughout all of this, Anna was silent, breathless. She did not feel pain. She felt only Ariadne’s careful hands on her.

“Thank you,” she finally said.

Ariadne set her stele down. “It is nothing. You sustained this wound while saving me. You stepped in front of me. You protected me.”

“I would protect you always,” Anna said.

Ariadne looked at Anna for a long moment. The only light came in through the pattern in the lace.

“My dress,” Ariadne said softly. “I think it is quite ruined. I look a fright.”

“Nonsense,” Anna replied. Then, after a beat, she added, “You have never looked more beautiful.”

“It has blood on it, and ichor. Help me remove it, please.”

With trembling fingers, Anna undid the many buttons on the front of the dress, and it slid to the ground in a pile. Ariadne turned so that Anna could undo the stays of her corset. Ariadne wore a cotton chemise underneath, trimmed in delicate lace. Her chemise and bloomers were stark white against her brown skin. Her eyes glowed.

“You must rest a bit, Anna,” Ariadne said. “You cannot leave right now. Come.”

She took Anna by the hand and led her to the bed. Anna realized as she sank into it how exhausted she was from the fight, and also that she had never been so awake and alive.

“Lean back,” Ariadne said, stroking Anna’s hair.

Anna put her head down on the pillow. Her boots were gone. Her hair had come down, and she pushed it back impatiently.

“I would like to kiss you,” Ariadne said. Her voice shook with a fear Anna understood all too well. Ariadne was afraid Anna was going to push her away, reject her, run screaming. But how could Ariadne not know how she felt? “Please, Anna, may I kiss you?”

Unable to speak, Anna nodded.

Ariadne leaned forward and pressed her lips to Anna’s.

Anna had lived this moment in her mind a hundred times or more. She did not know her body would grow so warm, that Ariadne would taste so sweet. She returned the kiss, then kissed Ariadne along her cheek, her chin, down her neck. Ariadne made a low sound of delight. She brought her lips up to Anna’s again, and they fell back against the pillows. They were tangled together, laughing and warm, intent only on each other. The pain was gone, replaced by rapture.





During the day, the streets and alleys of Soho could be hard to navigate. At night, they became a dangerous and confusing warren. Jem kept his staff aloft. At this late hour, the only people about were drunkards and ladies of the night. The alleys smelled of refuse, and there was broken glass and the assorted detritus of a London day.

Jem made his way to a storefront on Wardour Street. He knocked, and the door was opened by two young werewolves, neither of whom seemed surprised to see him.

Woolsey Scott is expecting me.

They nodded and guided him through a dark and empty shop that sold buttons and ribbons and through a door. On the other side was a dimly lit but tastefully furnished room. Woolsey Scott was stretched out on a low divan. Sitting opposite him was Leopolda Stain, surrounded by a half a dozen more werewolves. She seemed calm and composed, and was even sipping from a cup of tea.

“Ah, Carstairs,” Scott said. “Finally. I thought we’d be here all night.”

Thank you, said Jem, for looking after her for me.

“It was no trouble,” said Scott. He tipped his chin at Leopolda. “As you know, this one arrived a few weeks ago. We’ve been keeping an eye on her ever since. I didn’t think she would go as far as she did tonight. Can’t have her egging on idiot mundanes to raise demons. It’s the sort of thing that inspires anti-Downworlder sentiment.”

Leopolda seemed to take no offense at the way he spoke.

Woolsey rose to his feet. “You had said you wanted to speak with her,” he said. “Shall I leave the matter with you?”

Yes, Jem said.

“Good. I have an appointment with a rather staggering bottle of red. I’m sure she won’t cause any further fuss, will you, Leopolda?”

“Of course not,” Leopolda said.

Scott nodded, and the werewolves left the room as one. Leopolda looked up at Jem and smiled.

“It is good to see you again,” she said. “We were so rudely interrupted earlier.”

You will tell me what you know of Tessa.

Leopolda reached over to a teapot on a low table and refilled her cup.

“These terrible beasts,” she said, nodding at the door. “They handled me quite roughly. I would like to leave this place now.”

You will not be leaving until you tell me what I want to know.

“Oh, I will. Your Tessa . . . and she was yours, wasn’t she? I may not be able to see your eyes, but I can see it in your face.”

Jem stiffened. He was no longer that boy, the young man who had planned a wedding to Tessa, who had loved her as much as his heart could bear. He loved her still, but he survived it by having put that young man away, by putting away his human loves as he had put away the violin. Instruments for another time, another life.

Still, there was no joy in being so cruelly reminded.

“I imagine her powers are great,” Leopolda said, stirring her tea. “I envy her. Axel was . . . so very proud.”

There was nothing but the sound of the spoon hitting the sides of the china cup. In the depths of his mind, Jem heard the murmuring of the other Silent Brothers. He ignored it. This was his mission alone.

Tell me of Tessa’s father.

“The blood,” she said. “You will give me the blood first. It is a very small amount.”

That will never happen.

“No?” she said. “You know, I am merely the humble daughter of a Vetis demon, but your Tessa . . .”

She waited to see the effect on Jem.