Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)

“Huh?”


“He’s at the front door.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s too clumsy to climb trees, yeah?” She gave me a quick hug. “See you around, Eleanor.” Then she scampered silently through the room and disappeared into the hall.

Brittle minutes passed, and my heart started banging uncomfortably. After a few days in bed, all my anger at Daniel’s rejection had faded into a tender regret.

He appeared in the doorway, a shadowy figure. He crept toward my bed, and once he reached my side, he gazed down at me for several moments. His eyes ran over my lacerated arms, flicked to my bandaged stump, and then paused at my face.

“Can I sit?” he whispered, waving to the bed.

“Yes, of course.”

He perched on the edge. Then he tugged off his cap and squeezed it in his hands. “I wanted to say good-bye... and tell you sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything. Your brother, your hand, me...” He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “When you first came to our lab, I thought you were a snobby princess who only cared about herself. Just the sort of person I hate.”

I bit the inside of my mouth, trying to keep the thirsty ache away. “A-and now?”

“Now...” He shook his head and gazed at his cap. “Well, you’re none of that. I was wrong. You’re an empress with grit and brains, and I wish...”

“What?” My voice was so low it could barely be heard. “You wish what?”

“That we could have helped you more.”

My breath shot out. Silly, Eleanor—what had I thought he would say? That he wished we could be together? What a ninny I was. And yet, despite my best attempts to stifle it, the hollowness was still strong inside.

I forced a soft chuckle. “You saved my life—the three of you saved me over and over again. There was nothing more you could have done.”

“Maybe.” His gaze lingered on my bandaged wrist, and he dipped his head toward it. “There are, uh, ways to make fake hands, you know... mechanical ones.”

I tilted my head to one side. “Are you offering?”

“I can always try.” He shrugged one shoulder, his cheeks reddening, and he picked at a threadbare spot on his cap. At last, he cleared his throat. “Well, um, that’s all I wanted to say. I don’t want you to think that just ’cause everything seems bad that it is.” He rubbed his knees and glanced at me. “I should go now.”

My lips went dry, and without thinking I leaned forward and gripped his sleeve. “Wait.”

He kept his eyes locked on mine. Their emerald sheen was invisible in the dark.

“Daniel... you don’t... or, that is to say, you’re not...” I licked my lips and gulped. “You’re not in love with me, are you.” I spoke it as a statement and tried to ignore my pounding heart.

He twisted his head away. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s a yes or no.” I pulled back my hand.

“Then...” He set his cap on his head. “Then no. No, I’m not.”

My stomach clenched painfully. But it was all right; it would be all right. Better to know than to wonder.

He rose and gave me a final stare. “Please, Empress, take care of yourself. I won’t be here to rescue you.”

I let a weak grin pass over my lips. I refused to let him see how heartsick I was at his words. “Of course. I’ll be careful. Best of luck to you, Mr. Sheridan.”

He winced at the name. His mouth bobbed, and he inhaled as if to speak, but then he shook his head and pressed his lips tightly together.

He doffed his hat. “Take care, Empress.” Then he tiptoed from the room.

Once he was out of sight, I eased myself from the bed. I hadn’t walked in several days without someone assisting me, but I managed to stumble to the window and lean out. I wanted to see the Spirit-Hunters go.

Daniel and Jie soon scurried from the front door beneath me. They hit the grass and jogged over the yard toward the road—toward Market Street. Below a streetlamp I could see a poised, top-hatted figure. I was glad Joseph was back to his usual elegance, though I was certain he bore permanent scars too.

Just before Jie and Daniel reached the street, Daniel stopped. He twirled around and gazed up at me, as if he had sensed my eyes on his back. He strode a few steps toward me, paused, and then strode two more.

He slung his cap off and pressed it to his chest. Then, with the casual grace that marked all of his movements, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

He was declaring fealty to his empress.

I laughed—I couldn’t help it. The absurdity of it all. The bittersweet sting. When he lifted back up, I saw he too wore a smile. He waved with his cap, and after flopping it back on his head, he swiveled and trotted to the street. Then, without another look back, the Spirit-Hunters left.