I mopped my brow with a handkerchief and set the letter in the growing stack of marked pages. The moist summer heat was suffocating in the room. And reading these letters one after the other made all the strange references more obvious than when I’d read them with months in between.
I skimmed the next letter in my hand; it had been sent several months ago from New York.
... The missing pages from Cairo are in a museum here, but the curators are not cooperative. These are such exciting times, my dear sister! I have begun experiments which I believe will impress you. Unfortunately, they have impressed others as well, and they are not the sort of people I want around....
People. He’d attracted negative attention from people—plural. Necromancer... or necromancers.
Curious, and quite a coincidence, though, don’t you think? Mr. Peger had said to me only hours ago. These Spirit-Hunters leave New York, and the trouble ends. They show up here, and the trouble begins.
I swallowed over a tight lump in my throat, and with trembling hands I yanked up the next letter. It was dated May 20, 1876.
I am coming home on the train scheduled for next Friday (May 26). These people continue to harass me, and I feel my research will run more smoothly in Philadelphia....
Oh no. What had I done by overlooking these words? I had whooped with joy and tossed the letter in the air after the words I’m coming home.
It was the last letter in my stack, but there should be one more correspondence: a telegram we’d received that I had never read. Mary had relayed its message to me; and without a doubt, I knew, knew this telegram mattered.
I shot off the bed and scrambled to the door. My feet banged full speed down the stairs, and I raced to the back of the house. I burst into the kitchen to find Mary hunched over the stove and stew.
“Elijah’s telegram from a week and a half ago! Do you still have it?” In three long steps I crossed the old wooden floorboards to stand next to her. Salty steam billowed up from the pot, mixing with the sweat on my face. “Well, do you?”
“Maybe,” she said slowly, her gaze distant. “It’d be in the calling card bowl, if we—”
I didn’t wait for her answer. I rushed to the foyer and lunged at the bowl beside our front door. It held those rare cards left when we had callers. Beneath two elegant envelopes, I found a wispy scrap of paper.
It was a crumpled telegram dated May twenty-fifth, 1876.
Delayed. Will arrive June 2. Much love. Elijah.
And in a scribbled mess on the Received From line was written: Philadelphia.
He’d already been in Philadelphia when he sent this. A fresh wave of heat washed over me.
Then another horrifying realization hit. I staggered to the front door and heaved it open, gasping for air and leaning against the frame for support.
May twenty-fifth was also the day the Spirit-Hunters had arrived in Philadelphia.
CHAPTER NINE
The next morning I rose at dawn to help Mary with breakfast. I worked quickly and snuck away again before Mama awoke. Simply because I had her tentative permission to wander the Exhibition alone did not mean I ought to tempt her.
I reached the Exhibition right as the gates opened and all the church bells rang nine o’clock. It turned out I could use my ticket from days before and the frazzled men at the turnstiles didn’t even notice, so I marched in, more determination in my posture than was actually in my heart. I reached the Spirit-Hunters’ door and hovered nervously outside.
Oh, don’t be a coward.
Sucking in a fortifying breath, I tapped my knuckles against the door.
It swung open a heartbeat later.
“Miss Fitt.” Daniel looked at me blankly. His sandy hair stood at all manner of bizarre angles, while his green eyes were sunken in.
“Mr. Sheridan.” I bobbed a curtsy. “I’ve come to see Mr.—”
“Me.” Joseph stepped in front of Daniel, his top hat on and his gloves in hand. “Bonjour, Miss Fitt. I am afraid you have come at a bad time. I must leave.” He spoke quickly and without meeting my eyes.
“Oh.” I swallowed. “I just wanted to know if you’d found my letter. I left it, and I wasn’t sure if you knew it was mine.”
“Naturèlman. We figured it out.” He slid on a glove and flexed his fingers. Daniel lounged behind him, his gaze darting from the clock to Joseph to me.
“Did you...” I swayed and swiveled my head, trying to connect Joseph’s eyes to mine. “Did you discover anything?”
“Some, but we have not yet had time to examine it properly.” He pulled on the second glove.
“And what of the spirit my mother—”
“Come back later,” Joseph interrupted. “This evening perhaps.”
This evening, when there were fewer people. I winced and tried to pump some assertion into my voice. “I don’t see why you can’t discuss it now. I’d like to have my letter back.”
His nostrils twitched, and he finally stared at me full-on. “We need more time to inspect it, Mamzèi, and I haven’t the time to talk. I must go.” He glanced back at Daniel. “You have your orders.”