“It’s vampires for certain, then?” Saying the word out loud felt both absurd and dreadful in equal measure.
“Of course it isn’t certain. We could be up against a South American Chonchon or an Aswang from the Philippines. There’s a cheeky cricket demon in Malaysia known to burrow holes in its victims’ heads, inexplicably causing them to hallucinate about cats. I’d be more concerned about that one if I didn’t know that Mrs. Beaumont had legitimate cat problems, but I’ve copied down the charm to neutralize those little parasites as well, just in case. Can’t be too careful.” He finished stitching a crooked line along the inner circumference of his collar and tied off the thread. “There. Now, what was it you wanted?”
“Well—I was just hoping to talk to you about Jenny before we left. She seemed . . . distraught earlier. I’m sorry to say I don’t think I improved matters much.”
“She’s just miffed about her gloves, I imagine,” Jackaby said casually, stuffing the spool away in a drawer.
“Yes, she did mention that they had gone missing. You wouldn’t happen to know where they are, would you?”
“I would, as a matter of fact. I’ve taken them.”
“Why on earth would you do that? You know how much she needs them.”
“I am proving a point.”
“Well, can you prove it some other way? She’s quite upset about them . . . and perhaps also about some things that I may have said accidentally. I’ll take them up for you if you like. It would be nice to be able to improve things a bit. I tried with flowers, but I think I’ll need more than asphodels to make amends.”
Jackaby winced and breathed in through his teeth. “Rather somber choice of foliage for a cheering up, don’t you think?”
“Somber? Why?”
“Asphodels?” He looked at me and then shook his head. “Honestly, what do they teach in those schools of yours? Asphodel is for mourning, loss, and most of all, death. The fields of asphodel were the afterlife for the ancient Greeks. The wicked went to Tartarus, and great heroes went to Elysium—but for everyone else, there were the just the fields of asphodel. Unexceptional spirits were left for all eternity to flit about like shadows among the flowers. I suppose they are rather pretty in their own way, but given Miss Cavanaugh’s current state, perhaps not the most helpful.”
I sighed. It was a sign of just how badly the day was going that Jackaby was giving me good advice about tact.
“Just give her some time,” Jackaby said, slipping the collar back on and fastening it clumsily beneath his chin. “Jenny’s a stronger spirit than you might think. She survived her own death, for heaven’s sake—I think she can weather a social faux pas. Help me with the back, would you?”
Jackaby tossed me a little metal stud, and I attached his collar to the back of his shirt.
“Right, then. I’m off to the market,” he said, pulling his bulky coat off the chair. “I have a few specialty items to procure, so I may be out late. Try not to go offending any more members of the household in my absence, would you? Douglas puts up a stalwart front, but he’s all soft underneath.”
After Jackaby had left, I climbed up the stairs to Jenny’s bedroom, but Jenny was nowhere to be found. The pond was abandoned as well; even Douglas had flapped off to do whatever ducks do in the afternoon. I slouched back behind my desk in the foyer with a sigh. A throaty croak issued from the bookshelf, and I turned to face the drab green frog. “Well, Ogden,” I said, “at least you’ve warmed up to me.”
My batrachian companion replied by puffing up his throat and venting a sudden burst of noxious gas in my general direction.
“Oh good Lord!” I gasped, stumbling to open a window. “Was that really necessary?”
I quickly deserted the first floor, surrendering what was left of my evening and resigning myself to an early night. Tomorrow, I vowed, was going to be a much better day.