He didn’t want to wake her. It was…pleasant to sit here. Comforting even. For the first time in weeks, the hunger lay dormant within him. Garrett didn’t particularly want to examine why. The hunger was part of him, his darker half, and it had driven him halfway to Bedlam when he’d realized that she was gone.

As if it knew something he didn’t.

He wanted to taste her blood. The very thought sent need surging through his veins, but the idea of hurting her… It made the dark, furious side of the hunger snarl angrily inside him.

Even the darker side of his craving knew Perry was to be protected at all costs. There’d been blue bloods before—Lynch included—who had fixated on a particular woman to a possessive degree. Last month, when Lynch had been driven into a blood-crazed fury by a chemical agent, he’d still been unable to hurt Rosalind.

The train rolled to a halt and Perry murmured something in her sleep as she turned her face into his chest and curled her fingers around one of the brass buttons on his leather coat.

“Perry,” Garrett whispered, stroking the fine downy hairs at the back of her neck. Her own hair, not the glossy black curls of the wig she wore. It was fine, almost golden at the roots. He’d always thought she dyed her hair black to draw less attention to herself and make her look more like a lad than a woman, but now he wasn’t so sure.

He wasn’t certain of anything anymore, least of all her.

Perry’s eyelashes fluttered against her pale cheeks. He wanted to wake up next to her, like this. Wake up with her in his arms.

She was fiercely beautiful in her own way, from those stubborn gray eyes to the slightly aquiline tilt of her nose and her thick dark brows. The more he looked at her face, the more he seemed to see it. As though he was still struggling awake from that first moment when he’d seen her in a dress, when the world upended itself around him as if someone had splashed ice water in his face.

“I see you,” he whispered.

Perry’s lashes quivered again, her eyes half opening. He watched the moment her gaze focused and she realized she was in his arms. Stillness slid through her, turning her to stone, then she pushed herself upright, the creases from his coat imprinting one smooth cheek.

“You should have woken me.” She stretched, the dark red velvet tightening over her br**sts.

Somehow she slid into a dress and it was as if she relaxed into the femininity she so disdained as a Nighthawk. As natural to her as the leathers she wore.

Which led him to a conclusion. Once upon a time, Perry had lived in dresses. It came too easily to her. Indeed, that night at the opera, she’d mingled with the Echelon as if she belonged.

“It didn’t bother me,” he replied. “And you were tired.”

“I spent most of the night laying a false trail all over the city. I might have saved myself the time, if I’d known you had a tracking device on me, and come straight to the train station. You’d never have caught me.”

Though she laughed gently, the words tore through him like a knife. He had to find out what had frightened her, or she could run again. And this time she’d make certain he didn’t find her.

She’d warned him that if he started digging around in her secrets she’d leave. And from the relaxed way she peered out the window, it seemed she’d forgotten that he hadn’t actually agreed not to do so.

Garrett had been very careful not to promise anything. Though he might have distracted Perry from the question, he hadn’t forgotten it. Something had frightened her badly enough that she’d wanted to leave her entire life—and him—behind without even a good-bye.

If she thought he was just going to forget about it, then she didn’t know him very well. But it seemed she was quite content to pretend nothing had happened, which was her usual modus operandi.

So be it. Until he could discover what she was hiding.

And he would find out.

Sixteen

Garrett rubbed his knuckles as the hansom steam coach pulled up outside the guild. As soon as he’d made that quiet acceptance this morning—that there was nothing he could do about the craving virus—his mind had become very clear.

He wanted, more than anything, to drag Perry off to his rooms and finish what they’d started last night and on the train. But her shoulders were still hunched, her gaze distant. She’d agreed to return with him, but he couldn’t push her or he had the horrible suspicion she’d flee again.

“Here,” he said, helping her down from the coach. Nervousness lit through him, hesitancy he’d never known when speaking to her before. But then a part of him was terrified to say the wrong thing, in case she fled. “Are you up to working with me today, or do you wish to rest?”

“I thought I was on desk duty.”

“You are.” Where he could keep an eye on her.

“Garrett…?”

“Yes?”

“I need to speak to you about something. It’s…about the case.”

Finally. He let out a relieved breath. “Of course. As soon as we’ve freshened up.”

They parted ways in the foyer, with Byrnes strolling to the railing of the stairs and glancing down. He looked at Perry. Then looked again, his eyes widening slightly as she sailed past.

Just the man he needed. The thought irritated him, but Garrett couldn’t put this off any longer. He’d let his own selfishness potentially affect the guild. “A word,” he called.

Byrnes straightened. “You found her, then.”

“Your deductive skills are legendary,” Garrett drawled, climbing the stairs. “Don’t ask her about it.”

Byrnes arched a brow.

“Has Miss McLaren said anything yet?” Garrett asked, striding toward his rooms. Opening the door into the study felt a little like coming home. He’d never truly had a place of his own, only the small cell that most Nighthawks were allocated upon arrival.

“Enough.” Byrnes’s face closed as he slumped into a chair by the fireplace. “She’s the daughter of an investment banker in Edinburgh. She can’t recall very much, but she was returning home from a dinner when her carriage was stopped. Miss McLaren peered out the window to see what was happening, and someone hit her over the head and kidnapped her.”

“Imagine being trapped in a bloody tank for months.” Garrett paced in front of the fireplace, his hands clasped behind him. Someone—Doyle, no doubt—had stoked it.

“That’s not all.” Darkness swirled in Byrnes’s eyes. “He performed regular experiments on her. She didn’t go into detail, but I gather they were fairly horrific. But she was very specific on one thing—whoever the killer was, he didn’t want her to die. One of the girls did once, when he had her on the examination table, and he tore the place apart in a fury. The next time he took Ava from the tank for her examination, he was more careful with her, and ever since.”

Keeping his specimen alive. Garrett’s lip curled. “Anything identifiable about him?”

“Tall, broad through the shoulders. He never spoke to her, but he would swear under his breath sometimes. Something foreign, she thought, though it wasn’t German or French. Wore a pair of magnifying goggles and a mask over his lower face, like one of those breathing masks Rosalind gave us at the opera to filter the air so we wouldn’t be stricken by the gas from the Doeppler Orbs.”

Blast it. Could it be Sykes under the mask? There was no way of knowing for certain. “So maybe he didn’t mean to kill Miss Fortescue or Keller? Maybe Miss Fortescue was a failed experiment and Mallory startled him in the midst of moving Miss Keller downstairs.”

“So he kills her. There and then, and takes the heart with him.” Even Byrnes paled. “That’s incredibly twisted.”

“Some men are. We’re dealing with a man with both expert surgical and mechanical skills, a man who’s intent on creating something no one else has managed. Someone who collects body organs—”

“A man with access to the craving virus,” Byrnes added.

The man yesterday morning had been a blue blood. It had to be Sykes. Who else would follow them or fit the description? He’d thought one of the Echelon involved, but Sykes must be their blue blood. Still… “If it’s Sykes, then someone in the Echelon is backing him.” It wasn’t unusual for scientists to be granted patronage from one of the Great Houses. Science was money and power these days. “That laboratory cost a good deal to set up.”

“Someone with ties to the factory?”

“It makes too much sense.” Garrett turned on his heel, snapping his fingers. “Now we have to trace whoever it is to the factory. Sykes is our killer, I’m sure of it, but someone else is involved—or knows about it.”

They stared at each other, both in accord for once.

The door opened and Perry slipped through, stripped down to her leathers. She glanced between them. “What is it?”

Garrett explained his theory, watching as the color slipped from her cheeks. His heart beat a little harder. She wasn’t entirely surprised at his words as she settled on the sofa.

He didn’t like the questions that were mounting up. Perry knew more about this than she was saying.

“The Duke of Moncrieff admitted that he, Malloryn, and Caine own controlling shares in the factory,” Garrett said. “Which means that any of them could be suspect.”

“You’re talking about questioning three of the dukes who rule the city, Garrett,” Perry said in a small voice, her hands pressed between her knees where she sat.

“She’s right,” Byrnes admitted. “I might admire your brass, but don’t expect me to call on you when you’re imprisoned in the Ivory Tower.”

“Unless…we don’t do the questioning,” Perry murmured. “I know you’re not going to like this suggestion, but Lynch is a duke now. He could safely—”

“No.” A hot flush of anger overtook him. There was no way in hell he would go before Lynch and beg him to help.

“Even if it means we catch this bastard?” She knew him too well. “Don’t put your pride on the line.”

Damn her. “I’m not asking.” He didn’t think he could stand to be dismissed again. It was ridiculous, of course. If it would help solve the murders, Lynch would help. “Will you do it?”

Perry nodded.

“I might speak to Barrons myself,” he continued, dismissing Lynch from his mind. Or trying to. Damn you, I could use some advice right about now… “He and I have a friendship of sorts. He might be able to shed some light on whether his father, the Duke of Caine, has any involvement.”

“And myself?” Byrnes asked.

Garrett gave him a considering look. He didn’t like what he was about to do any more than Perry would if she understood it. But she was right. His pride wasn’t worth the cost of the guild. And in facing certain truths, he had to acknowledge all of them. “I want you to coordinate a hunt for Sykes, the overseer. I’m almost certain he fled from us this morning, and that he’s our man.” All of the pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together. “I want you to handpick a group of the lads who are good at this sort of thing and direct them.”

A slight thinning of the other man’s mouth. “You’re intent on saddling me with some fool as partner, aren’t you? If there’s nothing else, I shall take my leave.”

“Considering I was one of those ‘fools,’ I wouldn’t dally if I were you,” Perry drawled.

Surprisingly, Byrnes stopped in front of her, slipping her hand from her knee and bringing it to his lips. “My lady, you were never a fool. Poor taste in men, perhaps, but I actually enjoyed working with you.”

The sight of his lips pressing against her hand stirred something dark inside Garrett. That moment in the train came back to him, when she’d looked him in the eye and told him there was someone else. He knew the truth of that now, but a part of him wanted to tear Byrnes to pieces.

With a flourish—and a glance in Garrett’s direction—Byrnes took his leave.

Perry read the harsh line of Garrett’s jaw. Her lashes fluttered as she looked down. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice, the mood of the room darkening. “I should never have said what I said.”

“I know the truth. It still hurts.” He met her eyes. “No lies between us from now on.” He saw her open her mouth and held up a hand. “If you can’t tell me something, then don’t say anything at all. Just don’t…don’t lie to me.”

“Thank you.”

She wouldn’t thank him if she had any idea of his plans. Garrett crossed the room and sat beside her. The moment he did, some of the tension drained out of him. He hadn’t even realized how on edge he’d been, a bothering thought. If he was growing complacent with the grip of the hunger…

“You shouldn’t be jealous of Byrnes,” Perry murmured. “I cannot believe he was the first man who sprang to mind when I…when I said what I said.”

The thought arrested him. He’d never been jealous before. “I daresay I’m not the only one who’s suddenly noticed you’re a beautiful young woman. Besides, you have been spending a great deal of time with him in the past month.”

That earned him a pretty pink flush through her cheeks. She didn’t take compliments well. Perhaps she’d never been used to them. “That was due to your machinations, not mine.”

“Mmm. It doesn’t help that I don’t feel entirely rational when it comes to Byrnes.” Slowly he reached out and brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “It’s getting long now.”