Chapter Nine
My breath was coming in shallow gasps. I tried to steady my nerves. How far could I run before he caught me? Would I even reach the light? Would he kill me more quickly if I screamed? “You—”
“Me,” the pale man confirmed with a wink. “Do calm down. I can hear your blood pumping from here. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead, Miss Rook.”
“You’re . . .” I panted. “You’re . . .”
He nodded. “Monstrously underdressed for our first business meeting, I know. I’m rather fond of this coat, though. It’s older than you are—you’d never guess to look at it, but that’s craftsmanship for you. Tailors today just aren’t what they used to be. The scarf is new, at least. I do like a nice scarf.”
I blinked.
Pavel shrugged. “I know. You were going to say a vampire, yes? This is also true.”
“Y-You admit it?”
“Honesty is essential if we are to forge a functional working relationship, my dear girl.”
“What are you talking about? We’re not working together. You—You murdered all those people!”
“Yes, I did. More than you know. Lots more. That’s honesty, right there. We’ve already discussed how I’m not killing you. So, let’s call that compassion. See? I’m full of good qualities.” He flashed a winning smile and I saw that he was missing a canine on one side. He caught my gaze and closed his lips self-consciously. “Never mind about that,” he said. His tongue brushed over the gap. “I ate something that disagreed with me.”
“Eating something that disagreed with you dislodged a tooth?” I asked.
“Well, he disagreed with my decision to eat him,” Pavel said, “and he disagreed rather firmly. Bitter blood, that one.”
I swallowed. “What have you done with Mr. Jackaby?”
“I haven’t done anything with him, Miss Rook. As it happens, my benefactors have use for your master’s unique services. That is why we’re talking.”
“Did you have use for Mr. Jackaby’s services when you set him up against a fifty-foot, man-eating dragon?”
Pavel flinched. “Mistakes were made in Gad’s Valley,” he admitted. “Events escalated further than I intended.”
“My friend is dead!” I yelled at him. His mistake had murdered the indomitable Nellie Fuller right in front of me.
“All of my friends are dead,” he spat curtly. “Every last human being who walked this stinking earth when my heart still beat is dead. If it makes you feel any better, though . . .” He drew his chalk white hand gingerly from the pocket of his coat and held it up for me to see, flexing his fingers in the dim light. His pinkie had been severed just above the knuckle, leaving only a short nub. “My superiors were not pleased about the affair, either.”
I looked away from the disfigured hand and focused on his eyes. They were hung with sickly blue shadows. “If you’re just the big bad attack dog,” I said, “then who’s holding the leash?”
“Not so big and bad, Miss Rook.” Pavel chuckled. “But I understand you have a special fondness for dogs, don’t you?”
My hands clenched into fists and I gritted my teeth.
“Oh yes,” he went on, reading me easily. “I know all about your little beau on the police force. Charlie Cane and I aren’t so different, really. Oh, it’s Charlie Howler or some such nonesense now, isn’t it?”
My blood was pumping again. Charlie was sweet and noble and good. This cretin had no business knowing his deepest secret. “It’s Barker. And you’re nothing alike.”
“Barker, right. A dog by any other name would bite as deep. I’m rather fond him, actually. A fellow monster from the old country. You know, I camped with a pack of Om Caini for a while in Bulgaria. Do you think one of them might have been your little pup’s grandfather? We’re practically family!”
I glared. “Why are you here?”
“I’m not hunting tonight, if that’s what you’re afraid of—at least not the way you think.”
“Then what do you want? Why are you doing this? Who are you working for?”
“My, my—you’re looking for a lot of answers, young lady. Information is expensive in my line of work, but I would be happy to arrange a trade.”
“Jenny Cavanaugh and Howard Carson. Ten years ago. I want to know what happened.”
Pavel cocked his head ever so slightly. “I can tell you everything you want to know about Carson and his girl—but it won’t come free.”
“What do you want from us?”
“I understand Mr. Jackaby has a talent for finding things. We’re looking for a man. An inventor.” He reached into his waistcoat with his good hand and withdrew a folded slip of paper. “He’s called Owen Finstern. My superiors believe he’s a genius, and I’m inclined to believe whatever my superiors tell me to believe. Genius or not, he is, shall we say, less than stable. He needs a nourishing environment for his special talents to thrive, and regrettably he’s gone astray.”
“One of the scientists you kidnapped has escaped, and you think Jackaby and I are going to just round him up for you?”
“Kidnapped? Miss Rook, I’m offended. We have only the man’s best interest at heart. And our own interests, of course. There’s that honesty again. Here.” He held out the paper and, against my better judgment, I took it. “Keep the sketch. Think about our offer.”
I felt something cold in my hand and looked down to see that, along with the paper, he had passed me a small, round stone. “What is this?” I asked, but I was speaking only to the empty shadows of the alleyway. The pale man was gone.