Page 85 of Hawk & Sparrow

The Kite family coach couldn’t get any smaller.

Every time it jostled or hit a bump in the road, Vesper’s knee brushed Max’s, and every time they touched, her mind went back to the night before. She’d been too tired to dream after she’d fallen asleep, but now scenes from the den were playing in her mind in an endless loop. She thought about the way Maximilian’s lips had felt on hers, the way his teeth had grazed her neck. It had been real, all of it, and something had indelibly changed between them.

The smell of smoke pulled her back to the present. Vesper looked out the window and winced. In the daylight, the damage from last night’s fire was starker. Most of the buildings on the street had been spared, save for a few broken windows and debris from the riot that had ensued, but a few of the buildings closer to the factory were covered in soot, and the place where the factory itself had once stood was little more than a skeleton. Vesper looked away quickly. She was relieved to see, as they went farther down Pierce Street, that the buildings in this area looked to be largely unharmed. The coach came to a stop, and she got out quickly. Relief surged through her body as she stared at the Quander Building. Everything was exactly as she’d left it. She sighed.

“I’m glad it’s okay.”

Vesper turned. Maximilian was standing in front of the coach, his expression earnest. “The newspaper, that is,” he said, gesturing. “I know it means a lot to you.”

“I’m glad it is too.” She looked to the building again, then at the sorcerer. “Thank you again, for your hospitality, Mr. Kite. I appreciated it.”

A strange expression touched Maximilian’s face. There was a moment’s confusion, maybe hurt, but just as quickly, his expression smoothed. “Of course, Miss Evans. It was my honor.”

Like that, things were back to the way they’d been. Vesper relaxed and tried to ignore the tiny part of her that was a little sad. This, she told herself, was better. Even if she’d cared for Maximilian, and even if he’d cared for her, she reminded herself that they would never work as a real couple. They came from different worlds, as different as land and sea. His place was in Stonehaven; hers was here.

“You should get some rest and make sure everyone’s all right.” Maximilian’s tone was formal now, devoid of any of the tenderness it had held last night. “We can resume our investigation tomorrow, if that suits.”

Vesper nodded. “It suits.”

The sorcerer offered a low bow. “Then I bid you a good—”

“Miss Vesper Evans!”

They both turned in the direction of the new voice. A boy no older than eleven or twelve was tearing down the street. His face was red and even after he stopped before them, he had to hold on to his knees for a few moments, trying to catch his breath before he looked up again.

“Are you … Vesper … Evans?” he asked.

“I am.” Vesper nodded. “What’s going on?”

The boy shrugged off a small bag, reached into it, then withdrew a small envelope. “I was asked to deliver this,” he said. “She said she’d pay extra if I got it to you quick.”

Vesper took the envelope from him and examined it. It was pale pink, with a golden wax seal monogrammed with an ornate letter B. She felt a mounting sense of dread as she tore open the envelope.

Maximilian watched. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Vesper withdrew the note from its envelope, read it, then looked up. “It’s Ada Bickerton. She’s been attacked.”

The Bickerton home was, like the Stonehaven town houses that surrounded it, opulent and immaculately well-kept. Maximilian used the head of his walking stick to rap the door three times, and within seconds a footman in red, yellow, and black livery was opening it. He looked solemn as he bowed his head in greeting.

“Good morning,” he said quickly. “I’m afraid the Bickertons are not accepting guests today.”

“We received a message.” Vesper held up the note. “It’s from Mrs. Bickerton.”

“She told us to come right away,” Maximilian added.

The footman studied the letter in Vesper’s hand only a few seconds before he nodded his head and stepped aside.

“Right then, you’d best come inside.”

Vesper and Maximilian needed no further prompt as they followed the footman into the Bickertons’ home. It wasn’t quite as grand as Maximilian’s but the floors were still made of dark polished wood, and they passed several crystal chandeliers as the footman led them through the house. At last, they entered a parlor painted powder blue, and decorated with ornate crown molding. A white marble fireplace to the left had been stoked, and standing beside it were a man and woman. Vesper knew at once that they had to be Mr. and Mrs. Bickerton. Ada was reclined on a chaise a few feet away. Vesper drew in a breath.

Ada’s normally neat hair was disheveled, and a bandage had been wrapped around her head. There was a dark bruise under her left eye, and her lower lip had a line of coagulated blood along the crease in the center.

“God,” Maximilian said under his breath.

“Vesper. Maximilian.” It was Mrs. Bickerton who stepped forward first. The woman had the same curly hair, slender build, and heart-shaped face as Ada. “Thank you both for coming so quickly. We’ve been trying to get Ada to talk to us, but…” She paused. “She only wanted to speak to you, Miss Evans.”

“Ridiculous, if you ask me.” Mr. Bickerton crossed his arms. “She never should have put herself in—”