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Mr. Cigrande startled
back from the table. “How did you know?”
“Are light blue eyes the best way to spot a demon?” Thomas asked, not delving into the complicated science of his deductions.
“Not just a demon,” Mr. Cigrande said. “The devil himself. Only a creature of Hell could tempt those poor girls away.” He shook his head, the color in his face flushing brighter. “I watched him for a bit, you know. Once I knew what he was. I watched him real close.” He leaned across the table, glancing about the bustling tearoom. “He doesn’t act like no demon; that’s for sure. When he stole that last girl’s soul? He seemed as angelic as anything. Asking if she needed help, if she was new to the city. He preys on the wayward ones. The wanton ones who’ve left God and their families. They’re easy pickin’. That’s why I try and scare them away.”
“Do you believe good women who stay in their homes and memorize their scripture are safe from the devil?” Thomas asked. His eyes flicked to mine, silently asking for me to hold my tongue. I was more than happy to allow him the pleasure of having this conversation on his own. “The wicked are the only ones in danger?”
“Don’t be crazy,” the old man said. “Why would the wicked ones be in danger? They’s already wicked.” He folded and unfolded his napkin. “Women are safe at home. They can be watched after, cared for. They don’t know what sort of sins await them in the world. The devil don’t want the bad ones, mister. The devil wants to collect ’em before they turn wicked on their own. He needs ’em good. Otherwise, what’s there to corrupt?”
“And the demons? What do they want?”
“To take more souls to the devil. They want to please him so he doesn’t do his nasty tricks on them.”
“What sort of nasty tricks do you believe he’s doing?” I asked. “Aside from stealing them.”
“What else?” Mr. Cigrande shifted in his seat, facing me. “He brings them to his castle in Hell and they never return.”
Noah sent Mr. Cigrande home with promises to call on him the moment he discovered any news of his missing daughter. Thomas and I climbed into our carriage, and while we waited for our friend to join us, Thomas arranged the heating brick so I could rest my leg upon it.
“Well? What do you make of the demon?” I asked, stifling a moan. The heat felt lovely.
He settled the blanket around us, then stared out at the sidewalk. I followed his gaze, noticing swirls in the light dusting of snow that reminded me of serpents slithering through it.
“He saw a man with blue eyes talk to a woman on the street,” Thomas said. “That much I believe is fact. The issue I’m struggling with is his claim of seeing the same man with another woman, doing the same act.”
“Do you think it’s a fabrication?”
“No. His behavior was quite easy to read. Weren’t you observing…” Thomas shook his head at my scowl. “Apologies, Wadsworth. What I mean is, when I asked about the demon’s acts, Mr. Cigrande was able to give them without moving about. When asked about the devil or his desires, he had to think. To make up his own idea of what Satan might be after. It wasn’t information he’d seen firsthand. I couldn’t deduce if he’d truly witnessed the same man luring another woman away, or if he’d replayed it in his mind so often he confused the facts.”
“Let’s argue the facts, then,” I suggested. “If what he claims is correct, how will that assist in us finding the man he claims is the demon?”
Noah rushed back to the carriage, clapping his hands for warmth. “Sorry. What do you think?”
“We were just trying to figure that out now,” I said. “It’s something.”
The carriage driver snapped his reins, urging the horses into a trot.
“If he can recall where he saw the man abduct that first woman”—Thomas braced himself against the jostling of our ride—“you ought to sit nearby and wait. See if the kidnapper’s brazen enough to return. He may or may not be telling the truth about the demon revisiting the site. It’s worth investigating at the very least.”
Noah flashed a skeptical look, his mouth pinched tight. “I don’t see how anyone would be foolish enough to commit the same act twice in the same location.”
“It’s part of his fun,” Thomas said. “The hunt is thrilling, but so is the idea of potentially getting caught. This man is besotted with the unknown. It’s dangerous. Tantalizing. It makes his heart pound and his loins ache with desire.”
I scrunched my nose, not wanting to think of anyone’s loins, aching or otherwise. Silence filled our carriage, broken up by the clomping of hooves on cobblestones. I turned the events of this new mystery over in my mind, working out all the oddities. As much as I loathed to think such a thing, if we had a body to study I’d feel more confident in my own theories.
“Do you believe he’s holding them captive?” I asked, already dreading the answer I knew was coming.
Thomas dropped his gaze to mine. “Perhaps for a time.”
“So?” Noah asked. “What does he do next? Let them go?”
“He murders them.” Thomas didn’t notice the color leach from our friend’s face. Or if he did, he paid it no mind. There was no such thing as delicacy when it came to murder. “I’m sorry to say, my friend, but this is a career murderer. It’s likely no simple missing persons case.”
I looked at Thomas, searching his expression for anything he wasn’t saying. When he met my gaze, my stomach dropped. This career murderer was undoubtedly the same one we sought.
Poor Noah was unaware he was now tracking the most notorious killer of our time.
