In Absinthia

by Alexandra Christian

  “I told her,” she whimpered. “I tried to tell her that she shouldn’t go out on her own. Even said I’d go with her if she gave me a second to get dressed.”

  “It isn’t your fault, Phoe. If you’d been with her, you might have been killed as well.”

  “Maybe I could have stopped it,” Phoe cried. Her sobs were heavy and shuddering. She leaned on Cage as he led her back to the bed.

  “This isn’t your fault, love.”

  “She even talked Alfie into staying because I wanted her to.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Phoe sniffled, blowing her nose on Cage’s offered handkerchief. “She was upset the other morning because Alfie was insisting that they leave early. I helped her convince him that they should stay.” She stared up at Cage, her red-rimmed eyes still glistening with tears. “I should have let her go. If I’d let her go, she’d still be alive.”

  Cage cupped Phoe’s face in his hands and forced her to look at him. “Stop that right now. You couldn’t have predicted that this would happen.” He leaned in and kissed away the tears that had collected on her cheeks. “This is not your fault.”

  He held her gaze until finally she nodded in agreement. “You’re right.”

  Cage kissed her brow once more and went to the wardrobe. “The police will be coming any minute,” he said, pulling his suitcase from the cabinet underneath. “I think we should give our statement and get out of here. I’ve already sent Maurice a holo and we should be able to get IU transport out of here tonight. Plus, he’ll send some agents to help the police.”

  “No.”

  “Pardon?”

  “No. I’m not leaving here now.”

  “But Phoe, don’t you think this is enough? You’ve said that ever since we came here, it’s been one thing after another. Maybe what we need is to get on a shuttle, go back to Earth, and spend the rest of our vacation in St. Francisville. We can even pull Ben out of school for a couple of weeks to come with us.”

  “Under ordinary circumstances, I’d jump at the chance to go home for a while. And I love you for being so concerned, but don’t you think we owe it to Eleanor to try and figure this out? To find out who this psychopath is before another person is slaughtered?”

  Cage had to admit she made a good argument. He would like nothing more than to find this killer, whoever he is, and tear him limb from limb. There was also that small part of him that enjoyed the chase. “Phoe, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

  “Please, Cage,” she pled, taking his hand. “It’s another day. Only one more day.”

  He smirked. “Sigerson said the same thing, you know.”

  “Ugh. I’d hate to think I was on Sigerson’s side about anything.” She snuggled into Cage’s embrace again, this time letting her dressing gown fall open. The swell of her breasts pressed against him as she stretched higher, imploring for his kiss. He obliged without hesitation, sliding his arms under the open dressing gown to find that she was nude beneath.

  Cage’s hands rested on the curve of her backside, pressing her firmly against his body as they kissed. “I suppose now, faint with grief, would be a terrible time to seduce you.”

  Phoe smiled as she pulled back, sniffling. “Not terrible, but we do have a masquerade ball to get to.” She went to the dresser and pulled out two jeweled masks. “Which would you prefer? The cat or the mouse?”

  Twenty

  The police arrived at the Alice & Ludwig that afternoon and it was, if possible, more horrible than Phoe could have imagined. Everyone was horrified that the Ripper had hit them so close to home. The Browns immediately began packing, despite their daughter’s insistence that they stay for the Governor’s Ball. Alfie Pankenthorpe was understandably distraught. When Mr. Sockersby tried to offer comfort and spiritual guidance, Alfie punched the man dead in the nose and had to be restrained by Cage and one of the cops. They couldn’t be too upset with him, though. He cried and wailed so that Phoe’s heart went out to him. She tried to soothe him and he wept against her shoulder. She stayed with him as he answered Tuggingham’s questions.

  “That was probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen.” Phoe sighed, leaning close to Cage as the hansom cab rumbled over the cobblestone streets toward the center of town. “The professor was out of his head with grief, understandably, but it was heartbreaking.”

  Cage nodded. “Losing the person you love most in the world is a wound that never fully heals.”

  “I would imagine you know better than anyone.”

  “When Corinne and Lily died, I didn’t think I would be able to go on. For days I sat there in our house, staring at the walls and clutching one of Lily’s nightgowns. I remember I pulled it out of the laundry hamper. It still smelled like her, and I refused to let it go.”

  Phoe squeezed his hand tightly in hers. He’d never opened up to her about his family’s death before, or his reaction to it. “I’m so sorry, Cage.”

  He smiled and kissed the back of her hand. “But I did get through it. I came out the other side and found you.”

  *****

  The Governor’s Ball was like something out of the Brontë sisters’ novels. Despite her sadness at Eleanor’s murder, Phoe was dazzled. The ballroom of the Grand Victorian Hotel was a gilded paradise. Everything was decked in gold and marble. Sparkling chandeliers hung from the ceiling bathing the room in a soft gaslight glow. Living golden statues posed and danced for the delight of beautiful guests in their sparkling finery. A grand staircase in the center of the room provided the perfect escape for a secret rendezvous.

  “It’s breathtaking,” Phoe murmured, threading her arm through Cage’s. “Exactly as I always imagined it would be.”

  “I’m glad,” Cage said, kissing her temple lightly.

  Phoe squealed as he swept her into the ballroom and onto the dance floor with a graceful flourish. “Have you no manners, sir?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. “You didn’t even ask.”

  “You wouldn’t have said no,” he teased, pulling her in close.

  Phoe moved slowly, letting Cage lead. She’d never been a good dancer, but Cage had never let her fall over her two left feet. He held her tightly as they spun around the swarm of dancers. It was a great comfort to her even as her heart still lay so heavy in her chest. She couldn’t help thinking that Eleanor would have loved this.

  It was hard to believe that the night before they had been sitting by the fire in the parlor together, talking about their dresses. Even Lisa Brown had sat with them a while, exchanging girlish secrets. It had been so pleasant. Phoe had never made friends easily. She was always so far inside her own head that other women usually thought she was snobby or strange, but not Eleanor. At first Phoe had been fascinated by Eleanor because she was a famous author. Then, Phoe was charmed by Eleanor’s stories of her travels and her infectious sense of adventure. Funny, she hadn’t planned to find a friend on their holiday.

  “Are you all right, love?”

  Phoe snapped out of her reverie to see that Cage was studying her face. “Of course I am. I was thinking about El. She would have loved this.”

  “Indeed. She seemed almost as in love with Absinthia as you.”

  Phoe smiled. “You know, this wasn’t the only place they travelled. On Earth, they’d been everywhere. Even to Cairo. Isn’t that exciting?”

  “She was quite a woman,” Cage answered. “I can imagine her perched on the hump of a camel, pad and pencil clutched in her hand as they plodded across the desert.”

  “I wasted so much time,” Phoe mused. “So much of my life, I spent it afraid. Afraid to venture outside of my little world. I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m going to be an Agnes Shrewsbury.”

  Cage chuckled and twirled her around. “Do I get to come along?”

  “Always.” Phoe nuzzled against him as the music from the quartet slowed. She closed her eyes and let him lead her around the floor. Phoe couldn’t help but notice that their bodies fit together perfectly. They we
re made for one another.

  As the music played, Cage danced them into a quiet corner, away from the rest of the crowd. Phoe giggled as he kissed her gently. “So scandalous, Mr. St. John,” she teased. “Stealing me away into the shadows.”

  “You think me a rake, then?”

  “Most definitely.”

  He kissed her again. His tongue toyed with her lips, pulling one between his teeth and nibbling gently. Phoe reached for his hand, sliding it over her silky bodice to rest at the swell of her breast. “Methinks you’re a bit of a harlot yourself.”

  Phoe giggled, pressing her cheek against his and breathing softly into his ear. “You have no idea.”

  “Oh really?”

  She nodded. “And it’s completely your fault. I used to be a respectable lady before meeting you.”

  “I take full responsibility.” He winked and took her hand. “Come on. This place is full of dark corners for doing dark deeds.” Cage led her through one corridor after another until the music was barely audible behind them. They finally reached the end of a hall behind the ballroom. Cage opened the door with an exaggerated flourish and beckoned her inside.

  The room was an impossibly large study, not unlike the sort of place where gentlemen might retire to their brandy and cigars. One wall was covered with books from the floor to the edge of the vaulted ceiling. The other walls were hung with beautiful tapestries. Phoe imagined that they might hide some secret doorway to a secret hideaway.

  Once inside, Cage pushed the door closed behind them. “Now I have you, my dear,” he said in a spooky, Boris Karloff voice. “Where no one will hear you scream.”

  “Ooh, promise?”

  Cage growled and flashed his vampire eyes at Phoe. “I promise nothing.”

  She sank to the leather sofa, her fluffy petticoats spread out all around. She watched as he approached, cagey like a panther. His suit hugged his body in a most agreeable way, highlighting his height and the breadth of his shoulders. An intricate lion mask covered the top portion of his face, but Phoe could see his silvery eyes blazing behind it.

  “How appropriate that we’re dressed as a cat and mouse,” Phoe commented as he knelt in front of her. “Not that you’d have much trouble catching me.”

  Cage grinned and kissed her knee. He slid his hands suggestively under the skirts and caressed her calf. “You know, I’ve been thinking, mouse.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  He nodded. “What you were saying out there on the dance floor. About not being afraid anymore.”

  She shivered as his fingers reached the top of her stocking. “Yes?” she asked, biting her lip.

  “And about putting the past behind you and making the most of every moment, because you never know when everything could be taken away from you.”

  “Mmhmm…” Phoe could barely breathe as Cage’s fingers danced playfully along the lace garter belt. “Life is short.”

  “Indeed. And like you, I’ve spent far too much time being afraid of the future because of ghosts from the past. You have completely changed everything, Phoebe Addison.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “I wasn’t quite sure before,” he admitted.

  “Well thanks very much.”

  Cage laughed. “But now I know how much everything needed to be changed.” He pulled at the edge of her bodice until she was level with him. His lips were so close to hers. She could smell the sweet scent of tobacco. She closed her eyes and breathed him in. It made her mouth water and she leaned in, but he pulled back.

  “Damn…” he growled.

  Phoe opened one eye, peering down at him. “What?” Cage reached into his jacket, first one side and then the other. He stood up and looked around, patting down his pockets. “What’s the matter?”

  “Umm…I think I left our keycard at the Alice & Ludwig.”

  “So what?” Phoe laughed, trying to kiss him again. “I’m sure that we’ll be able to get in.”

  He shook his head, taking her shoulders gently and pushing her back on the couch. “By the time we get back, Miss Abecrombie will be in bed. We won’t be able to get into our room.”

  “She’s a cyborg. She doesn’t sleep.”

  Cage ignored her logic and paced nervously. “And trust me, by the time we get back to the pension, I’ll need to have you in our bed.”

  “It’s really not a big deal. I mean, we’re spies. I think we can pick one silly lock if we have to.” She got up and tried to pull him back to the couch. Suddenly the idea of having a small tryst on the couch was pretty damned tempting. “Come on, love. We can take care of it later.”

  “No, no,” Cage argued. “I won’t be able to relax until I know I can get us back.” He led her to the couch and firmly sat her down. “You sit here, and I’ll be right back.”

  “But Cage.”

  “I’ll only be a second. I’ll make a call over to the pension and make sure that our room is open.”

  He didn’t give her an opportunity to argue. Before she could say another word, Cage was out the door.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Phoe asked herself. Cage had been acting strangely all day. She had assumed it was Eleanor’s death that had spooked him, but he was stammering. Cage didn’t stammer. And he didn’t pace nervously. Something big was up.

  Phoe got off the couch, trying desperately not to fall over the copious skirts, petticoats, and bustle. Not to mention these heeled boots that were obviously meant for a woman with bound feet. Between the corset and her shoes, Phoe was almost certain that she would be an invalid by the morning.

  She didn’t care. This was the best time she’d ever had.

  Whoever was in charge of outfitting this place in Victorian artifacts evidently knew what they were doing. Everywhere she looked there were museum-quality antiques, or impeccable reproductions, and all of them Phoe could pick up and touch. She leaned over a table and picked up a small statue of Bast, the Egyptian cat goddess, wearing a gilded necklace. “So beautiful,” she murmured, marveling at the piece. She turned it over, looking for some mark that the figurine wasn’t genuine.

  Her fingertips trilled over the spines of the leather-bound books as she wandered around the room. The Convent School, or Early Experiences of a Young Flagellant, she read on one of the spines. “Well, looks like we found the erotic library, anyway.” She continued up the shelf finding tome after tome of filth. She pulled an illustrated version of Burton’s translation of The Kama Sutra off the shelf and sat down by the fire.

  “Oh my,” she gasped, opening to a page with a full plate of two people caught in an interesting contortion.

  The wind was kicking up outside the window and the gentle rattle was enough to make her eyelids heavy. She yawned, flipping the pages. She tried to read, but the words were swimming all over. “If Cage doesn’t get back soon, I’m going to fall asleep.”

  A strange noise drew her attention to the tapestry opposite her chaise. The edge flapped against the wall with a snap. She tried to ignore it, but it was becoming more insistent. She glanced to the side and noticed that the window was open. She sighed and threw the book aside where it fell to the rug. “Obviously these period clothes were not designed for sitting,” she grumbled as she struggled to her feet.

  She made her way over to the window. The gauzy curtains shimmered with the breeze, putting Phoe in mind of dark manors on the moors. As she got closer, she could hear the wind whistling around the eaves of the building and the faint hum of the street outside. She shivered and swept the curtain aside to pull the window closed. It didn’t pull easily. “Damn…” she growled, tugging at the handle. Finally, the mechanism slipped loose and slammed backward, making Phoe tumble to the floor. She couldn’t help giggling in spite of herself as she struggled to her feet.

  “Good evening, Mrs. St. John.”

  Phoe turned, recognizing the voice. Then pain exploding into white light, then darkness as the man hit her hard.

  Twenty-one

  This was
why Cage never did romance. He sucked at it. Every time he tried to be romantic, it invariably backfired. Corinne used to say he was much better with “accidental adoration.” Those little things that he didn’t really mean to do but ended up endearing him to his mate. Saving her the last slice of pizza, washing clothes knowing that she hated doing it, reminding her to be careful when she went out on her own—Cage was excellent at those types of things. But planned dinners, sending flowers, and buying gifts was beyond his purview most of the time. So, it was really no surprise that he’d left the ring with which he’d intended to propose to Phoe in the pocket of his overcoat in the cloakroom.

  The crowd in the ballroom had grown since he and Phoe had stolen away to the study. Which meant that twice as many enormous bustles and half-drunken couples stood between him and the foyer. He tried to be polite as he pushed through them. “Sorry. Excuse me. Could I get through? Sorry. Thank you.” He tripped over one woman’s skirt and fell into another. If he hadn’t been so dexterous, Cage was certain that he would have ended up with his face between the woman’s breasts. Her companion glared at Cage and he laughed nervously, hoping he could make it to the foyer without shifting in a berserker rage.

  When he finally reached the coat check, Cage was nearly to the boiling point. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the kiosk. “Hello, mate,” he said, knocking on the counter.

  A small, bald man in an ill-fitting suit and a pencil-thin moustache turned around. “May I help you, sir?” he asked in a tinny voice.

  “Yes, I was hoping that you could give me my coat for a moment. I think I left something important in the pocket.”

  “Certainly. Do you have your ticket, sir?”

  “Yes, I have my ticket,” Cage replied, but made no move to retrieve it. He was so nervous that he wasn’t exactly processing.

  “Well…might I see it?” the little man asked.

  “Oh. Yes, of course.” Cage reached into the pockets of his trousers and there was nothing. He felt all around his jacket and went inside each lapel. Nothing. “Uh, well, I must have dropped it someplace,” he stammered.