“Trying something new?” Falsteed asked.

Footsteps signaled Reed’s return, along with the gradual lightening of the hall. Grace could see one of the doctor’s eyebrows raise. “I hardly think you’re one to condemn a little experimentation, Falsteed,” Thornhollow said.

“Just a professional curiosity,” Falsteed said. “I find it hard to remain at the top of my field when I’m always . . . kept in the dark.”

Thornhollow’s mouth barely twitched at the joke. “I highly doubt that. Reed keeps a steady stream of information directly to your ear. As far as the darkness goes, I’d welcome an excuse for isolation.”

Falsteed grunted in response, and Grace squinted as Reed leaned over the still-kneeling Thornhollow. “I think you’ll find her quite ready for you, sir. I dosed her with ether and the poor bird flew off into the oblivion like she’d been pining for it.”

“Like I said, Dr. Thornhollow,” Falsteed said. “It’s a mercy.”

“No doubt. And yet only hours after I carve into the brain of a lost girl whose name we’ll never know, I’ll be seated next to the recognizable names of society with my hands itching to give them that same mercy so as to stop their ceaseless words.”

“You’ve evaded their clutches quite a while. A young man of your position can only escape his social duties for so long. I imagine they’re hoping to affiance you to a daughter before you leave for Ohio?”

Thornhollow snapped the box closed. “Reed really does keep you up to speed on current affairs,” he said stiffly. “As to the daughters, society will have to learn to live without air if they’re holding their breaths for my marriage.” He rose holding only a glass vial and a slim blade. “Reed, if you’ll humor me by going to the kitchen for two eggs and an apple corer?”

Grace could see Reed’s face pale. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammered, leaving the lantern on the floor. The light pooled around the doctor’s feet, his features lost into a smeared blur once again.

Falsteed cleared his throat. “Thornhollow . . . if I could speak with you about something, when you’re finished?”

“Of course. I have to meet with Heedson to see if he’ll have me deliver any more of his patients from ever having to be aware of his presence again, then I’ll be back down to check on the girl. Unless you needed something from me immediately?”

“No, Doctor, just a moment of your time after the procedure. And if we can agree to something, perhaps a favor after the fact.”

“A favor? I don’t recall you ever asking anything of the kind from me before.”

“And I wouldn’t, if the situation weren’t dire.”

“For a man who’s been sitting in darkness for years with none but the mad for company to suddenly find his situation dire makes me quite worried for him.”

“Not for myself, Thornhollow. My lot is my own,” Falsteed said.

The doctor rose to his feet, lantern in hand, as the sound of Reed’s footsteps advanced down the hall. “I’ll speak to you of it afterward,” he said. “Your protégé returns much more quickly than he left. I imagine he’s been told to set to. Which means I’ve got more than our poor lost lamb for my night’s work.”

Reed burst into the hall, two eggs in one hand and the apple corer in the other, sweat beaded on his upper lip. “I’m sorry, sir, it seems there’ll be two more at least tonight.”

Thornhollow rolled his sleeves to the elbows. “Your favor, Falsteed, it will keep?”

“All the night long, Thornhollow.”

The doctor nodded sharply. “Right then. Reed—gather some more eggs from the kitchen and a pot of boiling water. And I’ll have to bother you to send my regrets to the governor’s mansion. It seems I won’t make dinner this evening.”

Reed’s mouth gaped open, more horrified at dispatching the news than retrieving the apple corer. “And what do I say to the governor, sir?”

Thornhollow slid two of his blades together; the metallic zing of their meeting brought a smile to his face. “Tell him I’m working.”

ELEVEN

The first man came down like a demon being cast back into the hell he’d escaped from. The lanterns in the hands of the male assistants swung crazily as they dodged his blows. Shadows leaped across the walls and Thornhollow emerged from them, his white shirt now spattered with blood.

The knot of male bodies twisted outside Grace’s cell, but he slipped in between them easily, wrapping his forearm across the patient’s neck. Thornhollow was not a large man, but Grace could see the knotty muscles at work as the patient realized he could not escape the doctor’s grip.

Grace could see that force was not the only thing bringing the man’s struggles to an end. Thornhollow’s voice rose and fell rhythmically, his mouth moving next to the patient’s ear as he made promises that no one but the two of them would ever know. The man slumped in either agreement or defeat. Thornhollow released him and the orderlies moved him farther down the hall into the promising dark. As the doctor moved away from her she caught the faintest whiff of a scent from her former life, one so reminiscent of luxury that it was difficult to place amid the foulness that surrounded her. It lingered even as the doctor disappeared into the surgery, and Grace raised her hands as if to follow its translucent path.

The only thing to answer her silent supplication was the emerging face of the spider girl, almost unrecognizable. Her features had worn a mask of misery for so long that the slackness of peace made her almost beautiful as Reed guided her to her cell. A bandage held the hair back from her cheekbones no longer clenched in pain. Her eyes were wide and bright, the sheen of suspicion and fear vanished. She looked at ease for the first time; whatever her horrific past had been wiped clean with a flash of Thornhollow’s blade.

The scent flowed from her too, heavy and redolent in the mire of the cellar, bringing with it the memory of warm baths. Grace watched the girl lean against the bars of her cell for support as she slid to the stone floor, her gaze blank and satisfied, the smell of luxury drifting from her corner.

“Thornhollow,” Grace cried, when she heard the hollow banging of the door at the end of the hall. “Come here, Thornhollow!” All the authority she’d carried in the time before swelled her vocal cords, and her voice came out stronger than it had been in months. He came out of the depths, a question stamped on his features.

“Here,” she called. “Next to Falsteed.”

Thornhollow carried a lantern, and though her voice was strong, Grace flinched when the light fell on her. He studied her for a moment, and she fought against the years of training that told her to not meet his gaze.

“Hello there,” Thornhollow said. “And what demand do you make of me?”

“I only wish to know, sir,” Grace said, “why is it that you should bring roses to only one lady when there are two who wish to receive them?”

“Roses?” Thornhollow’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and she heard Falsteed move closer in the adjoining cell, though he did not come into the light. “What do you mean?”

“Oil of roses,” she said. “You reek of it, as does she, though she went in smelling like the rest of us. Whatever you’ve done to her to bring forgetfulness, the roses play a part. Give me the same, so that I may know less.”

“You do not know what you ask, though I’ll show you,” Thornhollow said. “Falsteed—”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“I assume this is your favor?”

“Not what she is asking for, no. Our Grace has a quick mind. I’d not see it incapacitated.”

“Mmm . . .” Thornhollow held the lantern close to the bars of her cell and peered deeply into her eyes, as if to illuminate her brain and make an assessment that moment.

“Quick or not, she’ll have to wait. There’s a man down the hall who is quite insane and needs me immediately.” He gave her one last look before pulling the lantern away, the coldness of the cell instantly sapping all the heat her cheeks had gained from it. His footsteps receded and Grace sank to the floor, all initiative gone now that she had his attention. He would be back, and she would make her plea.