Heedson closed his eyes. “Reed, do you feel that I pay you well?”

“Well enough, sir. You do know that Maggie’s got another little one on the way, and I can’t say there’s meat on the table every day.”

“If I were to make your life more comfortable, do you think meat is a good replacement for the memory of this night?”

“More than enough, sir,” Reed said. “I’ve no liking for Nathaniel Mae as it is. He seems as like to spit on the poor as to feed them. If you’ll put food in the mouths of my own and I can pull the wool over his eyes at the same time, I call it a deed well done.”

“And do we still have any empty tins at the moment, for the ashes of the dead?”

“Yes,” Reed said slowly. “But I’ll not let you kill her, sir. Trickin’ a man is one thing, but killing a girl to cover your mess is beyond me.”

“And I’m not so drunk that I’d allow it, either,” Thornhollow added.

“Jesus, what do you take me for?” Heedson asked. For the slightest moment Grace saw in the depths of his eyes a hint of sadness, a reflection of a man who had once truly wanted to give care to the insane, now dampened and dulled by years of discouragement.

“Mae will rant and rave at me,” Heedson continued. “But in the end, what can he do? I know the reason why his daughter came to be here in the first place, and he’ll not threaten me for fear I’ll share the story. We’ll give him a tin of ashes with her name printed on it, along with apologies. The girl disappears and no one is the wiser for it.”

“Disappears to where, sir?” Reed asked.

Heedson turned to Thornhollow. “You’ve landed us in this fine mess—you’ll be taking the girl with you.”

“With me! And what am I supposed to do with her?” Thornhollow bellowed, his drunken indignation echoing around them.

“Heal her up and sell her to a brothel for all I care,” Heedson said. “Her story’s sealed inside that ruined mind and the truth dies with it. You and I have our careers to think of, Thornhollow, and you’ll not want it getting around that you hit the bottle before surgery, I don’t think?”

“I take a nip or two to get me in the right frame of mind. I don’t think you’d hold it against me. My work is not pleasant,” Thornhollow said, smoothing his ragged hair and straightening his sleeves as he pulled on his traveling coat.

“Not pleasant, indeed,” Heedson said, his eyes returning to Grace once more. “Reed, bring the girl a decent dress, a coat, and some shoes if you can manage some.”

“Straightaway, sir. I believe a girl’s come in just about her size the other day, died soon after. I’ll just lift her things out of the belongings room.” He disappeared again, returning with a bundle of clothes and a pail of water.

Heedson looked at Grace dubiously over the lantern’s glare. “Can she dress herself?”

“Doubtful,” Thornhollow said, hiccupping into his hand. “Reed, take her into the surgery and burn the filthy rags she’s wearing.”

Grace let Reed take her by the hand, his touch cool and light. He shut the door behind them and laid a bundle of fresh clothes along with a pair of shoes onto the table.

“I snagged them from the laundry this morning,” Reed said, pitching his voice low. “The shoes may rub a bit, but they’ll do in a pinch. Go on then, make it a quick wash. I’ll not look.”

Grace took a minute to resurface, letting her body know she needed it to perform a duty again. Feeling returned. The warmth of the lantern was a welcome thing, slipping past the darkness of the basement that had permeated her skin. She stripped the nightgown away, scratching her nails along the filth that coated her arms. A ragged cloth and a bar of heavy white soap floated in the pail. The water was cold, but Grace welcomed it the same. She brought a froth from the soap and dragged the cloth over her skin, passing over the sag of her belly with care.

It was quick indeed, nothing like the steaming baths at home, where she had taken care to clean under her nails, scrubbing imagined dirt away. She’d never known what it was like to be truly dirty until she came here, and she washed away the asylum as best she could in the dark with a stranger only a few feet away.

The dress was a shapeless thing but clean, and she held her breath against the smell of the laundry’s soap, too familiar after her wrapping. The top was too big in the shoulders, the sleeves passed well below her fingertips, and the shoes did pinch. But she had on real clothes, her footsteps rang when she walked once more, and there was no layer of dirt on her skin.

“You can turn,” she said softly, and Reed faced her in the lamplight, offering his hand to lead her back out. She took it, but her mind had retreated before she’d even finished the gesture, the darkness always more welcome than the light.

They emerged into the cell block, where Thornhollow was slouched against the wall, his eyes closed in a half daze. Heedson raised the lantern to give Grace one more inspection. “You’d best change these bandages before you go, Thornhollow. She’s apt to bleed right through them on the road.”

“No need for that,” Thornhollow said, pulling himself to his feet. “The early morning hours are the darkest, and the best ones for secreting the girl away. If she dies on the road it’s all the same to you and lends truth to your tale.”

“Here she is, then, Dr. Thornhollow,” Reed said. “Have a safe journey and take care of the girl. I’d like to believe that lost ones such as this find a good end, no matter how unlikely.”

“A lovely thought, Reed,” Heedson said. “But I’ll be happy to never see that face again, pretty as it is.”

“I’ll keep her from harm. That’s all I can promise,” Thornhollow said. “To claim that any who follow in my footsteps will find something good isn’t a safe bet.”

Thornhollow peered into Grace’s eyes and shook his head. “How I’ve found myself the guardian of a young woman, I’m not sure I’ll ever know.” But he took her hand and they climbed the stairs together, her steps ringing out strong and sure beside his own.

The night air was clean and sharp, almost painful for her to breathe in. Grace gasped at the stab of fresh air, and Thornhollow rounded on her in the street.

“Quiet,” he warned with a hiss. “I’ve got a horse and carriage along the alley, with a blanket or two inside. What you’re wearing won’t keep you warm for long in this weather.”

The horse nickered at their approach and Grace reached up to touch its velvety nose. “In, in,” Thornhollow urged, brushing her hand away.

She climbed into the carriage and wrapped herself in the blanket he’d promised. He clicked to the horse and they were moving in an instant, the clip-clop of hooves and the swaying of the carriage lulling Grace into a stupor. She slipped onto her side and pulled the blanket over herself, the smell of clean air mixing with the scent of roses as she left the city behind her.

THIRTEEN

It was dark work, as he’d warned her.

A week on the road, being jostled from carriage to shady hotels, hadn’t prepared her for the luxury of a soft bed. The asylum in Ohio was like a castle in a fairy tale, even if she did approach it on a dark night with lightning streaking the sky and fresh blood dotting her bandages. Although the scene was from a nightmare, her head rested easy on a clean pillow, in a room she was to have all to herself.

Only hours into a well-deserved sleep her door banged open and Thornhollow was at her bedside, shaking her awake.

“Come on, girl. Time to earn your keep.”

Pulled from the sacred confines of sleep she lashed out, but the doctor was ready for it, well outside of her reach when she swung.

“Sorry,” he said, from a safe distance. “I’ve yet to find a good way to wake someone.”