The Damsel and the Daggerman: A BLUD Novella Read Online Free Page A

filled with longing, as she herself had once been. “That’s what I’m going to find out, dear,” she said.
    She moved across the dining wagon to a booth shared by the bookish couple she recognized from her earlier encounter with the clockwork bird. They sat hip-to-hip on the same side, their heads together as they shared a joke. She cleared her throat, and they both looked up, suddenly going silent.
    “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?” She held out her notebook and pen with an inviting smile. Without a word, the man slid out of the booth, tipped his hat farther over his eyes, and disappeared.
    “You’ll have to forgive Mr. Murdoch,” the lady said, moving over as if trying to absorb whatever warmth he’d left behind. “He’s very shy of strangers.”
    “And I’m as strange as they come.” Jacinda picked the woman’s looks apart with professional interest, noting her pretty face, owlish costume, shabby gloves, and guarded copper-colored eyes. “Are you part of the circus?”
    The woman chuckled softly to herself. “I don’t look much like a caravan act, do I? Not at all bright and flashy. I run the butterfly circus, you see. And Mr. Murdoch is the caravan’s artificer, who invented my equipment and all the clockworks. I’m Imogen, by the way.”
    “Jacinda Harville.”
    “And you’re a reporter?”
    “A journalist, yes. I’m here to write a book about the caravan.”
    “Oh, that sounds fascinating. The city folk will just gobble it up, won’t they?”
    Jacinda grinned. “That’s what I’m hoping. Are you from the city, then?”
    Imogen blushed and looked down. “Yes. London. And it was just as dreary as the penny dreadfuls make it sound. I’d be glad to show you the clever intricacies of my butterfly circus sometime, if that will help your story.”
    A flutter of color caught Jacinda’s eye, and she noticed a small orange butterfly slowly flapping dotted wings from its perch on Imogen’s hat. Her breath caught.
    “Is that . . . real?”
    Imogen chuckled. “Of course not. Everyone knows butterflies are extinct. Mr. Murdoch is very talented, you know, with his machines.”
    Jacinda’s face didn’t change, as she knew how to mask her emotions—unlike Imogen, who couldn’t lie worth a damn. The keen-eyed journalist would have bet everything in her conveyance that the butterfly on her companion’s head was indeed real, but judging by the way Imogen was wringing her hands and glancing nervously at Jacinda’s notebook, she would have to change course soon or lose the meek woman’s trust forever.
    “What I’m really curious about is the new knife thrower. Do you know anything about him?”
    Imogen sucked air through her teeth. “He’s a bit of an enigma, that one.”
    “Have you seen the papers?”
    With a nod, Imogen reached to the bench beside her skirt and produced a stack of ragged newspapers, carefully folded. She shuffled through them before sliding yellowed paper across the table. “I get the one from London, although it arrives terribly late. I believe the Wanted poster is in this edition, although there’s very little actual fact. Marco and his assistant apparently disappeared on the same night, leaving behind only a blood-spattered wagon. He surfaced here, in the caravan. But no one has seen her.”
    “Have you spoken to him?” Jacinda’s pen tapped against the paper.
    Across the booth, Imogen ducked her head and shrugged into herself. “I spend most of my time with Mr. Murdoch. Or reading. I’ve seen Marco throw his knives. But I know almost nothing of the man himself.” She looked around the wagon, taking in two dozen people of all shapes, sizes, and species. “I suppose I should be more concerned about having a suspected murderer among us. But in my short time here, I’ve come to understand that Criminy and Letitia wouldn’t let anyone in who would bring us to harm.” She looked closer at Jacinda, perking up with curiosity. “Has she glanced