Page 51 of A Dress for the Wicked
“Hey, girlie!” One of the vagrants squinted at me. “What’s a fancy thing like you doing down here?”
“Come to see how the other half lives?” the other one asked, hiccupping violently and lifting the bottle up to take a sloppy drink.
Pulling my cloak tightly across my body, I walked towardthe door. The two men struggled to right themselves as I approached, as if I was coming for them. I almost hesitated, but there were plenty of people around, and I couldn’t imagine they would try to hurt me in broad daylight.
“That’s a pretty dress.” Sticking his thick, dirty finger at my skirts, the first vagrant leered at me. The smell of stale sweat and alcohol emanated from him. The other one grabbed a fistful of my cloak, but I wrenched away from him.
“You think you’re too good for us?”
“Stop!” I struggled to grab the knob. “Let go!”
A few people walking by slowed to watch, but no one tried to intervene. Just as I jerked my cloak free, his other hand landed on my shoulder. I gave a petrified shriek and tried to shake him off, but his fingernails dug into my skin through my dress and cloak. His companion laughed.
“How about a kiss?” The one holding my shoulder sneered. Without even thinking, my hand balled into a fist and I cocked my free arm back from my shoulder.
“Let me go!” My fist shot forward and connected with his nose. Bright, red blood spurted from his nostrils, and he wheeled backward. His hand was still clamped around my shoulder, and his fingernails slashed down my arm as he crumpled to the ground.
With one swift motion, I reached for the door and dashed to safety inside the office. Once the door slammed shut behind me, I leaned against it, my chest heaving up and down.
I was standing in a poorly lit room. Several heavy wooden desks covered in sheets of white paper sat to my left. Each onehad a light with a green shade and gold base. All the desks faced a gigantic chalkboard set on what had to be the largest easel in Avon-upon-Kynt. It was scrawled over with messy writing—phrases like “LIFE ON MARS?” “PARLIAMENT MEMBER LORD WILLIAM COTTEL SPOTTED AT THE THEATER WITH A PAINTED LADY,” and “MERMAID FOUND IN TYNE BREAKS HER SILENCE.” The room led directly into another, where an enormous printing press went all the way up to the ceiling. It whirred and clicked, its gears rotating and pumping a long line of newspapers out its far side. It looked like a metal monster that had somehow gotten itself trapped in an office building.
A tall man wearing a visor with a translucent green bill stood behind one of the desks, his fingers and hands smeared with ink. Three other men with untidy hair, cotton shirts, and corduroy trousers were next to him. They had been poring over a notebook on the desk, but upon my panicked entrance, they straightened up and stared at me, their eyebrows rising with confusion.
“Emmy?” I heard my name called over the squeaks and shrills of the printing press. Tristan stood up from where he’d been hidden behind the far side of the easel. Like the other men, his hair was a mess, his collar undone, and his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows. He was the most beautiful thing I’d seen all day.
“Are you all right?” He hurried over to me. “You’re bleeding!”
I glanced down at my sleeve. Red droplets of blood stained the fabric of my dress right at my shoulder. That vagrant had gouged me with his fingernails. The thought of him—of hisdisgusting odor and gnarled hands—racked my body with a shudder.
“I had a run-in with a gentleman outside,” I said, my voice quavering.
“With who?” Tristan’s eyes instantly darkened until they were nearly a different color. “Is he still there?”
“No,” I lied. “I’m”—I took a shaky breath—“I’m all right.”
His hands tightened into fists, and an angry, blue vein rose to the surface of his arm.
“He’s gone,” I said quickly. The last thing I needed was for this to become any bigger than it already was. I had the fearful thought of seeing a new headline scrawled across the chalkboard: “MADAME JOLÈNE’S COUNTRY CONTESTANT ATTACKED IN THE CITY BY HOMELESS PIRATE.” I wanted to make headlines, but in quite a different way.
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I’m sure.”
“Well, let’s get this taken care of. Are you here alone?”
I noticed the other men listening closely, their faces alert with interest. I could only imagine they were used to chasing every story possible. Worry edged out the panic from before. Yes, I needed theEagleto make my plan succeed, but it would only work if everything was timed correctly. If they mentioned anywhere in the paper that I’d been seen down here, I’d be as homeless as the vagrants outside in two seconds flat.
“Don’t worry about my shoulder. I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere else?” I murmured.
Tristan nodded immediately. “Of course. There’s a pubnearby. It isn’t nearly as nice as anything in the Quarter District, but it’s decent enough. You’re sure your shoulder is all right?”
“Yes. It’s fine.”
“I’ll take a look at it once we get to the pub.”
Just as he spoke, there was a rap on the door behind me. For a second, I thought it was the vagrant, trying to get in. The thought of seeing his leering face made my stomach turn. I quickly stepped aside as the knob turned and it swung open. I expected to see the vagrant’s yellowed eyes and to be enveloped in his stink.
Instead, a well-dressed man stepped into the office. He was wearing an embossed black suit with a black overcoat, matching top hat, and neckerchief tied in a gigantic bow. As was the current style, he held a skinny black walking stick in one hand. Like me, he obviously did not belong in the Republic District. He strode to the middle of the room and surveyed the space, as though it and everything in it belonged to him. His attention landed on me, first focusing on my cloak, then my pink dress underneath, and lastly, my face. His lips twitched—in a way I’d seen before.
