Page 50 of The Devil in Oxford
I groaned.Fabulous. I was enmired in a marsh of academics and murder.
Ruan let out a low laugh. “And cocaine. Don’t forget that.”
“How could Ieverforget that?”
Ruan chuckled. “It sounds to me that the book must have something to do with this.”
“Or if not the book, then perhaps…”Treadway.And if that was the case, it led directly back to Leona. I was going to be sick. “I need to get my hands on that book.”
The knot had begun to tighten. Leona, Harker, and Treadway were all connected. And now with Harker and Mueller dead, Leona and Treadway were left alone. And afraid.Something had happened, she said. Something more than simply murder, and it had to do with the book. Had Leona surmised the danger that she was in, or the danger that she’d be putting me in by enlisting me in this quest? I squeezed my eyes shut, unable—unwilling—to answer that question.
Ruan wet his lips. “How well do you know Leona?”
As well as I knew myself, I’d once believed. But I now questioned that too. I shook my head. “Of the two of us, she is the least likely to be entangled with criminals. But Treadway said something strange earlier.… He said he’d thought at first that Harker’s death wasisolated. Do you suppose that means that the killer is not who they first imagined?”
Ruan made a low sound in his chest. “I think your friend is in deeper trouble than she bargained for.”
I do too.I laid my cheek against Ruan’s warm coat, grateful for his company. For his easy friendship, despite the fact I did not deserve it. “Thank you…”
“For what?” Ruan wrapped his arm around my shoulders, not slowing his pace, nor even looking at me.
“For being here in Oxford. I don’t know what I would do had you not answered my abysmal letter.”
“It truly was a terrible letter, but I believe in you. I have every faith you’d have managed to crack this case one way or the other,” he agreed with a laugh as we continued wordlessly into the night.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREEA Missed Appointment
Idragged my weary body from my warm bed well before dawn and hurriedly dressed by candlelight. I couldn’t sleep. Too worried about whatever information Leona wanted to share. Anxiety, I supposed, was better than nightmares—but not by much. Discovering that Leona’s friend Jonathan Treadway was involved in the earlier theft of theRadix Maleficarumsat in my belly like a stone. Did she know of his involvement in the book’s initial disappearance? Surely not. The fear on her face when she sent me to him with the note was real, and Iknewher. At least I thought I did—and Leona was a librarian first and foremost. It was what she had trained to do before she obtained the position with Reaver at the museum. She wasnotthe sort to steal a book, no matter the reason.
Fiachna lifted his ebony head, blinking slowly, eyes flashing that unnatural green in the flicker of flame. He butted into my palm, demanding attention before I left. It was still dark by the time I stepped outside the house, made more ominous by the thick blanket of fog that enveloped the city overnight, muting all sound and distorting the charming streetscape into a dreamlike world of shadows and shape. The cold air, however, wasnotthe stuff of dreams—stinging my lungs with each step I took to the Artemis Club. Iwrapped my scarf tighter, hurrying along the well-worn path to the club. The club’s baroque facade towered arrogantly over its neighbors, alluding to its previous life a century ago as an opera house.
A muffled sound echoed in the dark, and I turned in time to see the shadowy shape of a dog disappear behind a building.
Death.A spectral dog meansdeath. That’s what Ruan had said.
Or—you foolish girl—it means someone was careless and forgot to lock their gate.
Not mad. I amnotgoing mad. I repeated the words over and over, willing myself to believe them. A foggy morning, a mysterious book about witches along with a murderer afoot, and all my good sense flew out the window, replaced by superstition. While I occasionally could admit to the existence of the inexplicable—ghosts, witches,pellars—I wasn’t about to believe in omens or signs. Nowthatwas nonsense.
No. Decidedly not mad.
Still, I was not willing to test my luck. I dashed the last several yards to the grand front doors of the Artemis Club before casting a wary glance behind me.
Empty.
No dog. Nor men. Not even the strange woman Ruan had spotted following us after we left the police station.
See? Not mad.
Pulse settling to a steady beat, I stepped inside the warm, dimly lit entrance, closing my fear outside the club.
“Miss Vaughn!”
It seemed a lifetime ago that I met Leona here for breakfast, but in truth, less than twenty-four hours had passed. The stark overhead lights had been cut for the evening, leaving the room bathed in warm lamplight emanating from the desk in the center of the round room. The young receptionist leaned around a particularly large floral arrangement to smile at me.
“Has Leona arrived yet?” I unwound my scarf, unbuttoning myfield jacket with numb fingers. I’d forgotten my gloves. I stared down at my stiff hands in confusion. How had I forgotten my gloves? I could have sworn I’d grabbed them on the way out the door.
The young woman gave me a puzzled look. “No, miss. I haven’t seen her since she left here in a rush yesterday morning.”
