Page 54 of The Devil in Oxford
His eyes followed my fingers as they rubbed over the spot wheremy heart pounded erratically in my chest. The worry was evident in his eyes. “I’ll be quick,” he murmured, brushing past me and out into the hall toward the bathing room.
I studied the young girl as she lay motionless on the narrow mattress. Had Leona been taken, or had she run away? That was the true question. Whatever Leona was going to tell me this morning had to be connected to her disappearance, and now I had nothing. No new clues. No leads and no one I could trust beyond those dwelling in this very house—and Hari, of course—but none of that would help me find her. I pulled the bloodied knife back out of my pocket, turning it over in the lamplight.
Drugs. Forgeries. Antiquities, stolen books, and petty academic rivalries. None of that ought to lead to a growing pile of dead bodies scattered across the city—and yet it did. All that was left now was for me to find out why.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVEBack into the Arms of Chance
ANNABELLEhad not awoken by the time I took my leave of her that afternoon. Ruan assured me that her pulse was steadier than he’d expected and that she should pull through the ordeal unscathed, but his cold comfort about Annabelle did nothing to ease my worries for Leona. My greatest hope now was that Annabelle would regain consciousness soon, and identify her attacker. Of course, if shecouldidentify her attacker, it put all of us in even graver danger, for as soon as the killer realized that he had not succeeded, he would be back. And I was most certain that he would try to finish the job.
I quickly washed up, putting on a fresh frock and leaving my bloodied clothes in a pile on the floor in the corner before setting off—yet again—to find Professor Reaver in hopes he could shed some light on Leona’s current location. The man had been an enigma. At first, he had been friendly, but lately his mood had turned and he watched me with a suspicion that made no sense. Reaver’s office was tucked deep in the back of the museum, past the marbles and sculptures. Past the sarcophagi and the Roman antiquities, nestled into a spartan hallway. Inside, the room was bright and airy, with everything neatly ordered and placed away.
His desk sat in front of a large window overlooking the city’s rooftops and chimneys. He had it cracked open, allowing in the cool winter air. The familiar hint of smoke was in the air, or perhaps it was only in my imagination. Reaver sat behind the desk wearing an untucked shirt and suspenders, having shed his coat sometime earlier in the day. His fair hair was tousled from where he’d been driving his hands through it as he studied whatever it was before him. Lines of worry creased his face.
I started into the room, tripping over a book lying splayed open on the threshold where it had landed after apparently being thrown. The cover was tattered and unfamiliar. A greenish gold binding. I picked it up, turning it over in my hand.A Treatise on Ethical Excavationsby Julius A. Harker.
I looked from the book in my hand to Professor Reaver.
“Set it down, if you would. It must have fallen from my shelf.”
I held the book to my chest, curious how it could havefallenwhen the nearest shelf was a good ten feet across the room. “Have you heard from Leona? Do you know where she is?”
His pale eyes raked over me, settling uncomfortably at the bruises and scab marring my temple. “In her reading room as she always is.” Stark smudges of blue ink marred the fingertips of his left hand.
“She’s not. I went to meet her this morning at the club. She never arrived. When I went to her home, I found it ransacked. There was blood on her dresser, and more of it on the floor of the sitting room.” I omitted the fact there wasalsoa body on said floor. “Do you have any idea what she’s gotten herself into? Professor Reaver… please help me.”
“Is that so?” His voice was calm. Too calm.
I struggled to make sense of his nonchalance. I’d just told him Leona was likely dead, for goodness’ sake. “Is that all you have to say? I tell you that Leona is missing, she very well could be dead—and you respond as if I told you it was raining outside.”
He folded his hands on the desk. His face weary, but emotionless. “What do you want me to say that would change anything about the situation?”
I clutched the book tight to my belly. “Do you know where she is? Where she might have gone?”
He raised a brow, rested his chin on his ink-stained fist, and studied me, his pale blue eyes taking in each flaw I possessed. “I could ask you the same. She had been spending more and more time with you. Behaving peculiarly. Late for work, not even coming some days, and sending the strangest excuses.”
“Me? I have been trying to help her. You know as well as I do that she was involved with Julius Harker. I think… I think she must have discovered who his killer was.”
Reaver stared at me as if I was another antiquity. Something to be decoded. “What makes you believe she figured it out?”
I opened my mouth, half-tempted to tell him about theRadix Maleficarum. But something stilled my tongue. Frederick ReaverhatedJulius Harker.Hatedthat Leona was spending more and more time with him. He had a history with Harker, having been rivals for the better part of a decade. Truthfully, he was the obvious villain in this story. So obvious that I’d discounted him out of hand. “You hated him…” I whispered half to myself as I took a step backward out the door.
He raised a brow. “Harker? Of course I didn’t hate him. I hated the way he threw away his potential, wasted that brilliant mind of his. There is a difference, I assure you—and before you go concocting wild stories in your head about me, I would point out that you yourself were on the dais when Julius Harker was discovered.Yousnuck into Mr. Mueller’s cell before he was killed. Youwere the very last person to see him before his untimely death—then breaking into his very museum afterward and stealing something very valuable.” He wet his lips, his gaze drifting to my brow. “See how very easy it is to play this game?”
The air left my lungs at his accusation, made even more cutting by the dispassionate expression on his face. “How did you…?”
“How did I know? I know a great many things. I told you before, it’s my business toknow.”
My fingers tightened into a fist as the ground moved beneath my feet. “Then do you know where Leona is?”
“That… I do not. Not yet. But I intend to find out.” Again his expression remained blank. I might have asked him whether he preferred cake or tarts, for all the feeling he showed. “I will say it begs the question: If you are concerned for her well-being, why have you not taken this to the police before coming to me hurling baseless accusations?”
“The same police that allowed Mr. Mueller to die in their holding cells? Leona is in danger, and I need to know from whom. I thought perhaps she’d have confided in you. But it’s evident she didn’t trust you either.”
Something flickered in his expression, the first show ofanythingother than boredom since I entered his office. “Lamentably, she did not.”
I prowled closer to the table, laying a hand on his desk, clutching Harker’s treatise against my chest with the other. My voice broke. “Do you not even care?”
“Julius Harker was a careless fool and got himself killed because of it. It was only a matter of time. I had told Leona this time and again. Warned her to stay clear of him and her foolish attempt to avenge him.”
