He would also have greatly preferred a light and a bed. Clearly the universe didn’t pay as much attention to him as he would have liked. Perhaps that was just as well—he wouldn’t have asked for a strange woman to come running through his house, and he certainly had no quarrel with the results.

The thought made him grin against the top of Mina’s head. He’d rolled onto his back, not entirely trusting his arms to remain steady. Now she was curled against his side, and he absently stroked her tumbled hair with his free hand. The occasional disarranged pin presented a hazard to his fingers, but Stephen barely noticed.

“We’d better get dressed,” Mina said, voicing what Stephen hadn’t yet been able to speak. Suiting action to words, she rolled briskly away from him and stood up. He heard little clicking sounds in the darkness: corset hooks. “I don’t know how long we have before Colin sends someone, but I’d guess we’ll need to move quickly when he does.”

“Likely enough,” said Stephen.

Putting himself back together was considerably easier than the same process must be for Mina. Had there been more light, he’d have offered assistance. As it was, he’d probably only be an encumbrance. He was better at undressing women than dressing them, particularly in darkness.

He concentrated on shaking out his coat and waistcoat, on getting the buttons right and then smoothing down his hair. He kept glancing over to Mina in the process, or to where sounds revealed her to be; he could only catch glimpses of movement.

This was not how Stephen had pictured—well, anything.

Not that he would have taken it back; his entire being seemed to protest at that thought. Mina had enjoyed herself as well—he had enough experience to ensure as much and to know the signs. He had no doubts on that score, and no regrets.

He just wasn’t at all certain how to proceed.

Getting out of the building would be a necessary start.

From nearby, Mina cursed, quiet and vehement. Stephen turned toward her. Uncertain what to ask or how to ask it, he ended up making a strangled interrogatory sound, neither his most dignified moment nor his most seductive.

“Oh. Nothing—I just hate buttons as much as you do. There.” She laughed, and then stopped and took a breath. “I should say it before we leave: thank you. I, um, I liked what we did. A great deal.”

“I’m very glad to hear it.”

“And you don’t have to—it doesn’t change anything,” she said. “I’m a modern girl, after all, and I knew what I was doing. You don’t have to worry that I’ll want more money or that I’ll hang around and make calf eyes. I wouldn’t know how. I’ve never even seen a calf. I—wanted you to know that.”

Forced lightness and real intensity twined together in her voice. For once Stephen could tell what she was really saying—and what she was avoiding. Sometimes, a man saw better without light. He laughed at his discovery.

“You’re a city girl, Cerberus. I’ll not hold it against you,” he said. Reaching out, he took her hands in his own and drew her closer. “Trust me, worry’s the last thing on my mind. Worry about the things you mention, at least.”

“Well,” she said, still uncertain but without that note of duty in her voice, “God knows we’ve got enough to fret over otherwise.”

“Aye. And as far as you’re concerned—damn it.”

The ring pulsed against his finger, and Colin spoke almost at the same time. “Ready to go, Stephen? You haven’t gotten yourselves killed, have you?”

“No,” he said and thought he almost sounded civil. “We’re fine.”

“I did say it would take a while. Get yourselves as close to the door as you can and wait. You’ll have about five minutes. I’ll meet you at the corner.”

“We’ll be there,” said Stephen.

Mina, in fact, had let go of his hands already and was heading toward the stairs. She was right, and Stephen understood the impulse—the last hour or so aside, this was not a place he’d choose to spend any time—but still he cursed again. Silently, this time.

* * *

Downstairs, they waited on the last step, not talking and keeping even their breathing as quiet as they could. Stephen could see the shapes of the guards still outside and hear their voices through the door. He didn’t think they could hear anything but the loudest noises from within, but it was best not to take chances.

Beside him, Mina waited. He could feel the tension in her body, the readiness to spring, but she was still except for the restless movement of her hands, clenching and unclenching on her skirt.

If not for the impending need to bolt, Stephen wouldn’t have resisted the urge to kiss her again. He reached out instead and took one of her hands. Her state of mind was appropriate and useful—and so was his, for that matter, for he knew he was waiting on the edge as well. Calming down might not be a good plan, but at least he could let her know that she wasn’t alone. He could reassure himself of the same thing.

Mina slid her hand into his readily enough and stroked her thumb across his knuckles, an absent gesture, but one that roused as well as comforted. Even such a short time after their earlier activities, Stephen felt himself respond to it.

Part of that was the situation, of course: hot blood, survival instinct, and whatnot. He’d taken more than a few risks in his long life, though, and he knew that danger wasn’t the only explanation.

He didn’t think peace would make him grow tired of Mina.

He didn’t think anything would.

“Oi, there!” One of the guards shouted from outside, jarring Stephen out of thought. “What d’ya think you’re doing?”

As if in answer, a largish piece of glass went smash somewhere nearby. The guards shouted some more and then ran, their footsteps loud against the pavement at first and rapidly growing dimmer.

“Now!” Colin shouted in Stephen’s ear, loud enough to make his head ring with the noise.

Later they’d have a discussion about magic and force and what volume was really necessary if one felt a proper fraternal urge to leave one’s brother with intact hearing. Stephen promised himself that much.

For now, he yanked the door open and bolted outside. He would have pulled Mina with him, but there was no need. She was running right at his side. Out on the doorstep, though, she stopped to slam the door behind them, then turned. “Lock it.”

There wasn’t time to argue or ask questions. Stephen grabbed the key, shoved it into the lock, and nearly broke his wrist turning it. Outside, he couldn’t hear the guards’ footsteps any longer. Even in the relative quiet after midnight, London was too noisy to distinguish one set of sounds from a dozen others.

Grasping the key in his fingers, he took off again.

One house flew by, then another, passing in a blur of darkness and light. The few people in his way were easy enough to dodge. Stephen could have gone on for a while, if Mina hadn’t yanked on his arm again.

“What?”

He turned back, expecting her to be tired. That was no matter: she was a tall girl, but he could carry her easily enough if he needed to. She was shaking her head, though, even when he reached for her.

“Stop.” She caught her breath. “We should walk now.”

“Walk?”

Mina nodded. “Nobody can say where we’re coming from now, and running people catch the eye. We slow down and act a bit tipsy, and we’ll just be two out of many.” She paused for a moment. “You might put your arm around me.”

“Happy to oblige you.”

They walked onward, less than steadily, leaning against each other. Mina began to hum: a loud and somewhat out-of-tune version of a song Stephen had heard in his club once or twice. Then, as the streets nearby got more respectable, she stopped, straightened up, and stepped away again.

Colin waited on the corner ahead, with the carriage nearby. He’d had to button a coat rather clumsily over his broken arm, and his hair stuck out at odd angles beneath his hat. Presenting such a flawed appearance must have been killing him, Stephen thought, and couldn’t help smirking.

“Keep looking smug and I’ll leave you next time,” said Colin, as they caught up to him. “At least it’s too dark for anyone to see me. Did you find anything?”

“Aye,” said Stephen. “But I’d best save it for when we’re home.”

The carriage ride was quick and silent. All three of them slumped against the seats: Colin doubtless exhausted from so much exertion so soon after his injury, Stephen trying to collect his thoughts, and Mina clearly tired as well—and perhaps sore? Virgins sometimes were, he’d heard, though he’d always stayed away from them before. He should probably do the gentlemanly thing and refrain from propositioning her that evening.

He might ask her to join him in bed, though, even chastely. After the night’s discoveries, he would prefer not to sleep alone.

Looking forward to a shared bed, bracing himself to explain the ring to Colin, Stephen knocked at the door. It opened to show Mrs. Baldwin, face drawn and worried. She looked past him at Mina and pressed her lips together. Not disapproval, Stephen thought, but sympathy.

“Professor Carter’s here to see Miss Seymour, sir,” she said. “He says it’s urgent business.”

Thirty-nine

Good news was never urgent business. Good news never came after midnight.

At first Mina wanted to faint, or to burst into tears and scream at the universe: Go away and leave me alone! I’m too tired! Haven’t you done enough? But the universe rarely listened, and she couldn’t do anything if she fainted.

“Should we come?” Stephen asked. “I’ve no notion what it’s about, but if you’d rather be alone—”

“No,” said Mina.

Stephen took her hand. He’d taken off his gloves, and the warm pressure of his fingers against hers took her further back from the edge of hysteria. She didn’t cling to him as they made their way to the parlor, but she squeezed his hand tightly when Professor Carter stood to greet them.

“You might as well come out with it, sir,” she said, before the professor could begin. “Breaking things gently never works with me.”

Mina expected the news to be about her family. What else did she have? What else that would concern her and not Stephen or Colin? None of the friends from her boardinghouse would have sent a message so late or in the person of Professor Carter, no matter how severe their problems.

So Professor Carter said, “It’s your sister,” and it wasn’t really a surprise, not a surprise at all, but still it hit Mina like a blow to the stomach. All the breath went out of her in a small cry.

“Which one?” she asked in a voice that might have been recorded. She half expected to hear the scratch and hiss of a gramophone as she went on. “What happened?”

“Your younger sister. Er.” Professor Carter pulled awkwardly at his beard, searching his memory. “Flora. Florence.”

“Florrie,” said Mina. Florence was her name, but nobody called her that. It had always been too long and too formal for her. There was a chair nearby. Mina fumbled her way into it, and Stephen knelt at her side, taking both her hands in his. The two other men—and Mrs. Baldwin—had to notice, but Mina didn’t give a damn just then. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s ill,” said the professor, “and I’m afraid it looks to be quite serious, though nobody’s really certain quite what’s wrong. She, ah, she lost consciousness this evening, and she hadn’t regained it when your brother came to find me. I’m terribly sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” said Mina, finding and seizing a core of ferocity beneath the numbness of her shock. She sat up straighter in the chair. “Not yet. Have they had a doctor in? When did Bert find you? Where is he?”

“He came to my office about eight this evening. He said your father had gone for a doctor, but that your mother had sent him to find you at the same time, so he couldn’t tell me the results. He did tell me to add that he’d already spoken to—Alice?—and that she was on her way home. And I sent him back, of course,” Professor Carter added, shaking his head at the folly of the world. “A child his age on the streets after dark? I put him into a cab myself.”

“That’s very generous of you,” said Mina, and wanted to smile and cry at the same time. Riding in a carriage would have been the thrill of Bert’s life at any other time, thrill enough even to overcome his wounded pride at being thought a child or having his ease with the London streets called into question. Tonight, she thought he might hardly have noticed. “I’ll pay you back, of course.”