overheard the messenger mention a murder in the Pigalle . A prostitute, I think he said.â
âDid you by some chance hear how she was murdered?â
Fingle pantomimed strangling.
âRosary?â
âI believe something of the sort, madam.â
âPriest is killing again,â Bryn said. âAnd he must be living close to the district so he can find victims easily.â That Priest was once again killing women was terrible, but the murder was a clue that could help her find him. She had only three days to get that dagger. She needed to begin immediately. The cost of failure was not to be considered.
âWhere did they find the body?â
Fingle made a wry face which pulled his large mouth and ears down so he more than slightly resembled a hound. âBehind the club, Miss.â
Brynâs heart raced. âWhat club?â
Fingleâs mournful eyes rolled. â The club.â
â Le Rouge ? My club?â
âYes, Miss, that very one.â
âHeâs taunting me,â she snapped. âHe did this to send me a message. He must know about my bargain with Lazarus.â
âHe could just be a doing it for the pure devilment.â Fingleâs voice held a mournful note.
âTrue,â Bryn mused. âI will have to go down there myself. Mistress Chat will be beside herself.â
âWe own that club, donât we?â Fenix said.
Bryn wiped the worried expression off her face as she turned to face Fenix. âDo not concern yourself, my dear. You must rest. Youâve been through a dreadful ordeal.â
âYouâre always trying to make me rest, or lie down or ignore whatâs going on. I wonât this time. I remember New Orleans. I remember all the way back to when I was a babe in London. You canât exclude me. If youâre going to the club, I want to go.â
Bryn patted her arm. âOf course, after youâve rested.â
Fenix sighed. âFine, I know when to quit. Arguing with you is an exercise in futility. Just take me to my room.â
Bryn laughed and hugged her sister. It was a good thing she was so biddable and easily distracted as well. âThereâs no place in your room for you to sleep unless you fancy a crib.â
Fenix returned the hug with a warm squeeze. âI know, I was most recently a baby. I can even remember my birth; rising out of the flames to be thrown into Lake Pontchartrain.â She shivered. âEverything you told me was true, Bryn. Somehow I could never believe it actually happened to me; that I turned into a golden Phoenix, burst into flames and was reborn a babe. I doubted you. Your story seemed outrageous.â
Bryn patted her shoulder. âCome upstairs. Your old bedroom is empty. Youâve stayed here many times with me. I will have Fingle move your trunk.â
âDid you not prepare for me to be restored to my adult form?â
âI guess I didnât think Lazarus could do it. I thought what he proposed was impossible.â
âWho is he, Bryn? Is he indeed the Lazarus? He seemed so familiar to me. As though I had known him before. Did we know him?â
âNot that I was ever aware of, though he may have crossed our paths over the centuries. It seems likely that could have happened.â
Fenix tilted her head and looked thoughtful. âIt was almost as though weâd been lovers. Isnât that strange?â
âYes, my dear, very strange, He is a most dangerous and powerful enemy.â
âAllow me to help steal the dagger, Bryn. You must.â
âOf course,â Bryn promised, though in her heart she knew she would protect Fenix from any danger. It was impossible for her to change a behavior developed over centuries of caring for her as a child and young adult whoâd never lived beyond thirty.
âWhat is the penalty he spoke of? What happens if you fail?â
Bryn had to stop and think before replying. It was