Read Online Eidolon by Jordan L. Hawk - Free Book Online

Author’s note: The events of “Eidolon” take place between Widdershins and Threshold .
     
    I
     
    On the morning of February 14, 1898, a carriage stopped at
our gate.
    Unexpected visitors weren’t unusual, given my profession as
private detective. But the coach itself, which I spied upon between the parlor
window curtains, gave me pause. No device of any kind showed on the carriage’s
gleaming ebony doors. The coachman dressed in black to match his conveyance, from
the top hat on his head to the gleaming leather of his shoes. Even the horses
were the color of soot, as was their harness.
    The door opened, and a woman climbed out, pausing for a
moment to study the house, with its screen of thick hedges and iron gate, all
of which offered a certain amount of privacy to my clients. She wore a thick
coat of white fur—fox?—with matching muff. White egret plumes
decorated a hat equally pale. The blackness of her eyes and hair were made even
more striking by her unnatural pallor.
    Her mouth pursed slightly, but she started up the walk with
a determined gait, as if overcoming whatever doubts she harbored. I waited for
her knock before opening the door.
    “Mr. Flaherty?” she asked in the accent of upper class New
England.
    “I am,” I said, stepping back and motioning her inside. “May
I be of some assistance? If you sent a card ahead, I fear I didn’t receive it.”
    “This is a matter of some urgency,” she said. “I had no time
for niceties.”
    “I understand. Allow me to take your coat.” The ivory dress
beneath was almost the same shade as her skin. “May I offer you coffee?”
    “As I said, we have no time for niceties,” she replied.
    I’d dealt with imperious clients many times. Some—the
men, generally—required a sharp word to reassure them I would not be
bullied. I suspected this woman wasn’t interested in such a test of manliness,
merely in quick obedience.
    I could play at that as well, so long as she didn’t push it
too far. I could play at almost any role; it was what had found me success
among the Pinkertons. And, to be honest, in the bathhouses of Chicago and
points west.
    “Of course.” I ushered her into the parlor and gestured for
her to take a seat across the desk from me. Picking up a pencil, I opened a
notebook. “May I have your name, at least?”
    She hesitated, but I had expected as much. “Clearly your
family is in the funeral business,” I said, even though I didn’t know it for
sure. Anywhere else, it would be a given. But this was Widdershins, and going
about in a black coach with matching horses, harness, and coachman’s attire
might simply be a bizarre affectation.
    In this case, my guess proved correct. She inclined her head
slightly. “Lester Funerary Services. We have interred the dead of this town for
over a hundred years. However, the difficulty I’ve come to you about is of a
personal, not professional, nature. The man who gave me your name assures me
you handle matters with utmost discretion.”
    “Indeed.” I folded my hands in front of me, careful to look
her in the eye when I spoke. “Allow me to mention I don’t take cases involving
divorce or scandal.”
    She waved a hand; a silver ring caught the light. Something
appeared to be inscribed on it, but I couldn’t make it out without a closer
inspection. “A case of simple theft. My grandfather is quite elderly and not in
the best of health. He possessed a small talisman, something of no great value
to anyone but him. A thief entered the house early this morning while the rest
of the family was out, overpowered the manservant who tends Grandfather, and
stole the talisman.”
    “Did he take anything else?” Surely, they wouldn’t have
broken in for such a trinket, unless Miss Lester meant to deceive me as to its
true value.
    “No.” Her mouth thinned into an unpleasant line.
“Unfortunately, the thief is a relative. A distant cousin from a branch of the
family which moved to Boston a