Read Online Tenfold More Wicked by Viola Carr - Free Book Online Page A

girl.” Finch winked. “Fruits of hard-won experience. Your man was plastered. Sozzled. Up to his eyeballs, say what? And then he smoked enough hallucinogen to buy a week’s holiday in la-la land . . .”
    â€œWhereupon someone peeled his face off and cut out his heart.” Eliza’s skin tingled, anticipation and dread in equal measure. Did someone give Dalziel this drug to incapacitatehim? Or had he taken it willingly? Black magic, indeed. What kind of insane shenanigans had Dalziel been up to?
    Late afternoon had crept stealthily upon her before she finally returned to her town house in Russell Square. Her muscles ached and shivered, her throat sore. The singular flavor of Mr. Finch’s pink remedy whispered across her face, lifted the hair on her arms, teased the back of her neck. She could still taste it, foreign yet sweet, like the breath of an absent lover.
    No breeze disturbed her skirts. The park’s iron railings glistened wet, rows of trees retreating into the gloom. The dirty London fog hadn’t lifted, just turned sour and vengeful, biting at Eliza’s eyes until they watered. On the corner, a pair of white-masked Enforcers surveyed the street with empty red eyes.
    Shivering, she hurried by, recalling Lady Lovelace and the green boy. Was Captain Lafayette interrogating him right now? Had the Royal sniffed her and Lizzie out, just waiting for their moment to strike?
    Inwardly, she fumed. Satisfying as it had been, this morning’s debacle with Reeve left her in a pretty spot. She’d recently spent most of her savings on urgent repairs to her house—which she now owned, thanks to her former guardian—and was short of cash for expenses and servants’ wages. Her infrequent police work paid poorly, her private practice was sadly non-existent, and as for Lafayette’s murder case . . .
    Of course, she’d access to funds in plenty, if she chose. Edward Hyde was generous with his ill-gotten gains. A doting father, by financial standards at least. She needed only to ask.
    But the idea of accepting his charity stung her pride. She wanted to make her own living as a physician. And Mr. Hyde was an evil man. Unhinged. Murderous.
    Aye, whispered spectral Lizzie, drifting alongside the fence, just a faint shadow in the fog. Bloodied hands is a real turnoff for you. Never would dream of consorting with no killer.
    â€œI’m sorry, did you speak?” snapped Eliza, but tiny bubbles of hope prickled inside her. Was Lizzie dimmed, by that tiny drop of pink-purple remedy? Had Finch at last found a working formula?
    Under her porch, the lamp shed a welcoming glow. She glanced up at her expensive, newly repaired roof, already coated in dirt from the filthy London air, and checked a sigh. The brass shingle on her doorpost—E LIZA J EKYLL M . D ., it announced politely—was grimy again, too, the windows dull. She sighed. More work for Molly. In this fog, scrubbing the steps was an endless job. Those Incorruptibles deserved punishment for that alone.
    She let herself in, to the delicious smells of hot supper. The polished hall furniture glimmered in soft electric light. She set her things on the hall stand—W HO I S H ARLEQUIN? D ESPICABLE F RENCH S PYMASTER E LUDES C APTURE A GAIN read the headline on her evening edition—and Hippocrates bounced from her bag and boinged into his corner. “Welcome home! Welcome!”
    â€œThank you, Hipp.” He’d calmed, mercifully, but she could still hear the click and whir of overstressed cogs. An overhaul, Mr. Brigham had said. Perhaps he was right.
    â€œYou’re home early, Doctor.” Her housekeeper swept in,stocky as a bulldog, her white bonnet tucked over steel-gray hair. “There’s blood on your skirt. Have a pleasant day?”
    â€œNo, Mrs. Poole, it was positively disheartening.” Eliza tugged off her gloves, frowning at the blood-smeared leather. “Oh, dear. These are