The Dream Thief, Kari Kilgore [reading well TXT] 📗

"Merciful Crown, Karl. We have to figure this thing out, or at least warn them."

Karl dropped his hands to his sides and turned to face George. His friend was paler than usual, his whole face clenched up. Karl knew he didn't look any better.

"That woman today," he said. "She said the stealing did it, the stealing at night. If someone's behind this, whatever it is happens at night."

George shook his head. "We can't take the word of a blowout. Sorry, I mean a patient. They're in here for a reason."

"Yeah, and whatever the reason is, it’s headed right toward my family," Karl said. "I can't stand most of them, but I can't let this happen without even trying to warn them."

Karl was seized by a deep and terrible urge to laugh, to guffaw until he was reduced to grasping his sides and crying.

"Hell, George, if nothing else, I can't take the risk of them ending up in here when I worked so hard to get away from them."

A ghost of a smile, so brief it would have been easy to miss, flitted across George's face.

"You have a point there, but we can't just go rushing off into the night either. Maybe we can ask one of the doctors, see what they have to say. This is pretty clear evidence even for some of them."

"Evidence of what?" Karl said. "Of both of us sneaking around and breaking into restricted offices in the middle of the night? You can give that a try if you want, but I'm going to see if I can't do something besides lose my job."

George stared at Karl for several seconds.

"What are you going to do, Karl?"

"The only thing I can think of, at least right now. If this pattern holds true, and I can't see why it wouldn't, whatever it is should start here next time." This time Karl did touch the map, and he would have sworn he felt a tingle. "Maybe it's just a bad supply of Crumble or something, or water, or who the hell knows what. But one thing I do know is it will get to my parents' house just a few days later. I have to try something."

"I can't argue with you," George said. "You're too damn big to try to stop. At least let me get you some decent lanterns and supplies before you jump into this."

Chapter 9

Loretta slowed as she approached her own house, far smaller and less grand than those of most of her clients. The exterior matched the proper Victorian style, with green, black, and copper paints chosen specifically to hide the unusual amount of metal trim on a modest one-story design. It was more than enough for her, though, easy to keep in order and remote enough for privacy.

She hadn't built her house to attract attention, and nothing that really mattered was visible except to the observant eye. Even the most observant wouldn't understand what they did see.

The young man she'd hired just a few weeks ago to keep an eye out should have already left for the day, leaving the most trusted guard in his place. Before Loretta could finish her thought, a shadow moved across her porch.

Bess was tall and slender, her red hair pulled back and out of the way. Her black close-fitting shirt and pants that would be scandalous if anyone else ever saw them.

"Good evening, ma'am," her guard said.

"Good evening, Bess."

"Did everything go well?"

Loretta walked slowly up onto the small space, the difficulty of her long day of deliveries catching up with her all at once.

"Well enough," she said. "Anything strange here?"

"Everything is normal. I checked inside about an hour ago. All is well."

"Thank you, Bess. No deliveries tomorrow. Please let the day guard know."

Bess stepped back into the early evening shadows, nodding once.

"Sleep well."

The inside of the house was as appropriate and low key as the outside, sturdy dark cottons rather than the bright silks in her customers' homes, and the same paint colors designed to draw attention away from an unusual amount of metal sculptures and fittings. Her day guards had lit electrics in the living room and a gaslight in the hall. Loretta doused them both as she headed back to her bedroom.

A small light was on in there as well, and her far more decadent and expensive bedclothes had been turned back. Loretta smiled, appreciating her guards as she so often did.

Loretta opened her closet door, then sat on a low bench against the wall to remove her black leather boots. When she put the second one by the door, her nose wrinkled. That wasn't something she'd stepped in or gotten on the hem of her long skirts on the way home.

She'd only smelled that stinking mix of cheap cologne, expensive cigars, and too much whiskey in one other place. Before she could draw breath or stand, a heavy hand fell on her shoulder.

"Not one sound, darlin', or I'll cut your lover girl's throat and use her guts to bind your wrists for you."

"Rhysto," Loretta said. "Always did know how to treat a lady."

The hand squeezed, digging into the tender front of her shoulder until Loretta had to grit her teeth to keep from drawing away.

"I do know how to treat a lady, sure," Rhysto said. "I know how to treat the likes of you, too."

He finally let go, and she sat back, forcing herself to stay calm. Rhysto walked out of her closet and stood in front of her, his thumbs hooked behind his wide black leather belt. She remembered that belt far better than she wanted to.

Not all of her memories were unpleasant.

He was standing so close that Loretta had to lean back to see his face. His beard was still long and thick, though his brown hair had been cut not too long ago. The smirk on his face was exactly the same.

"What do you want?" she said. "I paid you off a long