Free Requiem (The Penny Dreadfuls Book 1) by Skye Knizley

in a striped white dress appeared from behind the counter and handed her a cloth.
    “Dry yourself, girl, before you catch your death of cold.”
    Chastity accepted the cloth with a smile and dried herself as best she could. When she was done she handed the cloth back.
    “Thank you.”
    The woman dropped the cloth into a basket. “You’re welcome, dear. And welcome to Diablo Brothers Human Novelties. You may call me Lilith. We have dozens of human novelties and freaks to amaze and terrify you and a ticket is just sixpence. Will you dare to enter?”
    Chastity opened her purse and laid several coins on the counter. “Thank you. Can you tell me if the Thin Man is here today?”
    Lilith took the coin and placed a paper ticket on the counter. “You’ve seen our show before, then. No, his stage is dark today, why?”
    “I make a point of seeing the newest shows, it’s a sort of hobby. My name is Chastity MacLeod, I’m with the Dispatch. I’m working on a story about so-called freaks and was hoping to do an interview with him. I don’t suppose you could give me his real name or let me know where to find him?” Chastity asked.
    Lilith smiled. “For the newspaper? I suppose it would be alright. His name is Calvin Moody and you can find him either above the cobbler’s shop three streets east of here or at the Vine Tavern on Mile End Road.”
    Chastity took the ticket and placed it inside her purse. “Thank you, Lilith. I’ll make sure to mention you in the article.”
    “You don’t want to see the show?” Lilith asked.
    Chastity picked up her parasol. “I’ve another show to see today. Thank you again for your time.”
    The walk toward the cobbler’s shop was a slow and muddy one consisting mostly of noisome alleyways and side streets choked with urchins trying to keep out of the rain. Chastity had to slap several ambitious hands away from her purse before reaching the small green awning in front of JW Reynolds Cobblers. The front windows were half full with stylish shoes and hand-painted signs proclaiming any shoe was available within three days.
    An older man, possibly Mr. Reynolds himself, waved from inside the shop and Chastity smiled at him before heading up the stairs to the apartments. Many shopkeepers lived above their stores; crafty ones also rented out apartment spaces as a way to keep their stores open in leaner times.
    The stairs emptied out into a narrow corridor with four windows down one side and two doors in the other. Chastity knocked politely on the nearest door and waited. It opened a crack and a middle aged woman with her hair in a loose bun peered out.
    “Can I help you?”
    Her accent made it sound like “Kin eh help ye?”
    “Good afternoon, mum, I’m looking for Calvin, Mr. Moody,” Chastity replied.
    “He’s next door,” the woman replied.
    She slammed the door on Chastity’s “thank you” and Chastity stepped lightly down the hallway to the other door. She rapped again and stood rocking one foot back and forth. She knocked again when no one answered then tested the knob. The door opened on hinges rusted by the damp and Chastity looked into a narrow apartment with nothing but a clutter of books, a single bed, table with chairs and a stove dark with cold. There was no sign of Moody or that he’d even been there recently. Chastity entered and closed the door behind her, leaving it open a crack rather than forcing it shut.
    She first checked the bedding and found it to be both filthy and empty of anything of use save for a few strands of long blonde hair. By all accounts Moody was a ginger and most definitely male. Likely the hair belonged to an intimate lady-friend or one of the few of the city’s fanatics attracted to the fame of “freaks”.
    Chastity folded the hair into a scrap of paper from her notebook then checked the stove. As she’d suspected from the door, it was cold, but the interior was stuffed not with coal ash, but with scraps of charred paper. She placed them