that my choice was a sign of the depths of my addiction. It was better than having him know the truth. Once, I had loved him enough to destroy myself for him. But I was no longer the same man. I was no longer that strong.
"It's nearly morning. I should go." I stood and walked to the edge of the roof.
"So, it's goodbye again?" Sariel asked.
"It has to be said sooner or later." I stepped off the roof and let myself drop lightly to the ground.
I heard Sariel's quiet goodbye from high above me, and I whispered my own in return. It was all that I had left to say to him.
Chapter Nine
Gloves
Morning light streamed into Harper's sitting room and reflected across his clean white walls. I flinched from the brightness, even behind the smoked lenses of my spectacles. Harper handed me a cup of coffee and sat down in a straight-backed chair across from me.
His hair was damp and clean. His clothes looked crisp. The freshness of his surroundings only exaggerated his exhaustion. Deep blue shadows stained the skin under his eyes. His lips were pale. Oddly, exhaustion seemed to suit him. I was growing used to seeing him looking worn out. It gave me a sense of knowing him to realize that I had expected to see him this way.
"How's your back this morning?" he asked.
"Not too bad." The cuts still hurt, but there was no point in dwelling on them. I drank a little of the coffee. It was bitter and too strong.
Harper poured cream into his coffee and then added three spoonfuls of sugar. He picked up the small, silver sugar spoon easily despite the black gloves that encased his hands. Sunlight glowed at his back, cutting a hard white line around his dark form.
"There was a fire at Edward's house last night," Harper said. "He was lucky that there were a dozen or more Inquisitors in the area when it broke out."
"It wasn't luck."
"What do you mean?" Harper asked
"I was there. I saw the girl who did it. She told me she wanted to make sure Edward got out of the house alive."
"What?" Harper stared at me in shock. It was pleasant to see such a strong reaction on his features. A moment later, and the expression was gone.
"Who was she?" Harper asked.
"She didn't tell me her name." I drank a little more of the hot, black coffee. "She was small. At first I thought she was a child, but when I got a good look at her, I realized she was full-grown. I think she might have been a member of Good Commons. She mentioned Lily and Rose, the same names that were in Peter Roffcale's letter to your sister."
"Lily Abaddon, Rose Hesper." Harper closed his eyes and rubbed his gloved hands across his forehead as if he were attempting to soothe a headache. "She probably was a member of Good Commons. What else did she say?"
"Not much. She wasn't in the best shape—"
"She was hurt?"
"Not physically, but she didn't seem too far from crazed." I poured several heaps of sugar into my coffee. "She said she tried to stop another murder but got there too late. A boy named Tom. Do you know anything about that?"
"Thomas Mills." Harper frowned. "We found his body last night, about an hour before the fire at Edward's house. The body had only been partially gutted. The girl must have interrupted the murderer before he could finish up."
"Murderers," I said. "She said they killed Tom. So that's more than one murderer."
"But she didn't mention any names?" Harper asked.
"No. She seemed to have other things on her mind."
I stirred my coffee while I thought about the Prodigal girl. Edward was blameless. If she did not want to harm Edward Talbott, then what had been the object of the fire? I wondered if she had known of Joan Talbott's disappearance.
"Was anyone harmed in the fire?" I asked Harper.
"Mercifully, no." Harper frowned just slightly. "In a way, I suppose that it's good that Joan is missing. The fire started in her empty room. If she had been there, I don't know how she would have survived."
"Do you think that could have been a coincidence?" It seemed
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley