But that smile...Jack couldn’t help it, he smiled, as well, at the thought of it. So much joy in her pretty face. The mask hadn’t hidden her identity from him at all. She could have come out with a bedsheet over her head and he still would have known her.

He glanced toward the ring exit where she had gone; his gaze fell upon an older man rising from his seat. Damnation. Jack knew exactly where the man was going and whom he was hoping to find. Without hesitation, Jack stood and followed after, keeping a discreet distance between them. He slipped into the shadows backstage, concealing himself from view. He watched the girls leave Mila, eavesdropped on the conversation that followed. When Mila said that she wouldn’t be a doxy he almost cheered in relief. But Jack saw the expression on his lordship’s face, and he knew the man wasn’t about to accept a simple no.

Jack emerged from the shadows and slipped out a side door into the night. It took a few minutes to find the vehicle he sought in the crowd of waiting carriages. It was a shiny black steam carriage with a tall brass pipe and a soft leather seat for the driver—a chap who was talking to another driver a few vehicles down the line. Jack took advantage of his absence, and when Lord Blackhurst returned to his carriage, Jack was sitting there, waiting.

“Damnation!” The older man swore when he caught sight of him. “What the hell are you doing here? Get out or I’ll have you horsewhipped!” He reached for the door.

Jack braced his foot across the door and smiled. It was not a friendly smile. “Shut up, or I’ll break your nose.”

The man sneered at him, but he didn’t speak. He did, however, lean back against his seat. And he didn’t yell out for his driver.

Jack crossed his legs and toyed with his walking stick. It was so tempting to pull the sword free and stick it in the man’s gut. “I’ll make this quick. The girl you visited tonight. Stay away from her.”

Blackhurst scowled. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The redhead. Leave her alone.”

“Why?” His expression quickly changed from anger to interest. “Is she yours?”

Yes, she was! “Just stay away from her.”

His lordship snorted. “Or what?”

“I’ll make certain you regret it.” And he’d make certain very slowly.

“I’m not afraid of you, boy.”

“You should be very afraid of me, my lord.”

“Oh?” Amusement danced in his companion’s eyes. Mockery. “Enlighten me.”

Gladly. Jack set his cane across his lap. “You owe me twenty-thousand pounds.” It was a staggering sum, but one Jack could easily afford. Crime had paid him very well in the beginning, and the investments he’d made with that money had multiplied like mad over the past couple of years.

“I owe you nothing!”

This was when it got good, Jack realized. “You lost ten thousand to Lord Aberley, three thousand to Lord Dunnebrook, two to Lord Redbury and five to a Mrs. Birch. I paid your IOUs. You owe that money to me now.”

“You lie!” It was all bluster.

Now Jack was the one to smirk. “I assure you, my lord, when it comes to money I do not lie.”

“You paid out such a sum just to have me in your debt?”

“I did.”

“You dishonorable cad!” Blackhurst looked as though he might have a stroke. “What do you want from me?”

“I told you—stay away from the girl.”

“I want my IOU’s in exchange.”

Jack shook his head. “Not going to happen. I didn’t engineer having you right where I want you to give it up so easily.”

“She can’t mean that much to you, then. Besides, she seemed very agreeable to the idea of becoming better acquainted with me.”

Before he could stop himself, Jack’s hand lashed out. He grabbed the older man by the throat and pinned him to the velvet seat cushions. “You listen to me, you piece of filth. I can ruin you, and I’d enjoy doing it, but if you go near her again—if you’re even in the same room with her—I will end you. Do you understand?” He pushed every ounce of his talent into making certain the sincerity of his words was reflected in his eyes. “I’ll kill you, and I’ll do it slowly. So slowly, that you’ll beg me for death and I’ll still...take...my...time.”

Blackhurst’s gaze widened. Jack took a lot of pleasure in the fear he saw there. He wasn’t proud of the pleasure, but he enjoyed it all the same. He enjoyed it so very much. “You understand me now, don’t you?”

The man nodded. Slowly, Jack released his hold on his neck and then reached for the door handle. “We’ll talk another time about your debts.”

“You bastard,” Blackhurst rasped as Jack stepped out of the steam carriage. “You’ll pay for this. You and your little whore. You’ll pay.”

Jack, standing on the sidewalk, said loud enough for passersby to hear, “It was lovely seeing you again, as well.” His gaze locked Blackhurst’s and he smiled—a cold smile, full of promise. There was their resemblance.

“Good night, Father.”

* * *

Emily wouldn’t let Finley go back in—not right away.

“It’s dangerous!” she insisted. “Dying and coming back takes a heavy toll on the body, Finley. You need to recover.”

“I need to be with Griffin.” And she needed to deal with Felix, although she had no idea how to do that.

Her friend sighed, and Finley was tempted to cuff her upside the head. If it were Sam in there, Emily wouldn’t be concerned about the possible ramifications either.

“Look,” Emily said in a gently annoyed tone, “I know you want him back. We all do. I know you’re thinking that if the situation was reversed I’d be hell-bent on going back for Sam, and you’re right. I would. But you would be the voice of reason, and you’d stop me from hurting myself.”

“Em, he’s in there—”

“With your father.” Emily obviously wasn’t in the mood to entertain her anxiety. “In a veritable fortress. He’s safe and he’s recovering. Ipsley is checking in on him every hour. If he needs us he’ll let us know. Meanwhile, you need to rest and reserve your strength for the séance. Bringing Griffin back to this realm is not going to be easy.”

“If he had his strength back he could leave on his own.”

“Is that what he told you?”

There was enough of an edge in Emily’s voice that Finley looked askance at her. “No. I just assumed he could.”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions like that.”

The tension between them was too much. Finley slapped her hand hard against the laboratory wall. “Are you having your monthly, or did I do something to upset you, because we haven’t had a conversation in which you haven’t been pissy with me in days!”

“Both,” her friend replied. “I have a headache and I’m terrified that I’m going to lose both Griffin and you, and you just keep harping on me that things aren’t good enough or fast enough, and you don’t seem to care that if I don’t do my job properly you could die! I don’t want to be the person who kills you. Can you wrap that great thick head of yours around that?”

Finley didn’t know what to say, so she grabbed her and hugged her instead. Emily hugged her back. “I’m sorry.”

Finley squeezed her tighter. “So am I.”

“You’re cuttin’ off me air, lass.”

“Oh!” Finley released her. “Sorry.”

Emily looked at her and grinned. She grinned back. Then, the grinning turned to chuckles. God, it felt good.

A few moments later she asked, “Em, what did you mean about me not making assumptions?”

Emily sighed, and fiddled with one of the ropes of her hair. “If he had the strength—if he were able to break free, he would do that. Ipsley told me that something felt off about Griffin’s aura.”

“Off how?”

“Did he look tired to you? A little different?”

“Yes. He’s been tortured and held prisoner.”

“He’s fading, Finley. At least, that’s what Ipsley says. He thinks Garibaldi has drained so much of Griffin’s Aetheric energy that Griffin is bound to him. That’s why he didn’t bother to chase you when you escaped. He knows Griffin’s not going anywhere, and I’d wager the scoundrel figures he’ll get you, too, and your da, if he waits long enough. He’s got plenty of time after all.”

Bloody hell. Finley braced her hand against the cool wall, bracing herself so she didn’t crumple to the floor. Just when she thought things were heading in their direction. Just when she thought this nightmare with Garibaldi might soon be over...

“Is he certain?”

Emily nodded, her expression a study in sympathy. “As much as he can be— Not like the lad’s had a lot of experience with this, but he said that Griffin seemed like a true ghost to him, unlike you who had a glow about you.”

“So how do we fix it?”

“No idea. It’s like Griffin’s lost a piece of himself. His soul.”

Finley clenched her jaw. Bloody hell, this was awful. Terrible. She wasn’t terribly smart, but even she could figure out that trying to bring Griffin back in that sort of state could end in tragedy. She would not cry. “Garibaldi’s not going to make it easy for us. He’ll use it against us.” She rubbed a hand over her face. She was so bloody tired. Dying was exhausting.

“Do you think Griffin knows?” Emily asked.

“Of course he does. Garibaldi probably told him exactly what he was doing as he did it.” And of course, he wouldn’t tell her, because he wouldn’t want to worry her. Oh! She could just slap him silly! He was going to hear about this the next time she saw him.

“I’m sorry, Fin. I didn’t want to upset you, but I couldn’t not tell you.”

“I know, and I appreciate that. I’m going to go polish up some fighting techniques and gather information about the Aether with your fellow. Let me know when I can go back in.”