Boneseeker by Brynn Chapman

face her, and wait, unmoving till she meets my gaze. For a moment, all fades to nothing.
    The crowd, the music, my purpose here.
    Yearning clenches my chest. She resurrects the feelings of an awkward man-child.
    New women, new travels have not managed to loosen her grip. I find the distance I so carefully created ripping away, edging me ever closer with every bat of those eyelashes and I swallow as the banished feelings return.
    She doesn’t break the stare. “Henry…”
    A tap on my shoulder breaks the trance. Dr. Stygian.
    “Sir.”
    He gives a curt nod, his eyes full of suspicion. “Watson. You and Miss Holmes should turn in early and prepare for departure. We will see you tomorrow on the steamship. Seven sharp.”
    I nod. And fight the urge to break his jaw.
    I push the images of his advances from my mind.
    “Henry?” I hear Priscilla’s call from across the room.
    Something flares in Arabella’s eyes.
    “ Blast.I promised her another dance. I’m sorry. I will see you tomorrow morning. I’ll stop by your room to see if you need help with your steamer trunk.”
    Her expression is unreadable. “Have a wonderful evening.”
    I return to the gaggle of skirts and Priscilla’s face is puckered as if she’s just tasted a lemon. “Who is she?”
    “Arabella Holmes. She is one of the scientists.”
    “She doesn’t look like any scientist I’ve ever seen.”
    “You met her the other day, in the lab.”
    “That looks nothing like the girl I met. Will she be going on your expedition?” She scowls.
    I nod, and can’t stop the grin. “Yes, she will.”

Chapter Nine
     
    Behaviors Most Inappropriate
     
    Mutter Ballroom
    Henry
     
    I give my pocket watch a surreptitious glance. Almost midnight. Five dances with Priscilla and my father was grinning like the bloody Cheshire Cat.
    Arabella vacated the premises as soon as was socially acceptable. I watched her deny no less than seven requests to dance. I grin, wondering if their interest would wane once she opened her mouth. Men aren’t used to the weaker vessels spouting physics equations and talking about corpses as if it’s polite dinner conversation.
    It took every shred of self-restraint I had not to follow as I watched that lovely ivory dress ghost out the door and into the night.
    “Priscilla, I must be on my way. Our expedition leaves early in the morning, and I have much to prepare.”
    Father steps beside me, Violet on his arm. She gives me a clandestine wink.
    “Perhaps we might all meet, somewhere up the Hudson. Surely you’ll get a day off now and then,” father says helpfully.
    “Oh, yes. That would be grand!” Pricilla claps her hands and turns to look at Dr. Earnest for approval.
    I shoot father a look I hope conveys the string of profanities bursting to escape my mouth.
    He smiles. Even. Wider.
    Priscilla is back to staring at me, doe-eyes awaiting a response.
    “I-I will see what I can do. I’m new; I don’t want to take any liberties.” My grin is so sheepish I may bleat at any moment.
    “Oh, Henry. We’ll see you get a few days off anyway,” Dr. Earnest chimes in helpfully, sealing my fate.
    I tip my hat. “Good evening. Violet, Priscilla. Father—I will see you tomorrow.”
    “Can’t wait, son.”
    I tilt my head and grimace when only he can see, and head out into the darkness.
    The streets are quiet and misty. I arrive at my door and stop, staring up at the cottage. Anxiety squeezes my chest and I resist the compulsion to pace. I am not at all tired. My head is bursting with questions.
    I continue on, staring at Arabella’s cottage. All the lights are dark. She’s either asleep…or out.
    Intuition sparks in my chest and I continue down the street.
    My footfalls echo, slapping on the damp sidewalks. I squint as the foggy air wets my face.
    Questions pop in and out of my consciousness, each more perplexing than the one before.
    Neanderthals or Nephilim?
    Priscilla and paternal approval or…Arabella?
    What has Stygian to do