LITMIR.BIZ

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about Dante?”

      Ivy sipped her tea, her expression thoughtful. “He got weird after his dad died. Up until that point, he was friendly with me and Graham. A few other kids, too. He was always artistic, but after his dad died, his work got freaky. He started drawing monsters.”

      “You mean like the Fiend?”

      “No. Distorted things. Abnormal.” Ivy frowned. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”

      The more Maya learned about Dante DeLuca, the more complex he seemed. “Maybe he was having a hard time.”

      “It could be.” Ivy didn’t sound entirely convinced. “His dad left him a mansion on the west side of town, but he spends most of his time in an apartment near Pin Oaks.”

      To be near his grandmother. It was a sad tale, but it made no sense that a man with that kind of money would let his grandmother—his beloved grandmother—languish in a nursing home.

      “Why doesn’t he hire someone to care for his grandmother so she can live at home?”

      “According to Dante, he’s tried. He even pleaded with her, but she likes being with people her own age. She says the house is too big and empty.”

      “He could buy something smaller.”

      “He tried that, too. Sonia DeLuca is a stubborn woman. And as much as I think he’s messed up, even if his grandmother moved from Pin Oaks, Dante would still lash out at Hode Development on behalf of the other residents.” A trace of grudging respect lingered in her voice. “He can be an idiot, but he stands by his principles.”

      Maya thought back to the man she’d seen at the Fiend Festival. If she’d encountered him on the street, she would have thought he was a vagabond based on his shabby appearance. There were plenty of wealthy people who came off as eccentric. Apparently, Dante DeLuca had decided to embrace that stereotype.

      Ivy’s phone chimed with a text message before she could press further.

      “Crap. It’s Graham asking for a ride.” Ivy thumbed through the message. “I told you we’re like brother and sister. I gave him a lift home after he dropped his car off for inspection this morning. Looks like he’s ready to pick it up. I’m going to have to leave. At least for a while.”

      “Don’t worry about it.” Maya had lost her motivation for unpacking. “I want to take my time sorting through what I have left, anyway. Do you still want to go to the Fiend Festival tonight?”

      “Sure.” Ivy drained the remainder of her tea, then carried her glass into the kitchen and set it in the sink. “Why don’t we catch dinner someplace first instead of eating pizza again? There’s a café on Arch Street that does great salads and wraps.”

      “That sounds good. How about around six?”

      “Perfect.” Ivy grinned. “I can pick you up. It’s too far to walk, and there’s no sense in taking two cars.”

      “I thought the roads were blocked at this end of town.” Maya stood and pushed in her chair.

      “Only on the first day of the festival. After that, they open the back route through Chicory.”

      “Then I won’t argue. I’m still learning my way around the city.” A sudden spot of frigid air bloomed around her. She glanced toward the ceiling, expecting to see an air conditioning vent, but the surface was solid. “That’s odd.”

      “What?” Ivy hesitated at the mouth of the hallway.

      Turning to the window behind her, Maya pressed her hand to the sill. The wood was warm beneath her touch, the outside temperature in the upper seventies. “I felt a blast of cold air.”

      “Check the A/C,” Ivy suggested. “If it’s malfunctioning, call Hode Development. Leland owes you his life. He can surely spring for a repair.”

      Chapter 3

      July 26, 1897

      Reading wasn’t something Lucy enjoyed, but Simon insisted she learn. He’d set aside time each day to teach her, eventually hiring a tutor when other obligations kept him busy. The woman said she was a quick learner, praise that made Lucy strut like a hen who’d netted the prime rooster, but Simon told her to “dispense with such crudeness.” It was paramount she behaved as a lady at all times.

      Closing her book, she rested it in her lap, fingers coiled around the spine. She’d eaten lightly, sampling the fluffy waffles and fresh fruit with cream arranged in china platters on the breakfast table. The meal was a far cry from the fried potatoes and cheese the circus dished up for a morning meal. Simon carried the silver tea service and delicate china with him, transporting both in a black case whenever they moved to a new lodging. He said it was the only way for a proper lady and a gentleman to dine. Lucy was getting used to hotel living, but wondered if they’d ever settle for more than a few days.

      “I don’t want anyone becoming too familiar with you,” Simon told her when she’d asked why they kept moving from town to town. “You’re too memorable.”

      The words had stung. “Because of my blue skin?”

      He gripped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “Because of your exquisite beauty, my dear.”

      A smile touched her lips as the memory surfaced. She was fit and trim, with a shape that appealed to men. From the time she was a child, she’d brushed her long black hair until it gleamed, but no one had ever called her beautiful.

      Sitting primly as Simon had taught her, she laced her hands on the edge of the table. “How much longer do you reckon we’ll be—” She stopped abruptly, cringing when Simon folded the edge of his newspaper to peer over the top. Catching her mistake, she cleared her throat. “How much longer do you think we’ll stay in Tallow Wells?”

      The town was small, the kind Simon preferred. At least for now. His goal was to take her to Philadelphia or New York City, but it would take time before she was ready. Before she could perform an act more mesmerizing than the feats she’d staged in the air.

      “You’ve made excellent progress with this tutor, so I should guess no more than two days.” Simon folded his paper. “You are an adept pupil, but I don’t want people remembering Lucy Strick when Lady Glass becomes the toast of society. I don’t expect news of your success to travel to backwater towns, but I’d rather err on the side of caution.”

      “And I am to be Lucy Glass?” She swirled a spoonful of honey into the teacup at her elbow.

      “No, my dear. You are to be Lucinda Glass.”

      A refined name. Several months ago, she would have called it “high-falutin’.” Now she understood the difference. For the time being, Simon introduced her as his ward, but that would change when they took permanent lodging in a big city.

      “Do you still plan to introduce me as your daughter?” They’d discussed the reasoning before, and while the idea had made sense in the early days of their acquaintance, it no longer suited her.

      Simon frowned at the displeasure in her voice. “How else would you have me introduce you when we live beneath the same roof?”

      Setting her teaspoon down, she drew a steadying breath. In the short time they’d been together, she’d grown more than fond of him. “As your wife.”

      He balked. “Child, how can you—”

      “Do not call me a child!” Her voice cracked with pent-up frustration. “I am more than old enough to know the ways of human flesh.” Did he think she’d spent eight years in the circus and hadn’t enjoyed a single tryst? Her skin might be blue, but her body was well toned and supple. There’d been plenty of men eager to join with her in the Biblical sense. Just none interested in making her their wife. She’d been careful and choosy, her only true relationship with Horace, the knife-thrower. She wasn’t a novice.

      “I didn’t mean to imply that

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