“He’s not a project,” she said sharply.

“Did he hurt you?” He brushed grass off her arms, cupping her shoulders and turning her around to examine her. As she spun back the other way, he caught her chin, and tipped her face up, heat flaring through his blue eyes. “He hit you. You’re bruised.”

“It’ll fade. I did tackle him, after all. He never meant to hurt me–”

“Bloody hell, Perry. It didn’t look like that. You said he wasn’t a threat!”

“He wasn’t. At least, I didn’t gain that impression. He was frightened of me–”

“I know your instincts are good,” he said, in a hard tone, “but sometimes you’re wrong.”

“And sometimes you’re a fool!” She snapped, turning back to the theatre.

He caught her arm. “You didn’t see what happened, Perry! He went straight for Miss Radcliffe! Millington barely managed to push her out of the way when Lovecraft attacked. He knocked down three men, and broke another’s arm. You think that’s not threatening?”

“Miss Radcliffe?” she murmured, slamming to a halt. “Did he attack her?”

“Tried to.”

They stared at each other.

Perry’s mind raced. Was she correct? Did Lovecraft come to the theatre to get revenge on the person who’d shot Hobbs? Or had he not truly understood what she’d been trying to ask?

Was it Miss Radcliffe?

She too had motive. A prime new role as lead actress, and the only proof that Rommell had a hand in the disappearance, had come directly from her pretty lips.

Had that entire story earlier been something that the actress had made up? A way to cast suspicion on the lord? After all, Miss Radcliffe was an actress. Maybe the tears had been feigned?

Perry’s gut twisted in doubt. If it was a lie, then the woman was one hell of an actress. Perry could have sworn those tears had been real, but how could she tell Garrett that? He already thought her hare-brained, for thinking that Lovecraft wasn’t a threat to her. If she tried to tell him her suspicions about Miss Radcliffe - after all of their previous arguments - he’d no doubt think Perry was trying to stir trouble again.

“Can you track him by scent?” Garrett asked. He knew how good her senses were.

Perry hesitated - then slowly shook her head. “No. I can’t smell anything.”

Which was a lie, but if she were going to talk to Lovecraft then she needed to do it alone. He would be too frightened of anyone else, and she knew Garrett didn’t believe her.

“Let’s get back to the theatre,” she said. “And see how Miss Radcliffe is faring.”

And afterwards, she’d see if she could pick up the scent trail that she could sense.

The theatre was bedlam.

Fear and excitement tainted the air, and it seemed the entire acting troupe had emerged from whichever little hole in the theatre belonged to them, to see what all of the fuss was about. The room was abuzz with talk that the pursuit had lost Lovecraft, as he circled back around near the theatre.

He could be anywhere nearby. Perry’s fingers twitched as everyone whispered about it.

Lord Rommell was furious. “You knew this creature?” he demanded, stepping forward just enough to make her uncomfortable.

Perry found her back against the theatre wall. “I encountered him yesterday. He... he’s some kind of anomaly but I don’t believe he meant any harm–”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t form such assumptions,” Rommell replied. “Without an actual basis to your theory besides feminine intuition.” He actually turned his back on her, focusing on Garrett. “I want a search mounted. I want this... this creature found. It’s quite evident he has something to do with Nelly’s disappearance, and this incompetence is not what I’m paying the Guild for. If I hadn’t stepped in when I did, it would have torn poor Miss Radcliffe to pieces!”

“My lord.” Garrett’s lips thinned. “Of course we plan to mount a search.” Those blue eyes locked on her. He’d made it clear he thought the same way Rommell did, about Lovecraft. “I’ll send for reinforcements from the Guild. We’ll track him down.”

Perry looked away. It was bad enough for Rommell to be questioning her competence, but Garrett hadn’t even made one sound of protest. He’d always backed her when people challenged her in the past, and something ached in her chest that he didn’t this time.

Was she wrong? Was Lovecraft a threat to her?

She couldn’t even fathom it. He seemed so childlike to her, more frightened of the world than it was of him - which was a considerable amount indeed. He had the size and capacity to do great violence, but she just couldn’t see it being intentional, no matter what had occurred here earlier. He seemed to react only out of fear and pain.

Garrett offered his arm to Miss Radcliffe, who was frightfully pale. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to see you home. You look like you could do with a rest?”

Perry’s muscles locked tight, anticipation flaring. It would be the perfect opportunity to follow up on Lovecraft’s scent alone.

“That’s quite generous, Reed,” Rommell broke in, “but I do believe you have work to see to. I’ll escort Eliza home in my carriage.” He pasted on a smile and stepped toward the actress. “Come, my dear.”

“Thank you,” Miss Radcliffe looked between the men. “But I don’t believe I should leave, not just yet. We have a show to perform in a few hours.” Sucking in a shuddery breath, she stepped away from Rommell. “I feel utterly safe with the Nighthawk’s here. I’m certain they’ll find the culprit - and whatever has happened to poor Nelly.”

Rommell harrumphed under his breath, but he patted her gloved hand. “Such bravery, my dear. Don’t you let any of this bother you. I’ll summon some of my guards to the theatre to ensure your safety, and tonight shall be another triumph.”

With that he was gone. Miss Radcliffe gave them both a weak smile. “I should begin to get dressed. If you’ll excuse me?”

Perry watched her go. It was interesting that she recovered so quickly. Most young ladies would have suffered a fainting fit.

Or was that simply suspicion flavouring her thoughts?

Garrett let out a frustrated sigh, as most of the acting troupe broke away to prepare themselves for the play, led by Miss Radcliffe’s example. It left them alone together.

“You believe me, don’t you?” Perry said into the softening darkness of the stage. “I know what a threat looks like.”

Garrett raked a hand through his coppery hair. He stared out over the empty theatre. “Perhaps you misconstrued Lovecraft’s intentions. It happens.”

Not to me. She felt numb though, all hollow inside. Garrett didn’t believe her. And why should he? She had no proof. Nothing to say that the poor creature had benevolent intentions other than her intuition, which Rommell had summarily dismissed.

That made her burn with fury. Years of working cases, and men were still looking down their noses at her. “Perhaps you shouldn’t believe everything Rommell says,” she snapped. “Considering that he lied about Nelly being his mistress.”

Garrett caught her arm as she turned to go. “What?”

“According to Miss Radcliffe, Nelly had a beau who might have been named Nick, or something similar, and that she refused Rommell’s suit. Unless she’s lying, I’m going to assume, with my feminine intuition, that Rommell is therefore a suspect. I could be wrong. Maybe I should rely on your superior instincts as a man?”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” he warned. “I’m not the one that doesn’t trust your instincts.”

“Truly?” She looked up at him. “Because it feels like you did.”

They stared at each other.

“I know,” he said carefully, “that I wasn’t there when you encountered the creature before.”

“His name is Lovecraft.”

“Fine, Lovecraft.” A hint of snarl coated his words. “But I saw what happened today. I saw that thing come straight at us. It threatened Miss Radcliffe, then turned on Millington and Rommell, Perry. It had murder in its eyes and you know it.”

“Rommell inspires such thoughts in several of us, then. I’m having trouble keeping my knives sheathed whenever he opens his mouth.”

“Rommell is of the Echelon. He could cause trouble for us very easily.”

“You don’t think I know that? How foolish do you consider me?”

“I’m just saying... perhaps you should let me handle him? Your emotions are involved, and while I don’t like the man, I can restrain my temper around him. As for Lovecraft, don’t underestimate him.” He stared her in the eyes. “Promise me you’ll watch your back tonight, when we mount this search.”

“You’re going to bring in more Nighthawks?”

He gave a clipped nod. “Unfortunately, we do need to do something to appease Rommell. He has the power to remove both of us from the case, if need be.”

“Which would be very convenient if he had something to do with Nelly’s disappearance,” she said darkly. “Either Rommell or Miss Radcliffe is lying. I’m not certain which. They both have motive in this case.”

“But why would Miss Radcliffe shoot Hobbs, if she were involved?” He said quickly.

Too quickly.

And Perry didn’t have the answers to that. “I don’t know. I just thought I should tell you. And why would Rommell do such a thing either? Neither of them would have come into Hobbs’ sphere, unless he came to the theatre. It just seems an odd thing for either of them to lie about, but one of them must be.”

A frown twisted Garrett’s brow and he slid his hands into his pockets. “Something to look into then. And the Webley pistol is small enough to be operated by a woman.”

The earlier argument hovered in the air, but at least he was taking her suspicions seriously. Perry looked away. “Perhaps you should go and see if you can organise a squad of Nighthawks?”

“And what do you intend to do?”

“I’ll stay here,” she said. “Make sure that the monster doesn’t return.”

“Perry–”

“I can’t get into trouble that way, can I? Perhaps when you come back you can tell me what I should do next? Since my intuition is so obviously skewed today.”

He growled under his breath. “Maybe you should stay here and wait for me. I don’t know that it’s your intuition that is skewed - or perhaps your common sense - but we’ll discuss that when I return.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

DEEP BACKSTAGE, Perry knelt, touching her fingers to a patch of blood on the floor. The moment Garrett had left to call for reinforcements, she’d managed to pick up the scent trail in the park, and had followed it on a circuitous route back to the theatre. Now, she was no closer to finding Lovecraft, but she had the dawning suspicion that he’d returned to the scene of the crime, and was somewhere deep in the bowels of the monstrous building.

For what purpose though?

Was he frightened, or hurt or hiding? The blood certainly indicated that one of the constables had winged him.

Maybe he didn’t know where to go - or had come looking for her, looking for help?

Or maybe he was here to finish the job that he’d started.

That chilled Perry’s blood. What did she know about him, truly? Garrett had told her that her common sense had gone missing, and maybe he was right? Maybe she was letting her emotions make her decisions.

She still had to find him, however, before someone else did. She could prevent another incident. She just had to pray that she got to him first, before the rest of the Nighthawks arrived.

A pair of eyes gleamed in the shadows, and Perry froze as she recognised that hulking shape. Lovecraft was rocking himself in the corner, making a low, keening noise in his throat.

“Hello,” she whispered. “It’s me again. Perry.” Her throat went dry as he stopped making that noise. She couldn’t forget the way he’d attacked the group earlier. No more assumptions that he wouldn’t hurt her.

Lovecraft bared his metal teeth at her in a growl, and her heart plummeted into her gut. He was truly a pathetic sight, like a scared child. How could the others not see it? The rage with which he’d assaulted Rommell and Miss Radcliffe was that of a scared young boy, not a man.

She should arrest him. Half the theatre was already up in arms, looking out for him, after the constables had said that he’d returned to this area. It wasn’t safe, but if she arrested him, and they saw him... The men didn’t want justice, they wanted blood.

Damn it.

Reaching out, Perry set a gentle hand on his arm. Lovecraft flinched. The scent of blood was thick here, stirring the heat inside her. Perry swallowed, and moved a little closer. “You’re hurt.”

Moving slowly, she peeled his arm away from his chest. Blood soaked the dirty linen shirt he wore. Someone had shot him.

Perry tugged her handkerchief out of her pocket, and pressed it to the wound. The bleeding was sluggish now, but she used his hand to hold it there, just in case. Lovecraft winced, and rested his head on her shoulder.

She’d never been good with comforting people, but it was so easy to reach out and slide a comforting hand through his hair. Perhaps because, in a way, he was like her... Not accepted, shunned, afraid of people, and the way they could mock or jeer.

“Why did you attack Miss Radcliffe?” Perry whispered.

Those guileless blue eyes were glazed with pain and exhaustion as he looked up. He looked confused.