Page 96 of Mistress of Lies

Her dark hair. It had likely been a woman. Shan couldn’t tell if she had been old or young without seeing the face, but that much had been clear in the shape of the body, the tattered remains of the dress.

Samuel coughed behind her, and she turned to check on him, but he was holding himself together better than she had expected. Then again, this was not his first body—in the past few months he had seen more than his fair share, and that changed a person.

For some reason that made her incredibly sad.

“Here,” Alessi said, drawing their attention away from the body as she held up a lantern. “This is what you should be concerned about.”

Shan stepped forward, squinting at the dark wall. It took her a second to realize that those weren’t smudges on the old, salt-soaked wood, but words scrawled in dark lettering, their edges smudged and dripping.

Five Down. One Left.

Your Secrets Will Out.

“Is that paint?” Samuel asked, reaching out to touch it, but Shan snatched his hand in midair.

“It’s blood,” she whispered, then turned to Alessi. “Hers?”

Alessi shrugged. “Likely. We’ve gathered a sample, but we haven’t had a chance to test it yet. Or to identify the corpse.”

Shan spun back to the victim, her mind whirling with possibility. This message was new—a break in the pattern. And there was a deeper pattern here, something they had been missing.

“There was nothing tying them together,” Shan said, mostly to herself. They had just been Unblooded people. Simple people with simple lives.

She had been wrong.

“We must have missed it.” Samuel looked towards Alessi. “Can you turn her?”

“I can,” she said, though she seemed hesitant. “Why? Do you think you recognize her?”

Samuel just stared down at the corpse. “I… don’t know. Just a feeling.”

“Let’s do it,” Shan said, though she wasn’t looking forward to touching it. “In case there is anything we can find—”

“All right, LeClaire.” Alessi pulled a couple of handkerchiefs from somewhere in her robes and handed them over. “Here, don’t touch the body directly if you can avoid it.”

Shan took them gratefully, waiting for Alessi to take her position on the other side of the corpse. Together, they carefully lifted her and flipped her over, laying her back down on the sand.

“Well?” Alessi asked.

She had been young. Under thirty. Shan could see it now, even with her ruined face. But more than that, there was something vaguely familiar about the corpse, a faint recognition that she couldn’t quite place underneath all the ruined skin. But it was there, even down to the outfit she wore—a tight, black corset that would have fitted much better on a body filled with life.

Wait.

She leaned forward, studying the corset and skirt, the few faux diamonds that still clung to the fabric. Her blood ran cold—she knew this outfit.

“Hells!” Samuel swore, suddenly and violently, and both Shan and Alessi looked up at him in surprise. He was pale and shaking, the lantern twitching violently in his hand. “I know her. She’s a card dealer. Vingt-et-un.”

“At the Fox Den,” Shan said, and Samuel nodded.

“Her name was Sarah.”

Shan closed her eyes, searching her memories of her nights at that place, of the Unblooded workers who came and went. Of a brilliant, bright woman with dark hair and a loud laugh. “Sarah Dean.” She turned her gaze onto Samuel, who looked pale and wan in the moonlight. “But how did you know?”

“We need to talk” was all he said. “Alone.”

“Yes.” She glanced at Alessi. “Check the corpse against the blood on file for Sarah Dean, as well as the… ink from the message. It should be a match.” She was already standing, brushing the sand off her knees.

“Where are you going?” Alessi asked. “They said there will be one more.”