“I’m always free at night, you know that,” Nick said.

“Good. I want you to accompany me to a reception.”

“I detest social affairs,” Nick said. “You know that, as well. It is the primary reason why I spend most of my evenings with my books.”

Owen walked out of the back room and headed toward the front door of the shop. “I don’t enjoy such affairs any more than you do. But I need your help tonight.”

Nick followed him. “Receptions are boring.”

“I don’t think this one will be.”

“Why? Because it is being held at the Leybrook Institute? I don’t see how that makes it any more appealing.”

“We are not going to attend for the purpose of amusing ourselves. We will be hunting.”

“Huh. I suppose that might make it a bit more interesting. How do you expect to find your killer in a crowd?”

Owen opened the door and went out onto the fogbound street. “By now he will be obsessed with Miss Dean. I do not think that he can spend an entire evening in the same room with her without getting close to her at some point.”

“Obsession is a strange and powerful force,” Nick agreed. He closed the shop door. “It makes people do things that go against logic and reason.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you know, I have not seen you this intrigued by a case in a very long time.”

“It is the most interesting hunt that has come along in a while.”

“It came along thanks to J & J,” Nick pointed out.

“Yes,” Owen said. “I think the agency will become a regular, established client for us in the future.”

“Because J & J and Arcane hunt the same monsters?”

Owen smiled. “I predict a long and profitable partnership.”

TWENTY-FOUR

“Mr. Sweetwater is going to escort both of us to the reception tonight?” Charlotte emerged from an aisle of bookshelves, a stack of leather-bound volumes cradled in her arms. “Good heavens, Virginia, what do you think you are doing?”

“Trying to find a killer,” Virginia said.

Charlotte set the stack of books on the table. “Does that sort frequent social affairs?”

“Mr. Sweetwater seems to think this one will definitely be at the reception.”

“Why?”

“Because the monster is associated with the Institute.”

Charlotte pondered that briefly. “Well, it is certainly true that everyone with any connection whatsoever to the Institute will attend the affair tonight. Those who don’t show up will be notable by their very absence. But how will you explain him to people at the reception?”

“I had not planned to explain the killer’s presence to anyone.”

“That is not amusing. You know very well I meant how will you explain Mr. Sweetwater? It is one thing to allow people to think that you have agreed to let him study you, but the reception is not a venue for demonstrations of paranormal powers. It is a social occasion. You know what people will say.”

“The awkwardness of the situation did occur to me, but oddly enough, after visiting the scenes of several murders in the past few days and concluding that I may be next on the killer’s list, I find that I no longer care what people say about my association with Mr. Sweetwater.”

Charlotte brightened. A knowing look illuminated her eyes.

“Well, that explains it,” she said, satisfied. “And just when did you plan to confide in your closest friend? I refer to myself, of course.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There is something different about you lately. At first I thought it was the excitement of pursuing a murder inquiry. That would certainly be more than enough to thrill the senses. But I had a feeling that there was more to it.”

“Such as?” Virginia picked up the old book on top of the pile and opened it to the title page. A Treatise on the Art of Summoning Spirits in Looking Glasses. “Are these all of the books you have that touch on glasslight?”

“All of those that appeared to contain useful information.”

Virginia considered the stack of books in front of her. “There aren’t very many, are there?”

“Much of what has been written on the subject is superstitious nonsense. I didn’t think you would want to waste time on works of magic and the occult.”

“No, of course not.” Virginia tapped the big book she had opened. “But this appears to be a book on summoning spirits. What is that, if not superstitious nonsense?”

“Like many glass-readers, Llewellyn did not fully understand what he was viewing when he looked into mirrors. That doesn’t mean he did not have some fascinating observations to make. And stop trying to avoid the subject of Mr. Sweetwater. Your relationship with him involves more than the investigation, does it not?”

Virginia sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

“It is to me.” Charlotte smiled. “I have the distinct impression that you are no longer interested in booking an appointment with Dr. Spinner for one of his hysteria treatments.”

Virginia felt herself turning red. “To be honest, the prospect of being treated with an electrical device was always somewhat worrisome.”

“The dangers of electricity are well known.” Charlotte’s smile faded into an expression of concern. “But I think you may be facing another sort of danger.”

“Trust me, I am well aware of the risk involved in hunting a murderer.”

“I am speaking of your liaison with Mr. Sweetwater,” Charlotte said gently. “Do not mistake me. I am thrilled that you are embarking on a glorious affair. Indeed, I envy you. But try to maintain some perspective.”

Virginia raised her brows. “Perspective?”

“You must not lose your heart to Mr. Sweetwater. He will surely break it, even if he does not intend to do so. He comes from a different world.”

“I understand. But really, Charlotte, why should I bother to protect my heart any longer? I will have the rest of my life to recover from a doomed love affair.”

“Hmm.” Charlotte considered the question for perhaps five seconds, and then she nodded once, emphatically. “You’re quite right. After it is over, you will have the stirring memories. I, on the other hand, will have only the stirring recollections of my appointments with Dr. Spinner to warm my lonely old age.”

“Assuming you do not get electrocuted.”

Charlotte shuddered. “It is an alarming thought, isn’t it?”

“So is the prospect of a broken heart. But at least one survives that sort of thing, or so I’m told. Looking on the bright side, I’m sure there will always be doctors offering treatments for female hysteria to whom I can turn after my liaison with Mr. Sweetwater comes to the inevitable conclusion.”

“And given the amazing progress of modern science, we can no doubt look forward to many more advances in electrical devices of a medical nature.”

“No doubt.”

They looked at each other. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then, as happened so often between them, they both burst into laughter.

“Oh, Charlotte, what would I do without you?” Virginia said. She took out a handkerchief and wiped the tears away from her eyes.

“I would miss you even more than you would miss me,” Charlotte said. She sobered. “Are you absolutely certain that your affair with Mr. Sweetwater will end badly?”

“I think it is the most likely outcome.”

“But the two of you have so much in common.”

Virginia frowned. “In what way?”

“It strikes me that your talents are quite similar.”

“He hunts psychical killers. I see the dead in mirrors. How are those two talents alike?”

“Perhaps not alike but complementary, if you see what I mean. When you think about it, the two of you make a very good team.”

“For goodness’ sake, Charlotte, I would not want Mr. Sweetwater to marry me just because we make a good investigation team. Even assuming he was inclined to do so, it is not enough. You and I have both discussed this matter. We made our decision the night of my twenty-sixth birthday. We will marry for love or we will not marry at all.”