Doyle looked and muttered words unbecoming an officer of the Yard. “Someone must have slipped it to her another way.”

“In here?” Rina made a rude sound. “How?”

“In my tea,” I offered dully. “Tasted funny.”

“The guild master.” The inspector swore softly.

“Sodding bastards tried to get at her again, right under your noses. Come on, love, we’re leaving.” Rina steered me toward the door.

He stepped in front of it. “You’ll need protection.”

“Wreck,” Rina called out.

The door opened inward, hitting Doyle in the back and shoving him aside. He spun around, fist curled, and then took a step back.

Wrecker stepped in and turned toward the inspector, his face bland. “Take care of this one, milady?”

“Not just yet, Wreck.” To Doyle, Rina said, “Here’s my protection.” She patted the broad wall of Wrecker’s chest. “Got anything bigger than this, cop?” When Doyle remained silent, she said, “Didn’t think so.”

My throat burned and I thought my head might tumble off my shoulders a few times on the way out of the station, but by the time Rina and Wrecker helped me into the carri and we were on our way, my thoughts cleared.

“Don’t take me home,” I told my friend. “I need to go in to work.”

“With you nattering on and your eyes like that?” Rina hooted. “They’ll toss your ass out in the street and cancel your office lease. No, love, we’re going to the Lily.”

“I don’t have time for a bath.”

“That’s tragic.” Rina sniffed. “So is the way you smell.”

I didn’t have the strength to bicker, so I leaned back against the neck rest and closed my eyes.

If the guild master had drugged my tea, it may have been to render me helpless against a second attack—and he would have needed at least one man on the inside. I knew Doyle couldn’t have been involved; he wouldn’t have saved my life to attack me in a police station. If for any reason Dredmore wanted me dead, he could have stood by in the alley and watched the snuffmage cut my throat. I was less sure of Mary Harris, but I couldn’t imagine why a nice old lady who believed she protected people with her idiot spells would get mixed up with hired killers.

Drugging me helpless was too similar to what had been done to Diana Walsh. It stank of the same combination of cunning and cowardice.

As the last of the joy’s effects faded, I began to feel wretched. I wanted to go home and barricade myself in my flat. But even there I wouldn’t be safe, not from someone who could doctor my tea in a police station, or assault me in my sleep.

Dredmore.

Physicks believed that dreams were the mind’s suppressed desires and fears. Across the pond, there were new types of phsyicks who even studied dreams in hopes of connecting them to body ailments. I’d never thought much about it—I hardly ever remembered my dreams—but Lucien Dredmore kissing and then trying to choke me to death in my mind could be nothing more than a garden-variety nightmare.

Besides, why would he try to kill me in my dreams when he’d saved me in the alley?

When we reached the Lily, I was able to climb down out of the carri without assistance. Rina still took my arm as if she was afraid I’d run away.

“Two for the works,” she told the gel at the desk inside, who gave me a single scandalized glance before accepting Rina’s payment.

“Will you be having a massage today, madam?” the desklass asked.

“No, and we don’t need maids; we’ll see to ourselves.” Rina took the key the gel handed her and glanced back at Wrecker. “Go back to the house and ask Almira to give you a complete change for Miss Kit. Tell her something light and warm.”

“Right away, milady.” Wrecker touched his cap and took off.

“You can’t throw away my skirts,” I told Rina as she walked me back to the private bathing room. “I need them.”

“As what? Cleaning rags? ’Sall they’re good for now.” She unlocked the door and gave me a little push. “Come on, the stink of you is about to make me puke.”

“I need the skirts”—I paused as Rina pulled my bodice out of my waister and over my head—“to test the powder on them from the snuffmages’ balls”—I turned so she could unknot the mangle of my fasteners—“and see if it contains poppy dust.”

“I’ve already checked it; it’s charcoal, nothing more.” She pulled out a fold on my skirt and bent over to examine the stain. “No one would toss this much red joy at you, Kit. It’d cost the earth. The coppers were the ones that dosed you.”

“They’ve no motive,” I reminded her as I tried to unlace the front of my chemise. My fingers felt thick and I fumbled until she pushed my hands aside. “Doyle thinks I’m in on some extortion scheme. You don’t try to kill someone you think is nicking coin from the tonners.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, my gel, Doyle works for the Hill,” she snapped. “If they told him to dress you like a performing ape, put you on a leash, and take you for a walk, he’d be trotting you round Central Square right now.”

“No.” I set my jaw. “Not Tommy. He’s not like that.”

“For bleeding Christ’s sake, Kit, he’s little more than a nobber in fancy dress. Get over him.” She helped me out of my drawers and pointed to the slats. “Use the hot,” she said as she began undressing, “or you’ll never work that dried muck out of your hair.”

I stood naked on the spaced slats and reached up for the red shower pull. The water that gushed over me was almost too hot to bear, but I stood under the wide stream and let it soak me thoroughly. Once my hair was plastered to my skull, I reached for a handful of scented soap mash and began working it into my snarled, filthy locks.

Rina came over with a handled sponge but set it aside to peek under the bandage on my arm. “Shit. That sod have the decency to clean this?”

I felt like yanking on the blue pull. “He’s not a sod, and yes, he did, quite nicely.”

“Nicely my ass.” She dipped the end of the sponge into the bowl on the soap stand, coating it well before going to work on my back. “No such thing as a nice copper.”

“You’ve met all of them at Rumsen Main, I suppose.” I picked up another handle and went to work on my front.

Once I was properly soaped up, I tugged on the purple pull and lifted my face into the warm stream. I might have stood there for a year, it felt so good, but once I’d washed all the soap away, I released the pull and wiped my hands up my face and over my head.

“Get in and soak,” Rina told me before she went to another slat stand to wash herself.

I climbed down the short steps into the pool, letting my cooled skin grow accustomed to the heat before I slipped down and let the water close over my head briefly. Once I’d soaked enough, I straightened and went to sit on one of the submerged benches, where Rina joined me.

“You’ll come stay with me until they nail the bastards after you,” she decided as she reclined back against the tile rest. “You can have poor Liv’s rooms.”

“Can’t,” I told her. “I have to go back to Walsh’s on Friday for dinner.”

“What? Dinner at Walsh’s?” She sat up and stared at me. “You fancy a trip to the loonhouse? I can save us all a lot of grief and have Wrecker take you there directly.”

“They wouldn’t have me.” I splashed her a little. “I promised the lady I’d save her marriage. She’s in a bad way, Rina, and some of it’s my doing.”

“Oh, and she’s seen to it that you’re covered in diamonds, has she?” she demanded. “Kit, someone just tried to kill you. Twice. If you’re lucky and lay low, maybe they won’t try a third time and succeed.”

“I’ll be careful.” I turned to her. “You can help me.”

She smacked the side of my head. “There. Did that help?”

“No.” I rubbed the sore spot. “You know enough dusters to find out if someone’s been buying red.”

“Someone like?”

Mentioning the dream would only get me smacked again. “I think it could have been Dredmore.”

“Lucien Dredmore’s mixed up in this?” She groaned as she fell back. “Of course he is. I suppose you accidentally ran afoul of him. How many times does this make it? Forty? Fifty?”

“He nabbed me on the Hill after I had tea at Walsh’s,” I admitted. “He warned me off them.”

“Lovely.” She made a contemptuous sound. “I’ll send him some posies to express my gratitude.”

“Dredmore knows something about Nolan Walsh and his financial business,” I said thoughtfully. “And he never dirties his hands with paltry scams. Has to be something much bigger to tempt him.”

“That black-eyed beast wants only one thing,” Rina snapped. “You. And he’ll tell you whatever he likes if it means having you.”

I sank down. “I won’t let him.”

“He’s never made a real effort, you daft twit.” Rina turned on me. “Come on, Kit. You know the man’s got more funds than three governors. His servants are nothing more than a gang of kneecappers and necktwisters. If he decides to pluck you off the street like a bun from a corner cart and take you to that tomb of his on the cliffs, who’s to stop him? Who’s to care?”

“Bridget. Docket.” I gave her a hopeful look. “You.”

“Oh, yes. A loomgel, a nutty mech, and a pissed strumpet.” She rolled her eyes. “Why am I worried? You’re safe as houses.”

“The honorable wife of Lord Duluc, the cleverest of disgraced mechs, and Queen of the Night,” I corrected her softly. “My dearest mates in all the world, who would never let Dredmore take me from them.”