Chris Moriarty - The Inquisitor's Apprentice

“Well, of course! It’s just that, er, actually, you see — the prototype doesn’t exactly work yet.”

Wolf blinked. “But we saw the recorded cylinders in Mr. Morgaunt’s library. He played one for us.”

“Oh! Well, that’s different.”

“How?”

“It’s quite technical. I’m sure you wouldn’t understand.”

Wolf gazed at Edison for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then he gave a little shrug and changed the subject. “Tell me about the dybbuk. Did it attack you this time? Or just try to set fire to the etherograph?”

“Er … both, sort of … or, rather, it’s hard to say.” Edison looked a little embarrassed. “You see, I crawled under the etherograph to get away from it. In the heat of the moment, you understand. And then it tried to drag me out, and then Rosie — ahem — well, that is to say, my laboratory assistant — chased it away.”

Wolf frowned. “What did you say this assistant’s name was?”

Edison cleared his throat and ran a hand around the inside of his collar as if he’d suddenly developed a rash. “I … well … Mrs. Edison, you understand. It would be most disruptive of my domestic felicity if word of this, er, person got out to the newspapers.”

Wolf raised his eyebrows. “And how did your … assistant chase the dybbuk away?”

“With a screwdriver. And, er, bubblegum.”

Wolf smiled. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard of anyone fighting off a dybbuk with bubblegum. It sounds like your lab assistant could give the police a lesson or two.”

“Oh! Yes! She’s a most remarkable girl. But, er, very respectable, you understand. It would be quite improper to involve her in a criminal investigation. I could never forgive myself if…”

Wolf gave Edison another of his bland looks, and some silent message seemed to pass between the two men. Sacha smothered a grin. He had a feeling Edison was going to be much more cooperative from now on.

After that, they searched the lab. Sacha had been looking forward to this part. After all, Maximillian Wolf was the best Inquisitor in the NYPD, and searching magical crime scenes was what Inquisitors did best. Sacha figured he’d learn a lot from watching Wolf in action.

He didn’t.

As far as he could see, the only evidence Wolf collected from the lab was a dried-up wad of lime green chewing gum and a long, red, curly strand of hair. He seemed to stumble on them largely by accident, since he spent most of his time staring into space as if he were a thousand miles away. And Sacha wasn’t even sure Wolf thought they were evidence, since all he did was stick them in his pocket. Maybe he was just helping Edison clean up after the fire.

In the end, it was Sacha himself who found the big clue. In the dusty shadows under the etherograph something small and silver glinted. Without thinking, Sacha dropped to his stomach, stretched his arm under the machine, and grabbed for it.

The thing came loose with the little ping of a delicate chain breaking. It was a silver locket. The front was engraved with filigreed leaves and flowers. The back read “to Ruthie from Danny” in Yiddish. And inside the locket were three silken locks of baby hair.

Sacha stared at them, still too bewildered to be afraid.

He barely heard Lily when she came up behind him and said, “Hey, look what Sacha found!”

“Sharp eyes,” Wolf said. “Good job there.”

Sacha mumbled a reply, but his head was spinning and he barely knew what he was saying. Then Wolf reached for the locket — and before he could even think about what he was doing, Sacha closed his hand around it.

For a moment no one moved. There was a strange, subterranean roar in Sacha’s ears, like the rumble of an approaching subway car. He could hear Wolf and Lily speaking to him, but they seemed very far away.

Then something compelled him to look up into Wolf’s face. They locked gazes. Wolf’s eyes were so pale that they looked almost transparent. Sacha felt like a rabbit cowering between the paws of some arctic predator.

Then the moment passed, and Wolf was his normal self again. “Sacha? I need to look at that. Please?”

Sacha opened his hand and let Wolf take the locket. Wolf looked at the locket’s contents and then turned it over to inspect the inscription. “It’s Yiddish. Can you read it?”

“No!” Sacha gasped in a cold sweat of panic.

And that was Sacha’s second lie.

WHEN THEY LEFT Edison’s lab, Sacha was still so frightened that he barely noticed where Wolf was going. They’d loitered around the park entrance for several minutes before he realized that Wolf must be waiting for someone. And just who that someone was became obvious when Thomas Edison hurried past them.

Wolf grinned … well, wolfishly. And then he set off in pursuit. Edison led them straight down the boardwalk to Peep Show Row. Sacha figured he was just passing through on his way somewhere else. But to his surprise, Edison ducked into one of the peep shows, right under the marquee sign for the “Dangerously Hot Little Cairo, Star of the Dusky East.”

The ticket boy must have known Edison because he let him in without paying. But Wolf was another story.

“I’ve heard that excuse before,” he drawled when Wolf explained they were there on official police business.

Wolf gave him a long-suffering look and flashed his badge — Detective Inquisitor gold and not just beat cop silver.

The ticket boy was less impressed than Sacha expected him to be. “You think I ain’t seen one of those before? We pay our protection money nice and regular. We don’t need to give out free tickets to the likes of you.”

“If I were here to see the show,” Wolf asked in rising frustration, “do you think I’d bring two children along?”

The ticket boy’s gaze wandered from Wolf’s badge to Sacha’s worn cloth cap to Lily’s white dress and patent-leather shoes. “I’ve heard that excuse too.” he stuck out his hand again. “You stay, you pay.”

Wolf sighed and handed over the money, and the three of them stepped through the curtain into the red-velvet-swathed theater.

The show was in full swing — and it was quite astonishing. Little Cairo certainly did have the raven curls and exotic attire of an Eastern houri. And she could also do extremely interesting things with her bellybutton. But as far as Sacha could see, no one else in the all-male audience was there to admire her dancing. Not that it mattered much what they were there for. Little Cairo’s virtue was obviously quite safe. It was guarded by a massive woman seated in a folding chair on one side of the stage. She was built like a heavyweight boxer, and her hat was pinned to her head with the longest, sharpest hatpin Sacha had ever seen. The look on her face made it clear that she was willing and able to use the hatpin. And her uncanny resemblance to a much older, much fatter Little Cairo made it clear that she was the dancer’s mother.

When the dance finally ended, Little Cairo waltzed off the stage, sweeping up armfuls of flowers and silken veils and feather boas. Mrs. Little Cairo rose ponderously, shot one last threatening glare at the audience, and followed her daughter into the wings.

Wolf cut through the crowd, leaving the two apprentices to elbow their way after him. When they finally caught up with him, he was standing at the door of Little Cairo’s dressing room toe to toe with her formidable mother.

“Don’t get hoity-toity with me, young man!” Mrs. Little Cairo stuck out her well-padded bosom and brandished a threatening fist in Wolf’s face. Underneath her prim lace gloves, her hands were as meaty as a prizefighter’s, and they looked just as capable of doing damage. “I already ran off one gentleman caller today, and I can run you off, too!”