Constantine Capers: The Pennington Perplexity Natalie Brianne (best summer reads of all time .txt) 📖

“No. There isn’t a reason to at this point.”

“She’s a murderer, Byron. We can contact Inspector Thatcher and arrest her.”

“What good will that do us when we are dead?” He looked at her, a serious shade crossing his face. Then he stood with a start and stepped away from the booth so that she could get out. He offered her an arm and escorted her towards the door. Joe smiled when he saw them.

“Au revoir, Miss Blayse.”

Mira felt the color draining from her cheeks. He opened the door and Byron pulled her out of the club and onto the putrid street. He continued to pull her, leading her out of the wastes of the human experience. Past the dead, the rotting corpses. Past the crying children, half-starved and coughing up blood. Past the rats, and the lice, and the refuse. Out of the soot-covered darkness and into the light. She didn’t allow herself to breathe fully until they were past the butchery. She looked up at Byron, face still a stone. His other hand clenched.

They paused long enough in Scotland Yard for them to procure their clothing, but not long enough for conversations with Thatcher or Juliet. He eventually convinced a carriage to take them the rest of the way to Palace Court. He continued in silence up the steps and unlocked the door. He waited for her to enter before coming in himself and closing the door.

“Go change.”

His voice sounded hoarse as he went into his own room and slammed the door. She forced herself up the stairs and into the guest room. She stripped down to her undergarments and poured water into the washbowl. It felt cool on her hands, cooler on her face. The water turned grey, and then black. Her face became distinguishable again. She dressed in her own clothing and looked in the mirror. Everything was back to normal.

Oh, how she wished that was the case. It wasn’t normal. She wasn’t normal. Byron was anything but normal. The little stability he had was lost, and the only way to get it back would be to go right into the middle of the Order of Circe. Her emotions welled up within her. She sat on the floor and felt all of it burst out of her. Hot tears rolled down her face, her hair clinging, itching, biting at her skin. She pulled her legs into her chest and sobbed into her arms. The tears kept coming, and she felt herself shaking. It felt like if she moved, she would be torn to pieces. Some ravenous harpy was eating her from the inside out. She couldn’t believe that anyone could live like the people in the Pit. That anyone could kill like The Order. She thought of the children in the Pit, of the squalor, and the refuse, and she burst into a new set of sobs.

She heard a knock on the door and immediately quieted. She swallowed and wiped the tears away.

“Yes?”

“Are you…” Byron’s voice was heard through the door. He hesitated and cleared his throat. “I was…going to go out and get something. A croissant or some pastry to go with tea. Would you like me to get you anything?” His voice, though muffled, was warm, and real, and incredibly grounding.

“I’d like that, yes.” Her voice was hoarser than she anticipated.

“What would you like?”

“Surprise me.”

She heard his footsteps head back down the stairs, hesitate in the hall, probably to grab a coat or something, and then leave the building. She took a few deep breaths and looked around. She was in Byron’s house. In one of his spare rooms. She came back to the present, calming herself down. He had been right. The Pit was exactly as Byron had described it. It changed her worldview. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t do anything about it.

She poured the sooty water out and refilled the basin, rinsing her face of the remaining tears. If she was going to beat the Order of Circe, survive, and solve the cases once and for all, she needed to know more about them.

She crept down the stairs and left her bundle of sooty torn fabric on the floor near the entryway. She moved straight to his files and tested it. Locked. Her eyes darted to where his jacket from the day before draped over a chair. She reached into the pocket and smiled when she felt a key. She came back to the filing system and unlocked it. Click. The drawer opened easily, and she pulled out the file. Circe, Order of. Mira closed the drawer and sat in her favorite chair.

The Order of Circe connects every case I have solved thus far. It is an underground criminal agency. Little is known at this time. Definite evidence includes the necklaces, bracelets, and tattoos that several in the criminal circle wear.

The necklace that the Shadow wore was drawn in the margins of the paper. She studied it for a moment before continuing to read.

There is also the mention of Circe from several criminals caught and brought into custody. All criminals mentioning Circe have been found dead in their cells shortly afterwards. All pronounced as suicides. Few and far between, hence the lack of obvious connection between the cases.

Further research and investigations have proven that there are three distinct sects of the Order. The Smugglers, The Thieves, and The Mercenaries. Often, they work together to pull off larger crimes, committing smaller crimes leading up to a major one in order to keep the police distracted from the main objective.

Smuggler group intensified its efforts shortly after the airship accident of 1870.

First known event caused by the Order is the Great Fire of 1666. Arson offered cover for stealing part of the crown jewels.

Unknown at this time how widespread the order is. Unknown how many members. Unknown who is in charge. Unknown how the organization works. Probable meeting place: The Pit.

The smugglers, thieves, and mercenaries all worked together. That explained why the Shadow came