“Let’s inquire about a demon, shall we?” I asked.

Thomas’s mouth quirked, but he didn’t entertain me or Noah with any of his usual wit. His mind was now fully engaged in solving this new mystery. I could only hope it would unlock another clue for us as well. There had to be a connection to these cases.

Noah made his way to Mr. Cigrande first, waving as we all gathered around him. “Mr. Cigrande, I’d like to introduce you to—”

“Heathens!” The poor man shivered in place. “I won’t talk to wicked souls.”

“These wicked souls are good with locating impossible clues. If you’d like a better shot at finding your daughter, you’ll reconsider,” Noah said, his tone sharpening. “It might behoove you to speak with them.”

Mr. Cigrande cast a suspicious look our way. I mentally counted to five; poking him with my cane wouldn’t solve my problem of being deemed a heathen. I looked about for a way to get us all off the street, away from distractions. A sign fashioned to look like a teapot hung from the awning of one business. I pulled my shoulders back, adopting my best posture for my best attempt at soothing him.

“Would you like to speak someplace warm? There’s a little tearoom just over there.” I nodded two doors down, saying prayers of thanks for the establishment being so close. “They advertise melted chocolate and milk. Might be fortifying if you’ve planned a long afternoon of…”

I bit my lip, at a loss for how to describe his screaming at young women. Blessedly, Mother Nature aided our endeavor by opening up the skies, shaking snow and bits of ice out of the clouds. Cold, miserable, and now wet, Mr. Cigrande grudgingly followed us into the warm tearoom. Freshly baked scones and buttery scents welcomed us in from the cold. I had no sooner inhaled the aroma when Thomas marched over to a glass display filled with tarts and tea cakes.

“Once you’ve finished your unholy flirtation with the dessert, you can join us at our table, Cresswell.”

“Don’t be jealous, my love. I assure you, nothing tastes as sweet as you.”

His eyes flashed with amusement while I did my best imitation of Mr. Cigrande and cursed him under my breath. I quickly ushered Noah and Mr. Cigrande to a table in the corner, hoping we’d be far enough away from any poor, unsuspecting patrons who’d be harassed by either a religious zealot or my fiendish Thomas.

A few servers came to our table and offered choices of hot and cold breakfast items along with cake and biscuits and all manner of curds and puddings. I snagged a few pieces of bacon, an orange, and a soda scone. It truly was a treat to enjoy an orange during this season. I didn’t know how they’d managed to get such fruit but was immensely grateful for their magic. Another server presented a chocolate pot for the table and I quickly nodded, my mouth watering for the richness of melted chocolate and frothy milk. Thomas wasn’t the only one who enjoyed sweets.

“I’d like to know about the demons,” Thomas said bluntly once he’d sat down. He popped a berry into his mouth, then poured some hot chocolate into his cup. “What do you recall of them?”

“Them?” Mr. Cigrande stared at Thomas as if he’d escaped from an asylum. “What them? I only saw one demon. And seeing one demon is enough for anyone.”

“Apologies,” Thomas said. “Describe the demon to me. Try and recall every detail, even the smallest.”

Mr. Cigrande held fast to his mug of hot chocolate, his expression wary. “He looked like a regular man. A young man. Handsome, like you, but not in the way Lucifer is usually described in scripture. His eyes, though. They was something. That’s how I knew he was a demon.”

Noah drew in a breath but remained silent as Thomas subtly shook his head. “What about his eyes let you know his true self?”

Mr. Cigrande stared into his drink, mouth drawn into a frown. Without his bell and anger, he appeared to be a man who had as many wrinkles as gray hairs. He was worn and frail, his face covered in white whiskers. Much less imposing than he seemed while hollering at passersby.

“When he looked at me?” he said, meeting each of our gazes. “It was like staring into the eyes of a dead man. It’s cold out, but those eyes…” He huddled into his coat. “They sent shivers down my back. They were like blades. Like he could see every thought in my head and knew exactly how to cut them outta me.”

“Hmm. I bet his eyes were as pale as the ocean,” Thomas said, doing that unnerving thing where he was now half in the mind of the so-called demon and half reading the impossible clues no one else bothered seeing.

Mr. Cigrande startled back from the table. “How did you know?”

“Are light blue eyes the best way to spot a demon?” Thomas asked, not delving into the complicated science of his deductions.

“Not just a demon,” Mr. Cigrande said. “The devil himself. Only a creature of Hell could tempt those poor girls away.” He shook his head, the color in his face flushing brighter. “I watched him for a bit, you know. Once I knew what he was. I watched him real close.” He leaned across the table, glancing about the bustling tearoom. “He doesn’t act like no demon; that’s for sure. When he stole that last girl’s soul? He seemed as angelic as anything. Asking if she needed help, if she was new to the city. He preys on the wayward ones. The wanton ones who’ve left God and their families. They’re easy pickin’. That’s why I try and scare them away.”

“Do you believe good women who stay in their homes and memorize their scripture are safe from the devil?” Thomas asked. His eyes flicked to mine, silently asking for me to hold my tongue. I was more than happy to allow him the pleasure of having this conversation on his own. “The wicked are the only ones in danger?”

“Don’t be crazy,” the old man said. “Why would the wicked ones be in danger? They’s already wicked.” He folded and unfolded his napkin. “Women are safe at home. They can be watched after, cared for. They don’t know what sort of sins await them in the world. The devil don’t want the bad ones, mister. The devil wants to collect ’em before they turn wicked on their own. He needs ’em good. Otherwise, what’s there to corrupt?”

“And the demons? What do they want?”

“To take more souls to the devil. They want to please him so he doesn’t do his nasty tricks on them.”

“What sort of nasty tricks do you believe he’s doing?” I asked. “Aside from stealing them.”

“What else?” Mr. Cigrande shifted in his seat, facing me. “He brings them to his castle in Hell and they never return.”

Noah sent Mr. Cigrande home with promises to call on him the moment he discovered any news of his missing daughter. Thomas and I climbed into our carriage, and while we waited for our friend to join us, Thomas arranged the heating brick so I could rest my leg upon it.

“Well? What do you make of the demon?” I asked, stifling a moan. The heat felt lovely.

He settled the blanket around us, then stared out at the sidewalk. I followed his gaze, noticing swirls in the light dusting of snow that reminded me of serpents slithering through it.

“He saw a man with blue eyes talk to a woman on the street,” Thomas said. “That much I believe is fact. The issue I’m struggling with is his claim of seeing the same man with another woman, doing the same act.”

“Do you think it’s a fabrication?”

“No. His behavior was quite easy to read. Weren’t you observing…” Thomas shook his head at my scowl. “Apologies, Wadsworth. What I mean is, when I asked about the demon’s acts, Mr. Cigrande was able to give them without moving about. When asked about the devil or his desires, he had to think. To make up his own idea of what Satan might be after. It wasn’t information he’d seen firsthand. I couldn’t deduce if he’d truly witnessed the same man luring another woman away, or if he’d replayed it in his mind so often he confused the facts.”

“Let’s argue the facts, then,” I suggested. “If what he claims is correct, how will that assist in us finding the man he claims is the demon?”

Noah rushed back to the carriage, clapping his hands for warmth. “Sorry. What do you think?”

“We were just trying to figure that out now,” I said. “It’s something.”

The carriage driver snapped his reins, urging the horses into a trot.

“If he can recall where he saw the man abduct that first woman”—Thomas braced himself against the jostling of our ride—“you ought to sit nearby and wait. See if the kidnapper’s brazen enough to return. He may or may not be telling the truth about the demon revisiting the site. It’s worth investigating at the very least.”

Noah flashed a skeptical look, his mouth pinched tight. “I don’t see how anyone would be foolish enough to commit the same act twice in the same location.”

“It’s part of his fun,” Thomas said. “The hunt is thrilling, but so is the idea of potentially getting caught. This man is besotted with the unknown. It’s dangerous. Tantalizing. It makes his heart pound and his loins ache with desire.”

I scrunched my nose, not wanting to think of anyone’s loins, aching or otherwise. Silence filled our carriage, broken up by the clomping of hooves on cobblestones. I turned the events of this new mystery over in my mind, working out all the oddities. As much as I loathed to think such a thing, if we had a body to study I’d feel more confident in my own theories.

“Do you believe he’s holding them captive?” I asked, already dreading the answer I knew was coming.

Thomas dropped his gaze to mine. “Perhaps for a time.”

“So?” Noah asked. “What does he do next? Let them go?”

“He murders them.” Thomas didn’t notice the color leach from our friend’s face. Or if he did, he paid it no mind. There was no such thing as delicacy when it came to murder. “I’m sorry to say, my friend, but this is a career murderer. It’s likely no simple missing persons case.”