out to her arms and then down to her fingers. She didn’t allow it to show but let her gaze wander over Miss Chase. The young woman appeared to be all of nineteen, but from Poppy’s reports, she was closer to Poppy’s own age, having lost her first life in 1873.
“I gather you know this,” Poppy answered. “However, I feel compelled to remind you that being a Regulator is no easy task. They live a hard life, and it is often quite short.” Regulators were the SOS’s agents, men and women on the front lines of the supernatural world. They came face to face with things that gave monsters nightmares. Poppy leaned in a touch. “And believe me, many an immortal’s head has rolled while on the job. Just because you cannot die, doesn’t mean you cannot be killed, child.”
Mary Chase’s wide, brown eyes narrowed. “I am not a child. And I’m not afraid of death.”
Poppy rose from her desk, no longer willing to sit still. “Everyone says that.” She grabbed her thick cloak. “And then they discover that, in their heart, they have lied. I don’t believe GIMs get a second chance should they lose their head, do they?”
“No,” Mary said after a moment.
“Come.”
The two women rose and followed her to the door. Poppy walked through it, not waiting to see if they kept up. Outside of the office, Mr. Smythe sat at his desk, his pasty skin blending with his grey hair. He faced a vast and dark corridor, and oftentimes Poppy wondered how he could stand looking into that abyss on a daily—sometimes nightly—basis. Mr. Smythe, however, never complained. He gave her a deferential nod as she passed. She had worked alongside Smythe for fourteen years, and yet he did not know about Winston or that she had a fondness for meat pies sold by street vendors. Not one person within the SOS truly knew her. People tended to stay away from Poppy as though they felt she was something alien and not like them. Which said quite a lot, given that most of her colleagues possessed gifts that were the epitome of unearthly. She did not precisely mind the isolation. She had Winston…. Poppy’s step nearly halted. She did not have Win. He was gone. And she was alone.
“I had a good reason for this, you know,” Daisy murmured just behind her as they slipped into the stone-lined corridor. Here and there electric torches glowed, turning Daisy’s blond curls a harsh yellow. Mary Chase followed at an inconspicuous distance, her eyes lowered and subservient. Ha. Men might be fooled by the display but not Poppy.
“You better have,” Poppy said, just as low. “You’ve come quite close to breaking my trust today, Dandelion.”
Daisy made a noise of annoyance at the nickname, but she quickened her stride to catch up and then grabbed Poppy’s elbow, forcing her to slow down. “Pop. Listen for a moment, will you?”
Every muscle in Poppy’s body went heavy and cold. She knew that tone in Daisy’s voice, as well as the soft, despicable pity that dimmed her eyes. “Well,” Poppy said through her teeth, “out with it. And then explain what it has to do with Miss Chase here.”
Daisy took a stabilizing breath. “She knows.” Her voice dipped a bit. “Who you are.”
The struggle not to break something, or someone, held Poppy in place, frozen with shock and outrage. Daisy took a half step back, her mouth opening and closing like a puppet’s, her hand lifting as if in defense. Smart woman. Poppy couldn’t fathom why her sister would break her trust in such a manner.
Poppy advanced. “Have you lost your nut? What on God’s green earth gave you the right?”
Daisy’s pointed silence gave her a moment’s qualm, which Daisy pounced on. “I agree that it is bloody irritating to be managed by one’s sister.” Poppy scowled, and Daisy ignored it. “However, as you’ve been known to point out, I have only the best intentions.” Daisy touched her arm. “You need a companion, Pop.”
A harsh laugh burst from Poppy. “You think I’m that infirm, do you? I bid you to remember that I am thirty-two. Hardly ancient, despite what your society friends might think.”
“I do not think that you are ancient, Pop,” said Daisy quietly. “I think that you are in pain.”
“Do not.” Poppy took a sharp breath. “Do not ever pity me, Daisy.”
Bad enough that her sisters knew Win had left her. It had been humiliating. But that was nothing compared to