Thalia opened the passenger door. The pins and needles were gone. Her hands were her own again. “Are you all right, sir?”
“Yes, I am.” To the chauffeur, he called, “Run this beauty back home, will you?” Limping, he moved clear of the car and followed it into the courtyard.
The driver obeyed swiftly. Servants rushed to shut the gates once the car was safely back on the premises.
Thalia’s rescuer, whom she now realized was barely her own age, regarded Thalia with disapproval. He was the black Solitaire she’d seen at Delmonico’s. His wide-set eyes held a thin layer of brittle courtesy, but mockery still lay beneath. There was no recognition there. Thalia knew him, but he’d not remembered her. He dusted himself off, straightened his black slouch hat, and limped over to lean against the car again. With no ceremony, he opened the rear passenger door and pulled Thalia out. When she was standing, he moved so close his nose nearly touched hers and drew in a deep breath. “I can’t smell it but that manticore sure could. Miss, you need to stay in where it’s safe until you can control yourself.”
Manticore. Thalia stepped back and bumped into the car door. Every fear she’d had about being a Trader came rushing back. That had been a manticore. She’d just been attacked by a manticore. Her knees were trembling.
Summoned by the uproar, Nathaniel and Nell Ryker emerged from the house and ran to Thalia. Thalia’s rescuer turned to them. “You’ll be the Traders who live here, I expect. I’m Tycho Aristides. I’m the Skinner of New York. You’ll want to keep this young Trader lady of yours safe. She’s drawing the manticore. You’ve no doubt heard there was an attack yesterday.”
Ryker and his sister looked at each other with identical expressions of amazement. As one, they turned to Thalia. Ryker said, “But you’re a Solitaire.”
Nell asked hopefully, “You’re a Trader?”
“She’s a Trader.” Aristides shook his head as if he pitied them. “Can’t you smell her?”
Both Rykers leaned close and inhaled. This was by no means as rude as the sniff the Skinner had given her, but Thalia bristled anyway.
Ryker sounded accusing. “You’re a Trader.”
Nell swatted Thalia on the shoulder. “You should have told me!” To the rescuer, she said, “Why didn’t you just shoot the monster dead?”
Aristides narrowed his eyes. “That manticore wasn’t six inches away from her. I couldn’t risk the shot.”
Thalia did her best to stay calm. Professor Philander Evans had been wrong. This was no more than she deserved for trusting a professor of literature. Thalia, still trying to absorb this new truth, said the first thing that came into her head. “What do I smell like?”
“You smell normal,” Nell assured her kindly.
“It’s very faint,” said Ryker, but he blushed.
“Going by the manticore, miss, you smell nice and ripe,” said Aristides. “You smell the way all you people smell right before a manticore takes your magic and leaves you to die. Which is exactly what would have happened here if I hadn’t been tracking the manticore, doing my job.” To Ryker, Aristides added dryly, “Any time now, sir, you can say ‘Thank you for rescuing my beloved family member.’ Any currency will be gratefully accepted, but gold coin is preferred.”
Ryker looked like he’d swallowed a frog. “She’s not a family member.”
Nell gave her brother a most unladylike punch on the shoulder. “Thank you very much for rescuing our friend for us, Mr. Aristides.” Nell beamed up at the Skinner. “My brother will gladly reward you for your valor.”
Aristides smiled back.
Ryker asked, “Aren’t you going to track that manticore?”
“Oh, I will. But there’s a protocol to be observed.” Aristides indicated Thalia. “First I have to be sure she’s safe. Get her back indoors, will you?” To Thalia, he added, “You really need to get your Trades under control, miss. If you draw a manticore, it may end up attacking someone else.”
“Miss Cutler is quite safe with us,” Ryker stated stiffly. “She is not a member of our family, but as she is Trader enough to draw a manticore to our very doorstep, it is our responsibility to ensure her safety—and everyone else’s.”
“We’ll keep her with us,” Nell added. “Don’t worry.”
“Wait a minute.” No one paid any attention to Thalia.
“Thank you, Mr. Aristides.” Ryker brought out his pocketbook and gave Aristides a fifty-dollar bill. “Every Trader in Manhattan will owe you thanks when you’ve disposed of this manticore.”
“Thank you kindly, sir.” Aristides pocketed the reward. When he