“A friend from out of town. Neither of us was supposed to have it and she never got the chance to tell me what it’s for.”
“May I see it?” Liliane says.
Vidocq gives her the vial and she holds it up to the light. Shakes it a little.
“It is dangerous,” he says.
“Is it all right to open?”
I politely take it back from her and set it on the table.
“You might want to hold off while you have a belly full of wine.”
She gives me a loose-necked shake of her head.
“I work with a lot of odd chemicals in my lab all the time. Some of them don’t smell like roses either, but I manage.”
“I wasn’t calling you a lightweight.”
“Good, because you should have seen some of the things that were in Eugène’s little dungeon in Paris. The most god-awful smells you can imagine.”
“What was it you used to call it?”
“Your perfumed abattoir.”
He chuckles lightly.
“That’s it. I once experimented with a Hand of Glory, subjecting it to an array of chemicals, potions, even electrical stimulation. All in hopes of reviving it.”
I look at him.
“You tried to bring a hand back to life? What the hell for?”
He shrugs.
“To see if I could. I was more reckless and ambitious in those days. We all were. They were exciting times.”
Liliane nudges him with her shoulder.
“They certainly were.”
He gives me a sheepish smile.
Liliane turns to me.
“Speaking of hands, James, what’s wrong with yours? If you don’t mind me asking?”
I give Vidocq a look. He nods.
“It’s all right. She’s seen much in two hundred years. She can handle it.”
I shrug off my coat and glove. Roll up my shirtsleeve, giving her a full-frontal look at my biomechanical flipper.
Her eyes widen. Liliane puts a hand to her mouth. She looks at me, then Vidocq.
She says, “Would it be all right if I touched it?”
“Sure. I suppose so.”