“And what, precisely, is that?” I was yelling after Jackaby, as he dashed out of sight. He either didn’t hear me or couldn’t be bothered to respond. I gave the still-scowling Jenny a quick apology. As I hurried out, I noticed that the frying pan had been removed from the wall. The rough hole it had carved still remained, and orange light from the sunset was trickling through it into the hallway. I found myself thinking that, all things considered, the poor ghost really was a remarkably patient roommate.

I caught up with Jackaby again halfway down the block. He was so buried in one of his books, I was surprised he was able to notice my arrival, let alone navigate the walk, but as I drew near, he pitched the other two books into my hands. His lips moved silently and rapidly as his eyes zipped over the pages.

“Jackaby—what are we looking for?” I demanded.

He pried his eyes slowly up from the page and caught my gaze. “Lead.”

“Lead? What—as in the metal?”

He dropped the last book into my arms atop the others. “That might help, at least. And some decent kindling.”

He picked up the pace again and hastened toward the center of town. It was all I could do not to drop his books or crack my tailbone on the icy roads as I struggled to keep up.

The sun was melting into a reddish haze behind the buildings and treetops, and I turned my collar to the biting cold. Here and there, stars were beginning to peek through the gaps in the dark sky, but the moon was nothing but a diffused glow behind the shifting curtain of clouds. It did little to illuminate the shadowy streets. Terraced with well-kept brickwork, a broad stretch of sidewalk opened ahead of us, forming a semicircle around a statue of an important-looking soldier on a rampant horse. A few large flower boxes had been erected at some point to lend color to the block, but the frost had long since finished off the blooms. Across the street sat the city hall, regal, white columns dominating its façade and leaving the recessed entrance a sheet of inscrutable black.

Around the rampant statue, a crowd of a dozen or so uniformed officers had begun to collect. They milled about, some attempting to look alert and attentive, others unabashedly sitting on the edges of flower boxes and puffing away on cigarettes.