Viola’s instinct was to go to them. Neither of them belonged in the rough world of lower Manhattan, not like she did. But there was Nibsy to think of, and her revenge was so close she could taste the sweetness of it in the back of her throat.
Torn, Viola turned back to Nibsy, only to find that the rat was no longer there. She saw him, already a ways off, disappearing into the crowd and leaving the red-haired boy prone on the ground. Dolph would never have done such a thing.
But the boy wasn’t her concern. He’d cast his lot when he’d started the fire.
Instead of going for him, she headed toward where Ruby and Theo were being jostled by the increasingly restless crowd. She was nearly to them when she saw that just beyond Ruby, her brother was heading in her direction. And he had John Torrio with him.
Viola could see what would happen—Torrio would catch sight of Theo, thinking he was Reynolds, and he would know that she had not killed the reporter. It would not matter that Theo hadn’t ever been the target. All that would matter was that he would be proof that Viola had betrayed her charge, and more, she’d stopped Torrio from completing the job. If Torrio saw Theo and Ruby, if he realized what Viola had—or rather, had not—done, she’d be dead. And what’s more, Theo and Ruby would both be dead, as well.
Waving her arms, Viola ran toward her brother and Torrio, trying to draw their attention so they would not turn slightly to the left and notice Ruby, pink and petaled as a flower. Because they would not fail to see her, not with how polished and delicate she looked amid the toughs of the Bowery.
“Paolo!” she called, desperate to reach him, but they were both searching the crowd, not hearing her. She shouted again, her voice clawing from her throat as he moved closer to where Ruby and Theo stood watching the fire.
Finally, Paul noticed her, and then Torrio did as well. When they saw Viola, they turned away from their original path—the one that would have taken them to Ruby—and came toward Viola instead.
“What is it?” Paul asked, his expression conveying his disappointment that she didn’t have the culprit in hand.
“The one who did this, he’s there, on the ground,” she told him, pointing to the spot where the boy still lay, unconscious from her magic. “A red-haired boy, maybe fifteen years old. One of Nibsy Lorcan’s boys.”
“One of Lorcan’s?” Paul asked, his expression filled with suspicion. “Are you sure?”
Viola nodded, keeping her expression steady even as she let her affinity unfurl to find Ruby’s now-familiar heartbeat in the crowd. When she found it, steady and calm, she knew the girl was still safe—for the moment, at least.
Paul glanced at Torrio, sharing some unspoken communication between them before he turned back to her. “Did you take care of him?”
“Better,” she told Paul. “I left him for you. A gift for Tammany,” she explained.
“That wasn’t what you were told to do,” Paul said. “I told you to kill him.”
“Killing him is no good. Think of it,” she argued, before he could interrupt again. “If I killed him, what proof do you have that you’ve caught the one responsible? You can’t tell if a dead man is Mageus. You can’t ask him why he attacked or who he worked for. This way, you have the boy—you have evidence,” she said. Which means that you have proof that Nibsy is not to be trusted. “Take him to Tammany and give them the favor of dealing with him themselves. They’ll thank you for it.”
Torrio was eyeing her suspiciously, but she didn’t give him so much as a glance. Whatever Paul might want for the two of them, Viola wasn’t interested.
Before Paul could agree or argue, Viola sensed the fluttering of Ruby’s heart. The steady rhythm gave way to a more rapid beat, and Viola knew something was happening. “Quickly!” she shouted, pointing in the direction she’d left the boy.
Her actions had their intended effect. Paul and Torrio turned, almost as one, and the second their attention was diverted, she darted into the crowd to look for the birdbrained girl who was about to get herself killed.
DRAGGED UNDER
1902—New York
Even from her place far back in the crowd, Ruby Reynolds could feel the heat of the strange flames that were consuming the engine house. Now that she was standing amid the rabble and the crowd, she could tell for herself that what was happening had everything to do with magic. A moment before something had changed, and the water that had been streaming from the hoses began to have an effect on the flames.
The crowd had not liked that, not at all.
“We need to go,” Theo said, using his body as a shield against the restlessness of the crowd.
“Just a minute more,” she pleaded. “If we could only get a little closer . . .”
“We’re not going any closer,” he told her in a tone he rarely used on her.
“But, Theo—”
She barely had his name on her tongue when the crowd surged and she stumbled with it to the left. Suddenly, she was aware that what had been avid interest colored by excitement when she and Theo arrived had quickly turned to frustration, maybe even anger. Once, when she was younger, her father had taken her and her sisters to Coney Island to play in the surf, and she had ventured too far into the waves and had been dragged under. Being caught up in the suddenly raucous crowd reminded her of that moment, and she felt the same pang of betrayal she’d felt as a child when the water had turned against her.
At the time, her father had caught her up under the arms and set her back on her feet as though nothing had happened. Now Theo did what he could to shield her from the other bodies that were pressing and shoving against them, the dear, but it was all she could do to stay on her feet.
It was unbearably exciting.
From the look on his face, Theo didn’t feel the same. The poor dear. He always had been so buttoned up and careful. But he’d also been her truest friend, through everything—her father’s breakdown and the embarrassment it had caused her family and her mother’s meddling to get all her daughters married off after his death. And then there was society’s constant judgment. Not that she cared a fig for their judgment, but society made things so much harder than they needed to be. And through all of it, Theo had been there.
She was the worst sort of person to put him through this, and yet, if she could just figure out how the fire started—
“Ruby!” The voice cut through the noise around them. “Theo!”
Ruby turned and realized it was Viola, her violet eyes blazing with something that looked incredibly like fear. “Viola?”
She barely had time to recognize a warmth flush through her that had nothing to do with the fire before the crowd surged, pushing them to the left. Ruby staggered away from Theo, losing her balance, and fell into Viola. She had a moment to appreciate the other girl’s strength. Viola was shorter than Ruby herself, but beneath the softness of her curves, her body was sturdy and strong enough to keep Ruby on her feet.
For a moment the connection between them felt absolutely undeniable. Her stomach fluttered as her chest went tight, and she felt the entire world narrow down to the piercing violet of Viola’s darkly lashed eyes.
Viola froze, her arms going rigid around Ruby, and in that moment, the crowd fell away and there was a roaring in her ears as she was sure, sure that Viola had felt the same energy between them. But Viola simply set Ruby upright again and stepped back.