Or maybe they would, she thought with a spark of hope. Maybe these Antistasi, whoever they were, would keep the memory of her name and what she had done—or tried to do—alive, just as they had for the past two years.
“Hey, Slim.” Harte’s voice came to her from a distance. “Did you hear what I said? Are you okay there?”
“Yeah.” She blinked, confused for a moment by the direction of her thoughts. “I’m fine.”
It was the truth.
Who cared if she couldn’t have everything? Who cared if the man who had been a father to her was a lie and her actual father was lost to her before she ever knew? Whatever pain lay in her past could just stay there. Her past had given her skills and talents she might not have otherwise had, and whatever the lies that had forged her, they didn’t determine her future. She would be what she had chosen to become. And if she didn’t make it through? Perhaps she would live on in some other way.
She straightened her spine and gave Harte the cockiest smile she could dredge up. “Let’s go steal us the fair.”
ON THE EDGE OF THE WEST
1904—St. Louis
Harte would have paid almost any price to be able to reach across the distance between them, pull Esta close, and kiss the smile off her face. But he didn’t trust himself—or the power inside of him—to be able to stop. Instead, he stood with his hands tucked into his pockets so he wouldn’t do any of the idiotic things running through his head.
As quickly as she gave him the smile, Esta was turning away, heading toward the Pike to set their plan in motion. His gaze followed her trim silhouette until she disappeared into the crowd. Inside his mind, the voice shifted and rumbled, clearly frustrated with his decision to let her walk away from him—again. He was getting fairly good at ignoring it, probably in the same way a person learns to ignore a chronic cough or a bad knee. You simply lived around it. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that the power was getting stronger and the voice that spoke through it was getting clearer every day.
Still, despite the warmth of the afternoon, ice inched down his spine. A premonition. Or perhaps it was simply rational, levelheaded fear. They were about to steal a well-guarded necklace from the middle of a crowded fair in broad daylight.
This is never going to work.
Too bad that it had to. Julien’s best chance of evading the Order’s notice was for them to get the Djinni’s Star and get out of town fast.
Harte pulled his cap down and checked his watch for the umpteenth time before he started walking. He didn’t go in the direction of the Pike, as Esta had. Instead, he followed the waterways east, past the ornate palace-like buildings that held the exhibitions on electricity and industry, and then farther, past the Palace of Transportation, with its six identical sculptures bearing shields to guard the high arched entrance.
Everything is a palace, he thought. Even here, on the edge of the West, where the whole country was possible, Americans still wanted to be royalty. It was why people like Jack Grew and the rest of the Order could do what they did—the ordinary person allowed it. The average citizen liked the idea of a future where they might be as rich as a king or as powerful as an emperor. They might have talked about democracy, but what they wanted was the spectacle of royalty.
He continued past the building and entered the Pike close to Cairo, checking his watch again as he found a place near the Cliff Dwellers exhibition. Perfect. Already, he could hear the noise of the parade approaching.
But there was no sign of Esta.
A NEW ERA IN THE BOWERY
1902—New York
James Lorcan would have paid handsomely to have just one answer to any of his questions. There were too many variables at play, too much at risk. It had been five days since Mock Duck had brought Jianyu to the Strega and traded him for a handful of dollars and a notebook of secrets he could use against Tom Lee. Five days since James had had Jianyu in his hands, and five days since the damnable turncoat had somehow managed to escape.
At least the fire had been minor, and Paul Kelly’s connections with Tammany meant that the brigades did more than just watch the building burn. Because of their help, James was able to sit at the back of the barroom and survey his domain.
At least Viola was taken care of. The image of Dolph’s favorite assassin, bruised and bleeding from her brother’s fists, still served to comfort—and amuse—him. As far as James was concerned, it proved that Dolph had always thought too highly of her. Viola had always been moody and temperamental—a liability. She’d never liked James, that much he knew. From the look of pure hate in her eyes the other day, she still didn’t, but at least she wouldn’t be a problem. She’d overplayed her hand when she’d gone back to her brother’s protection, and all evidence so far indicated that Kelly would be able to control her. That much, at least, was a comfort. It made for one less thing to worry about.
The future was still too unsettled for his liking, though. James could not make heads or tails of the variables that seemed to waver in the Aether, the paths rising up and then disappearing like ghosts. But he knew one thing for sure. Something was coming. Something that promised to change everything.
At the front of the Strega, the door opened, letting in a burst of cool air that James could feel even from the back of the room. It seemed that his thoughts of Paul Kelly had summoned the devil himself. All at once the atmosphere in the barroom changed as the people realized that the notorious leader of the Five Pointers had just arrived.
A few weeks ago Kelly’s appearance there in the saloon that Dolph Saunders had ruled his empire from would have been unheard of. Before Dolph’s death Kelly never would have dared to confront the Devil’s Own on their own turf. But this was a new city, a new world. And all James could think was Finally.
Kelly was followed by two of his Five Pointers, broad men with the same ruthless expression that Kelly himself wore. Between them, they held a towheaded fellow James didn’t recognize. The unlucky captive looked to be slightly older than James, but he had a softness to his features that almost made him seem younger. His left eye had been blackened and was already swollen shut, no doubt the effect of tangling with Kelly’s men.
Sensing trouble, the patrons in the barroom murmured uneasily as Kelly and his men stopped just inside the doorway and surveyed the saloon. Most kept their eyes down, studying their cups as though the liquid within them might burst into flames at any moment. A few drained their glasses and left, giving Kelly and his men a wide berth as they departed.
Seemingly pleased with the reaction his entrance had caused, Paul Kelly made his way through the unusually quiet room. As he approached, James rubbed his thumb along the silver topper of his cane—a gorgon head with the face of an angel. Leena’s face. The silver snakes that coiled beneath his thumb felt unnaturally cool, a reminder that whatever strength the Five Pointers might have in the streets, James and those he now controlled had power that Paul Kelly could only dream of.
But the coolness was also a reminder of how much was at stake. There was power locked within the silver gorgon head—the part of her affinity that Dolph had taken from Leena and used to ensure his control over the Devil’s Own. But that power was useless to James, who didn’t have the affinity to reach it . . . not until he had the Book to unlock it.