THE PIKE
1904—St. Louis
The Pike was its usual circus of noise and confusion as Esta entered it, prepared to carry out her part of the plan. She had about ten minutes to get from the entrance, next to the huge monstrosity that was the fake Alps, to where she would meet Harte just outside Cairo. He’d take a different path—around the back of the Pike and entering from the east side of the boulevard—so that there was no chance of them being seen together.
In her pocket she had packets of smoking powder rigged with fuses. They were nothing more than some harmless stage props that Harte and Julien had made in preparation for the day, but it would take a while for the people who saw the smoke to realize that.
She passed the concessions for Asia and Japan and continued toward the enormous domed building that was the Creation attraction. Like the Nile boats in Cairo, it was also a ride. Like everything else, it was brash and too bright and overdone. She stopped near a vendor selling huge salted pretzels and checked the pocket watch she’d taken from Harte. Five minutes to go. She had at least two more to wait. In the distance, faintly, she heard the stirrings of the parade, the rumble of drums that told her the time was close.
She checked her watch again, and as she did, she had the strangest feeling she was being watched. Glancing up, she realized her instincts were right. Across the street, close to the entrance of the Incubator building, was the cowboy she’d seen disappear that first day at the theater. And he was looking straight at her.
There was no way she could do what she needed to do as long as he was watching her. Taking a breath, she pushed aside the panic and used a play from the cowboy’s own book. She gave him a wink, and then she darted into the crowds of the Creation attraction, making herself as unnoticeable as she could while she pushed her way deeper into them. She looked back only once and saw that the cowboy was following her, so she shoved on until she found a small alcove to the right of the ticket window, where she pulled time slow.
Releasing a breath, she relaxed a little as the world went silent around her. Only a couple of days had passed since she’d tested her affinity when Harte left her at the boardinghouse, but during those days they’d been extra careful not to use their magic, just in case the Guard was nearby. It felt like it had been so long since she’d been able to flex her affinity, and now the sureness of her magic gave her the impetus to get on with it. She dodged through the crowd, until she was face-to-face with the cowboy who’d been following her. This close, she saw that he had eyes as green as a cat’s, but one was flecked with brown enough that it looked like they were two different colors.
This should keep him busy. Lighting the fuse on the first packet, she tucked it into the outer pocket of his coat. Then she darted away, releasing time as she went.
She let her feet carry her toward Cairo, watching for marks. Pausing next to a trash bin, she pulled on time just long enough to light another fuse and place the packet into the bin. Then she moved on, releasing time once she was safely away. She had eight packets, which meant she needed to place six more before she reached Cairo. Working her way up the Pike, she found an empty baby carriage here, a half-drunken man there. Each time she approached, she used her affinity just long enough to place the packet.
It was working. Already she could see the Guards, who were stationed at odd intervals around the Pike, coming to attention as they sensed the magic in the air, but she was always far away from the location by the time they detected it.
When she reached the Cliff Dwellers attraction, where she and Harte were to meet, Esta knew she was later than they’d planned. The parade was too close, and she could tell by the thin set of Harte’s mouth that he was trying not to be too obvious as his eyes searched the crowd for her. But his features relaxed and his mouth parted slightly in relief when he saw her.
“You’re late,” he said by way of greeting.
“I had a little trouble.”
His brows went up. “What kind of trouble?”
“The cowboy from the other day? He saw me.”
Harte frowned. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”
“It’s fine,” she told him before he could finish his statement. “I took care of it—made sure that he didn’t see me. And I left him a little surprise.”
“I see,” Harte said, but he still had that nervous, worried expression on his face.
“Let’s go,” she told him. “The parade’s almost here.”
She didn’t give him time to argue before she started across the wide boulevard, toward Cairo and the necklace.
THE WEIGHT OF BELONGING
1902—New York
Leaving under the cover of darkness without so much as a good-bye was hardly any way to repay the kindness Cela’s family had shown him over the past six days as he had healed, but Jianyu had already allowed too much time to pass since the ring had gone missing from her possession. He had been delaying the inevitable, but now he had another promise to keep. A wider world to protect.
Jianyu told himself that Cela would be fine, even if the tension in the house was thick enough for him to swim through. He saw the way they looked at her, but they were her family. She would be safe now that the stone was no longer in her possession, and they would take care of her until she was on her feet.
Perhaps he was a coward for not telling Cela that he was leaving, but if anyone came looking for him, she would be safer for not knowing.
He could have used his affinity to conceal himself, but his head still ached occasionally, and using the bronze disks would be too much of an effort. Besides, he was still unsteady, and he needed to save his strength for what was to come.
When he reached the corner of Amsterdam Avenue, a familiar figure stepped from the entrance of one of the saloons. He could have opened the light to hide himself, but it was too late. She had seen him. To run now would be disrespectful and insulting.
“I had a feeling you’d leave tonight,” Cela said when he finally came to where she was waiting for him, her hands crossed over her chest. “That’s it, then? You were just gonna go without so much as a good-bye?”
He did not respond. What was there to say? She was correct in her words and in the anger stirring behind them.
“After all I did for you? After I made my family take you in?”
“I owe you all a debt of gratitude—” he started, but Cela’s temper snapped.
“This don’t look anything like gratitude.” She glared at him. “Where are you going, anyway?”
“It is better that you do not know,” he said softly, hating the emotion in her eyes. Suspicion. Disgust. It was the emotion he regularly saw mirrored back to him in the eyes of those he met, the eyes of those who looked at him and saw not the person he was or the heart he carried, but the skin he wore. “You will be safer,” he tried to explain.
“Safer?” she asked, a bark of ridicule in her tone. Then her brows beaded together. “You’re going after that ring, aren’t you?”
He did not respond, but from the way her expression shifted, she understood.
“Why? After all the trouble it’s caused for everyone, why not just leave the blasted thing be?”
He gave her the only answer he could: “Because I have to.”