“Ursino won’t have left it unguarded,” Alistair said. “And there will probably be alarm hexes aplenty.”
“At least one,” Vescovi said. “I don’t know for sure what the current phrase is to disable any alarms, but Ignatz is a big Cubs fan. Never misses a game. Based on how he picked his favorite players, I’d say the phrase is ‘Ray Grimes,’ because he had the highest batting average last season. I could be wrong, though.”
Even if they set off the alarm, Ursino wouldn’t expect them to attack from that direction. It would take precious minutes for his men to get into position. Minutes in which they might strike a decisive blow.
“You’re suggesting we take him out,” Wanda said.
Vescovi sagged back, looking conflicted. “Ignatz betrayed me, spit on our bond. I can’t do anything to change that. I’m giving you the information I have—what you do with that is up to you.”
“It’s our only chance to save Reinhold,” Doris said. “We’ve got to take it.”
Wanda considered for a moment, then nodded. “Get ready. We’re only going to get one chance at this.”
Sam found his seat on the train bound for Milwaukee and dropped into it heavily.
The last time he’d been on a train, it had been bringing him to Chicago. He’d been scared out of his wits, completely out of his depth, and struggling just to keep his head above water. No idea what lay ahead of him, except it would be different than what he had left behind.
And now here he was, leaving. The cousin he’d sought refuge with had been murdered, a war between rival gangs ignited, and his heart shattered.
It was such a small thing in the face of murder and violence, but it infected him with such misery it was impossible to think of anything else. He’d thought there might be something special between himself and Alistair. Not as familiar and witch, of course not, but as companions. Lovers.
Alistair had indicated from the start he saw their time together as temporary. Sam couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned. But he’d thought he could…what? Convince Alistair otherwise? That his charms would prove so great that Alistair would change his mind?
What a joke.
No, Alistair had made it clear how he saw Sam. Sam was never going to be anything but a wide-eyed fool from the countryside. A child who had to be protected and kept out of the way, who couldn’t contribute anything during a real crisis.
Someone who wasn’t an equal.
“He could have relied on Jake,” whispered that internal voice that sounded a lot like Dad’s.
“That’s not fair,” Sam muttered aloud. His seat mate eyed him, before deliberately shifting further away.
It wasn’t, though. He’d tried so hard to make up for the loss of Jake, but nothing he did ever seemed to help. He wasn’t even enough for his own family; how could he expect to be enough for Alistair? Of course no one was ever going to choose him.
He blinked back the threat of tears. Well, that was fine—he’d just have to choose himself, then, wouldn’t he? He’d go to Milwaukee and build a life just for him, away from any family entanglements, away from Alistair and bootlegging and familiars.
He wasn’t leaving Chicago as empty-handed as he’d come. He’d learned hexwork, was good at it. Hexes had to be drawn by hand, so places were always hiring. There was enough money in his pocket for him to stay in a hostel until he could find a job. He’d survive, even if it felt that some of the color had leached out of the world.
Desperate for something to occupy his thoughts, he opened his bag and removed Eldon’s tool kit. His tool kit now, he supposed. Technically it belonged to Aunt Flora and Uncle Gabe, but he doubted anyone would miss it when they finally came to claim Eldon’s house. Or that they’d take the time and trouble to track him down even if they did.
He took out the stack of practice papers Eldon had made for him and shuffled through the squares. There were the few simple full hexes, then the various parts. Sam remembered how intent Eldon had been when explaining what each element did. What it would contribute to the whole when used in a hex.
That was the difference between Eldon and a lot of hexmen. So many were only draftsmen, really, copying out hexes created by other people without really understanding why they worked. But Eldon had been determined to teach Sam better than that, to make sure he actually knew the underlying meanings.
Sam flipped through the stack, going over the function of each piece in his mind, just to make sure he wasn’t in danger of forgetting. Something nagged at his thoughts, even as the train whistle sounded to warn of their imminent departure, so he went through them again. Imagined how he might combine this particular set of elements into a single hex…
Something snapped into place, like the world coming into focus when he put on his glasses. Eldon had chosen these hex elements as the first ones to train Sam, not out of a whim or because it made sense to begin with them.
He’d done it because they formed a unique hex.
Eldon had invented a powerful new hex for Sullivan, promised it to Ursino…then taken it apart into its components and hidden it in plain sight.
And now Sam had it. The hex that had laid the groundwork for a war, and just maybe held the key to ending it.
He sat very still, heart pounding. What should he do? Go on to Milwaukee and…what? Telephone The Pride, or Sullivan, let someone know what he had?
Ursino had Reinhold. They could trade the hex for his release.
Alistair wanted Sam gone, thought he’d only be in the way. For a moment, Sam considered just going on to Milwaukee and calling from there. Philip or Doris could ride up and take the hex from him, carry it back to Chicago. But how much time did Reinhold have before Ursino did something terrible to him? What if he died while Sam was still on the stupid train?
What if things went really wrong, and Ursino attacked The Pride, and more people died? Alistair had broken Sam’s heart, but the thought of him being injured or killed was more than Sam could bear.
He grabbed his bag and shoved past his seatmate, too distracted to mutter more than a half-apology. The doors had already closed, and the car jolted as the train lurched into motion. The conductor spotted him and rose from his seat, his concern turning to an alarmed shout of “You can’t do that!” when Sam wrenched open the doors.
Sam jumped, barely making it before the car swept past the end of the platform. He hit a pile of luggage, tumbled a few feet, then staggered up. Amidst the exclamations of the crowd waiting for the next train, he clasped his bag to his chest and ran for the nearest cab.
He had to get to The Pride, tell them what he’d discovered. And hope like hell he made it in time.
24
Philip pulled the truck over to the curb and killed the engine. This part of the Loop was quiet at night, the street mostly lined with banks and other businesses that kept to daylight hours. With the sun newly down, there were only a few pedestrians out and about, and none of them seemed interested in anything other than getting out of the cold wind.
“This is it,” he said, turning off the engine.
Alistair and Wanda sat squeezed in beside him in the front, while Doris rode in the back. Their plan was as simple as it was dangerous. While a handful of Sullivan’s men staged an attack outside The Black Rabbit as a distraction, they’d sneak in through the secret entrance. Hopefully the chaos would give them the chance to rescue Reinhold and be gone with him before Ursino realized they were there.