So what wasn’t she seeingm now?
“Miss Cai?”
Juliette tucked a curl behind her ear, turning her attention to the messenger when he stuck his head into her room. “Yes?”
“Lord Cai summons you. His office.”
The ruckus of voices drifting down the hallway was growing louder. It sounded like her father had a whole assembly in his office.
Tired as she was, Juliette moved immediately, exchanging a meaningful glance with Kathleen and then hurrying out into the hall. Though she didn’t know exactly what she had been summoned for, she could take a guess as soon as she slipped into her father’s office and found it filled to the brim with Nationalists.
“Oh boy,” Juliette muttered beneath her breath. She had entered late, it appeared, because they were mid-debate, one Kuomintang man already speaking with his arms clasped behind his back. She recognized him—or rather, recognized the fact that his lapels were decorated to every square inch.
General Shu. She had looked into him since her father’s warning. Among the Kuomintang, he was powerful enough to be second to Chiang Kai-shek, their commander in chief. He wasn’t in Shanghai often—he had an army to lead, after all—but if the expedition finally reached the city, it would be his men who marched in first.
Juliette’s dress started to itch at her skin, too long and bright among so many dark suits. Her mother was nowhere in sight. Only her father, behind his desk.
“—it is best to protect those who matter first. What good is there aiding those we want gone?”
Suddenly, Juliette caught sight of another very familiar figure in the corner of the room. Tyler was seated with the slightest of smiles, legs propped wide and something that looked like a chunk of blue dough hanging from his fingers. She squinted closer. It was a familiar blue. Lapis lazuli blue.
Juliette understood now. Her dear cousin had been spending all his time at the Scarlet facility in Chenghuangmiao overseeing their efforts for this reason precisely. The vaccine was ready. And Tyler had brought in the news ahead of anyone else, giving him first access to a room full of Nationalists first, letting him set the stage before Juliette even had a chance to say a word.
“We do as Cai Tailei proposed,” General Shu said.
“No,” Juliette snapped. Heads turned fast in her direction, but she was ready, discomfort fading from her skin. “What kind of government are you going to be if you let your own people die?”
“Even once we are in power,” General Shu said, offering her the sort of placating smile that one would give a child, “there are certain people who will never be our own.”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
The Nationalists in the room bristled, as did Tyler.
“Juliette,” Lord Cai said plainly. There was no reproach in his tone. That was more of Lady Cai’s trademark, and she wasn’t here to be offended at Juliette’s social decorum. Her father was merely reminding her to think carefully about every word coming out of her mouth.
General Shu turned to face Juliette, his eyes narrowing. As a powerful war general, he could surely read a room; Juliette was getting away with saying such things to his face, so Juliette was not a mere girl he could flick away.
Juliette was, perhaps, a threat.
“The Communists are growing out of control,” General Shu boomed. He was looking at Juliette, but he spoke to the whole room, capturing their attention like the esteemed guest of a rally. “They are overpowering the Kuomintang party. They are overpowering the city. The moment they rise”—he pointed a finger at Juliette—“you and I are both out of power, little girl. The moment the Communists take over, the Kuomintang and the gangsters die alongside one another.”
He might be right. He might be predicting their exact future. And still:
“You’ll regret it,” Juliette said evenly. “Shanghai is its people. And if you let its people die, it’ll come back to bite you.”
At last the Nationalist seemed to be reaching the end of his patience. He thinned his lips. “Perhaps you have not heard?” he said. “The Communists have allied with the White Flowers.”
The Communists have—what?
Before Juliette could say anything else, General Shu turned his address elsewhere, hands pressed cleanly to his sides. His mind was made. Perhaps everyone else’s in the room was too.
“It is the only option, Lord Cai,” another Nationalist said. “Our enemies grow in power, and if we protect them, we lose this opportunity. Revolution is coming any day. Before it does, let their numbers be culled. Let their chances of success die a pitiful death.”
Juliette took an involuntary step back, hitting the door with her shoulder blades.
“I suppose it is truly the only option,” her father said. “Very well. We keep the vaccine within our own circles.”
In the corner of the room, Tyler lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk.
Juliette spat a curse and swung the door open, then pulled it shut after herself with a loud slam. Let the men jump. Let them be afraid of how she moved, like a hurricane intent on destruction. Her father might chide her for leaving so suddenly, but she doubted he had the time for discipline.
Why the hell would the White Flowers ally with the Communists? There is no benefit at all.
Juliette stormed back into her bedroom, almost short of breath.
“The Communists and the White Flowers are working together,” she said to Kathleen, who startled, not expecting to see her back so soon.
Kathleen’s magazine slid right out of her hands. “I beg your pardon?” she said. “Since when?”
Juliette twisted her arms around her middle and sat primly on her bed. Their two enemies had just merged like the head of a reverse hydra. “I don’t know. I—” She stopped, blinking at her cousin, who was now sliding off the blankets and getting her shoes on. “Where are you going?”
“Making a phone call,” Kathleen answered, already walking out the door. “Give me a minute.”
Juliette dove backward, splaying her arms and legs like a five-point star atop her sheets. Roma was supposed to have found the Frenchman by now. They were supposed to have threatened or tortured a name out of him and eradicated the threat of a blackmailer. But in all honesty, it didn’t even seem to matter. Who cared about a few dead bodies if revolution was sweeping into Shanghai? What was one blood-soaked nightclub up against a blood-soaked city? This blackmailer was not Paul Dexter. They didn’t want the city flooded with monsters and madness; they only wanted . . . well, Juliette didn’t know.
“See, this is why we always check our sources.”
Juliette bolted upright, her hair crackling with her movements. The pomade in her curls would start to loosen if she kept disturbing it like this. “Is it false?”
“Not false exactly,” Kathleen replied. She closed Juliette’s bedroom door, leaning up against it like her body was an additional barrier against eavesdroppers. “But it is not Lord Montagov who has allied with them. It is a sect within the White Flowers that the Communists are bragging about having secured. Honestly, with the way Da Nao was talking . . .” Kathleen trailed off, her thin, arched brows furrowing together in thought. “I wonder if the Montagovs even know about it.”