THE CUFF
1904—St. Louis
Ruth looked out over the floor of her brewery and watched the final few women clean up for the night. A total of fifteen had been brought to the hospital showing signs of magic. Fifteen Sundren whose affinities had been awakened—it should have felt like more of a victory, but there certainly had been far more than fifteen people present at Lipscomb’s meeting.
Perhaps others would appear tomorrow. Perhaps even now some were keeping themselves concealed because they knew what their symptoms meant. Because they knew what the world thought of the powers that were growing within them. If not, the serum would need to be adjusted further, and they were running out of time to get it right.
On the Fourth, dignitaries from all over the country would pour into the city for the Veiled Prophet Parade and Annual Ball, and her Antistasi needed to be ready. This year marked an opportunity unlike any other—with the Exposition, the Society was hosting more than their usual ball for the rich men of St. Louis. Instead, this year’s ball was an attempt by the Society to wrest control of the country from the Order. A desperate bid to move the center of power from the east to the west. The list of attendees included not only the members of the Society and the usual dignitaries, who made an impressive enough target on their own, but also representatives from the various Brotherhoods across the country. Everyone of any importance would be there—politicians and titans of industry, oil barons and railroad tycoons—and most important of all, Roosevelt himself.
The boyish president was popular, but Ruth knew the truth: He was a friend only to those who could help him consolidate his power, which meant he cared nothing at all for those like her. He’d allowed the Defense Against Magic Act to pass without so much as a word against it, and now he would know the cost of that decision. If the Antistasi could unlock within him the magic that others feared, everything would change. A new civilization would be born, with the old magic as the equalizer between them all. But if the serum didn’t work, or if it did not affect the most important targets, they would not have another chance.
Maggie was a smart girl—this early evidence of their success was proof of that. If need be, she would make the adjustments and her serum would work as it was intended. Ruth would accept no other alternative.
She turned away from her workers and went back into the solitude of her office, closing the door against the sounds of the storeroom below. In the top drawer of her desk, wrapped in a piece of flannel, was the bracelet they’d taken from the Thief when her men had searched the girl for weapons. It was an elegant silver cuff with an enormous dark gemstone that seemed to hold the colors of the rainbow within its depths.
The stone was too heavy for something so small. And it stank of magic. . . .
It wasn’t the old magic, not completely. But it also wasn’t the same as the objects she’d run across before, pieces like North’s watch, which had been infused with freely given power to augment an affinity. The trade in those objects was cutthroat, but this piece was different. Older and more powerful.
Objects like the cuff she was holding took more than a simple ritual to create. Objects with power so deep and heavy took a life sacrifice, and they took a very special, a very rare sort of affinity.
Ruth knew that all Mageus had a unique connection to the very essence of existence. Most had an affinity that aligned with either the living, the inert, or the spirit. Affinities were as unique as people and might show up as strong or weak, as highly specialized or relatively vague. Over time and across distance, they tended to wane. All Mageus knew that.
Once, though, there had been another kind.
Mageus with the power to affect the bonds of magic itself had always been rare. Most thought that such an affinity was nothing but a myth, like the tales of gods and goddesses of old. But every story held a kernel of truth deep within its heart, and the fear that this particular kernel would find root had been enough to spark the violent frenzy that was the Disenchantment. Those with an affinity for the very essence of magic had been eradicated, and thousands of others had become collateral damage as well.
Magic had suffered in those dark years, but it had not died, as its enemies had hoped. And it would not die now. Instead, with Ruth’s plan and the help of Maggie’s serum, it would flourish once more. But the appearance of this cuff was an unexpected windfall. Both the necklace and this cuff were powerful objects, capable of giving their holders power beyond the pale. Both would be essential in consolidating the Antistasi’s power once magic was awoken, or at least they would once she had the necklace, too.
North appeared in the doorway of her office. “We got the two new ones set up. The girl’s in with Maggie, and I locked the other one in a separate bunk. He won’t be any trouble until morning, at least.”
“Make sure the others know to watch him,” she told him. “I want to know if there’s any sign he’s going to prove troublesome.”
“Will do,” he said, going off again into the darkened building.
Ruth wrapped the stone back in the flannel and then, for good measure, she locked it in her safe. She would keep it close, but she would keep the girl who had carried it closer. It wouldn’t take much—the right words, a gentle push, and Ruth could mold the Thief into a weapon for her own use. And if the other one caused trouble? She would take care of it, just as she took care of all the problems that crossed her path.