A BRUSH OF MAGIC
1902—New Jersey
Inside the train terminal, the noise of chattering voices was almost deafening under the canopy of glass and steel, but Esta barely noticed the racket. She was too busy bracing herself to do what needed to be done.
Though she had never been out of the city before, the New Jersey train station felt almost familiar. In her own time, she had often gone to Grand Central with Professor Lachlan as part of her training. Together they had studied the passengers as he instructed Esta about human nature. The tourists, overwhelmed by the speed and size of the city, would clutch their bags to them as though the devil himself would try to take their ratty luggage, but the locals had become accustomed to the rush and the noise, and the dangers no longer registered. He’d taught her how to case the commuters, too busy checking their phones to notice a thief watching their every move.
The schedule was displayed on a huge chalkboard over the far wall of the terminal’s main hall. There was a train to Chicago departing at half past the hour from platform seven, but she still had to find two tickets. They had decided that buying tickets this close to the city, where they might be recognized, was too risky. The Order was most likely still looking for them—especially for her—and she didn’t doubt they would have alerted all the transportation centers. Instead of buying two tickets, she’d have to steal them.
Before, Esta wouldn’t have hesitated to pull time slow and slip unseen through the spaces between the seconds as she searched for a mark. But after what had happened on the bridge—after the blackness had bloomed in her vision and the way time felt as though it were dissolving around her—she felt unsure of herself . . . and she felt unsure of her affinity.
It was not a comfortable feeling.
But that darkness . . . Even the memory of it left her shaken. She didn’t want to admit to herself that she was afraid—afraid of what that darkness meant and afraid that if she reached for her affinity now, she might find it missing or mangled in some way by the Brink’s power.
So she did what anyone would do in that situation—she didn’t admit it to herself or to anyone else. Instead, she relied on her bone-deep knowledge that she was a good enough thief to lift a couple of tickets from unsuspecting marks without any magic at all. Even if her legs felt unsteady beneath her.
She was still deciding on the best place to watch for a mark when she felt a shock of energy brush against her, warm and welcoming—the sign of the old magic. Frowning to herself, she searched the crowd for Harte. They had agreed to meet on the platform, but it would be just like him not to follow the plan. She couldn’t afford for him to show up and get her caught, but as she scoured the crowd, she didn’t find any sign of him. And, though she waited, she didn’t feel the warmth of the magic again.
Maybe she’d been wrong. . . .
“There isn’t time for breakfast. The train leaves in less than ten minutes, and we still have to find platform seven.” The low male voice pulled Esta’s attention back to the room around her. Platform seven . . . the train to Chicago.
Esta let go of her questions and searched for the source of the voice. Nearby, three men dressed in sharply tailored suits were examining their tickets. One was squinting up at the board, confirming the platform they needed, while another tucked his ticket into the outer pocket of his polished leather satchel. She listened a moment longer, and when she heard one of them say the number of their platform again, she began to walk.
It wouldn’t do to follow them—that would be far too obvious. But there seemed to be only one entrance from the main terminal into the train shed. She could cut them off there. At least one ticket would be easy to lift. A second shouldn’t be too much harder.
Feeling more like herself with every step, Esta pulled a cloak of confidence around her that was nearly as effective as Jianyu’s invisibility. She kept the three men in her peripheral vision as she headed toward the entrance to the platforms. When she was about ten feet ahead of the men, she paused and pretended to read a poster advertising a variety show that had just arrived in town. She kept her expression calm and mildly interested in the sign in front of her, even as she kept her focus on the men. When they passed her, she waited one moment longer before turning to follow them. It would be easier to lift the tickets in the tunnel leading to the trains, where the flow of passengers was naturally constricted and where they wouldn’t notice—or think anything of—her proximity to them. Or of being jostled by a fellow traveler.
They were just ahead of her, and she could still see the ticket peeking from the satchel. Easy.
As they approached the entrance to the platforms, she picked up her pace. A few steps more and she’d be able to sweep past them. Maybe she could trip and pretend to fall. One of them would probably be polite enough to stop and help her, giving her the opportunity to lift a second ticket. Then she’d be on to the platform and then the train—with Harte—before they even discovered their fare was missing.
Esta was nearly at their heels now—but out of nowhere, she felt another brush of warm energy that made her stumble. She caught herself before she fell and then had to scurry to keep up with the three men, scanning the narrowing passageway as she walked. No sign of Harte. And the men were almost to the place where the passage opened onto the platforms. She moved until she was barely an arm’s reach away. Closer still . . . She was almost next to them, nearly close enough to slip the first of the tickets out of the satchel, when someone called her name.
It wasn’t the unexpectedness of hearing her name that made her pause, but the familiarity of the voice. Her first thought was Harte, but the moment she turned, she realized her error. It was a stupid move, a rookie mistake that she never would have made if she had been more on her game that morning.
Before she could completely register who had spoken, Jack Grew had her by the arm.