THE FLASH OF A KNIFE
1902—New York
The room around Jianyu had churned into chaos at the sight of the Five Pointers in their midst. It did not take magic, it seemed, to drive fear into the Order’s hearts. A few snub-nosed pistols did the trick just as well. The crowds of the ballroom were trying to shove through a single, narrow exit in an attempt to flee, but Jianyu had his sights set on one thing: the ring.
It was still on Evelyn’s finger, but Evelyn was being guarded by the strange beast. From his own vantage point, the cold magic that surrounded the creature was telling. It was not natural, but that was no surprise coming from Jack Grew and the Order.
With light opened around him, Jianyu ignored the noise and the confusion and crept steadily closer to the beast sitting on top of Evelyn. She no longer seemed to be breathing, but the beast still had its clawed fingers gripped around her throat, her sightless eyes staring off into the room beyond.
He was nearly there when he saw Cela moving through the crowd with a single-minded determination. While everyone else was trying to flee, she looked like a koi struggling upstream as she worked her way toward the stage and Evelyn. With his affinity, she had not realized that he was already there.
Before he could warn her, he noticed a flash of dark hair and plum silk and saw Viola coming in the same direction. From the look of fury in her eyes, Viola had seen Cela too.
He had not taken the time to explain earlier, when he could have, he realized with a sick sense of dread. Viola would not know who Cela was. She would only see a stranger after the treasure she had told Jianyu not to take.
It felt as though the moment was suspended in amber and he was viewing everything from outside of it. The flash of Viola’s knife coming from the folds of her skirt, the fury in her expression as she screamed at Cela to get away from Evelyn—to leave the ring.
Cela glanced over her shoulder, but she ignored the warning.
Because she did not understand who Viola was. Because she could not have known what would happen.
But Jianyu did—he could see it playing out before it occurred. Viola would launch her knife through the air. She would aim for Cela, and she would not miss.
Letting go of the light, Jianyu did the only thing he could do. Without considering the consequences to himself, he leaped in front of Cela, just as the knife slipped from Viola’s fingertips.
The room narrowed to that moment, but even knowing he had been hit, Jianyu did not feel any pain when the knife cut through his tunic and pierced his skin, tearing past sinew and bone to lodge in his shoulder. He felt nothing at all but relief when he landed hard on the floor at Cela’s feet.
She was there, standing over him with an expression that told him just how bad it was. Her hands were on his face and her mouth was moving, but he could not hear the words she spoke. When he looked up at Viola, he saw only horror in her eyes. They were rimmed in red as though she had already been crying for him.
Pulling himself up, he took the handle of the knife and pulled it from his arm.
Finally, he felt the pain, the sharp stinging of the blade as it slid from the place it made through his skin. Even with Cela holding a part of her skirt to his wound, trying to stop the blood, he knew that he had to reach Viola . . . had to make her understand.
“We have to get out of here,” Cela told him, trying to get him to his feet, but he had to speak to Viola. He had to tell her one, essential thing.
“Come with us,” he said, offering her the knife, which was still coated with his blood. His voice sounded far away, even to himself, but he repeated the offer again. “We need you.”
But Viola was shaking her head and backing away.
And then Abel was there, hoisting him up to carry him out.
Jianyu didn’t know where the ring was, or who had it, but in that moment he knew that it didn’t matter as much as making Viola understand. “Come with us,” he repeated, knowing that nothing would be possible as long as they were divided.