THE POCKET WATCH
1904—St. Louis
Jericho Northwood—North to most people who knew him—startled a couple of pigeons when he reappeared against the lamppost a few hours past when the Guard had come tearing in after him, but it was late enough that no one much was around to notice. His eyes were still looking in the direction where the girl had been, but she was long gone.
He still couldn’t quite believe she’d been there. She’d just been standing in line for tickets to the theater, like any of the other nobs in town. Like she wasn’t one of the most wanted Antistasi in the country.
The sketches the newspapers had published back when the first train accident happened made her look like a wild harridan, an avenging demon set to destroy all Sundren who offended her. The girl he’d seen was every bit as tall as the reports claimed, but she was younger than any of the pictures made her seem, and softer looking too. North had recognized her just the same, though. There was no mistaking it. Esta Filosik—the Devil’s Thief—was in St. Louis.
North looked at his pocket watch again, the one his daddy had given him when he’d turned eleven. Who knew where his daddy had gotten it from—he’d always known, somehow, that he wasn’t supposed to ask. It was dangerous enough living with a secret like magic, even back before they passed the Defense Against Magic Act right after the Great Conclave of aught-two. But the trade in objects that could bolster a dying affinity? Well, asking questions about that could be damn near deadly if the wrong person caught wind of it. Even as a boy he’d known that.
The watch was a scratched-up bronze piece that might have once looked like gold, but the years had worn away the lie. The glass that covered its simple face had already been cracked when he’d received it, but seeing as how he didn’t use it to tell time, that hadn’t ever worried him none. He’d had it for near seven years now, and he hadn’t bothered to fix it. Why should he, when it worked just fine? When he used it, he thought of his daddy, and for all the other moments, he kept his thoughts about his father and everything that had happened put away, where they belonged.
North tucked the watch back into his vest pocket—and the memories along with it—next to the package Maggie had given him a few minutes before. He didn’t have to examine it to know what it was—a key to the chemist’s down the block. He’d cursed Mother Ruth three times over for sending Maggie in to do such a dangerous job. The girl didn’t have any business stealing keys when Ruth had plenty of others who could do it just as easily and with less risk. But North always had the suspicion that Ruth liked to test her baby sister—to make sure of where Maggie’s loyalties lay and to keep her sharp.
From North’s perspective, Maggie was more than sharp enough. The girl was a miracle of a genius when it came to creating serums and devices, and he would have thought Ruth would want to keep her out of harm’s way, considering how important she was for their next deed.
They’d borrowed the idea of “propaganda of the deed”—using direct actions to inspire others—from the anarchists, but the Antistasi weren’t sloppy enough to use bombs. They used magic instead. In the year since North had come into town and found Ruth, he’d helped with plenty of the Antistasi’s deeds—including the one last October—but the one they were currently planning was different. It was more than a statement for attention; it was a demand for recognition. A deed so monumental, so dramatic, that it would transform the country.
It was also coming too soon. From North’s view, there were still too many variables and too many unanswered questions. They had only a few more weeks to get them answered, because they would have only one chance to hit the biggest target of all.
But North was just a foot soldier. He wasn’t the general. He didn’t particularly want to be the general either.
Taking the packet from his pocket, North unwrapped the key it contained. The slip of paper had a list of items in Maggie’s crooked scrawl. He knew Maggie needed the materials for her tests, but he also knew that Ruth would want to know about what he’d seen. He wasn’t sure if having Esta Filosik in town was a good omen or not. Maybe she could help them. . . . But then, if anyone else knew of her appearance, it could mean trouble. The Guard would be more alert, and the whole town would be on edge.
Well, there wasn’t a reason he had to do a thing about it right then. Maggie had a list of items for him to obtain, and he wasn’t about to disappoint her.
North pulled his hat down low over his eyes as he turned into the alley next to the chemist’s shop, making sure no one saw as he used the key to slip inside. When he was done, he’d have plenty of time to tell Ruth everything. He had his watch, after all.