A NEW ERA IN THE BOWERY
1902—New York
James Lorcan would have paid handsomely to have just one answer to any of his questions. There were too many variables at play, too much at risk. It had been five days since Mock Duck had brought Jianyu to the Strega and traded him for a handful of dollars and a notebook of secrets he could use against Tom Lee. Five days since James had had Jianyu in his hands, and five days since the damnable turncoat had somehow managed to escape.
At least the fire had been minor, and Paul Kelly’s connections with Tammany meant that the brigades did more than just watch the building burn. Because of their help, James was able to sit at the back of the barroom and survey his domain.
At least Viola was taken care of. The image of Dolph’s favorite assassin, bruised and bleeding from her brother’s fists, still served to comfort—and amuse—him. As far as James was concerned, it proved that Dolph had always thought too highly of her. Viola had always been moody and temperamental—a liability. She’d never liked James, that much he knew. From the look of pure hate in her eyes the other day, she still didn’t, but at least she wouldn’t be a problem. She’d overplayed her hand when she’d gone back to her brother’s protection, and all evidence so far indicated that Kelly would be able to control her. That much, at least, was a comfort. It made for one less thing to worry about.
The future was still too unsettled for his liking, though. James could not make heads or tails of the variables that seemed to waver in the Aether, the paths rising up and then disappearing like ghosts. But he knew one thing for sure. Something was coming. Something that promised to change everything.
At the front of the Strega, the door opened, letting in a burst of cool air that James could feel even from the back of the room. It seemed that his thoughts of Paul Kelly had summoned the devil himself. All at once the atmosphere in the barroom changed as the people realized that the notorious leader of the Five Pointers had just arrived.
A few weeks ago Kelly’s appearance there in the saloon that Dolph Saunders had ruled his empire from would have been unheard of. Before Dolph’s death Kelly never would have dared to confront the Devil’s Own on their own turf. But this was a new city, a new world. And all James could think was Finally.
Kelly was followed by two of his Five Pointers, broad men with the same ruthless expression that Kelly himself wore. Between them, they held a towheaded fellow James didn’t recognize. The unlucky captive looked to be slightly older than James, but he had a softness to his features that almost made him seem younger. His left eye had been blackened and was already swollen shut, no doubt the effect of tangling with Kelly’s men.
Sensing trouble, the patrons in the barroom murmured uneasily as Kelly and his men stopped just inside the doorway and surveyed the saloon. Most kept their eyes down, studying their cups as though the liquid within them might burst into flames at any moment. A few drained their glasses and left, giving Kelly and his men a wide berth as they departed.
Seemingly pleased with the reaction his entrance had caused, Paul Kelly made his way through the unusually quiet room. As he approached, James rubbed his thumb along the silver topper of his cane—a gorgon head with the face of an angel. Leena’s face. The silver snakes that coiled beneath his thumb felt unnaturally cool, a reminder that whatever strength the Five Pointers might have in the streets, James and those he now controlled had power that Paul Kelly could only dream of.
But the coolness was also a reminder of how much was at stake. There was power locked within the silver gorgon head—the part of her affinity that Dolph had taken from Leena and used to ensure his control over the Devil’s Own. But that power was useless to James, who didn’t have the affinity to reach it . . . not until he had the Book to unlock it.
Kelly was nearly across the barroom, and James was still sitting. He refused to be seen as weak—not there on his turf and in front of his own people—so, ignoring the pain in his wounded leg, he stood up and steadied himself with the cane.
Sundren as he was, Paul Kelly could not have felt the way the magic in the room flared as he walked through the saloon. The air filled with the nervous warmth of affinities on the verge of becoming, as each Mageus present watched, wary and ready, for whatever would happen. To James Lorcan, it felt in that moment as though the whole world was no bigger than that particular smoky barroom and the people within it, each of them holding their breath and waiting.
“Paul,” James said, greeting Kelly like they were old friends. “What brings you to the Strega tonight?” He glanced beyond Paul Kelly to the boy the Five Pointers was holding. “Or maybe I should ask what you’ve brought me?”
Kelly smirked. “My guys picked him up down on Broome Street. He’s got a pretty enough face,” he said, giving the blond a couple of sharp smacks on the cheek that had the boy wincing. “But not too many brains. He demanded I bring him to you.”
“Did he?” James asked, ignoring the unsettled energy that permeated the barroom as he examined the blond.
“He did,” Kelly said. “Which causes a problem for me. We need to get something clear, Lorcan—whatever mutually beneficial understanding we might have between us, I don’t take orders from you or yours. Got it?”
“He’s not one of mine,” James said, turning his attention back to Kelly and assessing the danger in the air.
“He says otherwise.”
The blond was breathing heavily, as though he were in pain, and staring at James from his one good eye. James ignored his face and focused on the Aether around him. It was hazy, indistinct, but it didn’t seem to indicate that the stranger posed any threat. If anything, the way it was already fusing with the set patterns was a positive sign. He stepped toward the trio, the tap of his cane punctuating the uneasy silence in the bar.
“Who are you?” James asked the blond when they were face-to-face. There was definitely something to the boy—the warmth of magic hung around him, clear to anyone who shared it.
“Logan,” the boy told him, never once flinching under James’ steady stare. “Logan Sullivan.”
“Who sent you, Logan Sullivan?” James asked.
The guy’s expression never flickered. The Aether around him never wavered. “You did.”
“I did?” James said, studying the stranger for some sign of deception.
“That’s what he kept telling my guys,” Kelly said.
“He’s lying,” James told Kelly as he continued to eye this new entity. “I don’t know any Logan Sullivan, and I certainly don’t know him.”
“You do, and I can prove it,” the boy said.
James got the sense this Logan Sullivan, whoever he was, wasn’t lying. At least he didn’t believe he was lying. Which wasn’t going to help James’ position with Kelly. He had to neutralize this danger quickly, before everything he’d so carefully positioned started to fall apart.
“I’m not interested in listening to your lies,” James said, starting to turn away.
“Maybe you’d be interested in the Delphi’s Tear,” Logan said. “It’s here, you know. In the city . . .”
James turned back to Logan. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Logan told him, his expression never wavering. “You want the ring? I can find it for you. It’s not far from here, but it’s moving even as we speak.”
“What’s this?” Kelly asked, his voice dark and suspicious.
It was a delicate thing, to lead Kelly on without giving him too much. Information was power, and knowledge was the noose that could be slipped around a neck. But James didn’t hesitate in his answer.
“It’s one of the jewels I told you about—the ones that Darrigan and the girl made off with.”
“The ones I sent my guys after?” Kelly narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You’d better not have sent me on a chase, Lorcan.”
“I didn’t,” James said, ignoring the threat. “Darrigan and the girl are out there, and when you find them and the things they stole, the Order will reward you handsomely.”
Or they would if I wasn’t planning on taking them first.
James considered Logan. “Where’s this proof you claim to have?”
“Left inside jacket pocket,” Logan told him.
Again James was struck by the stranger’s steadiness, but he didn’t read any danger here . . . quite the opposite.
James approached Logan again. “If I may?” The Five Pointers looked to Kelly, who gave them a subtle nod, and then James reached into Logan’s jacket and fished out a small, paper-wrapped package. “What is it?” he asked.
“Open it,” Logan said, his gaze calm and sure.
Too sure.
James tucked the cane under his arm and made quick work of the wrapping. His eyes told him what he was holding before his brain could accept it. “Where did you get this?” he asked.
“Like I said, you gave it to me.”
It wasn’t possible. The small notebook he was holding in his hand was instantly recognizable. After all, he had an identical one in his own jacket pocket.
“I didn’t give you any—” His words were lost as he flipped through the book to find his own cramped, familiar handwriting on its pages. He stopped and went back to the beginning. . . . It was definitely his notes.
And his own notebook was definitely still in his pocket. Even now he felt the comforting weight of it.
Flipping forward, James stopped at the page he’d written earlier that morning. But this notebook continued on, still all in his own hand.
“What is it?” Kelly asked, clearly impatient to know what James saw in the notebook.
“It’s nothing,” James said, closing the notebook. “He’s lying. This doesn’t tell me anything at all.”
Kelly frowned at James as though considering whether to believe him. Finally, he seemed to relent. “What should we do with him, then? I can have my guys take care of it if you want.”
“Leave him to me,” James told him.
“You?” Kelly seemed surprised, and more than a little disappointed.
“He’s dragging my name through the mud. I think I should be the one to deal with him,” James told him. Kelly wouldn’t have respected him otherwise. “He won’t bother you or yours again.”
Kelly studied James for a long moment, and the unease permeating the room around them seemed to swell in the silence. But then he gave his two men another nod, and they dropped the boy, who crumpled to his knees, clearly injured.
“Mooch,” James said. “Would you escort our guest to the cellar? Tie him up and make sure he’s quiet until I get there. With force, if need be.”
“No—” Logan tried to scramble to his feet, but Mooch and one of the other boys were on him before he could get far. With his soft features, he didn’t stand much of a chance.
James waited until they were gone before he gestured to the table he’d been sitting at a few minutes before. “Have a drink with me? I owe you for bringing that bit of trouble to my attention.”
Kelly studied him for another long moment before agreeing. “What could it hurt?” he said with a shrug. “Let’s see what kind of swill Saunders stocked this place with.”
“Better than you might imagine,” he told Kelly, well aware of the nervous energy around them as he thumped the other man on the back.
James knew that every person in that barroom feared Kelly and the damage his Five Pointers could do. Even Dolph hadn’t been able to protect them from the Five Pointers’ viciousness in those final days.
Let them see, James thought. Let them all see and understand exactly who I am and what influence I have.
He poured two fingers of the house’s best whiskey for each of them and raised his glass in a salute. Kelly watched him toss back the liquid before drinking his own.
“So,” James said as he poured another glass for each of them. “How is your delightful sister these days . . . still raising hell?”
Kelly smirked. “Viola?” He laughed softly into his glass. “She doesn’t raise anything unless I tell her to.”
Perfect, James thought. Exactly what I wanted to hear.