Evie nearly toppled over. “Shadow Men!”
“That’s what I’m thinking, too.” Mabel wiped a thin sheen of sweat from her brow before it could drip into her eyes and sting. “But then I started thinking, maybe you could read something of her sister’s and tell me what you get. This poor woman. Evie, if you’d seen her…”
“Anything for you, Ma—aaah!” Evie slipped and Mabel righted her. “Besides, I’m terrified of these little boots of death. Please lead me to safety.”
Evie took shelter at a table in the Bennington’s shabby dining hall while Mabel ran upstairs. When she returned moments later, Evie pushed a cup of tepid cocoa her way. “Same old Bennington. Drink that if you dare.”
“No, thanks.” Mabel signaled to the waiter, who brought her a coffee. She poured a thick coating of cream into it.
“Since when do you drink coffee?” Evie asked.
“There are lots of things I do now,” Mabel said, as if daring Evie to ask more, and Evie couldn’t help feeling that she’d missed something vital about Mabel these past few weeks while she was preoccupied with training and ghosts. She felt as if she should’ve been paying closer attention.
Mabel handed over Anna’s disturbing sketch. Evie turned the picture sideways and upside down. “Well, I can tell you one thing—Anna Provenza was no Picasso.”
“It didn’t make much sense to me, either. Some sort of ship?” Mabel suggested.
“Or a very fat spider.”
“But look, there’s the eye symbol.” Mabel tapped the spot where Anna had drawn it. “Maybe she was onto something.”
“Certainly worth a try.” Evie let her fingers drift across the sketch, but it was dull beneath her touch. Evie pressed harder, fighting the exhaustion of the past few nights’ activities. She caught something, a machinelike sound that reminded her of blood pulsing quickly. She couldn’t see where the sound was coming from; she only knew that it produced a feeling of absolute terror.
She broke away.
“Did you see anything?”
“Not really. Just a strange whooshing sound. But it was very frightening. Mabesie, I think we should go see this Maria Provenza right away,” Evie said. “And then, afterward, we could go to the Hotsy Totsy.”
“Yes to the first, no to the second. I don’t have time for nightclubs, Evie. I’m trying to change the world.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Evie challenged.
“It isn’t the same thing,” Mabel said, and Evie was annoyed.
“Are you not allowed to dance while saving the world, Pie Face? Because that sounds dreadful.”
“Why do you always have to make a joke?” Mabel said, exasperated.
Evie sipped her cocoa and Mabel her coffee, and the distance stretched between them.
“Anyway, I can’t,” Mabel said. “I have a meeting with Arthur.”
Evie shook off her irritation and scooted forward, all excitement. “Another mysterious meeting. What are you not telling me, Mabesie? Or will I be forced to read something of his to find out?”
“Don’t you dare! And besides, who said you’re the only one allowed secrets, Mademoiselle O’Neill-ski?”
“But I don’t have secrets from you,” Evie said, the hurt seeping out. The coffee. Arthur. Secret meetings. Mabel had changed. And she hadn’t bothered to keep Evie informed.
Some part of Mabel was enjoying Evie’s discomfort. Yes, she wanted to say. I am so much more than you ever allowed me to be. More than you ever saw. But there was Evie, her pal, biting her bottom lip as she only did when she was trying not to let people know how vulnerable she was. Mabel softened. It was true that Evie had always been there to hear every one of Mabel’s secrets. It was Evie who’d always said that Mabel was the real star in the family, not her mother. Evie who had taken Mabel’s side in every argument. And Mabel desperately wanted Evie to know about her other life. What good was having a secret if you couldn’t share it?
“All right,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I am not supposed to be telling you this, so you have to promise to take it to your grave!”
Evie mimed crossing her heart. “And hope to die.”
Satisfied, Mabel leaned forward. “I am a member of the Secret Six,” she said at last, craning her neck to be sure she wasn’t overheard.
Evie looked perplexed. “Is that a dance troupe? Tell me you haven’t taken up mime! Because I could certainly understand not wanting anyone to know about that.”
“The Secret Six!” Mabel said with more energy. When Evie still looked blank, Mabel groaned. “We’re rebels? Revolutionaries? Honestly, don’t you ever read anything besides the gossip pages? We’ve been in all the papers!”
As it came to Evie, her teasing smile faded. “Wait a minute. The Secret Six. Didn’t they dynamite a factory somewhere? Mabel… aren’t they anarchists?”
Mabel sat up very straight. “So what if we are? This world needs a bit of shaking up. And anyway, the Six have never hurt anyone—not like the Pinkertons, the capitalists, and the government. We fight for the worker.”
“Fight for the worker how, though? Mabesie…” Evie paused, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want to make Mabel mad. “You’re not doing anything foolish, are you?”
Mabel leaned back against the booth. “You have some nerve. What about you? What about your… ghost removal policy.”
Evie rolled her eyes. “It’s hardly a policy.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“We’re trying to find Conor and keep our country safe, I’ll remind you.”
“At what cost?” Mabel asked. “I’m not sure that what you’re doing is right.”
“I see. Are you becoming a champion of ghosts’ rights now?” Evie snapped, and immediately regretted it. Mabel went quiet. “I’m sorry, Pie Face. I just don’t want you to get hurt!”
Mabel responded with cold fury. “You know who’s getting hurt? Workers. Poor people. Immigrants. Every day. It’s a rigged game, Evie. The people at the top say they believe in the people at the bottom until those people try to climb up. And then the people at the top step on the hands of the climbing people they claim to believe in and cast them down the ladder.”
“I’m sorry for what I said. Truly I am.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t.” Evie chewed softly on her bottom lip. “What about your parents?”
“They don’t know,” Mabel admitted. “Oh, look, I love Mama and Papa, but they’re so old-fashioned! They only let me hand out pamphlets and carry picket signs. I want to be in the fight! I want to get my hands dirty!”
“Mabel Rose for president!” Evie said, punching the air with her index finger. She took Mabel’s hands in hers. “You’re the best person I know, Mabel Rose. If you vouch for Arthur Brown and the Secret Six, they must be jake.”
Mabel blushed. “I’m not the best person.”