Before the Devil Breaks You (The Diviners #3)

“The eternal recurrence,” Jericho said.

“Not this again. Pal, can we let Nietzsche have the night off?” Sam protested. “Look around: We’re in a nightclub. People are having fun here.”

Theta frowned. “Come to think of it, when I dropped Dr. Jung’s book, what page you think it was opened to?”

“If I say one forty-four, do I get a prize?” Evie asked.

“Yeah. You get to be right,” Theta said, trying to ignore the itching in her palms. What she didn’t say was that the book had been opened to a picture of a Phoenix rising from the flames. A mythological firebird.

“We’re also superstitious about numbers in Chinatown,” Ling said, frowning. “Fours are unlucky. The word for four sounds like the word for death.”

Sam looked from Ling to Jericho and back. “You know what? I’m gonna call you two the spooky twins.”

“What are we going to do about this?” Henry asked. “Clearly, Dr. Fitzgerald and Miss Walker have lied to us.”

Ling didn’t like knowing that Miss Walker had lied. She looked up to Miss Walker and had come to see her as a mentor. Now her heart wrestled with a problem: Could you still like someone who had done something so clearly wrong? Could you admire someone for their talents even if you condemned their methods? “Maybe they had reasons for doing what they did. We don’t know everything about Project Buffalo. Why don’t we just ask them about it?”

“Nothing doing!” Sam said. “Until we get the card reader and find out what’s on these, we’re gonna keep our traps shut.”

“Memphis Campbell!”

Ling looked up to see a glamorous chorus girl in a skimpy beaded costume and a glittering headband sauntering toward their table, a red carnation tucked into her cleavage. Her smile was dazzling, and she walked with a rare confidence. The chorus girl threw her arms around Memphis’s neck and kissed his cheek. Ling glanced over at Theta, but she didn’t seem bothered.

“Where you been hiding yourself lately? And don’t tell me you’ve been going back to that old African graveyard to write,” the chorus girl said.

“Oh, you know how it is. Here and there,” Memphis said, and Ling could see that they were friends. In fact, they almost seemed like siblings. “Everybody, this is my friend Alma. Alma, I think you know most everybody here.”

“I surely do. Well…” Alma cocked her head and smiled at Ling. “Not everybody.”

“Miss Alma LaVoy, may I present Miss Ling Chan.”

Alma stuck out her hand and offered up her most winning smile. “Charmed. Why, I had no idea Memphis had such a sweet friend.” She dragged over a chair, positioning it between Ling and Memphis. “Mind if I join you all?”

Memphis snorted. “Like I could stop you.”

Alma stole a sip from Memphis’s drink and made a face. “Ugh. What is that?”

“Coca-Cola.”

Evie slid over her glass. “Bourbon.”

Alma’s mischievous grin returned. “I knew I liked you. Now. What are you all talking about over here with your heads bent together like pieces of the same dreary puzzle?”

“Ghosts. Demons. Murder. As one does at the city’s best nightclubs,” Henry said.

Alma choked on her sip of Evie’s bourbon. “I would say don’t stop on my account. But you can stop on my account.” She shuddered, then turned toward Ling again. “Ling. My, that’s a pretty name,” she purred. “How come I haven’t seen you before? Why has my very good friend Memphis not bothered to introduce us?”

“You better stop now,” Memphis chided playfully under his breath.

“I already got one grandmother, Memphis. Don’t need another,” Alma answered in kind through smiling teeth.

“Alma!” one of the chorines shouted, waving wildly. “Get your crown! We’re on!”

“You don’t need to tell me when we’re on—I know when we’re on, Minnie!” Alma shooed Minnie away with a flick of her fingers. “Time to shake a leg.” Alma took the red carnation from her dress and plopped it into Ling’s empty cup, enjoying the matching blush that rose in Ling’s cheeks. “Hope you enjoy the show.” Alma winked, then raced up to the stage just as the band broke into a fast-paced number. Ling watched in awe as Alma danced, all arms and legs and joy. Freedom in motion. For a moment, Ling was envious. But then Alma executed a series of steps, tapping out a complex rhythm with toes and heels, and Ling knew that even if she had never had infantile paralysis, she’d never be able to own a stage like that. There was a word for Memphis’s friend Alma: mesmerizing.

“She’s good. She’s very good,” Ling said, eyes trained on Alma’s shaking hips.

Henry looked from Ling to Alma and back again. His mouth slid into a sly smile. “Oh my.”

Jericho accidentally brushed against Mabel. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Mabel said, and she realized, with sudden clarity, that it was. In fact, for the first time in years, being this close to Jericho didn’t make her stomach quiver or her cheeks flush. It was liberating, like the breaking of a spell.

“How are you, Jericho?” she asked brightly.

“Fine, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m swell!”

“Well, that’s good news.” He was smiling at her, head cocked, as if he could tell she’d changed. For the first time, she had the upper hand. “I’m headed upstate tomorrow.”

“Oh? Where?” Mabel was a little disappointed that she’d just developed her not in love with Jericho anymore muscle and wouldn’t have a chance to flex it.

“Jake Marlowe’s mansion. He’s asked me to take part in his Future of America Exhibition. I leave tomorrow morning.”

“You’re going to be living in the house of the enemy?” Mabel blurted, her voice going high.

Jericho sighed in irritation. “He’s not the enemy.”

“Tell that to his workers.”

Jericho glared. “It’s more complicated than black and white, good and evil. Don’t forget: Jake Marlowe saved my life once upon a time.”

“And for that you owe him your blind loyalty?”

“Okay. You two crazy kids,” Sam said, laughing nervously. “Tell me the truth: What have you both got against fun? Was it a childhood trauma? There is no prohibition against fun. Yet.”

Jericho stood, pushing his chair back. “You’re right. And since it’s my last night here, I’d like to have some of that fun. Evie, would you care to dance?”

Evie glanced nervously at Mabel.

“You don’t need my permission,” Mabel said. “Oh, honestly. Go.”

“Well, maybe just one dance,” Evie said.