In short, Dolph Saunders had been as powerful as he was mysterious. But whatever he might have been—or might be, Esta reminded herself—she needed him. He was the one who’d organized the team to steal the Ortus Aurea’s treasures. With Bridget Malone’s introduction, Dolph Saunders would be more likely to trust her. But from that point, it would be up to Esta herself to earn a place on that team. From there, she would be working blind.
They continued past theaters with their glittering marquees and restaurants with gilded lettering on their windows. As they walked, she could see the echoes of a future that had not yet arrived—the grids of streets that would remain unchanged through the years, the familiar shapes of buildings that would survive for a century more—but it wasn’t a future she could access. She had no way to reach forward through the layers of time and grab hold of the world where she belonged.
As they walked, Werner’s posture changed. The comfortable, loping gait he’d had when they’d left the Haymarket went stiff, cautious, and by the time they turned onto the Bowery, the wide street that glowed even more brightly than Broadway, everything about his bearing said he was on guard. ?Which put Esta on guard as well.
Even in her own time, the Bowery was lined by the shorter buildings characteristic of most of ?lower Manhattan. Now, elevated train tracks partially obscured them, casting shadows over the people bustling along on the packed sidewalks below. As Werner led her through the crowds, the nearly deafening rumble of a small steam engine shook the heavy metal girders overhead, showering the pedestrians below with soot and filling the air with a cloud of acrid smoke.
They made their way through a crowd gathered around a makeshift table of wooden crates set up beneath the glow of an electric streetlamp. Behind the crates, a boy in a thick scarf and fingerless gloves shuffled cards with the dexterity of a Vegas dealer. Three-card monte, Esta realized, and she couldn’t help but smile as she noticed another young boy making his way through the crowd, lifting coins and watches from the spectators as their attention was focused on the sucker losing his money at the table.
Her fingers twitched. It would be so easy to make a living without the countless cameras that watched from every street corner and the wallets filled with plastic cards that could be traced. If she were stuck here for good, maybe it would be okay—
No. She wouldn’t let herself even entertain that possibility. She was going to get on Dolph Saunders’ team, get the Book and Ishtar’s Key, and get back to her own city. She wasn’t going to be distracted by the promise of a fat wallet. People were depending on her.
Eventually, they reached a corner saloon with an ornate marquee. Brilliant red and white lights spelled out the words BELLA STREGA, and the sign above depicted a woman in black with a waspish waist and dark, cascading hair. Her back was to the street, and she looked over her shoulder, her golden eyes glowing as a smile curved her scarlet lips.
“This is it,” Werner said, and Esta thought that he sounded almost nervous about entering.
She followed him through the double doors and practically sighed when the blast of warmth from within hit her frozen face. Cigar smoke hung heavy in the air, and the smell of sweat and old beer was stronger than it had been at the Haymarket.
Along with the stale reek of too many bodies and the cloud of smoke, there was something else about the saloon—a frisson of energy that whispered along her skin and warmed her every bit as much as the coal stove in the corner of the room. It was that same sizzling sensation she’d felt right before Werner had taken the breath from her lungs. ?Yet another reminder that in this time, magic was different. In her own city, she’d never encountered magic like this, affinities so strong they stirred the very air.
The electric energy was a warning of sorts, but the warmth running across her skin was also a comfort. She had always struggled to feel like she belonged with Professor Lachlan and his team, but as she stepped into Dolph Saunders’ lair, Esta felt strangely at home.
Werner pushed Esta ahead of him, toward the back of the saloon, where a man who could only be Dolph held court. He was younger than Esta had expected—he couldn’t have been much more than his midtwenties, but his dark hair sported a shock of white that made him seem older at first glance.
Or maybe it was that he carried his authority with an ease that the overdressed boys around him didn’t. Dolph was dressed simply, the sleeves of his shirt rolled to expose his strong forearms. One bore the tattoo of a snake that wound around his wrist and crawled up into the arm of his shirt. His hair wasn’t slicked back like the other boys, but curled around his lean face, and he wore a patch over one eye that made him look a little like a pirate. Lying across the table in front of him was an ebony cane topped with what looked to be a silver replica of a screaming Medusa.
He wasn’t a handsome man. He didn’t have the polished charm that Logan cultivated to disarm his marks, but even from across the room Esta could tell Dolph Saunders didn’t need something as ordinary as charm to get his way.
“Go on,” Werner urged, pushing her forward through the parted crowd.
Esta didn’t miss the nervousness in Werner’s voice, and she didn’t blame him. Though Dolph sat with a slouching indifference, the power he held over the room was obvious from the way everyone seemed oriented toward him. Even those not close to his table tossed furtive glances his way.
Noticing that someone was approaching, Saunders looked up from the conversation he had been having with a light-haired boy sitting next to him. The eye free from the patch was a clear blue, but at their approach, his expression went tight. Her instincts urged her to run, but Esta knew she wouldn’t get a second chance, so she stepped forward. Toward the danger he embodied, and toward her only possibility of getting home.
AMBITION AND DESIRE
Dolph Saunders had never liked surprises. He valued the ears and eyes he had around the city, and he paid well for the lips that whispered the secrets many would rather keep silent. So he was less than pleased to see Werner Knopf, Edward Corey’s latest lackey, walk into his saloon without so much as a warning.
Dolph glanced at Nibs, who was sitting next to him, but the boy shook his head, an indication that he didn’t know the cause for the visit.
Someone was going to pay for this particular surprise. Especially since Werner wasn’t alone.