Dolph squinted through the haze of smoke to make out the girl’s face. Even with his weakened affinity, he could sense she was powerful. Another unwelcome surprise. It was the last thing he needed. Especially now, when he didn’t have Leena by his side to neutralize the threat of the girl’s magic and when the streets were filled with murmurings about how he had been unable to protect Leena from the Order’s power.
There were always murmurings, of course. The new arrivals already carried with them the fears passed down by parents and grandparents who had survived the Disenchantment—the witch hunts and inquisitions that marred Europe’s history. In the span of a century, the Mageus had gone from being revered as healers and leaders to being feared by those without affinities. In the span of a century, science and the quest for enlightenment had turned the old magic into a dangerous superstition and the Mageus into pariahs.
Forced to live on the margins of society, they taught their children to hide what they were. Their descendants, desperate for a chance at a different life, believed in the tales told about this city, the promise that magic was protected here. They carried their fears across the seas with them, right alongside their meager parcels, and found themselves trapped.
The girl was new to Dolph, which meant she was new to the city as well, but she didn’t seem to be afraid. She didn’t vibrate with that same worry and fear of being found out that marked most new arrivals. Interesting, he thought, testing the air for some sign of her intentions and finding only desire and ambition. Both admirable qualities—but also dangerous, depending on who wielded them.
He tightened his grip on his cane and, making certain a scowl was firmly in place, he leaned forward to greet Werner and his guest.
“Who’s this?” he asked in the boy’s native German.
“Bridget found her,” Werner replied with a nod to the girl. “Thought you might be interested.”
The girl was tall and stood with a straightness that indicated an internal strength he looked for in members of his crew. She had chestnut-brown hair that framed a heart-shaped face and a straight nose that was a bit too long to be called delicate, but that suited her. Her dark brows winged over honey-colored eyes that looked like they knew too much. But those eyes were innocent just the same. A mark against her—innocence didn’t do well in his world.
He motioned for Werner to come forward and bent his head so the boy could whisper in his ear about the girl—about how she’d nearly killed Charlie Murphy, a fellow so deep in Tammany’s pocket, he’d never find his way out. About how the girl hadn’t confessed what her affinity was, but that she’d stolen the brooch from right beneath Bridget Malone’s chin and the madam hadn’t been able to lift a finger to stop her. Hadn’t even seen her take it.
All interesting enough. But again, dangerous considering the fragile state of his own affinity these days.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked, watching every minute flicker of her expression.
The girl was silent before she spoke, but when she did, her voice was clear, deferent but not cowed. “Miss Malone said you were someone who could offer protection.”
Once he might have been able to read her as easily as an open book, but even with his weakened affinity, he could taste the lie in her words. She knew exactly who he was but wasn’t trying to sway him with overblown praise, as many would have.
“Why would I waste my time doing a thing like that?” he asked, curious about how her voice seemed to suggest fear but not own it. She was either a brilliant actress or someone had taught her—and taught her well.
“I’m a good worker. I’d be loyal to you,” she pressed.
“You’d have to be damn near a miracle considering the trouble you’d cause me if I took you on. Charlie Murphy wouldn’t be pleased, and the last thing I want right now is Tammany Hall after me.”
In truth, Charles Murphy and everyone like him could go sit on his own thumb as far as Dolph was concerned. Those stuffed pigeons at Tammany thought they ran the city. Let them keep thinking it, Dolph had always said to any who worried. The truth would always out. Tammany could chase paper and manufacture votes—he had other plans.
“I can make it worth your while,” the girl said, straightening her spine. She was nearly as tall as Werner when she stood at her full height.
“I have more than enough dips right now,” he said after weighing his choices. He glanced to Werner. “Send her back to Corey.”
“No,” the girl said as she twisted violently and freed herself from Werner. “You don’t have any like me.”
The crowd around him went still and watchful at the commotion as she managed to evade the boy’s attempt to grab her again.
Dolph raised a hand for him to wait, and the girl stepped closer to his table.
“I can steal anything,” she said. “My marks never see me coming or going. I’ve never once been caught. Never.”
It didn’t take any magic to see there was no lie in her words this time. Again, Dolph tried to sense the flavor of her affinity. Before that night on the bridge, it would have been an easy enough thing to accomplish, but not anymore. The barroom was too full of magic for him to separate the girl’s from the others.
“You need me,” she added, pushing a loose piece of hair out of her eyes.
He huffed out a breath, amused. She must have known that he could take everything she held dear and twist it to breaking, but still she wasn’t afraid. It took quite a bit to impress him, but Dolph Saunders thought this girl might have enough backbone to do just that. Maybe if things weren’t so precarious.
Nibs cleared his throat.
Dolph frowned at the interruption. He would have made an example of anyone else, but Nibsy was rarely wrong about his impulses. ?And at the moment Nibs was eyeing the girl thoughtfully.
“You think we should keep her?” Dolph asked.
“What could it hurt to see what she can do?” He glanced over at Dolph. “She might have her uses.”
Dolph turned to the girl. “I doubt you’re anything special,” he said, a bold-faced lie. But best make sure the girl didn’t know he was too interested. “Still . . . if Bridget thinks you might be of help—”
Before he could finish speaking, the lights in the barroom surged, glowing so brightly that many of those drinking at the bar and at tables around the room squinted, raising their arms to shield themselves from the glow. The lights pulsed twice, the energy in the room flickering and crackling, and then the electric in the barroom went out completely.
The city was used to the power surges and outages that came with the ever-growing expansion of the electrical grid, but this had been something more. The second the room had plunged into darkness, he felt like what little remaining magic he had was gone.
For a moment he felt the shock of being hollowed out. Empty. Like a living death.
It had lasted less than a minute, but the stark terror he’d experienced when his magic was briefly torn from him left a coldness behind that went clear to the bone. Even after the lamps were lit and the room was aglow, his skin still felt chilled despite the stuffy warmth of the saloon.
A BAD BUSINESS