“I need time to think about it. Figure out the best way in.”
“Mr. Kelly thought you might say that. He has the utmost faith that you’ll make the right choice. Me? I ain’t so sure. I think you might need a push in the right direction.” ?Torrio shrugged. “I’m more than happy to give you that push.”
“Well, this has been most enlightening, boys.” Harte held out his hand, a last-ditch attempt to take control of the situation. “Give Kelly my regards, won’t you?”
Torrio looked at the outstretched hand but didn’t offer his own. “You put on a good show, Darrigan, but your time’s running out to make good.” He gave a jerk of his head before leading the way out of the dressing room. Razor gave Harte a look that said he wouldn’t mind if Harte screwed up, and then he followed Torrio, shutting the door behind him.
Harte threw the lock on the door before he sank into the chair near his dressing table. It was still warm from Torrio’s body, which only served to remind him how much trouble he was in. Paul Kelly, a member of the Order? He couldn’t fathom it. But if it came to pass . . . Harte couldn’t help but shudder.
He still remembered the first time he’d ever met Paul Kelly, about five, maybe six years ago. Back then Dolph Saunders had taken him under his wing, and he’d felt like the world was his. So when he found out his mother was back in the city—someone had seen her in one of Paul Kelly’s cathouses—he didn’t ask Dolph for help. He went to see for himself.
He’d gone to curse her for leaving him, but once he’d realized what she’d become, he understood what his actions had done. He couldn’t leave her there. It had been easy enough to get her out. But of course Paul Kelly heard about it and came after him.
Back then Kelly was beginning to make a name for himself. Mostly, his gang was made up of rough-looking Italian boys who didn’t need the evil eye to give someone a bad day, and they had Harte before Dolph even found out about it. But Kelly saw something valuable in Harte’s abilities, so he gave Harte a choice that day, which was more than he gave most: work for the Five Pointers, or end his short life in the Hudson. Harte picked the Five Pointers. Despite everything he’d been through, he’d still been too naive to know the Hudson might have been a better bet. He was wearing the Five Pointer’s brand before Dolph could do anything to help him.
A few years after that, when he’d collected enough of Kelly’s secrets, he’d negotiated an exit from the gang. He’d renamed himself, made a whole new life, and started working theaters and dime museums in the Bowery, learning his craft from some of the old guys. He thought he’d made it out, but it wasn’t even six months later when Kelly called on him for a “favor.” For an old friend. But one more led to another and another.
He’d tried not to think too much about the way his favors for Kelly often lined up with his lucky breaks in the theater business. He told himself that it was his skill more than Kelly’s pressure that had gotten him the first gig north of Houston or his first appearance in a Broadway house. But Torrio and Razor’s appearance only underscored the truth—Dolph Saunders had been right about Kelly having him on a leash. The only way to get away from Kelly’s influence was to get out of the godforsaken trap of a city.
And the only way to do that was to get the Book before anyone else did.
Harte picked up the handcuffs Razor Riley had moved. They were the first cuffs he’d ever cracked, back when he was a stupid kid from Mott Street who’d gotten picked up for lifting a half-rotten orange from a peddler’s cart. Breaking those cuffs and getting out of the Black Maria wagon bound for the boys’ mission had been his first taste of what it might feel like to choose his own destiny. He’d kept them as a reminder of how far he’d come, and of how far he still had left to go.
Sure, Dolph Saunders and Paul Kelly were both breathing down his neck, but he had something neither of them had and both of them wanted—a willing contact in the Ortus Aurea. It would still be tricky, convincing Jack to trust him enough to get him into Khafre Hall. It would be damn risky going against an organization that snuffed out Mageus for sport. But those cuffs were a reminder that he’d been in tough spots before.
He hung the cuffs back on their hook where he’d be able to see them. His entire life had been one big escape act. Getting out of that prison of a city wouldn’t be any different.
CHANGING FEATHERS
Esta spent the next few days working the Dead Line without complaint—and staying far away from Harte Darrigan. The letters and words in the news clipping she kept tucked against her skin had not stopped shifting. The future, the heist that needed to happen, was still undetermined, a fact that made her nervous, anxious. If the heist didn’t happen, she’d never get back.
On Wednesday, she worked on Wall Street, fleecing unsuspecting bankers in the sleeting rain. With the rotten weather, it took longer than the day before to meet her quota, especially since she was relying on her skill rather than her magic whenever possible. She understood that in this city, magic was as much a liability as a tool, a mark for an unknown enemy to track her or find her.
Despite the rain, it was still early when she made it back to the warmth of Tilly’s kitchen, exhausted and hungry. ?The kitchen wasn’t empty. At the end of the long, heavy table, Dolph sat huddled with Viola, Jianyu, and Nibs. They didn’t pay any attention to her arrival, but when Tilly heard the door open, she turned from what she was doing at the sink. Seeing it was Esta, she wiped her hands on the apron covering her dress and grabbed a covered plate to bring over to her.
“You’re back early,” Tilly said. She set the plate on the end of the counter and took the cloth off the top to reveal sliced hard cheese, salami, and some grapes that had already been picked over.
Leaning a hip against the counter, Esta selected one of the remaining grapes. “The streets are a mess,” she said. “I got my quota, so I came back. I didn’t feel like melting today.”
Tilly gave her a quizzical look. “Melting?”
“Nothing,” Esta said, realizing her slip.
“Another new dress?” ?Tilly asked, teasing.
Esta shrugged as she popped a grape into her mouth. “Change your feathers often enough, and the mark won’t recognize the bird.”? The words came naturally, without thought, but the moment they were out, the grape suddenly tasted bitter. ?They were Professor Lachlan’s words, lessons she’d been taught until they were a part of her. ?And she was failing him.
That close to the stove’s warmth, she unwrapped herself from the damp cloak she’d been wearing. She nodded to the table where Dolph sat with Viola, Jianyu, and Nibs, their heads all bent close together and their voices low. “What’s going on there?”