She was still thrashing about as she moaned in agony, but her color had all but drained on the long walk back—she looked deathly pale.
“What happened?” Dolph demanded, his expression cold.
Jianyu went on alert at the suspicion in Dolph’s voice. He’d been stupid to let his guard down, to believe that he could make a life for himself away from his own people. To believe that he could be accepted outside the streets of Chinatown, when he was barely accepted within their boundaries.
Of course he’d heard the same slurs hurled at him before, and at others on the streets of the city. He should have been used to it, but the surprise at hearing it here, in the place he thought of now as his home? To be accused of killing the girl he was trying to save? It shouldn’t have been any more than he expected. But then Viola turned on him as well. And now Dolph was looking at him with ice in his pale eyes.
He expected at any moment to feel the burn of the tattoo on his back, but to his surprise—and relief—it never came. Which meant Dolph must trust him still. The knowledge was enough to unclog his throat and allow the words to break free. But he wasn’t sure it was enough to heal the rift he felt in the room.
“I cannot say for sure. . . .”
“Try,” Dolph commanded, his temper flaring. “What was she doing near the Brink?”
“She wasn’t at the Brink,” Jianyu told him. “This happened on Fulton Street.”
SOMETHING NEW
By the time Esta made it back to the Bowery, the shock of whatever Harte Darrigan had done when he kissed her had mostly faded, but she didn’t feel any better about her situation. On the streetcar ride downtown, she couldn’t help herself from checking the clipping. It still hadn’t changed back. Whatever success she’d had with Harte Darrigan, it hadn’t been enough. She wasn’t sure what would be enough.
She carried that worry with her back to the Bowery, and the moment she stepped into the Strega, it swelled. Something was very, very wrong. It was late, well into the time when the bar should have been packed with throngs of Mageus drinking away their sorrows and stress, but the saloon was nearly empty.
“We’re closed!” one of the bowler-hat boys grunted, standing to block her way. His name was Sam or Sean—something with an S—but she was new enough that he didn’t recognize her.
Luckily, before she had to really argue her point, Nibs came and waved her in.
“What’s going on?” she asked, taking in the small crowd at the back of the room. The energy in the air was hot, erratic. Even from across the barroom, she sensed that everyone was on the edge of using whatever magic they had, and their fear snaked through the space like a living thing.
“Dolph shut us down about an hour ago,” Nibs said, his expression more uncertain than she’d ever seen him. “It’s Tilly.”
When Nibs finally pushed them through the gathered crowd, she saw Dolph talking in low tones to Jianyu, while Viola held Tilly’s legs to the ground to keep her from thrashing about. The mouse-haired girl was writhing like she was on fire. Her eyes were wide, staring at the ceiling, and her throat and face were red from where it looked like she’d raked her own nails down her skin.
“What happened to her?” Esta asked, watching as Tilly grimaced, moaning and trying desperately to get free.
“We don’t know,” Nibs told her.
“Bring me some Nitewein,” Dolph told Jianyu. “Double the poppy.”
Jianyu looked grim as he nodded. He pushed his way past the group and returned a few minutes later with a bottle of inky liquid. Dolph told a few others to help Viola hold Tilly, and then, kneeling over her, he coaxed the liquor down her throat himself.
Tilly took one halting sip at a time, choking on the liquid at first and then gulping it desperately. Little by little the writhing stopped, and Tilly’s arms went limp at her sides, her eyes glassy and vacant.
Dolph waited to make sure Tilly was calm before pulling himself stiffly to his feet. His skin was flushed, and a sheen of perspiration glistened on his upper lip as he ran a hand through his wavy hair.
“Take her upstairs,” Dolph told a pair of the bowler-hatted boys, one of whom scooped the girl up into his arms. “Go on and be with her,” he said to Viola as he handed her the bottle of Nitewein. “Let me know if there’s any change.”
Nibs spoke to Esta in a hushed tone, as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “Dolph thought it was the Brink, but Jianyu said it happened down on Fulton Street, near the Dead Line.”
“What was she doing on Fulton Street?” Esta asked.
“Trying to help someone,” Dolph said, approaching them. “Golde’s son, Josef. ?You remember her?” he asked Esta. “We visited their home just the other day. He was with a group of boys. They were playing some game, daring each other to go farther downtown, when something went wrong. One came back here for help. Everyone else was out dealing with a fire over on Broome Street, so Tilly went. Found Jianyu on the way.”
“I felt the cold energy in the air, warning us away,” Jianyu told them. “But she insisted on helping the child. She’d barely reached for him when she went straight as a rod and fell backward.” He closed his eyes for a moment, as if remembering what he’d seen. “Then she began shaking and moaning, as though being flayed by a thousand whips. She could not hear me when I called to her, so I pulled her back, away from the boy’s fallen body. I brought her back here.”
“What about the boy?” Nibs asked.
“I could not carry both, and I could not risk being struck down if I wanted to get her back safely. She was still breathing, and I thought maybe . . .”
“You did fine,” Dolph told him, clapping Jianyu on the shoulder. “You could have left her—plenty would have. I’m grateful you brought her back, and I’m grateful you came back to us as well.”
Jianyu’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t look as though he agreed. From his wary, unsure expression, it was clear he thought he had failed in some way.
Dolph didn’t seem to notice.
“We’ll need to send someone down to check and see if the boy’s still there,” Dolph said to Nibs. “If he is, I don’t want anyone getting close enough to end up like Tilly. Jianyu said it felt like the Brink, so until we know more, that’s how we’ll treat it. Be sure to take someone who won’t be at risk with you.”
“What about his mother, Golde?” Nibs asked.
“I’ll go tell her myself.”
Nibs frowned. “You don’t think it could be the entire Dead Line?” he asked Jianyu.
“I don’t know,” Jianyu said.
“We better hope it’s not,” Dolph said. “It would cut the city in half. Still, something as big as this . . . Someone has to know something.” Dolph glanced at Jianyu. “I need information. Someone will have talked.”
Jianyu gave a serious nod. “I’ll go myself,” he said.
“Do that,” Dolph murmured.