“True. I need to invest in a sign. Just nail it up on the theater. For Rhodes, PI, take a hard left.” He raised his hands, tracing the vague outline. “Yes, that’d do. But you went through the trouble of tracking this place down. I could’ve given you better directions over the phone.”
“I didn’t want an operator listening in and gossiping,” Laura admitted.
“Not a lot of people think about that.”
“A school friend became a telephone operator. She keeps quiet about personal things, but others aren’t so considerate.”
Byron nodded. “And what kind of personal things are you coming to me about?”
“You’re supposed to be checking in on us.”
“I am.”
“And you haven’t noticed anything weird?”
“Weird is relative,” said Byron. “A Mad Dogs stakeout could be a move on the Sweepers, or it could be a wayward attempt at getting an interview for the Dead Ringer. A head Sweeper’s sudden, extreme interest in the mobs could be a warning sign, or it could be healthy caution. That same head Sweeper having a surprise guest through Underyear and beyond could be innocent—”
“Or it could be cause for concern.” Laura cracked a smile. “I didn’t realize you picked up on that much. I haven’t seen you around at all.”
“I’m very good at my job,” said Byron. “That said, I’ve only been able to operate on the periphery. I suspect that you, being inside the shop and up close to the action, have more valuable input.”
“I might.” Laura hesitated, then said, “I think Juliana’s in league with the Silver Kings.”
She launched into the story. She told him about the MacDanels’ suspicions of a “secret weapon”; about the rumored oral history and Juliana’s sudden interest in Okane at Underyear; about Lester inviting Haru as a distraction, Haru’s proposal, and the Silver Kings’ concern. She told him about the red Egg. She pulled out Clae and Basil’s letters, setting them on the desk for him to read. Byron listened, nodding along. At the end Laura tapered into silence. She watched anxiously as he studied Basil’s letter.
“Well?”
Byron slid the letter aside. “A red Egg, you said?”
“That’s right,” said Laura. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Puer is green, our Eggs are yellow, our Sinkers are blue … it seems so starkly different. It doesn’t fit. And if it’s not made by a city’s Sweeper department, if it’s illegal like Basil says … surely it has to be one of the local mobs? I’ve never seen them in action.”
“Ah, but you have,” said Byron.
It took a moment for Laura to remember. “I suppose I did, back in the Falling Infestation. I didn’t even realize they weren’t with the Puer group. But those were Mad Dogs, and they already made it clear that they don’t like Juliana. If the red Egg is from a mob, it has to be from Silver Kings.”
“Silver Kings doesn’t make red Eggs.”
“How would you know? You’re not part of them.”
“I’m good at my job,” Byron repeated, and his easy smile became rigid. “The mobs are a favorite subject of mine. You could say I specialize in them. It’s why Heather chose me to look out for you, despite my being fired from the police force. I know how a negotiator’s mind works.”
Laura went quiet a moment. “You keep calling her by her first name.”
“We’re old friends,” said Byron. “Or maybe she keeps me around as a relic. It comes in handy at times like this. I’ll say it again: the Silver Kings don’t make red kin, and neither do the Mad Dogs. Nobody in Amicae makes them.”
“Then where did it come from?” said Laura, exasperated.
“Rangers sometimes deal in illegal trades,” Byron said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “They’ll take things the trains don’t. Maybe a rogue satellite town is supplying her with their own concoction in exchange for something. But if it’s as powerful a mix as you say, they could copyright it instead. Sell it to any city they want, for an astronomical price. It doesn’t make sense to treat it this way.”
Not everything can travel by train. Secrets. Valuable things.
Laura sat straighter. “It could be carried by couriers?”
“Rangers take a lot of different job titles,” said Byron. “Although, they don’t tend to leave the bottommost Quarters when they visit cities. Have you had contact with someone suspicious?”
“At Underyear, there was a man at the temple. A man in—”
In red robes. Red beads in his hair. God, it was so obvious. How had she missed it?
“Did he identify himself as a Ranger?” said Byron.
“No, just as a courier. His name was Theron. He said he carried secrets. I don’t know much beyond that, but I think Okane knew more. He wouldn’t tell me why, but he was scared after we spoke.”
“Okane Sinclair,” Byron said slowly. “His record is shoddy at best. Do I understand correctly that the Sullivans once employed him?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” said Laura.
“You don’t think there might be a link here to the Falling Infestation? An outside group, well-versed in Sweeping methods and therefore infestations, interested in steering our future? I’ve confirmed that Sullivan didn’t orchestrate that, but whoever was behind that had to know how his company worked, down to intricate details. They were probably present at the Sullivan household or offices in the months before the infestation, possibly right under his nose. Also…” He tapped his finger three more times, mulling over his thoughts before finally saying, “I’ve found other allusions to Okane. Frightening ones.”
“There’s no way he’s involved,” said Laura, appalled. “He’d never—”
“I think he was another target.”
“What?” She drew back, horrified.
“I cornered a drunk Mad Dog recently. I was hoping to get information on why their rivalry with Silver Kings turned into such a powder keg right now, but he was a fringe member and didn’t know much about that. What he did know was that a certain individual came to the mobs looking to do business, and their boss laughed this man out of the building.”
Laura frowned. “He knew his boss’s opinions, but not where his group was headed?”
“Mad Dogs is a conundrum like that. They idolize their current boss, so anything involving him gets passed around and blown into tall tales,” said Byron. “Something surrounding that story, though, was the man’s demands. He wanted Okane. Not by name, but not many of Sullivan’s house staff match his description. Mad Dogs took that to mean an arranged assassination. You don’t demand a hit on someone for no reason, so Okane must have information they don’t want to get out. He may be the key to the whole incident.”
“But the Mad Dogs refused to help that man,” Laura checked.
“They did,” said Byron. “But they’ve left him to his own devices. If this man, this Theron, has allied with the MacDanels … that doesn’t look good for Okane. They might follow through where the Mad Dogs refused. If this story about Lester is true, I’m worried.”
Laura bit her lip, mulling over this new information. “But if Theron is hoping to get something out of Amicae, why would he have set up the Falling Infestation in the first place? Anything he’d gain would be gone.”
“Deeper we travel down the rabbit hole.” Something in Byron’s eyes hardened, but he smiled anyway. “Perhaps it was meant to be contained after all?”
* * *
“And that’s what he said,” she finished with a shrug.
“I’m not surprised,” said Okane. He didn’t look at her, too busy trying to thread a needle; a torn shirt lay draped over his knee. “I told - - - Sullivan dealt with mobs. It stands to reason that he dealt with more rotten people.”
He seemed completely content with the thought that someone wanted him dead, and for the life of her Laura couldn’t understand why. Did he not care about dying if it wasn’t by infestation? Had he always suspected this?
“But you don’t remember an
ything that ties in?” she asked, plunking herself down in the old rocking chair. It creaked ominously and tipped, and she gripped the handles hard as it swung back upright. Okane snorted at her reaction, and she snapped, “Take this a little more seriously! Our new boss may have agreed to kill you!”
“Hush,” he scolded. “They might hear - - -.”
“As if,” Laura scoffed.
She’d arrived late this morning, only to find Juliana and Lester cornered outside the shop by a strange woman in a long, dark coat. Neither noticed her slip inside, and the woman hadn’t seemed ready to let them go anytime soon. In any case, it gave Laura ample opportunity to dash upstairs and relate the whole Byron incident.
“Juliana’s been acting very familiar, for someone ready to kill me,” said Okane. “She invited me to lunch today.”
Laura shot up straight. “Did you accept?”
“No. I don’t exactly feel comfortable around her. I said I already had plans with the Keedlers.”
“Good. She might’ve been leading you to your assassination.”
“I’m not important enough for an assassination, Laura.”
“You are so stupid,” she groaned.
“Noted,” he hummed.
She watched him start stitching, brooding before finally asking, “You’re not scared of this at all. Why?”
“If Theron’s really behind this, and if he’s really who I think he is, then he doesn’t want me dead,” said Okane.
“So you do know something,” said Laura.
He pulled the thread extra slowly, studying the fabric. The single stitch took far longer than it should, as did the one that followed. Eventually he glanced up, as if checking whether she’d lost interest. She gave him an unimpressed look. He ducked his head again, defeated.
“He’s something I don’t want to acknowledge.”
“So he is Magi?” said Laura.
“No,” said Okane. “Yes.”
“He can’t be both,” said Laura.
“He can, actually,” said Okane.
Laura opened her mouth to ask how, but snapped it shut again at the sound of the door opening.
“Mr. Sinclair, are you still here?”
Lester? Frowning, Okane stood to meet him. Laura leapt up behind him and glowered at the intruder. Lester stood halfway through the doorway, partially cast in shadow. When he saw Laura, he stiffened.
“Ah. Miss Kramer. I didn’t realize you were here this morning.”
“That’s me,” said Laura. “Always here.”
“Can I help - - -?” said Okane.
“I hoped so,” said Lester. “Miss Kramer, Juliana’s speaking with a client outside. Could you go out and help her?”
“No, I think I’ll stay right here,” said Laura.
Lester’s eyes narrowed. “The matter is a private one.”
“I tend to share everything with Laura, so not much is private,” said Okane. “I thought - - - and Juliana liked transparency among Sweepers?”
“Does she know everything about you?” said Lester.
Okane tilted his head, wary. “That’s a strange way to phrase it.”
That response confirmed something. Lester moved, and somehow that shift changed him from mundane to dangerous.
“I think it’s time we stopped pretending,” he said. “Miss Kramer needs to be cut out of the deal before things get worse.”
Okane raised an arm as if to shield Laura from sight. “I don’t know what - - -’re talking about, but - - -’re not doing anything to her.”
“Drop the act,” said Lester.
He bore down on them. Laura didn’t know what he was planning, but it wouldn’t be good for either of them. She grabbed at Okane’s belt and yanked the gun from its holster. The pictographs flared on its sides as she pulled the hammer back. Lester froze as he found himself looking down the barrel. For a moment they all stood still as statues, silent and tense.
“Well,” said Laura, letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t think Eliza had a gun. What’s your move now?”
Lester’s expression contorted. “What was that?”
“Eliza,” Laura said louder. “You know, the friend Juliana talked about? Dead in an infestation? Once I heard what you did to Joan, it’s not hard to connect the two. Is this what you do, Lester? Act all quiet and nice until someone trusts you, then club them over the head? Sabotage their equipment?”
“You do like to talk about things you don’t understand,” said Lester.
“So you don’t deny it.”
“And how long are you going to stand there?” Lester glared at Okane.
“I don’t know what - - -’re talking about, but I’m not on - - -r side,” Okane retorted.
Lester snorted. “Still covering your own ass.”
This at least gave them some information: if Lester assumed any Magi he saw was involved, Theron couldn’t be working alone. Laura opened her mouth to demand answers, but another click sounded from the stairwell.
“Well, what have we here?” said Juliana. She stepped into view with her own kin gun, aiming it directly at Laura. “That’s bad manners. Didn’t we teach you basic gun safety already?”
“So much for Sweeper solidarity,” Laura grumbled.
“She knows too much,” said Lester.
“Well, we can’t just shoot her. With the Mad Dogs ranting the way they are, she’s high-profile.” Juliana regarded them a moment before a smile slowly grew across her face. “Miss Cherry!” she called. “I think I have a solution for you!” Quieter, she ordered, “Put that away and follow our lead.” When Laura didn’t react at first, she rolled her eyes and turned to Okane. “You’re the one who wants her alive, right? Get her to play along.”
“Let’s do what they say,” Okane said quietly.
“What?” Laura hissed.
“We’re at a disadvantage.”
Laura didn’t like dropping what felt like their only defense, but she wasn’t eager to shoot a man in the face, and with the second gun she didn’t like their chances much either. Scowling, she lowered her arm. Juliana stood away from the door and jerked her head toward the stairwell.
“Go downstairs, and be polite. Our guest won’t appreciate any attitude.”
The woman waiting in the shop was the same one who’d been talking to Juliana outside. She stood rigidly, arms crossed and expression severe. Now that Laura paid more attention she noticed her clothes looked utilitarian: riding boots, coat to keep out the elements, a wide-brimmed hat hanging down her back. A Ranger. Her eyes didn’t flash like Theron’s, but she shared their dark color, the black hair slicked back into a severe braid.
“Allow me to introduce you,” Juliana said brightly; she’d brought the gun behind her back, but Laura had no doubt she’d pull it out again at the slightest provocation. “This is our newest client, Cherry. Cherry, these are two of Amicae’s best Sweepers. I think they’ll work wonderfully for your job.”
Cherry looked them over, unimpressed. “You’re not passing it up the line?”
“I’m confident in their abilities,” said Juliana. “So long as you keep them in line, they’ll be no trouble.”
Cherry clicked her tongue. “If you say so. Nature of the job means we should leave immediately. How long will it take them to prepare?”
“No time at all.” Juliana turned her too-wide smile on Laura. “Grab as much equipment as you need. You’ll need some firepower out in the wilds.”
12
THE WILD THINGS
Considering their only witness seemed in on the whole deal and obviously carried a gun of her own, Laura didn’t argue. She bit her tongue and pulled out all the equipment she could carry. Juliana gave them another cheery farewell that they didn’t bother answering as they left.
Cherry set a fast pace. She led them onto a trolley, then to the cable cars. Each time she took the seat directly opposite them and watched unblinkingly. It felt as if she were staring into their souls. Laura glared right back at her. They
didn’t speak at all until their cable car alighted at the Sixth Quarter station. Finally, Cherry cracked a new expression. As she stood, she flashed an awkward half smile.
“So. Your boss is a little weird, huh?”
“No kidding,” Laura ground out.
“I didn’t expect her to agree to my proposal so easily. I could’ve sworn there’d be more regulations to jump over. I don’t blame your attitude, though. Last-minute trips to the wilds don’t tend to end too well for city slickers.”
Laura and Okane exchanged a perplexed look. As far as Laura knew, murderers didn’t try striking up amiable conversations with their victims. Then again, if they were headed for an assassination, Juliana wouldn’t have let them go with so much valuable equipment. Were they being forcibly drawn into the MacDanels’ deal?
“You don’t have to worry,” Cherry continued, swinging herself out of the cab. “I’m not the only one you’ll be traveling with. We know how to handle the wilds. We’ll keep you safe.”
“Safe,” Laura repeated slowly.
“Exactly.”
Laura’s previous trips down to this Quarter had been to an army barracks building and to the train depot. This cable car station had neither in sight, instead depositing them in the ramshackle Ranger district. Most of the structures here looked temporary, and the few true buildings were mismatched, as if portions had been added as needed. People walking the streets here looked totally out of place in the city, too rough, too earthy to be contained in its walls. Few paid attention to them, but one man stood ready and waiting, complete with a pack of saddled horses.
“Your other guide’s name is Grim,” Cherry announced as they drew near. “He’s as much of an expert on the wilds as there can be.”
Satisfied with the state of his horse and tack, Grim turned to face them. It was startling. His skin was porcelain white, the tousled hair poking out from under his hat stark to match. Only the slightest hint of color dusted his face; he had high cheekbones and a small pointed nose, and eyes of the palest gray Laura had ever seen on a person. He looked like a ghost wrapped in earthly clothing. Stranger still, Laura had the sudden and distinct feeling that she’d seen him before.
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