by Lisa Maxwell
“Unless you want Dolph to know of this, be still,” he whispered.
The girl hesitated, but a moment later the fight went out of her, enough that he could guide her down the street, away from the watching eyes of Khafre Hall. The moment they were around the corner, he let go of the light and revealed himself.
He didn’t release her arm, though.
“You followed me?” she asked, eyeing him.
“Did you expect you wouldn’t be watched? Dolph Saunders doesn’t trust easily, and for good reason, it appears. Why did you come here?”
“I was going for a walk,” she said flatly. “It’s a beautiful day.”
“So you took a stroll in front of Khafre Hall?” he asked, amused.
Her mouth went tight, but she didn’t answer. Yes, she was well trained indeed to keep so composed when she’d clearly been caught red-handed. She had to know that lies would be pointless now.
“Why aren’t you still working? The sun is barely at midday.”
“I’m done,” she said.
It didn’t seem to be a lie, but she hadn’t been downtown long enough to be finished. Especially without magic. He’d followed her, concealing himself carefully, and he hadn’t so much as sensed a whisper of her affinity. “Your quota was thirty-five dollars. That’s more than most men make in a month,” he said.
“I can show you my purse if you don’t believe me. But you’ll have to let me go so I can get to it.” She glanced up at him, a sly look in her eyes. “It’s under my skirts.”
“It doesn’t explain why you’re here, at the Order’s hall,” he said, not taking the bait.
Her expression was steady. “I wanted to see it for myself.”
“Why?” he pressed, not yet sensing a lie.
“Don’t you want to know your enemy?” she asked.
“The Order, you see them as your enemy?”
“You don’t?” She threw the question back at him.
But Jianyu didn’t answer. He didn’t owe her his story. “I’m going to release you, and then we are going to return to the Bella Strega.”
“You’ll tell Dolph about what happened, won’t you?” she asked, frowning.
“Not if you come quietly.” When surprise bunched her expression, he explained. “I find it to be more beneficial at this moment to have you in my debt.”
“I’m not sure I want to be in your debt.”
He inclined his head. “An astute observation. Feel free to tell Dolph yourself, then, about how you wandered off from your assigned post and were almost caught by a member of the Order outside Khafre Hall.”
From the look on her face, he knew it would never happen.
“Of course, you could try to fight me, or you could attempt to run off. In that case, I will tell Dolph everything. You will not be in my debt, but you will also never be safe in this city again. Not with Dolph Saunders and his people looking for you.”
She frowned. “I don’t like being threatened.”
“No one does,” he told her. “Though if you truly mean us no harm, my words pose no threat.”
Her expression was still shuttered and angry, but also intelligent. He could tell the moment she understood she had very little choice. “Fine,” she said sourly. “I’m Esta, by the way. You should probably know my name if you plan on blackmailing me.”
He let go of her arm. “I am Jianyu Lee. And I already knew your name.”
Esta frowned, looking down at her wrist as though she expected to find some mark. “Great. Glad we got that cleared up,” she muttered. Glancing up at him, she made a small flourish with her hand. “Well, what are we waiting for? Lead the way.”
• • •
When they arrived back at the Strega, Dolph Saunders was sitting in his usual place in the back of a full barroom. Jianyu knew the crowd wasn’t there to drink, though.
He sensed the girl’s curiosity as she watched the men and women approach Dolph’s table, one by one.
It wasn’t an unfamiliar scene in the poorest neighborhoods. All of the gang bosses traded in favors and kept their people in line through their debts. Jianyu’s uncle, at least in name, often held court in a similar way. On Mott Street, Tom Lee collected bribe money to keep the police away from fan-tan dealers and to provide protection from the Hip Sing highbinders. It was only a small part of the life of Chinatown, but it was one Jianyu knew too well. And one he hated.
He’d come to this country, to this city, because Lee promised him a better future than he’d had in his own country, but he’d arrived to find that Lee had smuggled him into the country not to help him but to use him. With his affinity for light, he could make himself impossible to see, which meant he could strike without warning. But he hadn’t left his home, his mother, and everything else behind to be a mercenary for a common criminal like Tom Lee.
Jianyu still didn’t know how much he approved of Dolph Saunders’ methods, but it was clear that he was different from Tom Lee. The people filling the Strega weren’t like those his uncle exploited. They came hat in hand, each with the same stoop to their shoulders that made them look as though they were perpetually carrying some invisible burden. Each would speak with Dolph for a few moments, usually some plea to find a son or for help with their rent or for relief from some other burden.
Debts came due, certainly, but at least Jianyu was never asked to collect on them.
After a minute Dolph looked up and saw them standing at the back of the room. He said something to Nibs, who got up and started making his way through the crowded barroom.
Nibs nodded a silent greeting to Jianyu before turning his attention to the girl.
“You’re done already?” he asked, doubtful.
The girl maneuvered her hand through a concealed slit in her skirts and pulled out a small purse. Nibs opened the parcel and thumbed through its contents before lifting his gaze to Dolph and giving him a slight nod.
“I’ll take her from here,” Nibs told Jianyu.
He bristled at the dismissal but didn’t argue. Let them believe him to be obedient. It made it that much easier to know where each of Dolph’s crew stood, to know whom to trust. And to file away their secrets for when he might need them.
FOUNDATION WORK
The boy who had dismissed Jianyu was young, with light hair and thick, round spectacles perched on the tip of his thin nose. “They call me Nibs,” he said, extending his hand. “Nibsy Lorcan.”
Esta eyed him before finally taking it. His ink-stained fingers were firm, but his weren’t the rough hands of a fighter, and that fact put her somewhat at ease.
He smiled then, a boyish grin that seemed out of place in the barroom. “They’re all still talking about you. The way you stole the top from Dolph’s cane. Everyone’s surprised Viola didn’t try to skewer you after that stunt you pulled with her knife. No one is allowed to touch her knives—not unless it’s the sharp end first, if you know what I mean.”
“Delightful,” Esta said, feeling suddenly uneasy with so much attention.
The boy peered at her. “I’m not gonna ask you how you managed it. That’s your business. For now, at least. But I’ll warn you, if Dolph decides you aren’t worth the trouble, there won’t be anything that anybody can do for you.”
“Understood,” she said, wondering where Jianyu had gone. She was still on edge after confronting Murphy and then being bested by Jianyu, and she didn’t like the idea that he could use her little visit to Khafre Hall against her at any time. “I only want to earn my place here. If there’s anything else I can do, any way to be helpful to Dolph—”
“I’ll let you know,” Nibs said, cutting off the conversation with a gentle smile.
Taking his cue, she changed the subject. “What’s happening here?” she said with a jerk of her head.
“It’s the weekly gathering,” Nibs told her. “People with debts due come to pay them, or to ask for more time. Others come requesting favors.”
“Looks lucrative,” she mused
.
“Oh, Dolph doesn’t charge,” Nibs said. When she looked at him, surprised, he clarified: “He trades in secrets.” The boy shrugged. “Which I guess is lucrative in its own right.”
“I bet.” She glanced at him. “What secret does he know about you?”
Nibs didn’t even blink. “Who says it isn’t the other way around?”
She laughed, amused by his unexpected bravado.
The doors to the bar banged open then, a loud clattering burst that had everyone inside looking toward the three figures silhouetted by the light of the afternoon. The boy let out a soft whistle.
“Dolph Saunders!” the middle figure bellowed. “I want the girl.”
The barroom went eerily silent as the three men lumbered into the barroom of the Strega. Esta recognized the one on the left as Werner, and at the sight of him, she shifted uneasily, turning away from the center of the room and tipping her head down, to hide her profile.
“Who is that?” she whispered.
The boy’s face didn’t betray any emotion. “That would be Edward Corey, the owner of the Haymarket. He seems to know who you are. . . .”
Esta’s stomach twisted.
Dolph Saunders took his time looking over one last contract, signing his name, and blowing on the ink to dry it. He didn’t bother to look up when he finally did answer; he simply picked up the next bunch of papers. “What are you doing here, Corey?” he said, irritation coloring his words. “This isn’t your side of town.”
“You heard me, Saunders. I’m here for the girl. I know Bridget sent her to you.”
The entire room seemed to hold its breath as Dolph considered Corey’s statement. “I’m not sure what girl you’re referring to. Unlike you, I don’t run that sort of business.”
“Are you telling me the girl isn’t here?” Corey said, taking a few more menacing steps forward. “Or are you telling me that you’re protecting her?”
Dolph did look up then. “Anyone here know the girl he’s looking for?” he said flatly.
Esta started to move slowly, getting ready to pull time around her and make her escape, but Nibsy’s hand snaked out and held her in place. She was stuck. She couldn’t do anything without drawing attention to herself, and she couldn’t slip through time without giving away what she could actually do to Nibs.
“Give it a moment,” Nibs whispered, barely moving his mouth.
A loud scraping noise tore through the silence of the barroom as Dolph Saunders stood, his chair tumbling behind him. “I think you were mistaken, Corey. There’s no girl here for you.”
“Don’t play with me, Saunders. Charlie Murphy wants the girl, and if he doesn’t get her, he’s going to come after me. I’m not about to let that happen. I’ll send him straight to your doorstep. You know he’s got friends you can only imagine. They’d pull your license, close this shithole down, and destroy everything you’ve built for yourself—your entire life—at the snap of my fingers.”
“Now, there you’ve made a mistake,” Dolph said softly.
“No mistake. If they find out what you are, they’ll take everything you have.”
“That would only matter if there was anything I cared about losing,” Dolph told him. “But you . . . You have quite a lot to lose, don’t you, Corey? You like to play the big man with the boys over at Tammany, don’t you?” Dolph shook his head. “I know you’re also trying to get yourself in with the Order. You’re playing too many sides at once, and if any of them find out what you are . . .”
Corey sputtered for a second. “You don’t know—”
“I know everything about you, Corey,” Dolph said, his voice like sandpaper. “I know about the little rendezvous you had with the woman on Broome Street, though I’m guessing her husband doesn’t. I know what you had for lunch and what you’re thinking about having for dinner. I know who your family is—what your family is—so I know you might be weak enough to pass, but I wonder what your friends in the Order would think if they knew the truth?” Dolph paused for a moment, letting the words hang in the air.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Of course not. We’re all friends here. We’re all in this together . . . unless you turn on us first. But if you don’t want everyone else in this city to know as well, you’ll get the hell out of my saloon and take yourself back uptown where you belong. You’ll deal with Murphy and get him to forget there was ever any girl to find.”
Esta began to relax a little as she saw Corey hesitating. His narrow face was becoming an alarming shade of red. “You . . . You . . .” But his words foundered.
“Yes. That’s right. Now you’re understanding.” He glanced at Werner. “I think it’s best if you don’t show your face here again, don’t you?”
Werner nodded weakly, his expression grim as Dolph picked up his chair and sat at the table again, dismissing them all without another word.
Dolph didn’t look up again, but four of his larger boys stepped forward, their thick arms crossed over broad chests and a gleam in their eyes that anyone could see was them itching for a good brawl. Corey seemed to get the message, and with a jerk of his head, he left, followed by Werner and the other man.
Esta let out a relieved breath, and the room started cautiously to come back to life.
“Let’s go,” Nibs whispered to Esta, never letting go of her wrist.
“Go where?”
“Somewhere else,” he said. He handed the purse off and tugged her along. “Anywhere else. Trust me. He’s going to be in a rotten mood after all that.”
They slipped out into the brisk afternoon air. It would be light for a while, but already the Bowery was coming to life for the evening.
“Will Corey really keep Murphy away?”
Nibs shrugged. “He has a good enough reason to. If Murphy found out that Corey was lying to him and the rest of the Order, he’d lose everything. But people don’t always act in their own best interest.” Nibs peered at her a few seconds longer. “You know, maybe there is something you could do for me—and for Dolph. It would go a long way toward thanking him for protecting you.”
“Sure. Anything.”
“I’d like you to come see a show with me.”
Esta studied him, confused at the odd request. Then, realizing what he was asking, what he intended, her frustration grew. “Look, you seem nice enough,” she said as gently as she could, “but I’m not interested.”
The boy smiled softly, as though he were amused. “I didn’t think you would be. Still, I’d like you to come with me.” His tone was sincere enough that she almost believed him.
“I’m only here to work.”
“Humor me,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “Consider it part of the job.”
Esta narrowed her eyes at him. His position with Dolph made it nearly impossible for her to say no, and he seemed to know it. “Just a show?”
He chuckled. “Okay, fine. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” An odd look crossed his face. “But I’m serious about it being part of the job. Dolph’s been trying to get this particular guy on the crew for months now, but so far he hasn’t been moved by any of my appeals. Maybe you’ll have more luck.”
“I don’t know why I would,” she countered
“I got a feeling about you,” Nibs said. “Darrigan just might go for a pretty face.”
CLASSIC MISDIRECTION
Wallack’s Theatre
“Tough crowd tonight,” Evelyn said from behind Harte’s shoulder as he watched Julius Tannen’s monologue fall flat.
He didn’t bother to look back at her. He was too busy counting the empty seats in the house. Shorty was right. Things weren’t looking good.
At first, the audiences had poured in to see his act. The entire city had been talking about the miracles he’d accomplished on that stage. But the city was only so big. It didn’t matter how amazing the effects he presented were—after a while, everyone had seen them. He ne
eded something new.
Better, he needed to get out.
“Any second now they’re going to start throwing fruit,” he muttered, disgusted.
“I bet you thought you’d escaped from all that when you moved uptown.” A smile curved in Evelyn’s voice, but there wasn’t any warmth. “Just goes to show, even the polish of the upper crust only goes skin deep.” She moved closer and lowered her voice. “We missed you last night, after the show.”
Harte doubted that very much. Twenty minutes in, they all would have been too numbed by the Nitewein to care about anything but the next pour.
“Still won’t tell me who you ran off to see?” she purred, resting her hands on his shoulders and looking up at him. Her eyes were soft, the pupils large and unfocused.
Frowning down at her, Harte wondered suddenly what had made her start drinking so early in the day. But then he realized he didn’t really care. It wasn’t his place to care. He knew where caring got you.
Harte shrugged off her hands. “No one important.”
He didn’t need anyone asking questions about his meeting with Jack Grew. It was bad enough that Nibsy Lorcan was following him again. And cornering him like that in the park? It didn’t bode well. If Dolph Saunders had an idea of what he was up to . . .
But there couldn’t be any way for Dolph to know. Harte had been too careful. Or so he hoped.
He tilted his head, stretching his neck as he tried to loosen himself up. The city had felt almost claustrophobic lately, and the events of the night before hadn’t helped things. And not being able to have a proper meal since the girl had assaulted him . . . well, that had only made things worse.
The act onstage was getting the signal from the stage manager to wrap things up, so Harte took one final look at himself in the small mirror on the wall and fixed a smudge in the kohl beneath his right eye as the orchestra trilled the notes that cued his entrance.
Beyond the glare of the footlights, the sparse crowd rustled discontentedly in their seats as he took the stage. The faces in the audience were frowning and clearly impatient to see something worth the price of their fifty-cent ticket. He hadn’t planned anything new, but it was too late to do anything about that now.