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She only hoped that with Nibsy and Paul Kelly involved, there would be others to take the blame if things went wrong. Because if she or Abel were caught by the Order? Even the threat of the Five Pointers didn’t worry Cela quite as much as what might happen if things went that wrong.
It was more than Cela’s and Abel’s lives at stake. Maybe Abel’s friends had decided to sit this one out, but Cela knew that nothing was ever that easy. If word got out that the two of them had been involved and public sentiment turned against them, it could also turn against every Negro in the city—exactly like it had two years before, during the riots that killed her father.
Cela saw something then, far off on the Hudson. A small steamer ship that had been sitting in the middle of the river started to turn toward the shore, and when she checked her watch again, she had a sense that this was the ship she was looking for. She couldn’t have been more certain if the ship had flown a banner declaring itself, but she watched a minute longer to be sure of the direction and the approximate location of the landing. When it was clear she’d been right, she tucked the spyglass under her arm and picked up the mirror.
Once the signal was given, it would be relayed along the rooftops, and their plan would be set in motion. Where the boat docked mattered, and the direction the wagon headed mattered even more. If the train was stopped too early, the Order would be able to avoid it. If they stopped it on the wrong part of Eleventh Avenue, the blockage would be useless.
Careful not to drop the mirror, she raised the spyglass again, prepared to send the first signal. Then something on the river drew her attention, and she stopped short. There were at least three ships moving now, each making a steady, even progression toward Manhattan. Each heading toward a dock evenly spaced along the island’s edge.
Scanning the water, Cela looked for some indication of which ship was the right one, when realization struck. There wasn’t a single ship, as they’d expected. The Order had sent three ships. And they were heading to three different docks. It was an eventuality that none of them had considered or prepared for.
Cela lifted the mirror and let it catch the light, sending a series of bright flashes. She hoped that the others would understand. If they don’t… She pushed that thought aside and sent the message once again, to be sure. Even with this unexpected twist, their plans had to work. Too many lives hung in the balance.
NO REASON TO CHOOSE
1902—New York
James Lorcan had spent too many nights sleeping on the roof of the Bella Strega to let a little thing like the height of the building make him nervous, but he could tell that Paul Kelly didn’t feel the same. The broad-faced gangster looked positively green and was doing his level best to stay as far from the edge as possible. James, on the other hand, had one foot perched on the cornice as he surveyed the streets below and the river beyond.
The sun was dropping quickly, falling ever steadily toward the horizon. Soon, the Order’s boat would dock and the game would begin. Anticipation sizzled along his skin, brushed up by the frisson of energy stirring the Aether around him. Change was in the air, and the outcome would be his to command.
With Kelly was Viola, who still looked like she was ready to murder someone—mostly her brother. James suspected the only thing stopping her was the threat Kelly had made against the lives of her friends in Harlem. If Kelly ended up dead, orders had been given to end Cela Johnson and her brother, Abel, as well. It was a situation that had successfully positioned Viola right where James wanted her.
He ignored the tension radiating between the siblings and focused instead on the view through the spyglass. The river was crowded with boats, but he was too far inland to see much of the shoreline. Instead, he watched a dark figure on a rooftop about four blocks west.
“Can you see anything at all?” Kelly asked, clearly impatient for his own turn at the spyglass. Though why he hadn’t thought to bring his own, James didn’t know. “Is she where she’s supposed to be?”
“She’s there,” Viola told her brother.
James watched a bit longer, until he could sense that Kelly was at the end of his patience, and then he waited a few seconds longer still before handing over the glass.
“She’d better stay there,” Paul muttered, holding the glass to his eye.
Viola caught Nibsy’s eye while Kelly was studying the skyline, her brows rising slightly in a question. He gave her a small nod, nothing noticeable, but enough to keep her leash loose. Viola had no guarantee that James would uphold his end of their bargain, but she had threatened to kill him—and happily—if he went back on his word. It was a promise she reminded him of now with a slight narrowing of her violet eyes.
Too bad that it was a promise she wouldn’t live long enough to keep.
Paul Kelly, Viola, and the Order. Each posed a threat to James’ plans. Kelly, because he wanted the Strega; Viola, because she wanted to avenge Dolph; and the Order, because they would destroy magic if they could. None would get their wish. If all went as James planned, the biggest threats to his control over the Devil’s Own—and over the Bowery—would be taken care of by the end of the day.
He gave Viola an easy smile, glancing up over his glasses, but Viola only glared at him before she turned away.
When she’d come to him three days ago, James hadn’t been surprised, of course. He’d ensured that Viola had to turn to him when he told Torrio to reveal Viola’s jaunts to Harlem. James had known implicitly that Paul Kelly would not have been able to stand for his sister aligning herself with the people she’d chosen. Kelly might act the part of a gentleman, he might be all spit and polish, but at his heart, he was the same as anyone else—easily led by his hatred and fear.
How Viola had found Cela and Abel Johnson, James still didn’t know. He didn’t actually care as long as they remained useful for keeping Viola in line. After all, she might pretend to be the cold, calculating assassin, but James knew better. He’d seen her with Tilly, and he’d seen her with Dolph. Her fear for her friends was a weakness.
The Aether wasn’t a scrying bowl or a crystal ball, but it had guided James nevertheless. He’d known that he needed Viola’s help, even if he wasn’t sure why, and once her involvement was secured, the vibrations in the Aether had changed—they’d become nearly certain of his victory.
“I think something is happening,” Paul said, excitement coloring his voice. “One… two… three…” He counted the pattern, short and long, but then he frowned, pausing.
“What is it?” Viola asked, the nervous energy in her voice giving away her fear.
Kelly didn’t respond at first. His lips moved in a silent count, but then he did finally turn on her. His face was red with temper, but his voice held a deadly calm. “Your friend is a dead woman.”
“What are you talking about?” Viola asked, trying to take the spyglass from him. “Cela wouldn’t do anything—”
“It’s nothing but nonsense,” Kelly snapped.
“Give me that,” Viola said, finally taking the spyglass from her brother and lifting it to her eye. She was silent as she watched, her frown deepening. “I don’t understand. Cela wouldn’t risk such a thing. Something has happened.”
