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“You have another guest?” Viola asked, frowning. “Mama or—”
“If it were any of your business, I would have already explained,” her brother said, glaring up at her in warning. He set the fork down and took a cigarette out of his silver case, his eyes steady on her while he lit it.
“Of course,” she told him, letting her gaze drop. Not in deference, though he would certainly read it that way. No, Viola only lowered her eyes so her brother wouldn’t see the hate burning in them. It was a trick that had served her well since she’d come to him for protection after the fiasco that was Khafre Hall.
Viola retreated to the kitchen, her cheeks burning in anger and shame all at once, silently cursing Paolo—and herself—as she violently scooped out another serving. Paul might have taken her from the grip of the demon at the gala, he might have commended her for attacking Jianyu, but that hadn’t changed anything between the two of them.
When she returned to the front of the house with the third bowl, Viola’s steps halted. Her brother’s guest had arrived.
“Hello, Viola.” Nibsy Lorcan’s mouth curved in a small, satisfied smile as he took his place at the table with Paul. “I see you’re still safe and well in your family’s keeping.”
At first Viola couldn’t do more than stare in shocked confusion. After Mooch, one of the Devil’s Own, had attacked Tammany’s firehouse, she’d thought her brother had realized what a snake Nibsy Lorcan could be. “This one, he’s your guest?” she asked, her words coming before she could think better of them.
One glance at Paolo, though, and Viola understood that something was happening here, some bigger game she’d not been made aware of. Her brother’s expression narrowed ever so slightly—a warning. “Mr. Lorcan and I have business to discuss,” Paul said, taking a final drag on his cigarette before stubbing it out.
Nibsy glanced over his spectacles. “You should join us,” he said easily. “You might be interested in what I have to say as well. After all, we are old friends.” He met her eyes, his gaze steady, as though reminding her of the last time they’d met—when he’d returned Libitina to her and revealed what Dolph had done to Leena.
“Viola has other things to attend to, I’m sure,” Paul told Nibsy, cutting another meaningful look in her direction.
He wanted her to go, which made Viola want to stay all the more, but she didn’t need to glance at the clock to know that the minutes, which had crept by all morning, were now racing toward the time when Abel would be waiting for her. Still, Nibsy Lorcan was dining with Paul, and Paul hadn’t yet killed him. Something was happening.
“I thought you were on your way to the market,” Paul said, raising his brows in question—another challenge. It only confirmed her suspicions.
As much as Viola wanted to stay and listen to their conversation, the clock would not wait. Abel, Jianyu, and the blood on her hands would not wait.
“I was just leaving,” she said tightly as she placed the bowl in front of Nibsy. Then, still torn, she left her brother and Nibsy Lorcan to whatever business they had between them.
Outside, the summer day had turned hazy and humid. Viola glanced down the street toward the end of the block, where she’d expected Abel to be waiting, but there was no sign of him. As she began to feel the fear—the relief—that perhaps Abel hadn’t come after all, he stepped from around the corner and glanced her way. Even from that distance, she could see his impatience.
“Something’s happening,” Viola said as soon as she was close enough. She motioned him to step around the corner and into a blind alleyway. When they were out of view of Paul’s place, she tried to explain. “Nibsy Lorcan just arrived—”
“I don’t know who that is,” Abel said, interrupting her. “And I don’t particularly care. You need to come now. Jianyu hasn’t woken up all morning.”
Viola froze. “He’s worse?”
“This morning, not long after I left to find you, he closed his eyes and that was that.” Abel’s jaw went tight. “His skin feels like it’s growing cooler.”
Viola was shaking her head. Nibsy Lorcan was up to something—so was her brother—but she knew she could not stay to discover what it was. She could not have Jianyu’s death added to the black marks against her soul.
“I can’t go back to my sister again without you,” Abel said. “I have a carriage waiting on the next block over. Please.” He started to offer her his hand—or maybe he meant to take her arm—but then his eyes shifted to something behind her, and he took a step back instead.
Viola turned, expecting Paul or one of his boys to be there, following her. Instead, she found Theo Barclay squaring his shoulders with suspicion and something strangely close to anger gleaming in his eye. Next to him, dressed in the most ridiculous mint-green frock of lace and chiffon, was Ruby Reynolds.
At the sight of her, Viola felt like her feet had been nailed to the ground and her tongue had been cut from her mouth. For a moment she could do nothing but stare at Ruby, there like some sort of apparition, with her cheeks flushed a becoming rose-petal pink and her eyes bright with some emotion Viola could not interpret.
“Are you okay, Miss Vaccarelli?” Theo’s voice was tight, and his words were unusually clipped. Ruby clasped her hands silently next to him.
“Theo?” It took Viola a moment to realize she wasn’t imagining them. Why had they come? “I’m fine,” she said, realizing that she was staring and that Theo was wearing a look that indicated he viewed Abel as a threat. “Really, Theo. I’m okay.”
“You don’t look fine,” Theo said, glowering at Abel. “Is he bothering you?”
She let out an impatient huff. “He’s not bothering me. What are you doing here? I’ve told you it’s not safe,” she said, trying to draw Theo’s attention back to herself.
“Ruby insisted we come,” Theo said, glancing at the girl next to him.
“I needed to speak with you,” Ruby said, stepping forward. Her voice was soft and breathy, as it always was, but there was that same thread of steel in it that had piqued Viola’s interest in the weeks before.
Viola backed away. “I have nothing more to say.”
