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“Well, well… looks like the two of you have found yourselves in quite the predicament,” a familiar voice said right before the lock clicked and the door swung open. On the other side, the hallway of the tunnel was filled with an unnatural fog that glowed with a bright lavender-and-yellow swirl, and Jericho Northwood stood grinning at the two of them, looking a few decades older and every bit as ornery as he ever had.
THE CITY’S SHADOWS
1902—New York
The sounds of bells and sirens were already echoing through the city, fueling the anticipation and heating the blood in James Lorcan’s veins. The Order knew for sure now that they were under attack, but James’ plan was only beginning to unfold.
In the back of the open horse cart, Viola still looked a little stunned from what had happened a few minutes before. She’d watched her brother be carted off in a Black Maria, but James knew that she understood that she still wasn’t free—not if she crossed James when he held the lives of her friends in his hands. She was clinging to the side of the cart’s bed, trying to stay upright as they careered through the city. Off-balance, literally and figuratively, just as James preferred her.
In the distance, James heard the keening whine of a locomotive’s whistle and the noise of a city stirring to find itself awash in confusion. Finally, it was beginning. As Werner urged the poor, bedraggled mare to move faster, only James himself knew how it was all destined to end.
Mooch and a few others from the Devil’s Own rode cramped in the bed of the cart along with Viola. James had selected them each by hand—some for their particular abilities, and some, like Mooch, that he preferred to keep close. When the redhead exchanged an uneasy glance with Viola, his pale skin flushed so quickly and easily that James knew his suspicions had been right. There was something between the two—a connection had likely facilitated Viola’s little bout of larceny and the disappearance of Dolph’s journal. James figured that if the two were so happy to work together, they could die together as well.
The ride down Twenty-Third Street took only a handful of minutes, but with the sun ever lower in the sky, it might as well have been hours. Then, as the sun drew closer to the horizon, something odd began to happen. As the sky shifted closer to twilight, the streets began to light with a strange, almost ethereal glow. The drab red brick of buildings brightened in the odd light, and the puddles of water and troughs along the road turned to molten pots of gold. The city’s shadows all stretched east, like nature itself was pointing their way. Urging them on.
It was a startling thing to see the road before them bathed in such a light, especially in a city where the streets were usually at least partially shaded by the ever-growing buildings that lined them. But for James, it was a sign that he’d been right. His plan would work. The Aether vibrated, dancing around him, and the sun warmed his skin as it lit their wagon in the eerie light.
“The Golden Hour,” Viola murmured, lifting her hand as though she could catch the sunbeams and the power they supposedly held. Her drab, olive-toned skin suddenly looked almost bronze in the sun.
“It’s beginning,” James agreed. He looked back to see the sun descending right down the center of Twenty-Third Street. The fiery haze of the shimmering orb was framed perfectly by the buildings as it sank toward the river. It was an odd sight, and it might have even been beautiful if James had the time to appreciate beauty. As it was, they were racing the sun, and every minute was one fewer they had to stop the Order from securing the artifact. Because if the Order’s delivery arrived before they did…
Block after block, the cart rattled over trolley tracks and uneven cobbles until finally the street emptied into the wide area in front of the wedge-shaped tower, but when they finally arrived, something was already happening. Police wagons stood in the plow-shaped plaza in front of the building. They were surrounding another plain wagon, and some of the dark-suited officers were trading fire with someone in the building on the other side of Fifth Avenue, while others were already tussling with men on the ground.
“Those are Five Pointers,” Viola told him. “My brother’s men.”
“I’m aware,” James said, satisfied with the way the Aether swirled around him. “It looks like Johnny the Fox hasn’t turned into a rat. He’s kept his promises.”
“You knew the wagon would be here?” Viola asked, confusion swimming in her violet eyes.
“You’ve played three-card monte, haven’t you, Viola?” Nibsy asked, faintly amused by her shock. “The shuffling of the cards is never anything more than a distraction. The money card is always already in the dealer’s hand. The second we knew about the extra ships, I knew the goods wouldn’t be on them.”
“But if you knew there was nothing in the other wagons…” Viola frowned, finally piecing things together.
Too late, James thought. Always too late.
“Do you mean that Cela’s brother and the rest, they are risking themselves for nothing?”
Nibsy shrugged, unbothered by her sudden worry. “They’re doing what they’re supposed to be doing—providing a necessary diversion so the Order doesn’t realize we’ve caught on to their little game.”
“And what of the Devil’s Own?” she asked, clearly bristling. “Have you risked their lives as well?”
Nibsy turned to her then. He made sure that his gaze was unyielding. “The Devil’s Own belong to me now, Viola. They do what I say.”
“And if they’re caught by the police, what then?” Viola pressed. “If they’re killed?”
“Life and death.” Nibsy tilted his head, trying to conceal his amusement as he considered her dismay. “Isn’t that what our dear friend Dolph used to say? Life and death. Two sides of the same coin. It’s what they all signed up for when they took his mark.” Then he allowed his mouth to curve as Viola blanched, the color draining magnificently from her face. “I never expected you, of all people, to be so squeamish about something so banal as a few deaths. People die every day in the Bowery. You know that. You’ve taken more than a few of those lives yourself.”
One of the Five Pointers broke through the ranks of police suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention. The man charged toward the back of the plain, waiting wagon, but the instant he grabbed hold of the rear door, strange markings on the wagon were illuminated, as though by electricity, and the man began to scream. The Aether trembled as the Five Pointer’s face contorted in agony, but the man didn’t release his hold.
Werner and Mooch, even Viola, turned away, repulsed by the sight, but Nibsy watched with a cool detachment.
“What the hell’s happening to him?” Mooch asked, fear strangling his words.
“I told you the wagons would be protected,” James said.
“But you never said they would do that,” Werner argued.
“Didn’t I?” James asked, masking his amusement.
