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Thank the heavens it worked.
Viola hadn’t been completely sure that it would. She’d hoped, of course, because she hadn’t wanted to go back to Nibsy Lorcan, but knowing such things wasn’t Viola’s strength—it had been Dolph’s.
Her old friend hadn’t been like the other Bowery bosses, who attacked first and considered later. They’d taken the seal and many other objects from J. P. Morgan at the Metropolitan because Dolph had known that this small, unassuming object would be needed to steal the Book. He made a study of such things, because for Dolph Saunders, knowing had been the most important part of the battle.
But Dolph hadn’t known about Nibsy, Viola thought, as a wave of grief and fury rose within her. If Jianyu’s story was to be believed—and she had no reason to doubt it—not even Dolph Saunders had seen Nibsy’s betrayal coming. He’d trusted the boy, and he’d paid the price. They all had.
Viola examined the stone seal, the markings on it still darkened by Jianyu’s blood, and then she tucked it away as she said a silent prayer of thanks that she had kept it. She said one more prayer for Jianyu’s continued health, and then she made her way down the stairs.
In the kitchen, Viola found that Theo had not yet left, as she had expected him to. He was sitting at the small table, studying the volume she’d taken from Dolph’s apartment earlier that day—Dolph’s notebook. Viola still couldn’t believe Theo was there at all, much less that he’d waited so long. He shouldn’t be there. It was a sweet sort of torture to be near him, to both feel closer to Ruby through his presence and to be reminded of what she could never have.
Cela was sitting next to Theo, peering over at the notebook as he turned the pages. Her hands were wrapped around a cup of something warm and steaming. At the sound of Viola’s entrance, she looked up and stood all at once, a small burst of panic breaking out in her expression. “Is he—”
“He’s up,” Viola said. “He’ll be down soon.”
“I should go help him,” Cela said, already moving in the direction of the stairs.
Viola caught her arm gently, felt her flinch at the touch. “He’s well now, Cela. Let him be strong enough for this.”
Cela looked like she disagreed, but she relented. “You want some coffee?” she asked, pulling away from Viola. “I put some on already.”
“Please,” Viola said gratefully.
She went to the table and took a seat near Theo. “You find anything interesting?”
Cela offered her the cup of steaming coffee before returning to her own seat on the other side of Theo.
“This journal is remarkable,” Theo told her, frowning. “The collection of languages here alone—French, German, Spanish, even Latin. It’s astounding that these are all in the same hand.” He glanced up at her. “It doesn’t seem possible that your friend could have written all of this on his own.”
“Dolph Saunders had many talents,” Viola said tightly, trying not to bristle at Theo’s presumptions. She took a sip of the coffee to keep herself from saying anything else. It was burnt and bitter, but the bite of it settled something inside her.
Theo turned another page. “From the looks of it, he was brilliant,” Theo said, sounding more than a little surprised by this.
“And why wouldn’t he be?” Viola asked, this time unable to keep the reproach from her tone.
“I don’t know,” Theo said, frowning. “He lived in the Bowery and owned a saloon. I hadn’t expected a scholar.”
“Dolph Saunders lived in the Bowery because he was unwilling to hide what he was.” Viola’s heart clenched with the memory of her old friend. “He chose to live among the people who needed him.” Outside the law. Outside of safety.
“I would have liked to meet him,” Theo told her, and she had the sense that this was more than simple politeness.
“He was a complicated man,” Viola admitted, wondering if any of them—including Leena—had ever really known Dolph.
“Most of them are,” Cela said, sharing a knowing look with Viola, and for the moment, some of the tension between the two of them eased. “Or at least, a lot of them like to believe they are.”
Viola could not stop her mouth from curving in agreement.
“Methodical, too,” Theo told her, seemingly unaware of the small joke they’d made at his expense. “The amount of detail in some of these notes is astounding.”
Something on one of the pages caught her eye. “I know this,” she murmured, touching a finger to the illustration before he could turn to the next page.
“You’ve seen this before?” Theo frowned up at her, looking surprised.
“Sì.” Viola had seen that same strange design earlier that day in Dolph’s apartment. It had been part of the painting they’d stolen from Morgan’s collection, depicted clearly—though maybe in not so much detail as this—on the cover of the book Newton held beneath the tree, under a sky with two moons.
“It’s some kind of sigil,” Theo told her, studying the illustration. “They’re fairly common in ancient art, but this is one of the most intricate I’ve ever seen. You’re sure this is the one you’ve seen?”
“Yes,” Viola murmured. “In a painting…” And somewhere else? Again, it seemed strangely familiar, and she wondered if her memory of the Book of Mysteries—hazy as it might be—had any truth to it. “In the painting, it wasn’t so clear as this one,” she told them.
