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“Did I raise you to be a coward?” the old lady asked, which caused the younger woman to blink. “Take care of it.”
The woman looked like she wanted to refuse but then thought better of it and darted off into the crowd.
The old lady turned to Esta. “We don’t have much time. They’re coming for you.”
Esta seemed transfixed by the woman’s hand around her wrist. “Who are you?”
“Someone old enough to remember,” the old lady told her with a wry curve of her mouth. “I was just a girl when the Devil’s Thief nearly destroyed the Order. We all remember.”
Panic flashed through Esta’s expression. “I’m not—”
“Don’t play games, girl,” the old lady snapped. “There isn’t time. The Guard are coming, and you’re injured. Worse, you’re marked.”
“Marked?” Harte asked, still not sure what was going on. “What are you talking about?”
The train was sliding into the station, but the wind Harte felt lifting his hair was somehow stronger than its arrival should have created. Warm energy coursed through the air, reminding Harte of the noisy music hall he’d found in the Bowery. There had been magic there as well.
“It’s how they’ll find you,” she said. “It’s how they find all of us not smart enough to keep hidden. Hold still now, and I’ll do what I can.”
Esta gasped, and Harte felt magic surge again. Behind them, the doors of the subway car were sliding open, and people were beginning to pour out onto the platform.
“We have to go,” Harte told them, desperate to get Esta away from whatever was coming, and away from the woman as well.
Esta glanced at him, startled confusion in her expression, but she didn’t seem afraid. Whatever the old lady was doing didn’t seem to be harming her.
Suddenly, the old lady gasped and released her, stumbling a little. Esta reached for her, catching her before she could crumple. “Go,” the woman said, trying to push Esta away. “I did what I could, but I couldn’t remove the trace. Not completely. They’ll be able to track you through your magic, so be careful. We can buy you some time, but if you don’t go now, it’ll be for nothing.” She pushed Esta away as the wind on the platform increased. “Go!”
Esta was staring at the woman as though she didn’t know what to do, so Harte made the decision for her. “Come on,” Harte said, trying to drag Esta toward the train.
“We can’t just leave her there,” Esta told him.
“I’ll be fine,” the old lady said. She was leaning against the column now, her eyes closed. “We’ll do what we can to protect you.”
“Who will?” Esta asked.
The old woman’s eyes opened. “All of us, dear. All of us who are left.”
RESTLESS
1902—Uptown
As she waited for the water to heat, Cela heard the bells of the grandfather clock chime in the offices of the New York Age below. They marked another hour gone by without word from Jianyu.
Maybe she should have been used to his absences. He was up most days before dawn and rarely returned until long after dark. They didn’t usually hear much from him while he was off to do the bidding of Tom Lee, working to fulfill the bargain he’d made with the tong boss to save her life. It didn’t matter that she was safe. Lee had his spy, and he kept Jianyu busy from morning until night doing his bidding.
But that day, Jianyu wasn’t working for Lee. He should have been back.
Both she and Viola had been against the idea of Jianyu going to find Werner Knopf. Viola didn’t believe that the Devil’s Own could be swayed to turn against Nibsy so long as he had possession of the marks, and Cela, who’d had her own experience with Werner’s particular brand of magic, didn’t think it was worth the risk. But neither had been able to dissuade him. Jianyu had been growing increasingly restless over the past few weeks. More and more often, he talked of the Strega and the people there, because he still believed that they could turn back to the path Dolph had set them on.
He had too much faith. Viola thought it was a fool’s errand, and to a lesser extent, so did Cela. But she understood. Each day without answers meant another with Tom Lee’s shackle on his wrist.
The last few months had been difficult. It had been a long, frustrating stretch, filled with days trapped in the small apartment and nights trying to save Nibsy Lorcan’s castoffs. Danger was always imminent, but nothing ever seemed to happen. As summer eased into fall, hopeful patience had been replaced by consternation and desperation. No wonder Jianyu had gone. She likely would’ve done the same.
Finally, the sputtering from the percolator stopped, and she removed the coffee from the stovetop and took the pot to where Viola and Abel were sitting. Cela’s brother had come by for an early dinner before he had to go. His train left at eight.
She’d been distracted by thoughts of Jianyu, but now she realized that Abel had been telling Viola of his plans to help them by spying on passengers.
“You can’t be serious,” Cela said. “If anyone suspects what you’re doing, you’ll be lucky if all you lose is your position. And then what?”
