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“One can hope,” he told her pleasantly, and when she turned to leave, he caught her by the arm. “Best if you watch yourself tonight, Ruby. It would be a tragedy if you joined your dearly departed husband sooner rather than later.”
She tried to free herself from his grasp, but before she could storm off, Jack whispered a single, ancient word.
“What did you say?” she asked, looking suddenly unsteady.
“I simply said to enjoy your evening.” Then, before she could escape, he jerked her close and whispered the word again while slipping a small pistol into her hand. It was a delicate little thing with a pearl handle. Exactly the type of weapon a woman would select for herself. When he released her, Ruby had a dazed look in her eyes, and she stumbled off without a word, taking the gun along with her.
He watched her go until her hooded figure had disappeared into the crowd.
“I thought we made it clear that you weren’t to make any sort of scene.”
Jack turned to find his uncle and cousin standing behind him, looking sour as old women. “What were you doing with the Reynolds girl?”
“I believe she’s a Barclay now,” Jack said, amused despite himself. “And it wasn’t I who was making the scene. She doesn’t seem quite stable.”
“You had your hands on her,” Morgan accused.
“Yes, Uncle,” Jack said. “I admit that I did take her by the arm. Gentle as a child. You might thank me for stopping her.”
“Stopping her from what?” Morgan asked, his large nose twitching.
“I don’t know exactly,” Jack said, feigning confusion. “But she seemed a bit hysterical. All the talk of feral magic must have brought up terrible memories. Someone might want to check on her. I don’t trust that she wouldn’t do something desperate. I could go, if you’d like?”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Morgan said, which was the exact answer Jack had planned for. “Junior can go after the chit. You sit down and try not to get in the way. Things have gone too well so far for you to make any sort of trouble.”
Jack opened his hands as if in surrender. “As you wish.”
Smiling secretly to himself, he went to find a seat in the center of the audience. In his pocket, the Book felt nearly alive. It pulsed in time with the steady beating of his own heart.
An intricate piece of metalwork grew up from the rear of the stage, providing a backdrop for the Order’s next act. It was a larger and more intricate version of the Tree of Life that stood in the Mysterium, high across the park. In its branches, hundreds of tiny alchemical candles threw their otherworldly glow across each of the filigreed leaves. Above those topmost branches, the upper floors of the Flatiron Building were just visible. Below, beneath the platform of the stage, his machine lay hidden. Ready and waiting to rise into a new future.
Across the park, the upper floors that comprised the Order’s new headquarters were alight, a crown on the bladelike building. The windows of the ceremonial library and the new Mysterium glowed with a brilliant amber that no simple gas lamp or electric bulb could have produced. It looked much like the golden light that had been visible on the solstice so many months before—molten and powerful, created by the sort of practiced and controlled magic that could bring the country into a new future. But Jack knew the truth. It wasn’t magic alone that created the effect. The Order was channeling modern electricity through the ritual there, increasing its potential exponentially.
The Mysterium would be where the evening’s display began. There, a group of men from the Inner Circle would be waiting to initiate the ritual that would demonstrate their continued relevance.
Too bad Jack had gotten to those men first. Too bad the Order’s great gambit was destined to fail.
The wind gusted across the rooftop, causing the people around him to shuffle slightly, shuddering from the cold, but Jack Grew barely felt the ice in the air. He placed another of the morphine cubes between his teeth and let the bitterness fortify him, allowed its heat to invigorate him.
Soon it would begin. Jack had only to watch and wait. With the Book in his pocket, with fate on his side, he would be the one to direct his destiny and bring about the Order’s end.
UPRISING
Bella Strega
On the winter solstice, night came early, covering the city with a blanket of darkness that would remain undisturbed for hours to come. The longest night in the coldest part of the year marked the turning from winter toward spring. For James Lorcan, it would mark the turning of his destiny.
Far uptown, the Order would be beginning their Conclave. Men from all across the land had arrived to do what countless civilizations had done for centuries, to keep watch for the dawning of a new day. To mark a moment of rebirth. They were dressed in their finery and jewels, wrapped in the confidence of their wealth, but they could not predict what was coming.
In the Bowery, it wasn’t spirits who roamed the streets that night, but men. The anger and frustration that had been slowly simmering for months beneath the uneasy peace of the surface was beginning to boil over.
James heard the shots fired in the distance, the clanging of bells, and the shouts in the streets below, but he ignored them and turned the page of the small diary. The words on the page shimmered, coming ever clearer into focus.
Tonight, all would be revealed. Tonight, his destiny would be known.
Around him, the Aether felt frantic. The buzzing drone that had plagued him for months was barely noticeable now. It bunched and lurched, stirring his anticipation. Pushing him, guiding him, as it had always done before.
A pounding sounded at his apartment door, and when he opened it, Logan was waiting on the other side. “There’s a problem in the saloon.”
