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“Nibsy Lorcan,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I’ve heard plenty about you, too.”
His eyes flashed at that. “I’m sure you have.”
“Wasn’t anything good,” she told him, proud of herself for keeping her voice from betraying her fear.
“There’s usually more than one side to any story,” the boy said.
“Looks pretty one-sided to me,” she pressed, nodding toward her friends, who were too still now for her liking.
“I’ll let them go in a minute,” he told her. “But I wanted a chance to meet you first. A chance to talk. You see, we both want the same thing, Cela.”
“I doubt that very much,” she told him.
“You want your friends to be safe,” he said. “I don’t want to harm them.”
She choked out a nervous burst of laughter. “I’m not sure this is the best way to show it.”
“I didn’t think their interference would be… productive.” He shrugged. “They don’t understand.”
Cela clenched her teeth to keep herself from saying all the things she wanted to. But she knew anything she said could be used against them. Talking to this boy was nothing but a trap.
The soft curve of Nibsy’s mouth went flat. “Soon, Cela, the Order is going to fall, and power is going to shift in this city. You could be on the winning side. Think of what it would mean for your family—your brother. Think of what it could do for your people.”
She kept her expression steady, knowing already that this boy was no more going to help her “people” than any other fool who wanted power. It was probably the first time he’d ever even ventured into this neighborhood.
She was tired of his games, his doublespeak. “Are you planning on telling me what you want?”
“I want to win,” Nibsy told her. “I want to make those who’ve held us down and pushed us back pay. I think you might want that too. The police killed your father, didn’t they? Just because of the color of his skin? Think of a world where they don’t have the power to hurt you or yours. A city safe for people like us.”
There was no “like us,” not as far as Cela was concerned. “And you think you can make that happen?” she wondered. Like some kind of white savior come to rescue the poor darker brother.
“I know I can,” he said. “But not alone. I’ll need them to help—Jianyu and Viola both. I need my spy and my assassin. With them, I can’t fail.”
“You would trust them?” she asked.
“No, but in exchange for Newton’s Sigils, I might be persuaded.” The lenses of his glasses flashed in the sunlight.
The creeping feeling up her spine told Cela that, whatever happened, this boy should never, ever get ahold of those discs.
“We don’t have them,” Cela bluffed. “Viola dropped them on her way out of the building.”
Fury flashed across the boy’s face. It was there and gone in an instant, like lightning across the summer sky, but Cela wasn’t so foolish as to pretend she hadn’t seen it.
“Let’s not waste our time with lies, Cela Johnson. I know you have them. I know they’re here, close by. I could kill both of your friends and you as well to take them, if I wanted. But I meant what I told you. I’d rather do this with Jianyu’s and Viola’s help. So give them this message for me: Your friends should come back to the Strega and the Devil’s Own. They should pledge themselves to me and to my cause. If they do, I’ll welcome them with open arms. I can and will protect them from the dangers of this city.” He nodded toward the building. “I’ll offer my protection to you and your brother as well. Because it would be quite the tragedy if something happened to you. Or to your dear, dear brother. It would be a shame, for instance, if those men in there decide that you or Abel had something to do with the theft at the Flatiron Building.”
“You sent them,” she realized.
His mouth curved up. “Think of this as a warning. Tell your friends that there’s no sense in trying to fight the inevitable. They can give over the sigils willingly, or next time I’ll be sure to send someone more suited to finish the job.”
“Go to hell,” Cela spat.
She’d barely gotten the words out when she suddenly felt a sharpness in her chest as her breath rushed from her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything but feel the burning of her lungs. It was worse than simply holding her breath. It was like having the air and the life pressed out of her.
Her vision was already going dark around the edges, and her legs felt suddenly weak. She couldn’t stop her legs from collapsing beneath her until she found herself kneeling on the ground in front of him. If she fell now, he could take the discs. She couldn’t let that happen, but she also couldn’t fight him.
“That,” the boy said, as her chest burned, “was a mistake.”
She was gasping for breath, but she still couldn’t draw any air into her lungs. The world was spinning now, as she tried to stay up on her hands and knees, and then she collapsed completely. Above her, the sky was a bright, impossible blue. She blinked up, not understanding how things could have gotten so far out of her control so quickly.
