Page 77 of The Unweaver

Not for the first time, Cora considered ignoring Bane’s orders and letting Anita shake down Rune Borges for information on the magic-draining bullet solo while she took the first train out of London.

The intense burning in her palm dispelled the fantasy. Escaping the Realmwalker was impossible.

Her mood was as bleak as this endless winter. Cora didn’t need to sense death to know it was coming for her. Now the awful truth was out, it was only a matter of time. Whoever had the honor of culling the Unweaver, she hoped they made it quick.

After the disastrous meeting yesterday, though, Cora was relieved to have one person not completely disgusted by her. By her clothes, certainly, but not her. At least not yet. Depending on how the day went, she might very well be walking back to the club.

No shoving this cat back in the bag, Cora thought with bitter resignation, sliding onto the plush leather seat. “Unfortunately, I am lacking in wardrobe options at the moment.”

Anita slammed on the gas before Cora could close the door and launched the car into traffic with a squeal of tires. Cora was nearly tossed onto the street as they took a corner at breakneck speed, careening around a parked lorry and sideswiping it with an ear-piercing shriek of metal on metal.

Finally, Cora wrenched the door shut and darted a look behind them, panting and gripping the handle for dear life. “Christ, is someone chasing us?”

“Huh?” They came within inches of plowing down a man whose step off the sidewalk might very well have been his last. “Just making a detour, is all. They won’t let you into the Lily with those rags on and I certainly ain’t got anything that would fit an Amazon like you. We’ll just pop into the shops and be on our way, savvy? Mal won’t mind us taking the car out longer. Him and Guy got a whole factory full of them now.”

The car veered and hopped over the curb, almost flattening a fruit cart. Screaming joined the angry chorus of blaring horns.

“Oi! Watch your sodding arse!” Anita flipped off the driver as she cut him off. “Driving isloadsof fun. Do you know how? I could teach you.”

Hurtling through traffic in sphincter-puckering turns, Cora wondered who, if anyone, had taught Anita how to drive.

The sharp edges of terror at an imminent car crash dug into her. Cora couldn’t pry her gaze away from every man, mineral,and vegetable they might be on a collision course with, no matter how desperately she wanted to.

“I’ll, er, keep that in mind.” Cora gnashed her teeth. “Where is our charming employer today?”

“Who knows? Mal keeps his own counsel.” Anita lit a cigarette, and the car filled with pungent marijuana smoke. With a sidelong glance at Cora’s white-knuckled grip on the door, Anita offered it to her. “One of Yvonne’s enchanted cannabis sticks.”

Cora eyed the cigarette, suspicious of what schemes were rolled within it. Was this part of Bane’s plan? Get her high, pump her for information, and report back?

Anita chuckled. “Come on, love. A puff won’t hurt.”

“Fuck it.”

Cora inhaled slowly, like Teddy had taught her, and coughed anyways to Anita’s uproarious laughter. Her head filled with a fuzzy cloud of smoke and floated above her shoulders. The comfortable haze dulled her existential panic at Anita Tambo’s driving. She could kiss the French Phytomancer for creating such dank divinity.

“What’s the Gilded Lily like?” Her tongue felt thick in her dry mouth.

“Bougie. Since Madam Kalandra took over, the Lily only caters to a particular kind of clientele.” Anita jerked the wheel, narrowly avoiding vehicular manslaughter. “Toffs who can spend a hundred quid on a tart. Per hour.”

“A hundred quid?” Cora hacked another cough. She’d known girls at the Starlite who sold their bodies for a shilling. Then again, she’d sold herself to Malachy Bane for a hundred quid per job. Though her career, if it could be called such, dealt in dead flesh rather than living. Strange the day that Cora Walcott earned the same rate as a Gilded Lily courtesan. She didn’t know whether to be proud or mortified.

“With our carnal talents, you bet we’re worth every penny.” Anita flashed a dazzling smile that faded when she turned back, thankfully, to the road. “I hope Madam Kalandra ain’t still peeved about me switching sides for Mal. Not like she’s got any right to be. She’s the one who bloody introduced us at the Lily.”

Something unpleasant slithered in Cora’s belly at the thought of Bane—that traitorous, untrustworthy bastard—in a brothel. A puff of the cigarette dulled it, so she took another before passing it back. “How long did you work there?”

“Since I was fifteen. My family sold me off after learning about mydevilry, asthey called it. God-fearing louts. I’ve had enough exorcisms for a lifetime.”

“Likewise.” Cora shuddered at repressed memories of overzealous nuns. “They do the lure-out-with-holy-water or the expel-with-fire exorcisms?”

“Expel-with-fire.”

“Oof. Brutal.”

“Wankers,” Anita declared. “All except my baby brother, Tim Tambo. He plays standup bass at the club, you’ll like him. All in all, Madam Kalandra didn’t treat me too poorly. And sex work can be empowering if it’s the lady’s choice. Besides, I like fucking and I’m good at it. If you’re good at something, you should never do it for free. It’s the birds that put out for a pint and anI’ll call you laterwho are the ones really getting fucked.”

Anita took another puff. “Though, working at the Lily wasn’t always the most glamorous of jobs. Especially that first time. You know what kind of toffs pay a premium to take a girl’s virginity?”

“Creepy old rich ones?”

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