Page 167 of The Serpent's Curse

“You might not want to mess with that,” North warned Harte. “The boy has a way of tinkering with things to make them more effective.”

“All of you, stop it,” Esta said, not bothering to hide her frustration. North felt her tug at his wrist, but she didn’t do more than test his grip. “I’m not playing at anything.” Her voice was as calm and even as the liar she was born to be. “What I told you before was the truth. I can’t help it if your contact hasn’t heard anything.”

“Dom’s been with the Antistasi for a long time, and he knows things before anyone else. If the Antistasi had something planned—especially something as big as you’re saying it’ll be—he would know.”

“The attack will happen,” Esta insisted, not backing down one bit.

“Then it won’t be done by the Antistasi,” North told her.

Esta froze. For a second she looked like one of the hares that go stock-still when they get caught unaware out in the fields at the ranch, like not moving could save them from danger. “Then it’s not the Antistasi.” Her voice sounded unsteady, like she was shaken by this realization. She looked at Harte. “It’s a setup,” she told him.

“What?” Harte shook his head, clearly not following any better than North.

“It’s a setup,” she repeated, turning her attention back to North. “The whole attack… You could be right. Maybe the Antistasi don’t have anything planned, but whoever is going to do the attack will set them up to take the fall for it.”

“Nice try,” North said. “But I’m not buying what you’re selling, and I think we’re finished—” There was a commotion at the other end of the hall, coming from the direction of the exit to Chicago. “What the—” But the string of curses that came out of North’s mouth were lost in the noise of an explosion.

The Nitemarket was under attack.

ADESSO

1902—New York

Viola wasn’t quite sure how everything had turned upside down so quickly.

She should have been smarter. She should have realized that the same boy who had betrayed Dolph—who had killed Dolph—would not be so easily defeated. A boy like that could do practically anything. But Viola hadn’t imagined that skinny little Nibsy Lorcan could convince the Fox himself to move against her brother. It was unthinkable, but it had happened all the same.

Viola chanced a glance back at the park, wondering if Jianyu was nearby. The plan had been for Jianyu to wait near the building, a backup that neither Nibsy nor Paolo would know about, but that was before, when they believed that they could stop the wagon from arriving until after the Golden Hour’s protection waned. But nothing else had gone to plan, and Viola could only hope that Jianyu was close. She hoped, too, that he’d heard Nibsy’s threat and would understand that he must go to help Cela and Abel before John Torrio could harm them. She risked another look back toward the open spaces of Madison Square Park, but she could find no sign of Jianyu there or anywhere else.

“You’re not thinking of running now, are you?” Nibsy asked, eyeing Viola and then glancing to the park.

“Of course not,” she told him, cursing herself for being so careless. She had to focus. She couldn’t make any more wrong steps, not when so much was at stake.

A few minutes later, Viola had little choice but to follow Mooch and Werner, along with the one called Logan, around the side of the building. With the Five Pointers occupying the police out front, it wasn’t difficult to slip in through the back, not when Werner was quick to suffocate the few men who were waiting in the lobby. They’d fallen unconscious before they could so much as draw their guns.

Of course Nibsy himself didn’t come along with them, the snake. He’d made excuses about his leg—he would only slow them down—but Viola saw the truth in his eyes. Nibsy Lorcan had never intended to put himself in danger, not when he had the lives of the Devil’s Own to offer instead.

The new boy, Logan, was sent to lead them. Nibsy seemed to trust him above the others, but Viola couldn’t understand why—she could tell that Mooch and Werner felt the same. Logan Sullivan had a look of fear in his eyes that made Viola nervous. She knew that fear could make people do stupid things, and she wasn’t interested in dying—not today.

Beyond the entrance, the lobby’s marble floors and walls shone in the evening’s strange golden light. The ceiling was arched as gracefully as any church’s and every bit as ornate. This wasn’t the world of dirty tenements and crowded barrooms that all of them were used to. It was far grander than the cluttered shops and businesses they frequented south of Houston. They all seemed caught by the wonder of the sight—all except Logan.

“We need to get moving before the Order realizes we’re in the building,” Logan directed. He was jittery, this one, with shifty eyes and a tightness around his mouth that Viola didn’t like. He was also carrying a lopsided satchel slung over his shoulder. For the goods we find, he’d explained when Viola had asked. But he glanced away, and she sensed there was something more about his plans that he wasn’t revealing.

“Stairs or elevator?” Mooch asked.

“Stairs,” Viola said immediately, but Logan disagreed.

“We’ll be too exposed in a stairwell,” he said. “The elevator gives us our best chance. It’s faster, and we won’t exhaust ourselves with the climb.”

Viola had heard about elevators, but the tenements of the Bowery didn’t have any need for them, so she’d never been in one herself. She stepped carefully across the threshold and into the glittering mirrored box, wary of every creak and groan. It felt too much like allowing herself to be trapped, but she didn’t fully appreciate how terrible it would be until Logan pulled a gate over the entrance, caging them in like animals. With a push of a lever, the room suddenly lurched, and Viola grabbed for the gilded railing as they began to rumble upward.

The shining mirrors reflected her face back at her, and she saw that the weeks had not been kind. Dark smudges of exhaustion lay thick beneath her eyes. Her hair was pulled back from her face, but the heat and humidity of the day had it fuzzing up around her face. She looked so much like her mother, she realized—worn and tired. She wore the same expression as the women who worked morning until night to care for their families because it was their duty and their lot in life. Because they had no other choice.

Watching herself in the mirror, Viola could not help but think of Ruby, who always looked fresh and polished. Ruby, who would no doubt be completely at home in such a shining, beautiful place as this. It was more confirmation of what Viola already knew, of how impossible Ruby’s words—her kiss—had been.

Viola’s eyes met Werner’s in the reflection of the mirror, and she saw that she wasn’t alone in her apprehension about the elevator. Mooch, too, looked nervous. Only Logan seemed at ease.

“We’re like fish waiting in a barrel,” Viola muttered, looking away from the mirrored wall so she did not have to see her own fear. She cursed softly, trying to keep herself steady as the contraption jerked, but she could not force herself to relax as the elevator rattled onward, rising to whatever waited for them above. “As soon as these doors open, they’ll be waiting. And then what will we do?”

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