This dragged Kane from his haze. Hope settled in the rhythm of his rapid heartbeats. “You’d let him leave your employ?”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Ward’s gaze was sly.
Kane had never told Ward that. Didn’t realize he’d so much as implied it. And yet he wasn’t surprised to discover Ward knew precisely what cards to play to guarantee Kane would do as he wanted. “Do you mean it?”
Ward’s teeth flashed. “You know I never make a deal I won’t uphold.” He let the words hang in the air before snapping, “Now go.”
It was true. Ward was terrifying, and he lied with ease, but he kept his promises. He paid his debts.
Kane couldn’t leave fast enough. He shoved wordlessly past Tom before hurtling into the descending night, gulping breaths of cool air. The pain had crept up to his shoulder, and his head was beginning to throb. What the hell was he going to do now?
He knew the answer, of course. He was going to have to steal the necklace from the Great Exhibition, and it was going to be impossible.
But as Kane passed through Smith Square, a short distance from Horseferry Road, he remembered Mendoza. The alchemologist with the keen gaze and an edge to her voice. The way she’d pointed that impossible revolver at the wall, sending a streak of dark magic into the wood. How she’d scowled and said,You must be new to dark market paraphernalia.
That was what Kane needed. Someone who knew how to create the things Ward wouldn’t give him. A diversion was only the start—if he could align himself with a skilled alchemologist, every problem he encountered in his bid to steal the necklace could be solved.
Perhaps he ought to pay Mendoza another visit.
ZARIA
THAT’S NOT ENOUGH,” ZARIA SNAPPED, EYES FIXED ON THEtiny pouch the chemist was currently weighing.
The woman shrugged. “That’s what twenty shillings gets you. You want more, bring more money.”
Zaria pressed her lips together, glancing out of the dingy window to where Jules stood keeping watch in the rainy street. This wasn’t the first time she’d completely run out of soulsteel, but she tried not to let it happen often. She had another client coming to pick up a commission tonight, and as of right now, the second explosive still wasn’t finished. It wouldn’t work properly without primateria, and Zaria couldn’t create primateria without soulsteel.
She liked Louisa Hoffman just fine, but the chemist was notoriously inflexible. She never offered discounts, and she didn’t accept debts. The shop she ran with her husband received a small shipment of soulsteel from Switzerland biweekly. Although the mineralwas naturally occurring, it wasn’t sold via any legitimate channels; instead, it was being illegally mined in the Alps and shipped worldwide. Few were using it for legitimate alchemological purposes; it had become something of a curiosity, and vials were purchased for absurd reasons that encompassed everything from rumored healing properties to warding off evil. Then there were those who bought it simply to display. Demand was increasing rapidly as more people began collecting these so-calledcuriosities, and Zaria was getting priced out of her own damned market.
“You’re screwing me over,” she grunted, snatching the pouch from the counter and pushing a pile of shillings across to Louisa. “I thought we had an understanding.”
The woman gave an apologetic shrug. “I said I’d have it available for purchase every two weeks. I never said I’d only sell it to you. The price reflects the demand, Zaria. I’m sorry.”
Zaria knew it was unfair of her to be angry. Louisa was trying to make a living just like she was. But a chemist always had patrons, and Zaria couldn’t help feeling resentful at the ease with which the Hoffmans kept their business afloat. “It’s fine. I’ll take what I can get.”
She shoved the pouch of soulsteel into her pocket and ducked back out into the rain. The clean, soapy scent of the shop was replaced at once with the pungent stink of the streets. Even outside of the slum, the roads were covered with all manner of foul matter, the rain churning up what ought to have remained undisturbed.
“Well?” Jules said when Zaria reached him. She held up the tiny pouch in reply, and he inhaled through his teeth. “Is that going to be enough?”
“It’ll have to be.”
They walked in silence for a time before Jules asked, “Who’s the commission for?”
Zaria sighed. “Nobody we’re familiar with. Mister Vaughan, his name is.” Her clients were all beginning to blur together. “Another explosive. I’m already late completing it, and if I don’t have it ready for pickup tonight, I’m in trouble.”
“You’ll be fine,” Jules said confidently. “You’re excellent under pressure.”
That tended to be true, but it didn’t mean Zaria liked it. She squinted through the rain as they headed back into Devil’s Acre, already considering how she might make the soulsteel last. A dark sludgelike substance had formed in the divots at the side of the road, and she swerved to avoid it, slamming into a boy around her and Jules’s age.
“Sorry,” she muttered, but the boy was already ducking away, a flicker of beige passing through his fingers before he shoved them into his pocket. It took Zaria a moment to comprehend what she’d seen—a small linen pouch.Hersmall linen pouch.
He’d stolen from her.
“Jules!” she bellowed, already sprinting after the pickpocket. She kept her gaze on the boy’s cap as he wove in and out of the crowd, short and lithe enough that he was difficult to keep track of. Her boots slipped in the disgusting sludge, but she was heedless of the muck that spattered on her skirts. “Stop that boy!”
The call was to the citizens at large, but no one paid her any mind. Most scarcely glanced up. Petty theft was common here, and people weren’t inclined to get involved in what they considered to be strangers’ business. Zaria came to a halt, breathing hard, a deep ache pinching one side of her chest. Distantly, she was aware of Jules hurtling past her—he had always been faster, and besides, he wasn’t weighed down by skirts—but she caught up to him a moment later, blood trickling from his nose as he swung a fist at the thief who had evidently decided to turn and fight.
Zaria shoved her way past the few nosy onlookers who had already stopped to observe, wincing as Jules’s knuckles made contact with the other boy’s face. The thief cursed colorfully, stumbling backward into a couple of onlookers, then used the entire force of his body to slam Jules to the ground.
