The boy tilted his head. Kane—that was his name, she remembered now. He had a face made for smirks and knowing glances. The kind of face that said,I do stupid things purely out of curiosity.Beneath that, though, his jaw was clenched, his forehead slightly furrowed. He was as handsome as she recalled. A gal-sneaker, Zaria supposed. Typical.
“I didn’t break the door,” he said. The timbre of his voice was low, as smooth as silk. “I just picked the lock. It was disconcertingly easy, by the way. And I’m not here for money.”
“Then whyareyou here?” Zaria demanded. Her blood pounded in her ears.
Dark eyes flicked to her face. “I’m here for you, alchemologist.”
Zaria tensed, confusion and misgiving warring in her chest. Whatever reason Kane had to be looking for an alchemologist, she was certain it couldn’t be good. “Was there something wrong with the commission?”
“What?” Kane flicked a brow upward. The high collar of his black coat was askew, Zaria noticed, a contrast to his unruffled appearance three days prior.
“Don’t be coy,” she bit out. “I recognize you from the other night. I assume your partner’s around here too somewhere, isn’t he?”
Kane frowned, seemingly perplexed. The expression didn’t suit him. “Partner?”
“The man you came here with before?”
“Oh. Larkin.” An eye roll. “He’s not my partner.”
Zaria exchanged a glance with Jules, thrusting her chin at the door to indicate he should leave while he had the chance. Jules gave a stubborn shake of his head, and Zaria watched in horror as he withdrew a serrated knife from somewhere behind the counter. Its edges were rusted, clearly dull, but he pointed it at Kane without wavering. “Get out of my shop. Now.”
Kane blinked in amusement. “That is, without a doubt, the most ancient knife I have ever seen. Do you intend to make me sit for a quarter of an hour while you saw through my skin?”
“I’m not against the idea.”
“I assure you, I’ve no interest in your shop or anything in it.” Kane raised one hand, reaching inside his coat with the other. Before Zaria could process the movement, he had withdrawn a revolver—similar to the one she’d handed him the other night—letting it dangle from a finger as he thrust it toward her. “Here.”
She narrowed her eyes, studying him in distrust. Had he commissioned such a weapon on his own, or did Saville value him more greatly than she’d realized? “Why would I want your gun?”
“I’m working with the assumption you’d prefer me unarmed,” Kane drawled. “If you’re saying that’s not the case—”
Zaria snatched the gun from his loose grip. When she pointed it at him, he didn’t look remotely surprised. The weapon was still warm from being against his chest. “Whatever you came to say, say it quickly.”
“Perhaps we could talk somewhere more private?”
“Absolutely not,” Jules said before Zaria could answer. She didn’t miss the way he shifted his body in front of the cabinet where George kept the pawnshop’s money, but somehow she didn’t think Kane waslying about his disinterest in the shop. He didn’t look as though he had need for money—at least not compared to the customers Zaria was accustomed to seeing. That, combined with the dark market weapon, made her curious about what he had to say.
“We can talk,” she decided. “Briefly. But I keep the gun.”
Kane tilted his head, flashing the ghost of a grin. “Lead the way.”
Zaria sidestepped over to the door, never lowering the revolver. She heard Jules hiss her name, low and furious, and she directed an apologetic shrug his way. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll shoot if I have to.”
She said it mostly for Kane’s benefit, but he appeared unperturbed even as Jules added, “She will.”
“Right,” Kane said, now with an air of impatience. “You’re both terribly threatening. If I may?” He indicated the door.
Zaria ushered him through. Without a candle, the corridor was dark as pitch, but Kane didn’t miss a step. He was a great deal taller than she was, which irked her unnecessarily.
“Are you always this mistrustful?” His murmur stretched into a wavering echo.
“Only of people like you.”
A short laugh. “And what arepeople like me?”
Zaria gave him another light jab with the gun, glaring at what she imagined was the middle of his back. “Slippery. Practiced liars. Willing to sell their souls.”
Kane gave a hum low in his throat. “To whom am I meant to have sold my soul? The devil?”
