Zaria didn’t put much stock in the devil. “People like you work for either the highest bidder or the man who threatens you most.”
“People like me do whatever it takes,” Kane said as they crossed the corridor and entered her workshop, rotating to face her. Hiseyes weren’t as dark as they’d looked from afar—they were more of a hazel. “And so do people like you, I suspect, or you wouldn’t be talking to me right now.”
Zaria scowled, lighting a candle in the corner of the room. As it flared to life, she tried to imagine her workshop from Kane’s perspective. It was crammed full of an odd assortment of pipes, valves, brackets, and tools. Half-finished projects lined the shelves, along with chemicals in welded-shut containers. Glass bottles large and small held a number of different powders and liquids. She caught Kane eyeing them curiously and indicated that he should step away from a particularly sparkly one.
“Get to the point,” Zaria said, shivering as orange light licked up the side of Kane’s face to settle in the hollow of his cheek. “Jules will worry.”
His lips quirked in a way she supposed he thought was charming. “I take it that’s your unpleasant companion upstairs?”
“He’s not unpleasant.”
“Agree to disagree.” Kane extended a hand before Zaria could continue arguing. “Kane Durante, if we’re finally doing proper introductions. I work for Alexander Ward.”
Zaria felt the blood drain from her face. It took her a moment to find her voice, and when she did, the words came out strangled. “Alexander Ward?TheWard?”
“That’s the one.”
She knit her brow. “Wait. I thought you worked for Saville.”
“That was a short-term arrangement. Part of a job.”
Zaria had seen members of Ward’s crew before, and Kane didn’t quite fit the bill. The men who always came to collect dues were middle-aged and broad shouldered, seeming to share one brain betweenthem. Kane, though, was different. He was young and lithe, for one, but also distinctly calculating. He seemed accustomed to getting what he wanted and moved as if nothing ever cowed him.
“Prove it,” she said.
“Prove what, exactly?”
“That you work for Ward.”
Kane’s answering expression was withering as he reached up and yanked the collar of his jacket aside. Without knowing why, Zaria flinched. For a heartbeat, she had the wild impression her reaction had hurt him; his face tightened perceptibly. But perhaps it was only her imagination, for the tension was gone the next moment, as she saw what was inked on the pale skin of his neck.
“You’re marked by him,” Zaria said, a needless observation.
“Well spotted.”
The kingpin’s mark was a crude thing, stark against the striations of blue-tinged veins. It was too harsh when compared to the delicate hollow of his throat, the angled juts of his cheekbones. Kane Durante was a propercriminal. He was no different than the men Ward had sent to threaten and intimidate George.
Zaria was abruptly possessed by the desire to hit him.
She forced herself to take a breath, another question occurring to her. “Was itWardwho commissioned the magic revolver?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Those who made dark market purchases rarely used their real names, and though Zaria had no love for the kingpin—hated him even—she couldn’t deny the idea of Ward’s owning one of her creations was a thrill. “Why are you here, then?”
Kane scrutinized her workshop, taking in her unfinished commissions and the organized chaos around them. When he finally answered, it was without meeting her eyes. “A very good question.You see, I’ve been attempting to get my hands on something important. An artifact that’s going to be displayed in the Great Exhibition. Conning the owner of a shipping company—that’swho commissioned you—was supposed to ensure we could steal it before it went on display. Alas, it didn’t quite work out.”
“We?”
“My friend and I,” Kane clarified, finally turning to face her. He adjusted the collar of his jacket as he did so, covering both the mark and the pale skin of his throat. “Not Larkin. Someone else. Given the security detail and sheer number of people who will be attending the Exhibition, it’s going to be very, very difficult for us to steal this item without landing in prison. That’s where you come in.”
Zaria hardened her expression even as unease tightened her throat. “I don’t follow.”
“I come with a proposition. You see, an alchemologist could be very useful to me.”
There was a beat of silence as she chewed that over. “Do you have the money for a commission?”
“I’m not looking for a single commission.”
