To her swiftly deteriorating state, he meant. Zaria grunted. “I’m not worried.”
Not yet, at least. Whereas Jules had seen George’s mention of the kingpin as a dead end—or, at the very least, one too dangerous to pursue—Zaria saw it as the key. Shewasgoing to find Cecile.
And, much to her dismay, she knew who might be able to help her.
ZARIA
THE MOMENTJULES’S BREATHS EVENED OUT BESIDE HER—Zaria hadn’t the heart to send him back to his own room—she leapt from the bed and donned her coat. As she did so, feeble moonlight through the grimy window caught the sketch she’d been working on earlier. It wasn’t a concept for an invention or even a blueprint; it was the face of Itzal Mendoza, cast half in shadow the way it had always been when he’d bent over the desk upon which his very likeness now rested.
Zaria could still remember the first time Itzal had created magic in her presence. She’d been young—too young to recall the exact words her father had used to describe the glistening stone before them. And perhapsstonewas the wrong word for it, but in the foggy crevices of her memory, that was what it had been. Something so small, so simple. Itzal had been sitting at his worktable. Light streamed in through the window, illuminating the creases ofhis sun-weathered face. He’d turned to Zaria and smiled, and she remembered it because it was a rare thing.
Then he’d handed her the primateria.
It hadn’t been warm, exactly, but rather the perfect temperature of her skin. Zaria wanted to know what it was at once. Even back then, she’d hungered for knowledge with a desperation that sunk claws into the cage of her chest. He’d told her about magic then. Not in the broad sense, or the way of stories, but the real thing.
Why hadn’t he told her more?
As she ducked out into the street, something hot burned in the pit of her stomach. An impatience. A fury. Aneed. People howled drunkenly from the gutters, and in the distance, she could hear what was almost certainly a fight. Someone had started a small fire at the end of Horseferry Road, and Zaria swerved to avoid the putrid scent of whatever they were burning. She clutched a small lamp that, in appearance, looked scarcely any different than a regular gas lamp but—thanks to a combination of soulsteel and a combustible liquid called solanum—could last weeks without burning out. It was one of the very few dark market items she’d allowed herself to keep over the years.
What was she doing? Seeking out Kane Durante, especially in the dead of night, could only be a mistake. Venturing into the kingpin’s territory without a clear destination in mind—that was also a mistake. But if Kane wanted Zaria for her alchemological prowess, helping her find that primateria source—and therefore Cecile—was in his best interests. And who better to ask than someone who spent his days at Alexander Ward’s side?
The river was a roar in Zaria’s ears as she neared the docks. Its waters were black beneath the foggy shroud of night, inscrutable and horribly infinite. Some of the kingpin’s men lived near the docks ina place known colloquially as the barracks, and although she wasn’t sure of itspreciselocation, that was where Zaria hoped to find Kane. She rubbed her clammy palms on the front of her jacket. It was ridiculous to be nervous, and yet she could feel each pulse of her heart beat. She bit the inside of her cheek and picked up her pace, scouring the fronts of industrial buildings as the slum disappeared behind her.
“There you are.”
A voice from her left made her whirl around. The greeting was one of familiarity, but Zaria didn’t recognize the figure that slunk out of the shadows between two decrepit buildings. It was a man, tall and sporting a hat, his face half-concealed by a kerchief. The glint in his eyes had her free hand snapping to the knife hidden at her waistband. As the clouds moved aside to reveal a sliver of moonlight, she could see her reflection in the smashed window behind him, disfigured by a spiderweb of tiny fractures. She looked afraid. It made her furious.
“Beg your pardon,” Zaria said, hand tightening on her blade as she set down the solanum lamp. “I don’t believe we’re acquainted.”
The man moved more fully into the moonlight. He looked to be nearly double her age, with a mustache and broken teeth. “A bricky thing, aren’t we?”
“I’d kindly ask you to leave me alone.” She kept her voice cool, scanning him for weapons all the while. The bulge in the front of his black coat suggested he might be carrying a gun. It was a nice coat—far too nice for him to be a vagrant or a simple pickpocket. That didn’t bode well. A dawning sensation of horror crept over Zaria like a chill.
The man cackled. It sounded oddly akin to a dog’s bark. “I admit, I’d have thought you more difficult to track down. It ain’t often a lass goes out alone after dark ’less they’re a dolly-mop looking for coin or trouble.”
“I’m not for hire, and I assure you I’m not looking for trouble.”
“Well, you’ve found it anyway.” His face was a leer. “You don’t much look like an alchemologist.”
“Beg pardon?” she gasped, but he didn’t repeat himself. Suddenly, his earlier words clicked into place—heknewher. Knew she was an alchemologist.
She was atarget.
Zaria began to back away, hoping to put some distance between them in case she had to fight. Fear was metallic in the back of her throat, her heart rising to meet it. Was it worth fighting or was it better to run? How good was his aim in the dark?
The man slipped a hand into the front of his coat, and Zaria stopped thinking. She lunged at him, barreling into his sturdy body with all the force she could muster. It was foolish. So, so foolish. But all she could think was that if she could trap his arm against his chest, he might not be able to draw the gun she was sure he was reaching for.
They struggled for a second that felt like an eternity. Her hair came loose around her shoulders as he shoved her to the ground, the breath rushing out of her. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. She felt sick. What she could see of the man’s face was smug fury as he pointed the gun, ignoring the desperation with which she tried to scrabble away. In that moment, she only had a single thought.
Jules, I’m so sorry.
“Oi! What the hell’s going on here?”
Zaria tensed as a new voice split the air, this one louder and angrier. It bounced off the factory walls, echoing in a way that indicated the speaker had no qualms about being overheard.
The man glanced over Zaria’s shoulder, mouth forming a grimaceas his eyes lit with what might have been… recognition? He stowed his gun back in his coat, then took off into the shadows.
A mixture of relief and dismay washed over Zaria as she realized who had spoken. She took a deep breath, shuttering her eyes and flexing her fingers for a moment before scrambling shakily to her feet. OfcourseKane would find her.
