“Good luck with that,” he went on, voice scathing. “I’m not convinced those even exist. Why do you think there aren’t exactly an abundance of dark market alchemologists?”
“Because most people don’t have a prayer of mastering the craft. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were envious, Kane.”
He lowered his pipe, bending at the waist so as to lean in closer. “Ward once told me that creating magic is like falling in love. You want it at first, but then it begins to hurt, and you can’t bring yourself to stop. You can’t be compelled to draw away. And finally”—he smiled winningly, wickedly—“it kills you.”
Perhaps itwaslike love—at least from what little Zaria knew of such things. She knew the way her father’s love for her mother had left him a bitter shell of a man. But it turned her cold to hear Kane describe it so.
“I didn’t ask for your input,” she ground out. “Can you help me find her or not? It’s inyourbest interests, you know. If she does have a magic source, I’ll be able to create everything you ask of me without difficulty. Stealing the necklace will be easy.”
Kane made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, peeling himself away from the wall. The smell of his pipe was acrid in Zaria’s lungs. “What’s her name, this woman?”
“Cecile Meurdrac.”
“Meurdrac,” Kane echoed, the hint of his accent shaping the syllables somewhat differently. He stared into the middle distance as though he’d abruptly forgotten Zaria’s presence. Then he added, “I’ll do my best. But you owe me a favor in return. No questions asked, at the time of my choosing.”
Zaria swallowed. The action took more effort than usual. “What kind of favor?”
“No idea. I suppose I’ll know when the time comes.”
“Absolutely not. Tell me now.”
Kane tilted his head, teeth gleaming in the moonlight. He looked rather haunted like this, shadowed on one side by the looming factory. “Ever so bold, Miss Mendoza.”
“Zaria is fine.”
He didn’t correct himself. “You asked me for a favor. I don’t do favors—I negotiate.” That cursed pipe was at his lips again, and he blew a short puff of smoke in her direction. “Take it or leave it.”
Leave it, a voice hissed in the back of her mind, and it sounded distinctly like Jules. But Zaria had never been one to shy away from risks. Everything she had ever gotten, she’d gotten by playing the game, no matter what that game might be.
“Fine,” she said, her mouth twisting around the word. “I’ll take it. But only if you’re successful in finding Cecile.”
Kane shook her hand for the second time that week, yanking her close so his tobacco-laced breath was at her ear. “I assure you,Zaria—nobody hides from me.”
As she ripped free from his grasp, heart beating in her throat, Zaria believed him.
“Now,” he said, shaking the contents of his pipe out and stowing it in his pocket. “Let me escort you home.”
“That won’t be necessary.” But a chill slipped down her spine as she considered the prospect of being accosted once more by her attacker, and she didn’t argue as Kane trailed her all the way back to the pawnshop, relenting to her unspoken—but obvious—desire for silence. Only when they reached the door crowned by its trio of golden orbs did Zaria deign to address him again, pivoting to find him far closer than she’d anticipated. Her next exhale tangled in her chest.
“Are you planning to follow me everywhere from now on?” she managed to force out.
“If I need to. Don’t go out alone. At the very least, bring your unpleasant friend along.”
“His name is Jules” was her automatic reply. “But fine.”
“So youarecapable of doing as you’re told.”
“This may surprise you, but I have very little interest in being killed.”
“Good. I need you.” Kane tilted his head, his gaze serious, piercing. A lock of unruly chestnut hair had come loose from its normally slick style, and it curled against his brow, the darkness turning it nearly black. Zaria stood motionless, pinned to the spot, entirely unsure what to make of that. A heartbeat later, Kane straightened, winking. “Because of our agreement, of course. Speaking of which, don’t forget that we start tomorrow. Hyde Park, two o’clock. Don’t come alone. Dress nicely.”
“Don’t forget about Cecile,” Zaria said.
“Oh, I’ll find the woman, just as I’ll find the man who wants you dead. And when I do”—Kane smiled unpleasantly—“someone will be very sorry indeed.”
Only after he was gone did Zaria remember how to breathe again.
ZARIA
