“Is that why you came to me?” she said eventually, voicing the question that had been weighing on her all day. “Did you know what was at stake and that I’d be easy to persuade?”
Kane shook his head. “No. I mean, I knew George Zhao was in trouble, but that’s not why I came to you. I came to you because you do good work. For all I knew, you didn’t carewhathappened to the pawnbroker and his son. All I’m worried about is getting this damned necklace and saving Fletcher. Understood? You only need to worry about your role.”
“And will my life be in danger as well?” Zaria demanded.
“No,” Kane shot back. “He has no idea you exist. You have no reason to be afraid.”
Her chest tightened. “When you sayhe, do you mean Ward?”
There was a beat of silence. Kane worked his jaw. Eventually, he sighed, the mask seeming to fragment and fall away from his face. In that moment, he was not a thief, not a con artist, and not a kingpin’s lackey. He was just a young man sharpened by fear and swathed in desperation, his expression as transparent as the glass walls of the Crystal Palace.
“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Yes, I mean Ward. Mad as it may sound, he cares for me, and he wants that necklace more than anything. He doesn’t know you’re helping me, but even if he did, you’d still be safe.I swear it. Fletcher is his way of keeping me in line, that’s all.” For a heartbeat, Kane seemed almost uncomfortable. Then he stood, went to grab his coat, and threw it on with considerable drama. “It’s about time we left to meet Cecile.”
Zaria spoke without truly intending to, the words slipping out in a rush. “Cecile used to work with my father. There was a time when he was obsessed with finding a primateria source, but he gave up and destroyed all his research. I’m hoping Cecile might remember what he learned, because I haven’t a clue where to start looking. And I’m… I need it. I can’t go on this way forever, and what will happen to Jules if I die? He’ll never escape this hell.”
Kane blinked, seeing her admission for what it was—an offering. One painful truth exchanged for another. “You’d do anything for your friend.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“So would I.”
“I know.”
They stared at each other, strangely hesitant in the face of mutual understanding. Could you truly be so terrible, Zaria wondered, if you were willing to lay down your life for another? If you cared about someone enough to want to give them the world? Kane Durante may have been mysterious, but he was no enigma. He simply wore his pain like an undercoat, donning layer on layer overtop.
“It’s hard,” Zaria whispered, “to care about someone you don’t deserve.”
She swore she saw Kane recoil and feared she had let her guard drop too much. But then his shoulders sagged, and he lifted his eyes to hers. They weren’t shadowed anymore; rather, they were the color of warm honey, the irises ringed in green. “If I can steal this damned necklace, Ward will cut Fletcher loose. He’ll free him from this life Idragged him into—a life he’s far too good for. How he’s managed tostaygood despite everything, I haven’t a clue, but what I do know is that I need to make sure it never breaks him.” The column of Kane’s throat shifted as he swallowed, the inked symbol there standing out in stark relief. Vulnerability pinched the corners of his mouth. “Help me make sure it doesn’t break him. Please.”
The breath fled Zaria’s lungs. When she’d agreed to work for Kane, she’d assumed his motives were selfish. Just another criminal after something precious, prepared to take down everyone in his way. Now, though, he seemed human. Someone she could relate to whether she liked it or not. If she was in Kane’s place—if Fletcher had been Jules—wouldn’t she do whatever it took, no matter the cost?
The answer came readily.
“I’ll help you,” Zaria told him, and meant it. “But first, take me to Cecile.”
ZARIA
THE SKY OUTSIDE WAS AN OMINOUS BLACK, LACED WITH LOWfog that settled around the rooftops. Zaria followed Kane back toward the slum, where inebriated men with soot-smeared faces hobbled down the street, casting them wary looks. More than once she swerved to avoid unidentifiable puddles that had accumulated in the slopes and divots of the cobblestones, leaching a putrid stench into the air.
“Which church are we going to, exactly?” Zaria asked as they turned into Smith Square, tearing her gaze away from the ground.
“St. John’s,” Kane responded, pointing straight ahead. His chin was tilted skyward, and he looked rather like a beast scenting the air.
Zaria had seen St. John’s before, though she’d never had occasion to actually enter it. It was an imposing stone building constructed in the Baroque style, all columns and cornices with four thick towers protruding from the roof in a square formation. Zaria had alwaysthought there was something dark about the place. It reminded her of a mausoleum, and she had the sense there ought to be gargoyles or faceless stone angels at its entrance. Something about the towering walls with their crowning pediments demanded silence—or perhaps reverence.
Nerves coalesced at her core like a snarl of tangled wire. Desperate as she was to see Cecile again, Zaria hadn’t let herself dwell on what that meeting might actually look like. Neither of them had ever been particularly good at showing emotion, and she was braced for the awkwardness that might ensue. If she had learned anything about herself, it was this: Her reaction to small things was too big, her reaction to big things too small. She could never quite seem to strike the right balance, and any attempt to do so felt horribly contrived.
Cecile never judged you, Zaria reminded herself, mentally swatting aside the plethora of possible reactions she’d begun to consider just so she could be sure to choose the correct one.Anyway, she’s not like that. It doesn’t need to be some big moment.
But the flutter of her stomach didn’t appear to be listening.
She trailed behind Kane as he ascended the wide front steps. When he reached the entrance, his figure cast into shadow by the supported overhang, he paused. “Have a weapon ready just in case.”
He already had his slick revolver in hand, and raised it with all the confidence of someone who’d pulled a trigger many times before. Zaria shoved the barrel of the gun down. She’d taken to carrying a gun of her own given the recent attempt on her life, but they didn’t need weapons for this. “Cecile isn’t dangerous. And just so you know, I’m talking to her alone.”
The look Kane leveled at her could have cut glass. His vulnerability from earlier was gone; in its place was a boy hewn from stone. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m not interested in having you eavesdrop on our conversation.”
