“You still hold all the cards,” Kane pointed out. “Assuming that’s the metaphor we’re going with. If my information helps you catch the Curator, you let us go. If it doesn’t, you don’t. Either way, you win.”
“He better know what he’s doing,” Jules muttered to Fletcher under his breath. Luckily, Price didn’t seem to overhear.
“Fine,” the inspector bit out. “Tell me what you know, then, before I change my mind.”
Kane held up a finger. “Just let me run a question by my companion.” He turned to Jules, lowering his voice to whisper in the boy’s ear. “Time to show off how much Zaria’s taught you about alchemology, Zhao. Why would Ward have wanted a primateria source created using his energy? He hired Cecile to do just that, but why not let her use her own?”
Jules frowned. “There are a couple of possibilities, I suppose. For one, Cecile might not have had enough energy left to give. You know alchemology wears on a person, and she’d been practicing for some time. Had she died, she wouldn’t have been much use to Ward anymore.”
Kane thought of the letter they’d found in Ward’s office. Recited what he could remember of it to himself. He was beginning to develop a rather horrible suspicion, but if he was correct… “And the other possibility?”
Jules lifted a shoulder. “Well, had Cecile been successful, she wouldn’t have been able to replicate her work without Ward’s cooperation. When it comes to the Magnum Opus, replication is easier than creating a source from scratch, but it won’t work unless you have the same well of energy to draw from. By making Cecile usehislife force, Ward would have been limiting her power.” Jules’s sudden animation drained away. “What does any of that matter, though? She never managed to do it.”
“It matters,” Kane said. He was abruptly certain of that fact. A shiver of consternation rippled down his spine. “Thanks.” He turned back to Price. The inspector was waiting with crossed arms, looking equal parts perplexed and irritated. “I know what the Curator’s planning. And if I’m not mistaken, it’s going to happen tonight.”
KANE
Kane felt, absurdly, as though he were being led to his death.
He’d negotiated a deal with Price, yet he didn’t trust the man at all. Foreboding settled around his shoulders as he was led through the downpour in the direction of the Crystal Palace’s main entrance, surrounded on all sides by armed, irritated-looking coppers. Jules and Fletcher were somewhere behind him, he knew, but he didn’t dare turn around.
His blood felt like ice in his veins, and not just from the cold. He couldn’t afford to be wrong about this. If he was—if nobody was at the Exhibition tonight—then he’d gambled all their lives away for nothing. That, and he would have failed to rescue Zaria. Would undoubtedly never see her again, given that he’d be spending the rest of his life in prison.
Of course, in that instance, the rest of his life would only beas long as it took to condemn him to the gallows. Price had kindly reminded Kane of that fact on the way here.
Still, all signs pointed tosomethingbeing about to happen. Zaria being kidnapped on the same day the fourth alchemological device appeared at the Exhibition couldn’t be a coincidence. She was the one who’d realized the center of the Crystal Palace was arranged in the perfect orientation to be a site of creation for the Magnum Opus, and Kane trusted her knowledge. It was the only reason he’d raised the matter to Price at all.
Zaria was cleverer than the rest of them combined. Without her help, Kane wouldn’t have the few clues he did. Now he had to hope that what she’d discovered would lead to her rescue.
“What the hell is that?” Price said, jolting Kane out of his mental spiral. A hand held up to shield his face, the inspector squinted through the rain at what appeared to be a pile of clothing on the gravel a short distance from the building. A beat after Kane had the thought, however, the shape moved, briefly illuminated by a silent crack of lightning.
His heart plummeted into his stomach. Because it was agirl, he saw as they approached, a few of the officers raising their guns. His first hope was that it might be Zaria, but at the same time, the idea promptly terrified him. The ground around the girl was stained with what could only be blood. It didn’t appear to be enough to suggest she was bleeding out, but then again, it could well have been washed away by the downpour.
“State your name,” Price ordered, motioning a couple of his men forward. They approached the girl with weapons raised, and she lifted her head, pale face contorted in pain and eyes wide with fear.
Not Zaria. Kane silently thanked God, though He likely hadn’t had much to do with it.
Jules’s voice sounded from just behind Kane. “You don’t need to point your guns at her! Do you seriously think she poses any danger?”
Price ignored that. “Yourname.”
The girl swallowed. Her hair was soaking wet, having come partially loose from its knot. It looked as though it might be a shade of red when dry. She had both hands pressed to her hip area firmly enough that her fingers made bloody indents in her ruined dress. “Maisie,” she said, the word a barely audible gasp.
Kane was vaguely aware of Fletcher taking a few steps forward, ignoring the coppers that moved with him. His friend’s gaze was wide, his jaw slackening. Despite his cuffed wrists, Fletcher lifted both hands as if to reach for the girl. His head canted to the side as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. Kane shot him a warning look, silently trying to dissuade his friend from taking another step.
Fletcher ignored him, his lips forming a word Kane couldn’t decipher.
“What are you doing here?” Price asked Maisie. He was hovering over her now, raising his voice as if concerned she might not be able to hear him. “How were you injured?”
Maisie blinked rapidly. There was something familiar about the way her cheeks hollowed when her mouth tightened. “You need to get inside. There’s—” she cut off, wincing. “You need to stop her.”
“Stop who?” Kane interrupted, ignoring the inspector’s venomous look. The officer nearest him muttered something under his breath.
Price sighed through his nose. “Answer him,” he told Maisie, the demand laced with annoyance.
She didn’t, though. Her focus snapped up to land on something—no, someone—behind the inspector. She had been shivering, either due to the cold or impending shock, but all at once her entire bodywent motionless. A single word escaped her lips that Kane couldn’t hear. This time, though, he recognized its shape.
Fletcher.
