“Excellent,” said Kane. “Then we’ll go tonight.”
ZARIA
It was just after dark as they picked their way through Devil’s Acre, saying little and avoiding the familiar chaos. When they turned down Horseferry Road, Zaria found herself venturing a sideways glance at Kane. The drawn look to his face made her wonder if he hadn’t been sleeping. It was harder to resent him when he looked this way—not like a killer or a kingpin, but a boy who desperately needed a nap.
She was forever noticing things she didn’t want to about Kane: How he sucked his cheeks in ever so slightly when he schooled his face to neutrality. The silvery sheen his eyes took on in the moonlight, and how the shape of his nose was a near-perfect angle, just like the rest of him. He was handsome in the way of the marble statues displayed in the Crystal Palace. Corners and edges, dagger-sharp lines and a cold exterior.
When he caught Zaria looking, he arched a quizzical brow. Shebit the inside of her lip and dragged her attention back to the street. There were a couple makeshift shelters by the gutters that hadn’t been there before, and nearby a woman collected her washing from a clothesline stretching between two of the cramped slum houses. Grime clung to the buildings wherever Zaria looked, giving everything a rather dull, grayish tinge.
Still, it was familiar in its squalor, and she could tell from a few of the glances that their party was recognized. Perhaps not Kane and Fletcher, but certainly herself and Jules. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, hoping her less-than-open posture meant she wouldn’t need to field any questions about where they’d gone or what they’d been doing. Did Vaughan have eyes here, too? After catching sight of Maisie at the Crystal Palace, she felt horribly exposed whenever she left the manor.
Jules uttered a curse as they approached the next intersection. Zaria had half a mind to echo it—to their left was the blackened rubble of what had once been the pawnshop. Her limbs suddenly felt heavy, her vision blurring.
“Well” was all Jules said.
“Yeah.” The word seemed to get stuck in her throat. What remained of the pawnshop’s metallic sign protruded from the center of the debris, covered in soot but glinting in the moonlight nonetheless.It was just a place, Zaria reminded herself.What matters is that we survived.
“Are you coming?” Kane demanded from where he and Fletcher waited a short distance up the road.
Jules shot a venomous look in their direction. Zaria gave her friend’s arm a fortifying squeeze, to which he offered a grim yet appreciative smile, and they continued on.
Kane and Fletcher were waiting on the doorstep when theyreached the Hoffmans’ apothecary. The small shop was a block off Victoria Street, right at the edge of Devil’s Acre. As such, it was frequented by both poor factory workers and well-to-do middle-class patrons. Although Zaria had been here countless times, she’d never had occasion to come at night. It looked far less welcoming with the windows dark and the wooden sign swaying ominously in the wind.
“Someone should be here,” Kane said, rapping his knuckles against the door. “They live just behind the shop.”
“Gert is rarely home,” Jules offered, “but Louisa is always around.”
Zaria spoke low and rapidly. “Let me do the talking. I have good rapport with the Hoffmans.” She cut Kane a sidelong glance. “Somehow I doubt you can say the same.”
The seconds passed in creeping increments. Just as Zaria was beginning to wonder whether anyone would answer at all, she heard the sound of a sliding dead bolt. Louisa’s face loomed before them a moment later, equal parts expectant and apprehensive. It wasn’t difficult to guess whose presence inspired the latter.
“Master Zhao. Miss Mendoza,” Louisa said, her voice firmer than Zaria was used to. She wore a high-necked brown dress with white sleeves, and her graying hair was pulled back into a tight knot. “I see you haven’t come alone.”
“Good evening.” Kane shot her an unnerving smile, teeth gleaming. “I take it you remember me.”
The shopkeeper’s gaze was cool. “I do indeed. You’re difficult to forget, especially when you barge your way into my shop and demand a portion of my proceeds.”
“A kingpin doesn’t let you conduct business in his territory for free,” Kane returned, expression equally icy. “Particularly when that business is illegal. Should you ever draw the interest of the authorities, you’ll be grateful to have me as an ally.”
Louisa turned to Zaria. “Dare I inquire about how the two of you are connected?”
Although she knew the woman wasn’t implying anything likethat, Zaria fought to control her features, very pointedly not looking at Kane. “It’s a long story. As of right now, our interests are aligned. Could we come in?”
“We’re not open.”
“I am thekingpin,” Kane snapped. “I’m not overly worried about your hours of operation.”
Zaria shot him a glare before turning back to Louisa. “We know it’s late,” she said. “I’m sorry about that. But I think you may be able to assist us with something. It’s important, and of a rather… sensitive nature.”
“I’m sure it will be just as important tomorrow in the daylight,” Louisa said firmly, making to close the door, but Fletcher stuck his foot in the way.
“I suggest you reconsider,” he murmured, not bothering to conceal the threat in his words. Zaria abruptly understood why people found Fletcher Collins intimidating.
Louisa’s mouth thinned, and Zaria hurried to try and salvage the situation. “Please—it’s about primateria sources.”
There was a long pause during which Louisa blinked, digesting that. Something like fear tightened the corners of her mouth. Zaria held her breath as she awaited a response.
Then, finally, Louisa stepped away from the door, granting them entry. “Fine,” she said. “But you’ll have to be quick about it, and we can’t talk here. Follow me to the back room.”
