“I’m sorry to hear it,” Kane said automatically, remembering that the duke had been heavily involved in organizing security for the Exhibition.
Without warning, the inspector took hold of Kane’s sleeve, pulling him away from the doors and into a small room not unlike the one in which Price Junior had cornered them. Once they were concealed, he turned to face Kane with an impatient huff. “Tell me what you’ve learned so far.”
How to answer that? All they had were scraps of information and half-baked theories. Kane cleared his throat, grasping the opportunity as he saw it. “I believe the Curator has some connection to the kingpin of Seven Dials.”
“There is no kingpin of Seven Dials,” Price grunted.
“There wasn’t until recently. He goes by the surname Vaughan, which I have reason to believe is a pseudonym. What he really wants is control of the dark market, and he seems to be doing his best to get me out of the picture. Certain evidence points to him having considerable knowledge of alchemology.”
“You think this Vaughan is working with the Curator?”
“Yes.” Kane spoke with a confidence he didn’t feel. Their evidence was circumstantial at best. But the enigmatic kingpin was becoming a problem, and one that Kane wanted gone—connection to the Curator or not. If he could set the Metropolitan Police on Vaughan’s scent, perhaps they could force the man back into the shadows where he belonged.
Price fingered his mustache. It was slightly overlong, covering more of his mouth than was customary. “Bring me proof. Your freedom is riding on it, Durante.”
“I intend to, Inspector, and I’m well aware. What haveyoulearned, if you don’t mind my asking?”
It was obvious from the narrowing of Price’s eyes that he did mind, though he answered regardless. “I was able to convince an alchemologist to speak to me, and he believes the devices are… harnessing something.”
Kane thought of what he’d observed, and his breathing turned shallow. “What could they possibly be harnessing?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“You don’t think it has anything to do with the light?”
Price’s gaze tightened further. “I don’t follow.”
“Each of the devices emits a glow,” Kane said. “Surely you’ve noticed that it started out rather faint and now each of the orbs is brighter.”
“Oh—yes. Of course I’ve noticed.” The inspector made a show of checking his pocket watch, likely attempting to cover up the fact that he had not, in fact, noticed the difference. Kane supposed that was the problem with visiting the Exhibition every day, which Price no doubt had: When you looked at something often enough, you didn’t notice it gradually changing before your eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going.”
“Inspector.” Kane shifted closer to the man, lowering his voice. “Iwillfind out who the Curator is. I intend to watch as you and your officers take him down. And then, once this is all behind us, I hope I can rely on your cooperation and support. It’s clear that with Ward gone, there are those who think they can increase their own power by moving against me. I may be younger than him, but I’m perfectly capable of running things, and I don’t intend to be any more forgiving of those who cross me.”
Price gave the slightest incline of his head. “I understand your concern, Durante, but my ultimatum has nothing to do with a desire to see anyone take your place. I care only for retaining my job and status. In that, I suspect, we are alike. Should you be successful in finding the Curator, we’ll put this in the past. Our partnership can resume as though this never happened.”
“Excellent.” Kane stepped away from Price, keen to exit the small room. Fletcher and Zaria would be waiting for him. “Farewell.”
The inspector dipped his chin. “Four days.”
Kane refrained from saying he’d heard the warning well enough the first time. He took his leave, hardly noticing the wall of sound as he forced his way to the nearest exit and barreled into Hyde Park. The crowd outside the Crystal Palace showed no indication of thinning, and the sun was approaching its zenith, casting the wide swaths of grass in dappled light. He quickened his step and yanked the collar of his jacket higher, an automatic response to the increased pedestrian traffic. Not a day went by that he didn’t resent Ward’s mark, stamped on his throat for all to see.
Unsurprisingly, Kane spotted Fletcher first—he and Zaria were waiting by the steam room as discussed, scouring the throngs of patrons. Looking for Kane, no doubt. Zaria was the first to spot him. For the briefest of moments, her face appeared to light up.
But maybe he was only imagining things, because the next second she had schooled her expression back to detachment. “What took you so long?” she demanded once he was within earshot. The question was imbued with distrust, her gaze accusatory.
This was the version of Zaria that caused Kane the most internal strife—the headstrong, determined girl who stared him in the face and made him bear witness to the blazing judgment in her eyes. This was the version of Zaria that had betrayed him.
It was also, however inconveniently, the version he liked best. He was beginning to wonder if he was some kind of masochist.
“Ran into Inspector Price,” he said, which earned a curse from Fletcher.
“Seriously? What did he want?”
“I assume to ask after our progress,” Zaria suggested warily. “What did you tell him?”
Kane motioned for them to lower their voices. “I was the one who approached him,” he hissed, and went on to summarize the conversation, ending with his observation of the devices. “I circled back to take another look at the first one. I’m positive the glow is brighter.”
“I thought the same when I examined the second device,” Zaria said, “although I couldn’t be sure. If you noticed it, too…”
