Jules slowed, frowning. “You’d better not be talking about Zaria.”
“Who the fuck else?”
The other boy’s face began to redden. “She was withyou, if you’ll recall. Is this some kind of sick joke?”
“No,” Kane snarled. He didn’t have time for this. “She wasn’t where I left her, so I hoped she’d come back here to find you. I take it that isn’t the case.”
“I haven’t seen her since you two left. Where could she possibly have gone?” Jules dragged a hand down the side of his neck, distressed enough that he didn’t take offense to Kane’s tone. “Granted, she doesn’t always think everything through, but I can’t imagine she started gallivanting around this place on her own.”
Christ almighty.“Really? You can’t imagine that?” He may not have known Zaria as well as Jules, but if something had come up that she’d deemed important, there was a chance she’d pursued it without considering the consequences.
“We’ll have to search the rest of the building,” Jules said, looking apprehensive at the mere thought.
Kane was about to agree, then changed his mind and strode overto the door they’d originally entered through. He rapped out two sets of triplets as he said, “Let’s talk to Fletcher first. It’s a long shot, but maybe Zaria already left.”
Jules nodded, pressing his lips into a white-edged line.
They waited a long moment. Then another. The pit in Kane’s stomach entrenched itself even deeper. “What the hell,” he muttered, suddenly not caring whether it was safe to exit. If anyone besides Fletcher was out there, he would shoot them on sight. If anyone hadharmedFletcher, he would carve them into tiny pieces and hurl them in the reeking river.
Slamming his shoulder into the door, Kane burst outside, glancing wildly around through the deluge of rain. The humidity and smell of petrichor were sobering after Mansion House’s cool, lacquer-scented air.
Fletcher was nowhere to be seen. Kane bellowed his friend’s name, not caring who might be around to hear. His heartbeat was painfully fast in his chest. First Zaria, now Fletcher—what was going on?
A breath later, however, a groan answered him. He spun in the direction of the sound, giving a strangled yelp when he spotted Fletcher sprawled on the ground, propped up against the side of the building. Fear tore through Kane like a jagged arrow.
“Fletch,” he rasped. Incognizant of the rain, he sprinted over to his friend, Jules on his heels.
Fletcher groaned a second time, pushing himself farther upright. Rain had plastered his hair to his skull, and the collar of his wet shirt was askew. Despite his wan face, he didn’t appear to be bleeding, and he slapped Kane’s hand away when he tried to yank his coat open. “Stop fussing.”
Kane crouched down beside him. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Fletcher blinked hard, squinting slightly. “I mean, I think so. Do you know where my—?” He broke off, spotting his gun a few paces away, and reached out to grab it. “Never mind. Did you get him?”
“Getwho?” Jules demanded.
“The man who had Zaria.” Fletcher shook his head as if attempting to clear it. “I saw them leaving together. They were headed toward a stagecoach. It was obvious she hadn’t gone with him willingly—she was trying to pull away—but they also seemed to know each other. I went after them and pulled out my gun, but he shoved Zaria in front of him. I wasn’t confident I could shoot without hitting her, and then he shotme. With what, I’m not sure. I think I blacked out.” He frowned down at his body. “I don’t think I’m injured, though.”
Kane ground his teeth. He knew exactly what Fletcher had been shot with. “Zaria brought that aleuite revolver with her,” he reminded his friend. “The one she shot Price Junior with at the Exhibition. I bet you anything that man wrested it from her and used it to shoot you.”
“Who was he?” Jules asked again. “You said Zaria seemed to know him.”
Fletcher shrugged, using the wall to push himself to his feet. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before, but I could tell he was tall. Middle-aged. He was wearing a top hat, and I think his hair was dark.”
It wasn’t a particularly unique description, but the mention of the hat ignited something in Kane’s mind. “Was he wearing a dark coat and blue cravat? Pin-striped trousers?”
“Could’ve been. It was difficult to tell, given the rain, and I wasn’t exactly paying attention to his outfit.”
Jules’s stare was boring into the side of Kane’s face. “What are you not saying?”
“There was a man dressed like that at the start of the commission’s meeting. He left before it officially began and never returned.”
“Do you think he caught Zaria spying?”
“Maybe.” Kane didn’t know what to think. “I don’t know why he would take her, though.”
“What if—” Jules broke off to gape suddenly at Fletcher. “Hold on. You said tall? Middle-aged? Dark hair?”
“Yes,” Fletcher replied, nonplussed.
