“It does,” Pax says at last. “Julia’s Bureau means the world to me. I left everything behind to become a part of it.”
What, exactly, has Pax left in his past? Who?
No. I don’t need any of those answers if this is all temporary.
“There’s a saying in Russian,” William says. “I won’t try to pronounce it—my Russian is terrible. But its literal translation is ‘The thief has a burning hat.’ It refers to someone who has an uneasy conscience. It is you.”
William’s fists clench, his jaw tight. “You’re filled with anger,” he says to Pax. “Anger is misunderstood. Many think it should be quashed, but it’s likely the most useful of emotions. What change would happen in this world if not for anger?”
He feels it, Stella.
Every bit of it.
“You’re an empath,” I say.
“I’m excellent at it, too,” he says without pretense.
The four of us—Pax, Nirav, Kiyoko, and myself—all shift eyes at one another and wonder:
Could the list have led us here for William, and not Mlle DuBois?
Pax glances sidewise at William; it’s all he can bear, really, because it’s like staring at a beating heart, fragile and gasping.
Pax is unsure. And I know why:
Is it fair to ask an empath to exact revenge?
Pax’s caution here impresses me. While he’s willing to go to seemingly any lengths to recruit that minx Clarice DuBois, he’s still maintained enough humanity to worry about corrupting William.
“I understand your hesitation,” William says. He shifts and produces a book. An appointment book, stuffed full of scraps of paper, with a worn leather cover.
“Does it help if I bring Mlle DuBois’s contacts along with me?”
“William,” Pax says, clapping his shoulder. “Welcome to Julia’s Bureau.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
William joins us, and he fits right in like he was the missing cog in our machine. Right away, he organizes and files and takes over the financial records for Julia’s Bureau.
“Numbers are comforting,” he tells me. “They are neutral and factual and unfeeling.” He clicks his tongue at Pax’s recordkeeping. “A phonograph? Honestly?” He adjusts his spectacles and dives back in.
Aye, but is he too good to be true?
He’s withholding something from you, Stella.
Spirit offers me an image of a poker player when I’m around William, of someone holding a fan of playing cards close to their chest, face inscrutable. I argue with Spirit,Aren’t we all hiding something?
Kiyoko bounds in. “You ready, Stella?”
I stand. “Let’s go get our blueprints.”
“Be careful,” Pax says as we approach the front door.
Rather than comfort me, it stokes my ire. “Somehow I’ve managed to live eighteen years without your wishes of care.”
Pax’s silver-green eyes sparkle. “Frosty! That’s what I adore about you, Stella.”
Adore? I can’t process this right now. “Goodbye, partner!” I say. Pax grins with half his face.
