She tore into the dresser first, throwing open the drawers and rifling among the belongings inside. There wasn’t much. A few extra shirts. A knife. She went to the mirror next, pulling it away from the wall and inspecting the panels behind it.
The place was barer than bare. Suitable only for the most boring of fishermen.
She couldn’t understand what he had meant by the “eyes of the devil,” couldn’t piece together what he might have known about Phineas.
Chills crawled up her spine. The sudden sensation of being watched caressed the back of her head, and a single, soft tap against glass left her momentarily frozen in place.
She turned her head wildly just in time to see a small bird take flight. Its wings were no larger than the length of her hand, and they flapped ferociously as the animal escaped out the open window.
She sighed. There was nothing here for her to find. If she wanted to get the upper hand on Phineas, she had to hope their meeting later tonight would be enlightening. For now, it was best if she followed the bird’s example and escaped while she could.
Nes pressed herselfinto the shadows of South Street and tried not to breathe in through her nose.
As always, the smell of dead fish and the sea was strong in the Wharf. Minutes passed and then, off in the distance, the clocktower chimed. Once, twice.
Two a.m. A figure emerged. She hadn’t seen where he’d come from. One second the street was empty, and the next Phineas was there. Dressed in a threadbare dark cloak, hood up, he stood under the light of the street lantern beside number 122.
She waited, debating. Harrow wouldn’t show. She could step out pretending to be Keifer Harrow, but even with her face covered, Phineas wouldn’t be fooled.
She still didn’t know for what reason Suri had given her the letter. She would have known Nes couldn’t risk approaching Phineas. So there had to be something else she wanted Nes to see, something else she could use against her old boss.
Phineas turned, the front of his cloak billowing. She frowned. He wasn’t wearing red. And then he lowered his hood, and she saw his face for the first time.
It wasn’t Phineas. The man standing under the light was larger than Phineas, his face wider. He was older, too, by a decade at least, with cropped red hair that curled around the tops of his ears.
She didn’t understand. There was no one else on the street. It was possible Phineas had found out Suri had passed her the letter. Or it might all be a setup on Suri’s part.
But she couldn’t believe that. Not after what happened with Genna.
She thought of Phineas—of his smarmy smile and his greed and how he was always dying his hair. From black to blond to red—
I’ll be the one in red.
She stared at the stranger and the red hair on his head.
The note hadn’t said he’d bewearingred. She watched the man, studying the way he held himself, his facial expressions. His stance was haughty, entitled in a way a man in a threadbare cloak shouldn’t be. But it wasn’t until he pulled out a pocket watch and scowled at the time that she saw him.
Phineas was here. He was the one in red. Not the one wearing red, but the one with red hair.
At last, she understood. How Phineas had gathered so much influence so quickly. Why his beauty had always felt like something he’d collected over time. Because the persona he portrayed was nothing more than a meticulously crafted painting.
After years of working for him, Nes finally saw how Phineas was a monster covered in brilliant colors. And, at long last, she understood why she’d never been able to take him down.
Because his game wasn’t just one of moves and countermoves. It was a game of magic and of beasts. A game she, too, knew how to play.
28
Toran
The room was empty.
A breeze teased the open window, the hanging curtains rippling hard with the same feeling surging within him.
Nes was gone.
She had left him behind. They were a team, and she’d said she would wait, but still—he should have known better.
The empty room was proof enough. She didn’t wait.
