Chapter 46

Ihad just thoughtlessly run into the man who was single-handedly responsible for hunting down my family, murdering my best friend, and destroying my train. Gauging the easy smile he wore as he stared down my dress, I knew he had no idea who I was.

To my right, a servant passed with a tray full of used dishes, cutlery gleaming in the light from the gas lamps. How easy it would be to grab a knife from a plate and shove it into his throat. Let him bleed out all over the pearly starched collar that dug into his thick neck.

I took a steady breath instead. His time would come if I stayed patient.

"Are you looking for something? Perhaps you'd like to go somewhere quieter?" he spoke again when I didn't reply to his previous question. But I had to take a second to compose myself—to still the tremble in my voice.

Think, Camilla. I needed a good enough lie to get out of here fast before he recognized the scars on my skin, which were far too numerous for a woman of my supposed position.

"How kind of you to ask," I said in a pitch higher than my usual tone. "It's actually the funniest thing. You see, I left my engagement ring on one of the plates the servants took, not realizing I had done so when they cleared the table. I was just heading to the kitchens to see if they found my ring before it was lost forever."

The mention of a betrothed must have soured some of his excitement, for his eyes finally found my face. I lowered my chin to look instead at my hands, rubbing at the spot on my finger where a ring should have been.

He sighed and took a small step back. "I can... go check with the kitchen?"

I shook my head. "No, that won't be necessary. I already have a guard searching for me. I'd hate to waste your time, Mr. Firenze."

His lips thinned as his smile stretched, and I suppressed a shiver, recalling how I had nearly married that oily grin. "What did you say your name was?"

"My name is Ingolia. Jules Ingolia. It was lovely to meet you." I gave him a mock curtsey and walked away. He held up his hand just before I could get around him, skimming the space above my navel.

"I hope you find what you are looking for, Jules."

The way he said the words made me feel like there was something more to them. Or perhaps it was just the arrogance in his raised chin, the disdain I held for him in my heart that disfigured the way he looked down at me like a bird toying with a mouse.

Without another word, he finally lowered his hand and left me standing there in the hall, my pulse racing from the strange interaction.

"There you are. Hells, I told you not to move! Where have you been?" My brother's gravelly voice snapped me out of a trance. He was wearing a full watchman's uniform. The obsidian helmet covered his head, while silver shoulder gauntlets and the black cape draping behind his back fit him well enough to look like it was tailored just for him. Narcissa chose her victims well.

He glanced behind me, eyes flicking over the strangers behind us. "Never mind, we need to get moving. It's getting late."

I nodded numbly, letting his irritation with me roll off my back like rain on a window. "Lead the way."

He turned on his heel and ventured back down the hall from the direction we originally came, though this time, we passed the main hall stretching down the right wing and kept going straight. He brought us to a side entrance concealed by the turn of another corner, where rows of overcoats and women's cloaks hung neatly on a bar beside a side exit. These didn't belong to the guests but to the occupants of the home, obvious by the sectioning of certain styles and sizes.

Aramis pulled one off the rack and handed it to me. "Here. The lab is on the river, and the wind will freeze you solid. We'll go through the greenhouse to stay out of the weather."

"You're nervous," I said, noting the slight shake in his voice. Aramis never showed his nerves. He'd always kept his emotions submerged in a frozen pool, which is why it surprised me so much that he had been drawn to Sera—someone who could see right through the ice.

"Let's just get this over with." He sighed, not looking back at me as we left the sounds of the voracious party with the shut of a slim door.

The night was obscenely quiet. I expected more guards to be posted out here where a driveway looped around the side of the house and connected a private road I assumed led to stables, greenhouses, and hopefully the lab where the Firenzes kept their research.

We kept to the side of the road shrouded in darkness without a lantern to light the way, and I pulled the edges of the coat tight around my shoulders. A pleasant perfume lingered in the warm wool, a scent I had owned myself when I lived in the Districts. An uplifting scent of orange, citrus, and blooming florals. Perhaps that was why it smelled so familiar.

Aramis glanced behind us every few minutes, but it was so still out here, we'd hear an approaching horse or footfalls before it was too late. Winter had stripped the trees of their leaves, glazing them in frost and lacing a canopy above us. Long icicles hung forebodingly from the bony branches, collecting the light of the full moon.

We came to the first greenhouse, a semi-transparent strip doming over the frozen ground. It was slightly warmer inside as Aramis beckoned me to walk ahead of him through the rows of hanging vegetation and colorful foliage. Tags lined each pot and dirt bed, and I thought of Nonna and how much she'd love such a garden of assortments. My thoughts drifted to her as I followed my brother in silence, hoping she was still clinging to the tether of her family tonight.

"What is all this?" I looked at him over my shoulder, but his attention was on his feet.

"Just various shit they use for their alchemy. Don't touch anything. Most of it's toxic without a carrier oil."

I buried my hands further into the cloak, eyeing the strange plants more suspiciously. "What do they use for glint?"

"A little of all of this, I suppose, but the key ingredient comes from the south. It can only grow in the marshes. The weather here is too volatile, even in the controlled space of a greenhouse."

I nodded, tucking the information away for later. We came to the end of the long greenhouse, and my brother shushed me, telling me to wait where I stood.

"I'm going to go relieve the current guards of their post so we can sneak in the back entrance. The front is better guarded, but they'll not be expecting partygoers to sneak out this far. Hang tight until you hear my whistle."

I nodded in agreement because what else was I supposed to do? I was at the mercy of everyone else until the guards were gone. Aramis patted my shoulder, and the touch was so unexpected I nearly jumped.

"Stay here, Milla." His tone was softer than usual. It should have been a comfort, but my brother was never one to be so tactile. He slipped out of the greenhouse without another word.

My hands dug into the deep pockets inside the cloak, desperately seeking some warmth—even in this glass cage shielding the harsh riverside breeze. There was something in the pocket, my fingers wrapped around cold metal. A key by the feel of the serrated teeth and circular handle. I kept it concealed in case whoever the coat belonged to needed it later.

Too many minutes seemed to slip by. The moist ground slipped into the satin of my flats and numbed my toes. Just when I questioned running to his aid, a short whistle pierced the night, a high-pitch wail like the wind when it passed through a crack.

The Firenzes' lab was a towering warehouse made from windowless brick walls and a mesh of tangled pipes weaving from the side of the building to dump into the river. Chimney spouts jutted out from the top, billowing a grey smoke against the black sky. A gas light flickered, desperately trying to stay alive, near the door my brother was currently posted. He cocked his head toward the back entrance.

"It's clear," he said as I approached. "No one's inside yet, but we should make it quick before that changes."

"Do you expect it to change?"

"I always expect something bad to happen, and things have gone too smoothly so far."

I had to agree. Either the Firenzes weren't worried someone would infiltrate their wares, or we had planned this night to perfection. I was more inclined to think the alchemists were just being negligent.

The inside of the lab was a glorified version of Delilah's Orbitarium. Worktables were pushed to the walls and arranged around the room to keep the center clear. A sky light illuminated the large room, the clear glass collected the first flakes of snow.

A rickety metal staircase ascended the far wall to a second level, where a long window overlooking the main floor interrupted a walled-off section. A walkway of similarly rusted means extended from the offices, over the entire floor, and to the configuration of pipes and gears that ran the machinery in the lab.

Aramis went straight to a chalkboard covered in strange images. A table stood next to it, supporting stacks of notebooks. "I'll look through these. You search the assistant's desk in the corner there."

He pointed to a shameful setup next to the boiler—a so-called desk with boxes of files piled on top of a worn varnish. I look ed instead to the second level. "I think I'll try the offices, actually. I doubt Felix would leave something that important to an assistant."

Aramis glanced up at me when I said the word. With his mask now removed, his glare was obvious. "Suit yourself."

The rusted stairs groaned with every step I took, and my brother's shoulders tensed an inch more with every step I took. "Feet of a fucking crueger," he said in a whisper-shout. "Keep it down!"

I made it to the top without the guards outside coming to investigate. The floor was still unsteady, but my steps weren't as obvious. I reached for the door handle, but it barely twisted as I jiggled it. Locked.

"Where's the key?" I asked him.

He shrugged, still looking through the books. "How should I know?"

"You're supposed to know everything about this place."

Aramis snorted before moving on to the next table, opening and closing drawers in a rush. I huffed a breath in frustration. I didn't sneak all the way in here to be blocked by a bloody door. If it was locked, then that meant something valuable was inside. I slipped off my glove, ready to use my power to corrode the lock, when a thought occurred to me.

Removing the key from my pocket, I slipped it into the door handle—and it slid in without resistance.

I didn't know a single woman in the Firenze family. Their wives and daughters stayed out of the family business. So whose coat could this possibly belong to?

Hells, I could think about it later. For now, I tentatively pushed the door open in case there were any alarms and searched the dark office with only the bare illumination from the skylight to guide me.

The place reeked. A putrid smell wafted from a set of beakers filled with dark liquid. A burner had been left on. The bright orange flame immediately grabbed my attention, as did the notebook sitting next to it, but a quick flip through the leather journal informed me this wasn't the book we were searching for.

A weight edged into my bones, turning my limbs into lead as I neared the workbench. It didn't hit me until I saw the various weapons hanging on the wall in the light of the burner. Their tips glowed red—as did all the Niner blades coated in poison. This must have been where they conducted their experiments and dipped their weapons.

A thank-you note was thrown half-folded beside the burner, and I recognized the stationary.

A letter . . . from Vanya.

Dread unfurled in my stomach, understanding then that Vanya had been in contact with the Firenzes—and not for Nico, but for herself. The note detailed her appreciation for supplying her father's guards and her hopes to establish a union between their families very soon.

Cursing beneath my breath, I set the paper over the burner and the words of a liar turn black—then to ash.

My fingers shakily skimmed the wall for a switch, flipping on the gas lamps. They flickered alive to reveal a steel door cracked open to a connecting room. The smell intensified as I neared, pushing it open with the toe of my flat to find...

Cages.

My chest seized, unable to breathe as the pungent stench hit me immediately. The lamplight poured from the doorway, gleaming over crudely bent metal bars nailed into a large stain on the floor. My gaze followed the dark spill towards a mass enclosed in the cages.

And two glossy, black eyes staring back at me.

I yelped, stumbling back, tripping over the length of my skirts and landing hard on the splintered floorboards. By the time I was on my feet, Aramis was halfway up the stairs, meeting me as I darted from the office.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"There's a dead man in there," I whispered on a shaken breath. "Hells, Aramis. I think this is where they tested on those poor descendants."

"I'm sure that was a shock to see," he mumbled. "But a lot of bad things have happened here, Camilla. Isn't that why we're looking for the book? To make sure we stop the Firenzes from doing this to this anyone else?"

My breath settled some as he grabbed my hands, bringing me back to the reality of our situation. Right. The book. We needed to find the book. But something more urgent gnawed at my nerves.

"We need to go back to the house, Aramis. I think I know who this coat belongs to, and if I'm right, Nico is trouble."

His forehead creased with a curious look. "What are you talking about? We need the book—"

"To hells with the book, Aramis! We can come back later, but I need to warn him before it's too late!" Shoving past him on the stairs, I lifted my skirts to run towards the entry we used before—the only one unguarded that led to the greenhouses.

"Camilla, wait!"

I wasn't listening. My heart hammered in my chest, throbbing like the dull ache in my bones that the fumes of the Niner's poison had triggered. I pushed on the door to open it—but it was jammed.

"What?" I gasped, trying again. It was no use. The door wouldn't budge no matter how hard I pushed it. The handle barely jostled, barred from the outside.

I tried to call on my power, but it was blocked as well, silent in my blood as my pulse danced beneath my skin. Flustered and spiraling, a choked sob spilled from my panic, and I turned to find something to use to pry the door open just as the lights of the warehouse flickered on one by one, shining across large symbols painted on the floor—ones I recognized but barely understood. Aramis stood near the switch in front of the opposite pair of doors.

He was not afraid as I was. There was no surprise striking his features. His lips were flat, eyes downcast to the arcane images. No, he was not caught off guard—because he knew this would happen.

"No..." The word broke apart in my throat. "Aramis, no."

Those blue eyes that reminded me of our father, that sometimes looked at me with hope, squeezed shut. Any connection we once salvaged was severed. "I'm sorry, Camilla. I never meant to hurt you, I promise."

The lights inside must have been a signal, for as soon as the lab lit to life, the front doors opened. Felix and his cadre sauntered inside. No coats, guns ready, and laced knives glowing inside their sheaths.

"Aramis," I spat his name through my teeth. "What have you done?"