Chapter 47

Neal opened a box that sat at the end of the table and removed an item wrapped in a velvet sleeve. Handing it to a member seated nearby, he instructed him to pass the contents around for our observation. Just the mention of the Arcane had every member of the Nine on the edge of their seat, eager to see what was inside. It wasn't the first time they'd heard it mentioned, it seemed.

"How will the Arcane help us?" I dared myself to ask. The identities of the Nine families remained hidden behind their masks, but I felt their eyes shift in my direction.

Neal didn't answer right away. Instead, he waited for the man next to me to open the sleeve and remove a small, jagged stone. Cut from a larger source, based on the polished sides and the sharp, angled cuts. But I knew that obsidian shine anywhere. Had been trapped by it for nearly five years of my life.

"As some of you may not know, Hightower was not just a prison, but a research facility," Neal started. A quiet rage simmered in my blood for the confession he once blatantly lied about. "The previous inspector discovered the island and realized it was composed of something supernatural. A gift from a divine."

He offered the stone to me, and I flipped it over in my hand a few times, pretending to examine it. "It is fabled that when the Creator made our realm," Neal continued, "he used that very matter of the void to create everything in existence. So, with the help of the Firenzes and their expert alchemists, we studied it to better understand its properties. This stone wasn't a stone, but a blank slate. A resource for us to create, waiting to be molded into its purpose."

This. This was their Siphon then, as Vesper had called it. The source they drew from.

"Like pressing charcoal into ink, we melt this down and use it similarly. With the Arcane and the codes we've gathered from the remnants, we can create the same power the Creator gifted the saints. The possibilities with the Arcane are infinite, we'll have an advantage—and the upper hand for those willing to pay for it."

The woman on the other side of me cleared her throat, insisting I pass on the stone, but I was fisting the rock to hide the tremble in my hand. "Pay for it?" she asked them.

"Well," Lavern teetered as he waved his hand to dismiss her concerns. "We cannot just grant abilities to everyone, now, can we? This type of power must be carefully distributed. First, to our Nine families and loyal supporters. From there, we will open the procedure to anyone the OIC deems acceptable and responsible for such a gift."

"The wealthy then," I spilled the words before I could catch them.

Lavern quirked his brow, glancing my way. "The price will be quite more than the middle and lower classes could afford based on their annual salaries, but anyone willing to work hard and save can find a way. There will be requirements, of course, to qualify regardless of income."

"What do you mean by procedure?" a member across the table asked.

The old man looked to Neal, who was rolling the sleeve of his shirt up over his elbow. The inky image of a scorpion crawled down his forearm, curling its stinger over its head in a striking pose—a familiar.

"We've used familiars for decades to carry certain long-term medications, formulas to ward off the effects of a remnant, those such things. They are difficult and complex to create, which makes them expensive and exclusive, but otherwise they're the perfect conduits to hold magic."

Everyone spoke at once, discussing the possibilities. Mindless chatter filled the room—what remnant and familiar they would choose, how they would use it to their advantage, the opportunity to have more than one familiar.

"Could we acquire multiple conduits?" a woman asked.

Neal shrugged. "The descendants have polypotentias. Why shouldn't we?"

Because divine ordinance had blessed us with such power. Because we didn't buy our gifts; we were born with them, had learned how to bear the responsibility that came with harboring a powerful remnant. We certainly didn't acquire remnants from multiple different saints like this Niner suggested. Combining Blood with Bane... what was stopping them from accumulating them all besides money and the favor of the Firenzes?

Descendants in the Row were taught from the day we could summon our power as children how to use it fairly and justly, and though I wasn't one to speak from the moral high ground on the matter, I never used my remnant against a man without cause or reason—no matter how much my uncle would disagree.

This wasn't about protecting themselves from our influence. The Firenzes didn't truly care about evening the score between our sides of the city. This was about control, about manipulating natives so that they believed they were truly powerless without what the Firenzes offered to the exclusively qualified. The ones they conveniently would also deem qualifiable or not.

This pernicious organization selling power and status under the pretense of protection was solely concerned with the monopolization of magic.

Napkins scattered across the table as my remnant slipped in my fury. My fist curled into my palm, channeling the anger and causing me to lose focus into something less exposing. Thankfully, no one at the table noticed the draft.

Milla was right. We needed to get that book at the very least and destroy their research if we could. Doing so might buy us some time before this business plan sunk its teeth into the city—into the entire Isle. But first, I needed to get out of this room.

"What is your conduit, Inspector?" I gestured to the creature on his arm.

He glanced down at the animated tattoo, as if still trying to get used to its presence. "As the head of the Watch, it was important to choose a gift that would make me an asset to my country. I acquired the remnant of Blood."

Neal's lips tightened in a hard line, appearing as if he held back something unsettling. Which meant the Vex Veritas had triggered, but which of his claims had been a lie? His remnant, or the fact that it was his choice?

"Well, no one should be able to outrun or outmatch our inspector, then. I've heard Blood remnants are incredible hunters." Neal smiled before I asked, "Have you had any of the urges? You know the cravings." I dropped my voice to a loud whisper at the word. The Niners stopped their discussions to listen to our conversation.

"I—" His brow furrowed, the corner of his lips pulling down. "That's a very personal question, Mr. Blavatsky."

I raised my hands in mock defense. "I just would like to know if there are any undesirable side effects to this kind of science."

He cleared his throat with a loud cough. "If you must know, not at all. There have been no cravings as you mentioned."

Neal mustered a brave face before promptly turning to vomit all over the hardwood floor. A metallic stench stained the air, and I didn't need to look at his mess to know he'd most likely thrown up a decent amount of blood. An incriminatory choice of power, choosing that of a bleeder.

"Inspector, that's very unfortunate for you. I'll go find an alchemedis... and a maid." I was out of my seat before I finished, before anyone could stop me.

"Mr. Blavatsky!" Lavern called out. I didn't turn to answer him. The guards made a move to block the door.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Firenze?"

He opened his mouth, but I let my remnant slip beneath the table to shove his cane out from beneath him, sending the old man toppling to the floor near the sullied part of the rug. The guards instantly abandoned their post to rush to his aid, and while everyone was concerned with Lavern, I snuck away.

It was a cheap shot, pushing over an old man who likely had broken something due to his emaciation—but better Lavern than me.

"We need an alchemedis," I told the few guards standing outside the room to further pull their attention away from my swift exit. A few of them sprang into action, running inside to assess the situation while I fled back down the stairs and into a busy hall.

A hand snatched my left hand—my metal one—halting my escape.

"What's the rush, handsome?" Narcissa said softly, a smile curling her blood-red lips. My heart—which had nearly stopped from the fear of being exposed—found relief at the sight of her. She wore no mask, only paint that swirled around her eyes and cheekbones to mimic the look of one.

"I need to lose the guards," I whispered as bodies brushed passed. "Mind escorting me somewhere private?"

She laughed, throwing her head back like she was drunk. All part of her show. She hooked her arm around mine. "I have a place we can get away, lovey."

This side of the house was dedicated to darker deeds. A smoking parlor was pushed down at the end of a wide gallery featuring elegant paintings of generations of Firenzes and the occasional sculpture commissioned by a long-dead artist. The gallery had a lack of admirers, as everyone lingered in the parlor.

Groups of men and women blew smoke around tables crowded with drinks. A full bar was busy serving drinks into chilled glasses crowding a server's tray. My escort snatched one of the crystal coupes as she passed by and sipped it as we approached a den behind the smoking parlor, this one guarded not by watchmen, but by Narcissa's guards.

They let us pass into a dimly lit room filled with the haze of cigarillo smoke. Three courtesans sprawled themselves over velvet chaises. When one of them stood to approach us, Narcissa shooed her away. "Sorry, sweets, he's not a customer." She then patted my arm, which she finally released. "You're safe from the guards here. Though I can't speak for the girls."

For the first time all night, I removed my mask and wiped away the sheen of sweat that had formed from the revelations of the meeting. The mask was confining, leaving me unnaturally anxious. Satisfied I was out of the way of the Watch for now, I turned to the girls.

"Would one of you mind fetching a man for me?"

Luther threwoff his mask the moment he saw me pacing the length of the den. "Where the hells have you been?" A nervous shake disrupted his voice, like he'd been worried about me.

"There's no time to explain," I murmured. We had already wasted enough of it waiting on the girls to find him. Meanwhile, Milla and her brother were alone somewhere on this property, and I despised the idea of letting her out of our sight for this long. "Any more word on the tracks?"

I didn't like the look he gave me, liked his words even less. "There's been a tip. A few of the guards from the front were reassigned to the Wet District. Finn saw the station in their thoughts—"

"Fuck."

"We have one car past the station, but the second will be approaching soon. If they get caught..."

"There will be no chance for the last car," I finished. One or two out of three wasn't good enough. It was all or nothing. We needed all the product on those cars, or I was as good as dead.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Narcissa came to my side, her presence oddly comforting, considering our history.

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so. You've done so much for us already, Narcissa."

Her brows furrowed in reaction. "What do you mean? I only got you away from the Watch. That's hardly worth mentioning."

"I mean everything. Giving Aramis the intel you stole from the guards—"

She shook her head quickly. "Nico, I haven't spoken to Aramis since that day you summoned me at the Industrial Station."

All the blood drained from my heart. "Are you saying Aramis never contacted you?"

Another shake of her head, and then I felt it—what I'd been suppressing all night, and it barreled into me with all the force of a freight train. I didn't think I'd ever felt a fear so withering as the kind I faced now.

If Narcissa hadn't been feeding Aramis his information, where had he learnt it? How did he coordinate this night without her help? And who the fuck was he getting it from instead?

The answer stared me plain in the face. That bastard was working for the Firenzes. He'd never stopped working with the Firenzes. He'd been scheming against us this entire time—and I'd let him pull all my strings like his fucking puppet.

"Boss?" Luther spoke my title cautiously.

"Will you go for me? To check on the tracks." When he hesitated to reply, I added, "Please, Luther. I need to find Camilla."

"We're better as a team, cousin. You can't fight those bastards by yourself." He shook his head. "I've never disobeyed an order, but I will if I must."

I cursed under my breath before bracing a firm hand on his shoulder. "If we don't get those cars through the city, Luther, I will die. It will take one word from the dealer to return my shadow to the void and kill me instantly. I know you don't want to do this, but you must, for my sake. I cannot be in two places at once."

He grimaced, at war with himself. "Don't make me regret this."

I couldn't make such a promise, not while Milla was in danger. "There's no one else I'd trust with my life, cousin."

Narcissa snapped at her girls. "Take our carriage. They'll take you to the car and show you the shortcuts through town."

My cousin nodded and stepped out of my embrace before offering his arms out to them. "Much obliged, ladies. I'll pass by Finn to grab him." He turned one last time to look back at me. "Give the Marchese bastard all our fucking wrath, boss."

Aramis would get much worse than that from me.

Repositioning my mask, I stormed through the silver ribbons of smoke and returned to the party. Clinking glasses and obnoxious laughter blurred into a dull roar. My posture as my steps devoured the path through the house must have spoken for the hidden look on my face, based on the way crowd parted for me on my way to the door.

It wasn't long until I ran into Vanya's concerned stare in the gallery. She seemed to be everywhere tonight. A couple stared at us as they lingered in front of a marble hearth in the center of the room.

"They're looking for you," she whispered, coming close. Through a slit in her skirt, she pulled out a small pistol and handed it to me. "They found the real Blavatsky drunk in the courtyard. You need to get out of here."

I glanced at the doors on opposite sides of the wide hall. "I need to get to the lab, where Aramis brought Camilla. Any ideas?"

She thought for a moment, biting her lip. "The side entrance would be the best, but we'd have to cross the main entrance. They'll remember your mask."

I turned to the man standing near the fire. "Give me your mask," I demanded.

He scoffed, like I was joking. "Fuck off."

I cocked Vanya's gun and aimed it at his chest. "I won't ask again."

He threw his hands up in defense, glancing between me and his date for the evening. "Seven hells." He reached for the claps of his face mask. "Fine. No need for threats."

"Obviously." I snatched it from his hands and shed my coat, shoving it into the fire without a proper place to hide it. With a few simple wardrobe changes, any notable feature I'd brought attention to upstairs was exchanged. The couple quickly made themselves scarce, most likely before I asked for anything else. And I let Vanya escort me through the house without drawing a second look from the guards.

"Your wife," Vanya said as we crept down a quieter hall. "Is she alright?"

I shook my head as she glanced back at me. "I don't think so. Which is why I need to hurry."

"Of course. Just through here."

She shoved me into a small foyer dedicated as a catch-all for the side entrance. Searching the coat rack, she cursed.

"What's wrong?"

Vanya shook her head, hugging her bare arms to her middle. "I can't find my coat. You'll have to go alone."

That was preferable, anyway. She gave me vague directions leading to the lab, nearly splitting her bottom lip the way she kept gnawing on it.

She took a slow step back in the direction we'd come from. "When I shut this door," she whispered, "they will come after you. Don't let them find out I didn't glint you. Play the part."

"Vanya..." A weight like lead smothered my chest as I spoke. "What do you mean, they'll come after me?"

She winced. "You're the best shot I've got at getting rid of them. I'm sorry, Nico. Please remember, you have more allies in this city than you think."

"Vanya!"

She slipped through the door, slamming it shut before I could lunge. The sound filled the hollow entrance, and just as my fingers skimmed the locked handle, the Society flooded the small space.

They knocked me out before their gloves burned too much.