Chapter 8

"Esme!"

A loud thunk answered in her place. My cousin rose from behind a workbench, rubbing the top of her head. Removing her welding goggles, her shoulders sagged as she saw me in the entrance of the garage.

"Oh, good." She sighed. "I thought you were Aramis for a moment."

"Has he been giving you trouble?" I asked.

She wiped her greasy hands on a towel hanging from her belt. "No. He's just... bored. And I mean I understand. He lost his brothers, his sister is in danger, and his entire way of life was stolen from him. I know you asked me to keep an eye on them but..."

"You need a break from babysitting?"

She winced. "Yes."

I circled her new project. An engine built on a smaller scale. Pieces of scrap metal littered the floor and cracked beneath my boots. "I'll find something to keep them busy, then. What are you working on?"

"It's a surprise." She grinned. "Though I suppose I can give you a sneak peek."

She strode to the brick wall behind me, where contraptions of all sorts hung from the wall. Daggers that could hide in practical clothing, a grappling hook I'd never seen her test, a cane sword Nonna had requested when her right side had weakened—which my aunts had promptly convinced her to reconsider given her poor eyesight and worsening cataracts.

She passed the wall and went to an object in the corner of the room covered with a tarp. Removing the covering slowly, she revealed what looked to be the frame of a bike with a much heavier build. The metalwork was flawless as I passed a hand over the aluminum frame, polished to reflect my image, marveling at her work.

"It's a... very nice bike, Esme. It looks like you've forgotten a few parts, though."

She snorted. "It's not just a bike. It's going to be automatic once I get the steam engine calibrated and running."

I looked back at the small engine, realizing where it was supposed to fit now. "A steam bike?"

"I'm still working on the name," she said. "But technically, yes. If the train and the boat can be operational, I figured, why not something used for more everyday transportation? When I'm through with it, you'll be able to travel faster than a horse. Maybe even as fast as a train."

I slipped my palm over the leather seat, golden-brown and soft from a recent oiling. Fast as the train? I slipped a breathy laugh at the idea. "Now that sounds fun."

Esme sighed. "Finally."

My gaze flickered from the bike to her. "What?"

"You're smiling. And not one of those asinine smirks you wear half the time. A true one." She threw the tarp back into place. "Who knew a new toy was all it took?"

I shrugged. "I'm in good spirits today. We've made considerable progress on getting into Hightower. Which is why I'm here."

"How can I help?" Esme turned serious at the mention of the mission.

"I have the shadows for the darkthief. However, she needs something to make the portal with. I was wondering if you could make something easily concealed that could sneak through the prison checkpoints, but large enough to be used as a portal." My hands buried in my pockets as she thought over my request.

"The requirements contradict each other."

"If anyone can find a compromise, it's you."

Her lips tightened, hiding her pleased smile. "Well, I suppose you're right. Though you should ask the darkthief to work her shadows here with me, so she can inform me of any special considerations she'd need for a portal."

"Are you actually asking to work with someone?" I asked, faking my shock.

My cousin smacked me with a thick glove she'd removed while we conversed. "If it means giving you the best chance to save Milla, absolutely. I'll step outside of all my comfort zones to rescue her."

My mood soured at the mention of her name. Six weeks had passed, and we'd officially been apart as long as we had been together. Somehow, the former felt so much longer.

"How soon can you have something ready?"

"Get your shadow bender here and I'll have something in a few days at the latest, depending on what we come up with. I'll work through the nights if I must."

Some of my nerves ate away at my ribs. I took a large breath to dissipate the feeling. "I'll keep the Marcheses busy as long as I can, so you can focus."

I turned to leave, but her hand over my shoulder stopped me short. "I'm proud of you, Nico. I know this is difficult, and you're trying hard not to show it, but I have no doubts you'll pull this off and get Milla back."

I tapped her hand but didn't push it away. The weight of it stole some of the burden stiff in my shoulders. "I wish I had your same faith in myself."

She scoffed. "You know, seeing your love for Camilla, it almost—almost—makes me want to find someone that loves me just as much. Then the Marcheses remind me why I enjoy being alone with my metal."

High praise coming from my cousin, who wanted nothing to do with a man, woman, or any form of cohabitation. "You have me, Esme. Always will."

"Areyou sure bringing them is a good idea?" Gideon asked as we drove to the station. I sat with him in the driver's seat, giving the cabin to Aramis and Jeremiah.

"They asked to help. Now that the bridge is gone and we can regulate who comes and goes to the Row, I feel better about letting them off the estate. This will be good for them." Besides, I hated dealing with Narcissa. Our history had been unpleasant from the start.

"What about the staff at the station?"

"Only a few of them work on this side, and the ones that do already know about the Marcheses. Marcus found Jeremiah and Aramis that day and helped them return the train home. They would have slipped that information to the Firenzes by now if they weren't loyal."

"I'd dare a Firenze to step foot in the Row," Gideon murmured.

I agreed. Had hoped for it, if only to fill them all with lead.

The Iron Saint was parked and idle, receiving maintenance after a long trip north where the cargo train had broken down. Aramis and his brother were silent as we jumped off the platform and proceeded deeper into the yard behind it, heading toward one of the empty boxcars stored off to the side. One of my men stood with a woman dressed in a tailored suit. Narcissa's form of security, I supposed.

"She's here?" I asked him.

The woman pulled out her pocket watch, hooked to a silver chain, to display the time to me. "You're late."

Gideon stepped forward and snatched the watch from her waist, snapping the chain from her vest. He smashed the glass with his fingers and twirled the minute hand until it was fifteen minutes sooner. He handed it back to her. "Check it again."

She shot him a glare and pursed her cherry lips. "Attano bastard."

"Enough," I said. "Ask your boss if it's alright if I bring some guests. They'll be the ones communicating with her over the next few weeks."

The boxcar rolled open with a grate and a slam. Narcissa stood in the gap, wearing a long fur coat that hung to her knees. Black lace tights led to bright red heels, the color of which matched her lipstick, a similar shade to her short hair.

"The more the merrier," she said with a smile. "Good to see you again, Nicolai."

The lie slid through my teeth easily. "Likewise, Summoner."

"You'll needto be ready in three days."

The notes she passed me explained the timing. Aramis looked over my shoulder as I sat at a table with two chairs pulled up inside the boxcar. Narcissa sipped from a glass full of the ale she requested to have set up for the secret meeting.

It was a copy of the general's schedule, written in her own hand. She explained as we went through the notes. "The Watch disembarks down the river, where a small dock holds the boats they use to get to and from the island prison. A letter was sent to the general himself from Hightower, which I have also included."

"How did you get this information?" Aramis asked.

I nearly choked on my ale. "You don't know who Narcissa is?"

Seconds passed, and Aramis straightened. A touch of pink colored his cheeks. "Wait... You're the Narcissa? The one who owns the brothel in the Wet District?"

"The one and only." She smiled. "General Hughes visits me often, though we meet at a finer resort in the Steam District. Men like him are too refined to visit an establishment of sordid reputation. A little sedative after a romp puts him straight to sleep for hours. I went through his belongings while he was out and found a bit of information that would be of interest. Specifically, a letter from the prison." She looked at me. "You did request details on the traffic to Hightower, correct?"

"This is perfect." I skimmed over the details. Times and dates for the next launch. Even the names of requested watchmen. I'd give this to Regulus and let him choose his own victim. "Where is the copy of the letter from Hightower?"

She opened her briefcase and fished out another document, running an eye over the contents before handing it to me.

This one, I read slowly. Carefully. Letting no details go amiss. Aramis murmured something, finishing far quicker than I had while I got hung up on a section.

We are ready to proceed with the transferal. After running several tests on the Remni, we have discovered her remnant to be incredibly powerful and unstable. Extra hands are required for assistance in the last test. The Remni collapsed part of the island and eliminated several guards in the process, leaving us severely understaffed for the final procedure.

Their service to the Watch will be remembered and honored after Magrahel. Please see the attached list of recruits to replace them.

She killed a few guards. Had taken out part of the fucking island—the alleged impenetrable stone. The news swelled pride in my heart.

"That's my girl," I murmured.

Aramis grunted behind me.

"You can keep those," Narcissa said. "I'd rather not have copies of such sensitive information in my possession. I have a reputation to maintain." Narcissa finished her ale and stood.

"Thank you. It's certainly good to work with you again." This time, I meant it. She'd dug up gold with these letters.

"Better circumstances this time. Let's keep it that way. My girls are getting nervous, Nicolai. After you collapsed the bridge, they were worried their clients would find out who—and what—they are and take advantage of them."

I pulled a cigarillo from my jacket and let it burn, thinking. "If they are truly so afraid, send them to the Row. If they wish to continue their nightly business, we can set something up here. Sabina would be more than happy to work something out in her market, I'm sure."

Narcissa shook her head. "It's not so simple. They have families they cannot leave, children and debts they must pay for. Some bridges cannot be burned." The door slid on rusted hinges, groaning as she pushed it aside. "Protect my girls, and I'll keep the information flowing. Whatever you're planning, be safe. Many are counting on you—far more than you'd ever know."

I sighed as she left, closing the door behind her. Aramis sat in her seat, his brother joining him on the opposite side of the table. "Was my sister aware you were working with a courtesan?"

"Not entirely, no," I said. "But I have never indulged Narcissa's services, if that's what you're alluding. She was the one who summoned me when Gavriel needed to send me my next mark. Vanya Hartsong introduced us, a keen choice on her part. No one would ever question a man meeting with a woman like Narcissa."

"And now?"

I shrugged. "And now she works for me instead of Gavriel. The courtesans at her brothel are mostly descendants, which makes her entire operation in the Wet District illegal. Those women are practically her daughters, the way she cares for them. Which means her interests are aligned with mine."

"You said we were going to be in contact with her instead," Jeremiah spoke this time. His arms crossed.

"Correct. I can't be everywhere at once. Marcus will contact you when we receive word of another information dump. I'll trust you to keep me in the loop."

The younger Marchese rubbed his hands together. "Better than that stuffy garage, I suppose."

"Be grateful my cousin let you in at all," I reminded him. "I've asked Narcissa to look into the Firenzes next. They've been too quiet."

The conversation sealed itself with a long silence. Our business was finished, yet we lingered. A knowing realization settled between the four of us.

"Three days," Aramis sighed. "It all starts then."

I swallowed a dryness in my throat. Three days, and even that felt like an eternity. There were too many moving parts in this plan. If even one malfunctioned, the whole system would fail. "Will you come with me?"

The brothers perked, not expecting an invitation, apparently.

"Would you even need us?" Aramis asked. "We have no remnant to add to your crew."

Remnant or not, there was value in everyone if one knew where to look. "I could always use more guns. No one among us knows how to properly tend to a steam engine, either. If the ship you built is still there, I'll need someone to operate it."

Bree had informed me earlier that there weren't enough shadows to make a stable portal. It would get the lot of us there but wouldn't have the energy to hold as many travelers as we expected. If all thirty missing descendants were still in Hightower, we needed suitable transportation to take them back to the Isle. The Marcheses' ship had been taken by the Firenzes to take Milla to Hightower. I would bet it's still there.

The eldest brother let out a long breath. "I suppose we should tag along just to make sure you don't fuck this up."

Gideon shifted from the wall he leaned against to come to my defense, but I laughed. "Always appreciate the vote of confidence, Marchese."