Chapter 5

ETHANIEL

It had been a hectic morning and all Ethaniel wanted was a moment of fresh air. Jeremiah had been sick overnight and the scent had lingered in their apartment even well past breakfast. His uncle’s apologies, while not falling on deaf ears, certainly weren’t warranted. But Jeremiah didn’t like to be reminded of his condition, so Ethaniel had grit his teeth and carried on, torn between the urge to fetch the doctor for the second time this week (and thus disobeying his uncle’s stringent orders otherwise), or listening to the old man cough all morning. Every cough made Ethaniel’s heart ache, and that was nowhere near the pain his uncle was in day after day. With a second, more fortifying cup of tea between customers, Ethaniel had split the difference and sent a runner with a note over to Dr. Iverson, asking if there was anything he could do to help Jeremiah’s cough.

He knew what the answer would be. Consumption was fatal, and Jeremiah was likely nearing the end of his life. But surely the doctor would have something to numb the pain. Ethaniel could only hold out hope.

As Ethaniel stepped out the shop’s back door, determined to leave the alleyway’s deep shadows and scent of something decaying nearby for the small park across the street, he was barreled into by someone. The other person’s weight nearly took Ethaniel to the ground, but he managed to catch himself in the door frame. The move wrenched his arm back and Ethaniel hissed in pain. Whatever the man had been carrying landed beside them with a dull thud.

Stunned, Ethaniel looked down to see a familiar face, with chestnut brown eyes and copper hair that hung in loose waves. “Mr. Addington?”

The other man looked panicked, not even bothering to wipe away the sweat on his brow. “Please,” he said quickly. “Someone’s after me. Could I duck into your shop? A back room?”

Foolish, perhaps, to agree, but Ethaniel wasn’t about to turn away someone in need. “Of course.” He pulled Calix to his feet and leaned in to brush the other man’s jacket off, but Calix jerked away, lunging for the satchel instead.

“Sorry,” Calix said. He was twisting this way and that, looking around for any sign of his pursuer, so Ethaniel pulled him inside with a gentle hand on his forearm. Calix went willingly. As soon as the back door was shut, the other man hurriedly glanced around. “Just a back room, for a few minutes? I won’t get in the way—”

The back room was no place for a man like Mr. Addington. Ethaniel had suspected the man was gentry from the moment he’d walked into Twisted Silver the previous week, but Calix hadn’t presented himself with any title. Even so, Ethaniel wasn’t about to make the man hide in the dark in his supply room. He wouldn’t do that to his worst enemy, honestly. It was…undignified.

“Upstairs,” Ethaniel said, steering Calix down the small hall to the left and then to the staircase. “My apartment’s on the right. My uncle lives in the other one. He’s ill, so please don’t mind anything you hear from his rooms.”

Something in Calix seemed to relax at that; his shoulders pulled away from his ears and he let out a long, slow breath. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not.” Ethaniel motioned him up the stairs. “The door’s unlocked. Stay there until I come for you.” He eyed the satchel, letting the tiniest bit of his own magic drop like a veil over his eyes. Folks absolutely lost their minds over the strangest things, but this level of danger and mystery made him wonder.

As soon as a slight green haze colored his vision, he could see it. Or…them. Thousands upon thousands of strings of a pattern his mind couldn’t begin to comprehend. That sight alone made him gasp, but the accompanying blast of heat felt like a warning.

Ethaniel shoved away, his sight dropping back until he was once again whole. It was a frightening experience, but one that left him with a strange kind of lightness. As if someone had tied wings to his back and watched him learn to soar moments before he’d turned into Icarus. After a long moment, Ethaniel managed to say, “This person after you…are they dangerous? If they come here, will there be a problem?”

Calix cast his gaze to the ground. “I don’t know,” he whispered, knuckles going white where he gripped the satchel. “They meant, I think, to take this from me. I don’t even know what it is, not really—”

“It’ll be fine.” Ethaniel’s keen ears heard the shop bell ring and he fought back a sudden punch of nerves. It could be anyone coming through his door.

Including the person or people after this man.

He had ways of protecting himself, though.

“Go, go, all the way up and to the back,” he said, resisting the urge to shove Calix up the flight of stairs. With a nod, Calix took off, and Ethaniel sucked in a deep breath before leaving the safety of the back rooms. And because he was no fool, he let that veil drop over his vision once more, pale purple now as he reached out to the store’s protection patterns. They echoed back a call in kind, like a greeting. His patterning was good, but only two others knew of Ethaniel’s uncanny knack for making and seeing patterns that didn’t involve stays of closure on coat buttons.

The man standing in the middle of his shop floor was tall and broad, much larger than even most people in this modern age. His back was to Ethaniel as he approached. Ethaniel could see a slight crackling energy of a pattern on the man, but it wavered sickeningly. A cheap pattern, probably a dime a dozen and sold down Babylon Boulevard or in Acadia Gardens.

“Good afternoon,” Ethaniel said, forcing joviality into his tone. He wanted to shut the whole place down for the day and figure out what the devil was going on. He wanted this man gone. And he didn’t want to press the button under the shop counter and activate the wards.

The man turned and Ethaniel got a good look at a man with no face. A blank mask greeted him. Shocked, he pulled back a little, holding onto the shop counter for support.

“You all right?” the man asked in a rough east coast accent, the words lilted enough to be mocking. New Jersey, maybe, or even further north. It would be the only way Ethaniel would be able to recognize him in the future. And then it clicked — reports of blank-faced robbers had funneled through the city of late, and Ethaniel had known instantly it was a disguise charm.

This man was after Calix. And he would do harm to anyone in his way. Ethaniel was utterly certain of it.

“No, I am not,” Ethaniel forced out right before he slammed his palm against the button under the counter.

The wards rejected anyone Ethaniel deemed harmful, so there was no worry they would affect Calix. But the man before him was instantly trapped in a circle of glowing red, the lines of his pattern slowly winding around their prey’s large arms as he struggled.

“Hey, fuckwad! Get this shit—”

“Get out of my store,” Ethaniel said before flicking his free hand at the door. “Now.”

The warding spell did as Ethaniel instructed, lifting the man up with dozens of thick red vines of magic, and tossing him unceremoniously out the front door. They didn’t dissipate until Ethaniel had manually and magically locked that same door, and only then did he hear a crash as the spell dropped the man into a trash cart across the street. If the man approached the shop again over the next day, he’d find himself tossed into another cart. It was oddly satisfying to hear the brute’s spluttered curses muffled by the building’s thick walls. He shouldn’t have felt so…victorious. So Ethaniel tamped down on it while checking the windows and back door.

Ethaniel pulled the veil back from his vision before heading upstairs. Hands shaking, he poked his head into Jeremiah’s rooms and found his uncle asleep in bed, a book face down beside him. He could breathe a little easier knowing Jeremiah hadn’t heard the racket.

“Mr. Addington?” Ethaniel called out as he went into his apartment. “You’re safe. He’s gone.”

He found Calix sitting stiffly in a chair by the fireplace. The other man had coaxed the embers into a warm blaze. Ethaniel saw fear and flame reflected in Calix’s big brown eyes and felt a wave of sympathy wash over him. Did a man like this ever have anything to fear before? Ethaniel had spent a lot of time growing up wondering if wealth secured more than just physical safety, but also an unearned peace of mind. As he’d gotten older, Ethaniel had come to pity his wealthy clients. Many of them were empty, lonely shells who would bend their tailor’s ear, taking his time up in that small way on top of securing his clothier services.

Calix looked like a man who wouldn’t do such a thing. And hadn’t, even during their brief interactions a week ago. But he did look like a man who had experienced fear — real, true, and ice cold — for the very first time. In the shadows of the room and the fire, Ethaniel saw Calix’s bottom lip tremble. Ethaniel wasn’t sure what instinct made him kneel at Calix’s feet instead of taking the chair beside him, but when their gazes met, his sympathy deepened. “You’re safe here,” Ethaniel said. “The wards last for twenty-four hours and no one else can get in without my explicit invitation.” When Calix nodded to show he understood, Ethaniel continued. “Why was he after you?”

Calix’s fingers shook as he reached for the latches on the satchel. “I think it’s a book,” he replied quietly. The soft snick of the latches felt too loud for the room. “I was with a friend, and he was doing…business down in Babylon Boulevard. But he didn’t want to sell this one to that odious man Tomas for some reason and I could…I could…”

As gently as he could, Ethaniel put a hand on Calix’s forearm. It was a touch too familiar for strangers; it felt right despite that. “Tell me in your own time.”

Calix’s gratefulness needed no words, shining through the obvious exhaustion written in his face. As the clock on the mantle ticked and the logs in the fireplace popped, Ethaniel waited. The sudden drought of energy after everything that happened was a blanket over his entire body, trying to lull him into the comfort of the other chair. He stayed on his knees, quiet and patient.

“I see things,” Calix finally whispered, his gaze beseeching as he stared down at Ethaniel. “Your magic is sensical, orderly. Mine has never felt that way. I get visions. And not the kind the churches think is ordained. Not any kind that’s acceptable in civilized society.” He clenched his fist on his thigh and Ethaniel saw his forearm quiver with unspoken emotion. It was simpler to focus on how Calix was feeling in the moment and let his words slowly sink in.

Oracleshad visions. There were different reports over history of Oracles collapsing under the weight of their power, burdened by flashes of the future that overwhelmed the human mind. But Oracles were uniquely powerful and always sought out by those with influence and money. If true, Calix would need help.

Ethaniel shook his head as soon as the thought crossed his mind. A wealthy man like Calix Addington likely had someone in his corner. He wouldn’t need the aid of a lowly tailor. But right now, the man before him needed someone to listen. He could do something as simple as that.

“I’m so sorry,” Ethaniel replied softly. He put his hand once more on Calix’s forearm, trying to lend support through that single touch. “You carry a burden most could never understand. Did you…see something with whatever is in the satchel?”

Calix shook his head. “No.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered, but when he opened them again, Ethaniel could see resignation and resolve vying for domination. “The book spoke to me,” Calix said, forcing steel into his voice. “In my mind. It spoke to me in my bloody mind and I’ve never, ever encountered something like that.”

But Ethaniel had. Or, he’d heard a tale of something like that from Aubrey.

Immediately, he knew what they had to do.

“I saw it too, Calix,” Ethaniel said. “Patterns. Thousands of them. All tied to what you have there.”

Calix leaned forward, eager. “Did you hear it?”

Ethaniel shook his head. “No. I can only see patterns in magical objects. Sometimes. It’s not an evergreen talent, I’m afraid.” He looked away, trying to mash his scattered thoughts together in some semblance of sense. “But this book you carry is thick with magic. Dense with it. If you trust me enough to assist you, I know someone who can help us.”