Thirty

By midnight, Vivian thought she must have danced with nearly everyone in the Nightingale. The ankle that she had twisted at the lodge ball throbbed, but she ignored it. It didn't hurt bad enough to stop her. Not tonight.

She could have sworn Bea was singing just for her, all her favorites filling the air. She danced with men and with women. She laughed and flirted and poured her heart out into the night, wanting to leave part of herself there forever.

But she kept an eye on the door too. She hadn't seen Leo all day, and he hadn't answered when she'd telephoned his place from the Chins' restaurant. She told herself he was avoiding her—partly because that was better than worrying that something had happened to him, and partly because she couldn't help wondering if it was true.

It wasn't until the first soft notes of a waltz floated down from the bandstand, Bea humming the melody into the microphone in a melancholy counterpoint to the piano, that Vivian realized who else she hadn't seen yet.

On a night like this, Honor would usually be working the crowd: glad-handing the wealthy visitors, watching anyone likely to make trouble, checking in with Mr. Smith on the bandstand. She kept the moods up, the customers smiling, the right people happy with cash or favors or just showing that they were important.

And tonight, she was gone. Instead of being behind the bar, Danny was drifting through the crowd in her place.

Vivian shook her head at her most recent partner, who was trying to coax her back onto the floor for the waltz. "You're sweet to ask, but this sappy stuff is too tame for me," she said, patting his cheek, trying to sound like she didn't have a care in the world. "Come find me for the quickstep." She blew him a kiss and ducked into the crowd before he could protest, making a beeline for Danny.

He saw her coming, but he kept a friendly smile on his face. He shook another hand and slapped another back, then gestured for one of the waitresses to bring a round of drinks to the well-dressed table of dancers resting their feet during the waltz. Only when they were settled, laughing and chatting, did he step away.

"Tearing a path through them, Viv," he said softly. "You're going to leave some broken hearts behind you tonight."

"Where's Honor?" she demanded. Her voice shook, but she held his eyes, refusing to let him look away.

He didn't, but the sympathy in his expression was almost worse. "I don't know. Hux said I'd be doing her normal rounds tonight. She had things to take care of."

"What kind of things?" Vivian forced herself to ask. "And don't pretend you don't know, Danny. She tells you everything."

"Not everything," he said. "Not tonight. Go back to dancing, Vivian. Don't waste—" He broke off, staring toward the bar. "Goddamn," he whispered. "Does he even know who he's serving?"

Vivian turned to see where Danny was looking, and she grabbed his arm without thinking, feeling cold all over.

The commissioner finished talking to the bartender, who was nodding pleasantly at him like he would any other customer. When they finished, the commissioner walked calmly over to a table in the corner. Two young men were already sitting there, but one steely look and a few quiet words sent them stumbling over each other to find somewhere else to be. The commissioner settled in to wait for his drink.

Danny cursed softly and thoroughly. "Why'd Hux pick tonight, of all nights, to have other business to deal with?" Vivian, her hand still on his arm, could feel the tension humming through him. Danny glanced at her. "Either we're about to get raided, or you're about to get arrested."

"Neither." Both of them jumped at the quiet voice behind them. Leo gave them a crooked smile that had none of his usual confidence. "That's the good news," he added, reaching out to slide Vivian's hand off Danny's arm. "Sorry I'm late."

"What's the bad news, then?" she asked.

His grip tightened. "I'm sorry, Viv. God knows we tried. When he called me in, I thought maybe I could still—" He broke off, but it didn't matter. He didn't need to finish. "I'm sorry," he whispered again. "He's waiting for you."

When Vivian looked back at the commissioner, he was watching her. Someone had delivered his order; two glasses now sat on the table in front of him. He raised just one finger and motioned her forward.

"You should head back to the bar, Danny-boy," Vivian said, giving him a nudge with her shoulder. "Don't go looking for trouble if he's not going to make it."

"I told Florence I'd keep you safe," he protested.

"She'll understand."

He hesitated, but at last he nodded. "Don't leave without saying good-bye?"

"If I can."

Vivian watched him head back toward the bar, falling in with a group of customers there, loose-limbed and smiling as if he didn't have a care in the world. She wasn't the only liar in the Nightingale that night.

"Do you want to talk to him alone?" Leo asked once Danny was gone.

"No," Vivian replied. She wanted to say yes, wanted him to believe that she wasn't afraid. But she was tired of pretending with him. "Stay with me."

Leo's hand tightened on hers again, and it took her a moment to realize that it wasn't a gesture meant to comfort her. He didn't want to go. Whatever had happened between him and his uncle that day, he wanted to be as far away from the man as possible, even if it meant leaving her alone.

"Never mind," she said, after a beat of silence that felt like a lifetime. She wanted to cry at the thought of walking up to that table by herself. Instead, she gave him a smile. "I can handle him by myself."

He let out a breath as he pulled his hand away from hers. "You can. You'll be fine." She didn't know if he was trying to convince her or himself. "Thanks, Viv."

Vivian had never felt so fiercely, painfully alone as she did crossing the room to the commissioner's table.

He sighed when she stopped in front of him. "I was beginning to get impatient," he said, and the pleasantness in his voice made Vivian shudder. "Sit down, please."

Reluctantly, she took the seat across from him, and he slid the second drink he had ordered to her. "My treat," he said, lifting his own glass in a toast. "To your health."

"That's a bit rich, if you're here to arrest me," Vivian said, but she took a sip of the drink anyway. It was top-shelf. Of course it was.

The commissioner laughed. "I didn't say how long that health would continue," he said, and Vivian hoped she didn't look as ill as she felt. "But you can calm down. You're bristling like a cat, you know, and there's no reason to. Not yet. I'm just here with a message."

"From who?"

He raised his brows. "From myself, of course. I don't run errands for other people."

"Why bother coming then?" Vivian asked. Her own voice was shockingly calm to her ears. If she didn't know better, she'd think they were old friends. "Why not have one of my shadows say whatever needs saying?"

The commissioner raised his brows at her. "Do you have a shadow tonight?"

Vivian stared coolly back at him. "I guess I just assumed you put some new guy on me after I gave the other one the slip. Hope he didn't get in too much trouble," she added, not meaning a word of it.

The commissioner shook his head. His expression could have almost been called a smile. "You were good practice for them. My boys get too complacent sometimes. And some of them aren't used to playing by your sort of rules." He took a drink. "Lovely stuff, that. My compliments to your employer. But to answer your question, young lady, you don't have a shadow. I'm not a cruel man, you see. I thought you might like one final night to yourself. I came here in person to say so."

Vivian had been counting down the days, but his words still felt like a fist to the gut. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. For a moment, she wondered if she'd ever breathe again.

"One final night," she repeated softly.

"Indeed." He smiled. "Enjoy it. Tomorrow I'll expect you at my office at nine o'clock in the morning."

"And if I'm not there?" Vivian asked, still speaking quietly. If she raised her voice at all, she wasn't sure what would come out.

The commissioner didn't blink. "Then at nine thirty, I'll send someone to arrest your sister. I'm sure I can find a good reason. At ten o'clock, I'll find that husband of hers—it's so easy to have the Chinese tossed out of the country, you know. And then at ten thirty…" That small smile hovering around his mouth again. "Well, Mr. Green and I have already discussed what happens next."

"I'll be there," Vivian said, her voice shaking. She thought of Maggie Chambers and the letter under her pillow. "But don't count me out. Not yet. I might have a thing or two that throws a wrench in your plans."

He raised his brows. "Do you think that makes a difference to me?"

Vivian pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the cold, tight feeling inside her chest, and met his eyes. "Doesn't mean I won't try."

"If you like. I hope you understand, it's nothing personal, young lady." The commissioner stood and retrieved his hat. "I'll expect you at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

Vivian stared after him as he walked toward the stairs, two plainclothes cops that she hadn't noticed before falling in beside the commissioner as he strode toward the door. Or maybe they were his personal muscle. It didn't matter. Did anything?

"Viv!"

It took Vivian a moment to realize where the shout was coming from. Bea was shoving her way through the crowd. Up on the bandstand, the bass and the trumpet were improvising a quick, lively duet while the other musicians took a breather. Bea's eyes were wide as she ducked around dancing couples.

"Was that—" She stared after the commissioner's retreating back, then looked at Vivian with hopeful eyes. "He's walking away. That's good news, right? He's—"

"He's expecting me in nine hours," Vivian said, closing her eyes against the stricken look in Bea's.

"But… but there's something we can do, right? God, there has to be something we can do. If they arrest you for murder, you aren't walking out of that jail again."

"I know," Vivian said softly.

"There will barely even be a trial. Do you know what they do to murderers in this city?"

"I know."

"We have to—"

"Bea." Vivian shook her head. "That's it. I've got my orders."

"But—" Bea trailed off, and they stared at each other silently. "What can I do?" she whispered at last.

"Throw me a party, pal," Vivian said. "Keep singing everything I love. I'm not giving up. But if I'm saying good-bye, I want to do it in style." She nodded toward the bandstand. "Mr. Smith wants you back."

When Leo met her in the middle of the dance floor, he was silent, and he didn't want to meet her eyes. But Vivian held out her hands anyway.

At last, he took them and pulled her close. "How long do you want to stay?"

His hand on her back was warm, but she felt icy cold. "I'll dance 'til last call," she whispered.

She'd lose herself in the music one more time. And then she'd face what came next.