Chapter 14
Fourteen
Far too furious to be confined, Emmy leaped from the carriage as soon as it rolled to a stop. Fortunately, Mistfield’s staff
hadn’t expected them back so early, so she did not have to force a smile as she stalked toward the woods, searching every
inch of her face for tufts of fur from that wretched mask.
The others trailed behind her, a lantern illuminating her footsteps, though no one dared to speak until they’d reached the
cliffs. Only then did Emmy finally flop onto the grass and free her aching feet from their shoes.
“Well,” Jimmy’s deep voice broke the silence, “that went badly.”
The understatement of the century.
Angling away from the others, Emmy ran her fingers along her face. It was hers—Winnie’s, rather—but she could not shake the
sense that she was still furry.
“We should review.” Exhaustion tinged Jack’s voice. “Alton?”
“The chancellor mentally recited Society rules and regulations whenever I was nearby.” Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Safe to say he doesn’t like having a telepath around.”
The muscles of Jack’s jaw tensed. “Learn anything at all?”
“I had to be careful, since everyone believes I’m a nugat. Oh, but I listened in on Grace’s maid after ‘Winnie’ offered her
a job.” He glanced at Emmy. “Strangely, she likes you. And she heard we pay well. I think she’ll accept, once she speaks to
her parents.”
It was good news, but it was hard to celebrate a small victory after such a disastrous night. Even Mary’s job offer had been shortsighted: to learn Grace’s secrets, Emmy should have tried to win Mary over while she still worked for Grace.
“I heard a few valets talking about how well the staff at Mistfield are being paid.” Jimmy clapped Caleb on the shoulder,
not bothering to hide his smugness. It had been his idea to overpay the staff as a means of increasing their loyalty. “Other
than that, people hardly spoke to me, though they stared quite a bit.”
Emmy rubbed her tired eyes. Their old neighborhood had a vibrant Chinese population, but nearly everyone at the Inaugural
Ball had been white, including the staff.
“But I heard some whispers,” he continued, “about the poker dealer dropping the cards. They spoke of weakening conjury. It’s
getting worse, they said.”
Caleb sighed. “Not surprising, given how crowded New York has become. The immigrant issue was on the chancellor’s mind, too.”
Emmy waited for him to elaborate, but of course, he didn’t. “The ‘immigrant issue’?”
Caleb shot Jack a weary look, as if expecting him to explain. Jack, for his part, looked hesitant. “The Society views the
influx of newcomers as a security risk. With thousands of immigrants arriving each day, they can’t keep tabs on who’s charmed
and who’s ordinary. And sometimes, newcomers are a bit more obvious with their gifts than the Society would like.”
“‘More obvious’?” Caleb scoffed. “They perform their conjury on street corners for tips!”
Emmy stiffened. “Not once, in sixteen years, did I see conjury on the street.”
“It’s rare, but some people will do anything for a buck.”
“And the Society takes care of that.” Jack shrugged.
“The best way to protect the charmed is to keep our existence a secret from ordinaries. Most of the time, charmed people everywhere keep a low profile, even if they’ve never heard of the Society.
But occasionally, charmed folks draw too much attention to their conjury, and the Society needs to step in. ”
“What do you mean, ‘step in’?” Emmy could not keep the sharpness from her voice.
Jack hesitated. “They put them in Grimsbane.”
Emmy rubbed her face, unable to shake the lingering sensation of fur. The Society and all its bigotry was downright exhausting.
They could have been a resource for charmed immigrants, a place for them to find community and perhaps even employment.
But instead, they locked them away.
“What does that have to do with conjury?” There was a rare edge to Jimmy’s voice.
Caleb, at least, had the decency to look uneasy. “Because the more charmed people we stuff into New York, the more strain
we put on the brume.”
“You think the brume is a limited resource?”
“Everything precious is. Diamonds. Clean water. An address on Central Park West.”
That was hardly evidence. As Emmy and Jimmy exchanged a look, Caleb shrugged. “Look at the facts. Conjury is weakening, as
we saw tonight. Immigration is increasing, as we all know. It has to be straining our resources.”
“So Society members have a right to the brume,” Emmy said slowly, “but immigrants don’t.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re twisting my words.”
“There’s an obvious answer.” Rising to his feet, Jimmy dusted off his trousers. “Ban all the immigrants from the countries
you don’t like. Oh, that’s right; you already have.”
With a tight nod to Emmy, Jimmy stalked back to Mistfield.
Frowning, Caleb watched him disappear between the trees. “What did I say?”
“Perhaps he didn’t want to ‘strain’ your resources,” Emmy said dryly. “Or he was thinking about the family he might never see again because they’re not allowed to set foot here. Or maybe, after a night of being gawked at, he didn’t expect to hear prejudice from a friend.”
“Well, I didn’t mean him.” The creases in Caleb’s brow deepened. “I thought we could talk about these things. After all, I’m Irish, and a few decades
ago, we weren’t exactly welcome here.”
“It’s not remotely the same thing!” Emmy ought to have kept her voice down, but she’d had enough. “Irish, Italian—they might
look down on us, but they can’t tell just from one glance. And they didn’t feel the need to pass laws to keep us out.”
A heavy silence hung over them, one that remained until Caleb rose to his feet, his expression pained. “I really didn’t mean
to hurt him. I just . . . want him to be careful. The Society loves a scapegoat.”
Jack rubbed his temples. “Just apologize.”
“Fine.” With a long sigh, he shuffled away.
When he was gone, Emmy tried to swallow her anger, but it refused to stay down. She stole a glance at Jack, ready for a fight,
but he had fallen quiet. His ascot hung around his neck, one gust of wind away from falling into the Hudson.
“If we manage to pull this off,” he finally said, “I’m jumping off this cliff to celebrate.”
“Death wish?”
He stared over the edge. If the weather had suited their mood, it would have been storming. But of course it was an infuriatingly
lovely night, with a warm breeze rolling off the river and stars twinkling up above, far more than Emmy had ever seen.
Reaching into his pocket, he fetched a playing card. “It changes appearance. Watch.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Ace of spaces,
ace of spades . . .”
The ten of hearts shimmered and swayed, replaced by the ace of spades.
Emmy snatched the card from him. Sure enough, it was cold to the touch, a telltale sign of Grace’s creations. “So Grace was cheating.”
“Maybe Grace. Maybe Oliver. Either way, she made this with your conjury.” He rubbed his jaw. “How much of your gift do you think she’s kept?”
It was salt in a stab wound, imagining Grace with a trunk full of items imbued with transformation magic. “I was one of two
charmed people she knew. The only way she could practice was with my conjury or my father’s.”
Grace had infused Emmy’s gift in buttons, trinkets, pennies, pebbles—everything and anything was fodder for practice. Emmy
had never given much thought to whether Grace had stockpiled her creations. She’d trusted her. Foolishly.
“And the masks. Was that your conjury, too?”
“My father’s.” It pained her to even utter the words. Papa had never used his conjury for anything but healing. Grace was
perverting his magic with such cruel games. Worse, conjuring those masks took tremendous skill, far more than anything Grace
had made back home. It hardly seemed possible—unless she had help. “Could Grace’s relic be as powerful as Rose’s?”
Jack shook his head. “It’s the only one of its kind. Grace’s is an ordinary one.”
It was absurd, given that Emmy had missed so many signs of Grace’s deceit, but she couldn’t shake the sense that Grace was
hiding something. “If Rose’s relic gave her the ability to steal your conjury from across the room, she’d be desperate for
that power. Maybe she copied the steps Rose—”
“The bone fragment was cut from the amplifying witch’s sternum, just above the heart. And it was sealed in silver and gold
by Fontaine fire, which only I can wield.” He tugged at his hair absentmindedly. “Still, we underestimated the weapons she
has at her disposal.”
“We shouldn’t be worried about just my gift,” Emmy pointed out. “Grace could be stockpiling conjury from everyone in the Society who lets her bridge something.”
The truth of her words hung in the air between them.
Jack threw off his jacket, then attacked his top buttons. Emmy’s gaze traced the subtle lines of muscle beneath his skin,
disappearing under his shirt. Remnants of the years he’d spent training to be commander.
“Grace might have all the conjury in the world at her fingertips. Oliver seems to have truly quit gambling in pool halls,
which ruins my plan for him. The chancellor wants nothing to do with a telepath, which I should have known, given all the
vile things that man must be hiding. And Clara was supposed to be the easiest, since all she does is enchant fabric.” His
molars ground together. “But I underestimated her, and you paid the price.”
Did Jack actually feel guilty? Was that why he was refusing to meet her eye?
“What happened with the mask is my own fault.” Emmy had been soft. Strike something soft, tear a hole right through it. Strike
something rock-solid, break your knuckles upon impact.
To make it in the Society, Winnie Fairchild needed to be knuckle-breaking hard.
“If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth, with no regard for my feelings?”
“When have I ever regarded your feelings?”
He didn’t even crack a smile. “Do you truly believe we can do this? Ruin the lives of four powerful people in as many weeks?”
Emmy tried to imagine Grace in Grimsbane, with Clara and the Strattons wasting away in cells of their own. But it was too
far-fetched. “It’s . . . hard to picture.”
“I planned for this every minute I was in there. I thought of every detail. Every potential hindrance. But I still underestimated
them.”
He didn’t need to say where.
“It was never going to be easy.” Her voice was soft, her gaze trained on the dark sky.
“Did you ever hear me?”
He’d been right on the other side of her wall, but she’d never heard a voice, a shout, or even the creak of another pass-through window. The guards hadn’t been lying about Grimsbane’s impenetrable silence. Shaking her head, Emmy studied her hands. “Did you ever hear me?”
“Not once, in eleven months.” He swallowed thickly. “But Caleb did, when he got close enough to communicate with me. Jimmy
asked him to check on you.”
Just when she thought she’d used up all her humiliation for one night. “And let me guess: he told you that I was stark raving
mad.”
“He said you were in agony.”
A humiliating quiet settled over them.
It was too much, thinking of Caleb listening to her thoughts. Of Jack pitying her, and Jimmy being worried sick about her.
Jimmy, who showed everyone in the world kindness, yet was being treated like a threat to democracy, simply for his heritage.
She jumped to her feet, ready to burst from her skin. “I can’t just sit here doing nothing.” After all, Jack hadn’t gotten
her out simply to placate Jimmy. She was supposed to be their secret weapon, but tonight she’d been nothing but a liability.
“It’s a few days before the next event,” Jack pointed out. “And we can’t exactly go back to the Inaugural Splendor, though
it’ll keep going until dawn, at least.”
She had spent all night playing defense against Clara’s whispered attacks. Maybe it was time to quit playing defense. “What
if we had a look around Clara’s dress shop?”
“A little breaking and entering?” A spark returned to those gray eyes, one that reminded her of his wild expression after
he killed the guards. It had frightened her then, but now, it sent a quiet thrill through her.
“Dawn’s in two hours.” Jumping to his feet, he offered his hand. “Let’s hurry.”