Chapter 19 Zaria #2
“I don’t believe so. If they were, I’d be the last person to know.
I used to deal with them quite often—provided them with supplies and the like.
I even had a few friends in the group. But when harsher laws came into effect and public perception of alchemology became more negative, the Scriniarii retreated into the shadows.
Several of the members wanted me to do the same: to close up shop and deal exclusively with the dark market.
As you can imagine, that was when illegal trade truly began to flourish.
“I didn’t want to stop providing to my regular customers, however—particularly those in the slums who benefited from having a chemist nearby.
I still sold to alchemologists who worked independently, but the Scriniarii no longer trusted me.
The way they saw it, I’d chosen a side. They severed all ties with me as a result. ”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” said Zaria indignantly.
Louisa offered a tight smile. “In those days, the Scriniarii was very cautious. I suspect they still are, if indeed they still exist.”
“You don’t believe that they do?”
“At this point, I can’t see what their objective would be. They were always focused on making alchemology more widely available to the public. Given the state of things these days, it’s not as though they could continue that work. The risk is too great.”
Kane’s lip curled. “They’d be labeled heretics. Sent to prison, should they be caught.”
“Indeed.”
Zaria worried at her lower lip. That Louisa hadn’t heard from the Scriniarii in years might not mean they ceased to exist entirely.
Perhaps they’d taken up a different mission.
Maybe their group had evolved into one of companionship and learning, or maybe the name was simply symbolic these days.
They might not be the Scriniarii that Louisa once knew, but that didn’t mean they were gone.
Part of her hoped they weren’t gone, anyway.
Fletcher cleared his throat, which Kane took as a prompt, straightening. “This is all very interesting,” he said, “but back to primateria sources. We’re not the first to come here asking about them, are we?”
“No,” Louisa admitted. She swallowed, visibly ill at ease. “You’re not even the first kingpin to do so.”
Zaria’s pulse quickened. Kane had been right, then—Ward had visited the Hoffmans.
“And what did that other kingpin want to know?” Kane said.
Louisa let out a long exhale, her cheeks hollowing. “I was asked about a certain necklace. One that was slated to appear on display in the Great Exhibition. Given what happened to it, however, I expect you already know as much.”
Kane’s only response was a reticent smile. From his position by the door, Fletcher muttered, “Maybe we should show her.”
“Show me what?” Louisa asked, glancing between them.
Kane shot Zaria a meaningful glance. She withdrew the necklace from her pocket, the chain slipping through her fingers, and set it in Louisa’s hand.
The woman sucked in a breath, her gaze sharpening as she swiped a thumb over the glittering red stone. “I don’t understand. How do you—”
“You recognize it, don’t you?” Kane said. “It’s the necklace you were asked about. The one believed to be a primateria source.”
Louisa gave a bewildered shake of her head. “How did you come to have it?”
The question made Zaria frown. How did Louisa think they had gotten it? If she knew about the theft, she could surely fit the pieces together. “It doesn’t matter. You see, we suspect it’s a fake.”
Louisa took a step back from their group, still holding the necklace. Kane started forward as if to intercede, eyes blazing.
“I only want to take a closer look in the light,” Louisa was quick to explain.
Kane didn’t argue, but he and Fletcher flanked the shopkeeper as she approached the nearest candle, holding the necklace near the flame.
She hunched her shoulders and leaned close, brow furrowing as she turned the pendant over, then over again, examining the filigree with a magnifying glass.
A slight tilt of her head accompanied her furrowed brow.
As the silence swelled, Zaria’s attention drifted to Kane. He was still watching Louisa, lashes casting delicate shadows on his cheekbones in the quivering candlelight. He looked like both boy and king. Both dangerous and lovely.
Eventually, Louisa set the necklace on her worktable and straightened. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s a forgery.”
Frustration seared through Zaria’s veins, and she struggled to quell it. Although they had already guessed as much, having it confirmed felt like getting punched in the stomach. All they’d done—all the risks they’d taken—had been for nothing.
Fletcher swore under his breath, and Jules tilted his head back in defeat. Kane, however, only gave a brusque nod. When he spoke, his voice was stiff. “I suppose that explains it.”
“How can you tell?” Zaria asked Louisa, trying to sound equally as unperturbed.
“Primateria source or not, that necklace is magical. I felt it.” The way the metal was always warm, and how it inexplicably seemed to thrum against her skin…
it had been obvious from the moment she’d touched it.
Like laying a hand on something created by a powerful alchemologist.
“Oh, there’s magic in it,” Louisa agreed.
“Somebody wanted you to think it was a primateria source. If you look at the back of the pendant, though, you can see the odd craftsmanship.” She flipped the necklace over, indicating with a fingernail.
“A master jeweler would never have left this indentation in the back. What’s more, the placement of the stones in the filigree aren’t quite symmetrical. ”
“She’s right,” said Jules, who was peering over Louisa’s shoulder. “I would never have noticed without seeing it magnified.” His lips pressed together in dismay. Having grown up in the pawnshop, he had a practiced eye when it came to spotting forgeries. “It’s a fake source and a fake artifact.”
Louisa nodded, returning the necklace to Kane’s outstretched hand.
“If what I learned from the Scriniarii is true, then a source should revert to its original form the moment a practiced alchemologist attempts to use it. What’s more, the carmot should emit a glow similar to any other primateria-imbued object. ”
“Hold on.” Zaria extended a hand in Louisa’s direction as if she could physically stop her from speaking. “The what?”
Louisa blinked. Quickly checked her timepiece. Shook her head. “I don’t know what you—”
“You said the carmot.” Zaria suddenly knew why the word was familiar. It was the one she’d seen scrawled in Cecile’s handwriting on the drawing of the necklace. The last thing Cecile had tried to tell her in the moments before she’d died. “What does that mean?”
“Oh.” Louisa’s expression cleared. “That’s what a primateria source is said to be made of. It’s a hypothetical substance, but it’s always described as being a deep red. That’s why this necklace would have been such a perfect disguise, you see.”
Zaria stared into the dark corner of the room without seeing anything, the relentless pit in her stomach suddenly cavernous.
Cecile had known. Cecile had known. Or at the very least, guessed at it.
She’d suspected the necklace was a primateria source all along, and that was what she’d been trying to tell Zaria.
“I feel like there are more important questions to be asked here,” Fletcher said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “For example, if the necklace is a fake, who the hell made it?”
Louisa didn’t answer. Her eyes dropped to her timepiece again, and this time, Kane’s followed, tracking the movement. They narrowed.
“Miss Hoffman,” he said slowly, menacingly. “Are you expecting someone?”
Louisa’s gaze snapped back up. She smiled, but it looked forced. The air in the room shifted. “Of course not. But would you kindly excuse me a moment?”
Without waiting for an answer, she hurried from the room and back into the shop proper.
“That was strange,” Jules said.
“She’s been acting strangely since we got here,” Kane replied tersely. “I’m giving her one single minute before—”
A scream punctuated the air, cutting him off midsentence. Zaria’s pulse leapt into her throat, pounding frantically against her windpipe.
“What the hell was that?” Jules demanded.
Nobody answered him. Kane and Fletcher had already lunged for the door, both with weapons in hand. Zaria exchanged a bewildered glance with Jules. He inclined his chin, and in unspoken agreement, they followed.
The front of the shop was deathly quiet, the shadows more foreboding in the wake of the scream. The door was open; Zaria could see the dark outlines of Kane and Fletcher in the street just outside, silhouetted by the dim moonlight. It was another moment before she realized they weren’t alone.
Not exactly, anyway. There was something at their feet. A shape—a human one—huddled on the damp cobblestones. Zaria’s breath tangled in her chest.
“Wait,” Jules said through his teeth, grabbing her forearm. “We don’t know who else might be out there.”
Presumably hearing the words, Kane turned around. His gaze latched onto Zaria’s, and what she could see of his face was drawn, tense.
“Louisa’s dead,” he said, but Zaria knew it wasn’t the woman’s death that had perturbed him. Even as her heart plummeted and bile rose to meet it, she was focused on the object in his raised hand. A single slip of paper, held between two fingers like the winning ace in a fraught game of cards.
And it was a card, Zaria realized.
A business card.