Chapter 27 Zaria #2
Kane braced a hand on the wall. “With any luck, Price will have the Curator in darbies before anything can happen. The next Mansion House meeting is in two days, and hopefully that’ll make it easy to determine our suspect.”
Jules inclined his head, his dark eyes alight. “I poked around a bit when I was there the other day. There’s a door in the kitchens I can use to get you inside, assuming no one else is around.”
“If they are,” Kane said, “we have a way to deal with them.”
Zaria blinked. “We do?”
“Sure. We’ll use the same gun you used on Price Junior at the Exhibition—if you can even call that thing a gun. It put him out cold.”
Unease lanced through her, and Zaria knew they were both thinking the same thing: The same aleuite she’d used in that nonlethal revolver had also put Kane out cold. “Fine,” she said, aiming to sound detached. “Do you still have it?”
Kane nodded. It was one of the weapons he’d seized from her belongings when she arrived. A strange, faraway expression overtook his face, and he began backing toward the door. “Speaking of weapons, there’s something I need to check. Fletch?”
With a shrug, Fletcher followed Kane from the room, leaving Zaria alone with Jules once more. She knew even before he spoke what he was about to say.
“Do you really think your father created a primateria source?”
She fiddled with a few loose strands of her hair. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, I want to say no. But when I think back… it all just makes sense.”
“Why wouldn’t he tell you?”
“I don’t know,” she repeated, her eyes beginning to sting. “Why didn’t he or Cecile tell me anything?”
Jules shook his head grimly. He came to sit beside her on the bed, leaning back against the pillows. Like her, he hadn’t taken much care with his hair today, and onyx strands of it fell across his brow, making him look like a younger version of himself. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
He ignored that. “My father’s doing better, by the way. He isn’t coughing as much, and he seems to like working with Petrov.”
“That’s good,” Zaria said, and meant it. Although she wasn’t happy with George, she didn’t bear him any ill will.
“I think he’ll be fine once we’re gone.”
A jolt shot through her. “What?”
Jules seemed far too relaxed as he lifted a shoulder, then let it drop.
“We were never going to want the same things, my father and I. He’s focused on eventually reopening the pawnshop.
He’s never going to entertain the thought of leaving London, and I suppose I always knew as much.
I just couldn’t admit it to myself. I don’t want to hurt him, but I’m eighteen.
An adult. I have to do what’s best for me. ”
Zaria bit her lip, tamping down the sudden influx of relief she felt. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I want too many things I’ll never find in Devil’s Acre. Besides, we need to get away from this place. The people here.”
“You just want to get away from Kane,” she said, only half joking.
Jules paused, his face more serious than it had been a moment prior. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“You have to know that he’s obsessed with you.”
Zaria froze, abruptly feeling self-conscious in a way she rarely did around her friend. Heat rose to her cheeks. “That’s not a question.”
Jules maneuvered himself so that he was sitting up straight.
“No, it’s not. Sorry. It’s just…” He trailed off.
“I’ve been able to see it from the start.
The way he looks at you. I never said anything because I didn’t think it mattered.
I knew we were going to be rid of him sooner rather than later.
But then, when you were telling me what happened in Seven Dials…
It was obvious how scared you were when he got shot.
That’s when I realized you talk about him the same way he talks about you.
Like you’re trying to pretend you don’t care, but anyone with eyes can see that’s exactly what it is—pretending.
” Jules fixed his own perceptive gaze on her now.
“Be honest, Zaria. Do you care about him?”
“I shouldn’t,” she whispered. “Nothing good can come of it.”
Jules looked resigned. “No. You’re right about that.”
“He kissed me,” Zaria said, suddenly unable to bear keeping it a secret any longer.
“A couple of nights before the Exhibition. He kissed me, and I wanted him to.” Afraid to glance at Jules’s face, she buried her own in her hands.
Muffled, she continued, “I know what you’re going to say.
I know. It’s absurd, and we’re not right for each other, and I shouldn’t feel anything for him but disdain. I just can’t seem to help myself.”
Jules blew out a breath, and Zaria knew without looking that he was running a hand through his dark hair, the way he often did when words evaded him. Finally, he said, “I’m not judging you. But Zaria… Kane’s not a good person.”
“And I am?”
“I mean, yeah. You are.”
She lifted her head. “I’m not. Not really. And the thing is, I understand him. I wish I didn’t, but I do. Ward killed Kane’s parents in front of him, Jules, then did his damnedest to bleed every ounce of softness from him. But… I don’t think it worked. I can see it, even when I’m not trying to.”
“You can’t fix him, Zaria.” Jules’s voice was firm. “No matter how much good remains, it’s not your job to bring it out.”
“I know that.” How many times had she had this same argument with herself ?
Jules clambered closer. They were face-to-face now, his expression serious. “In the end, it doesn’t matter whether you can fix him or not. We’re going to leave London. You have to let him go.”
The ache at Zaria’s core expanded, rising until it formed a lump in her throat. “I don’t know why it hurts,” she admitted quietly.
Jules sighed, stretching out an arm and using it to pull her into his side. “Because you don’t always get to choose who you care about,” he said. “And the heart isn’t particularly wise.”
His familiar warmth made the anguish slightly more bearable, and Zaria softened into him, biting the inside of her cheek. “At least it was right about you.”
“Yeah.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “At least there’s that.”