The Serpent's Curse, page 65
Either way, it didn’t truly matter. The Brink was already becoming irrelevant. The Order might have been emboldened by retrieving the Delphi’s Tear, but Jack knew that soon there would be more bridges and trains leading out of the city, maybe even a tunnel under the river. The Brink was a vestige of the past. It had served its purpose, but it would not be enough to stop the onslaught of maggots that insisted on coming to these shores. The Order must change to address that threat, or they, too, would fall into irrelevance, and their great nation—their peerless civilization—would fall to ruin.
Jack Grew would not allow that to happen.
In the center of the Mysterium was a replica of the Tree of Life wrought from iron and gold. Within the maze of its spindly branches were five open spaces, and in one of those spaces, the Delphi’s Tear floated, suspended in the Aether. The entire piece seemed to glow from within. For the time being, it had an extra layer of protection upon it, charged as it was by the power of the Golden Hour. If the Order had been able to complete their ceremony, this protection could have been extended in time, recharged at each subsequent solstice.
If the Order had been able to complete the ceremony…
The air around the ring shimmered as Jack circled the sculpture and examined the artifact, waiting. With the Delphi’s Tear, he would show the Order—no, the country—that there was a better way, a more modern and powerful approach to dealing with the threat of feral magic. He would show everyone how the occult sciences could change the world. He had only to wait for the golden light to dim, and with the confusion in the sanctuary below, the protections of the Golden Hour would fade. Jack would be able to take the ring and forge a new path toward a new future.
Once the sun had dipped below the horizon, Jack watched as the electrified streets began to dim. Far off, the Brink still lit the river with its strange colors, but the sculptural tree began to dim. Its protections began to wane. The Golden Hour had come to an end.
It was time.
Jack reached for the ring, certain of his victory, but he had not yet touched it when a pain erupted in the back of his head, sharp and absolute. His legs went out from under him at the impact, and he barely caught himself as he crumpled to the floor, his vision already blurring.
As Jack tried to gather his wits and focus through the pain, a masked figure stepped up behind him. Barely holding on to consciousness, Jack could only just make out the shape of a man. He realized then what had happened. Someone was there with him in the Mysterium. Someone had broken through every protection he’d created, throwing his plans into chaos.
No. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.
Before Jack could even bring himself to his knees, the thief had already grabbed the ring, dislodging it from the Aether, and then turned to retreat. But the instant the thief’s unworthy hands had touched the artifact, the protections Jack had put in place awoke. The medallion at the entrance of the Mysterium began to slide back into place, blocking the exit before the thief could reach it.
Jack couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation he found himself in as the thief darted around the room, looking for some other option. But there was no escape from a doorless room high above the city streets except one. Jack tried again to stand, but his head spun, and he collapsed again, unable to do more than simply lie there with the room swirling around him.
If he could make it to the doorway… perhaps he could pull himself across the floor and perform the ritual to open it—except that he knew that plan was pointless. Even if Jack could get himself out of this chamber, he was in no shape to stop the masked figure from also escaping. Better to be trapped there together. At least this way the bastard who’d hit him wouldn’t be able to take the ring. At least this way Jack could make it appear that he was protecting the Order’s treasures, and the old men would never know the truth.
Jack thought that he had planned so carefully. He’d been sure that he’d accounted for every possibility, and still this had happened. Soon the sanctuary below would open. Soon the Inner Circle would rush up to the Mysterium to check on the artifact, and the High Princept would use his blood to open the door. Soon they would find Jack here, and there would be questions.
It doesn’t matter. Jack would have answers. When they finally discovered him, the perpetrator would already be disposed of. Perhaps he wouldn’t get the ring that night, as he’d hoped, but Jack would be hailed a hero.
The thief pounded on the bronze seal on the floor, but after a few minutes, the thief seemed to understand that he was trapped. He ran to the end of the room and tore at the doorway that led to the balcony. The warm summer air gusted into the room, helping to clear Jack’s head. His vision was still unsteady, but the pain was beginning to recede.
“There’s no other way out, I’m afraid,” Jack said, carefully pulling himself upright. He reached into his jacket and took out a pistol, aiming it at the intruder. “You’re welcome to jump, but if you hand over the Delphi’s Tear now, there’s no need. I might even allow you to live.”
The thief stepped out onto the balcony instead. Then, before Jack understood what he was doing, the figure threw himself off the ledge and disappeared into the wind.
STUBBORN TO A FAULT
1920—Chicago
Jericho Northwood took one look at the weapon his son was carrying when Everett returned from the Nitemarket with Esta and knew that things had gone too far. Esta might have kept her word by keeping Everett safe, but she’d clearly let the boy take too many risks. North had every mind to tell her so, except he didn’t know how to without exploding or saying something that might embarrass Everett… or revealing something he’d regret, especially since they’d brought Dominic Fusilli with them. The last thing he needed was Dom any more entangled in the Northwood family’s business, so North kept his mouth shut tight as they all tromped back to their warehouse.
As the elevated train rattled into the city, North tried to organize his thoughts. Everything seemed so much more complicated than he’d expected when he’d decided to bring Everett along for a quick bootlegging run. He’d only wanted to help toughen the boy up a little, not get him killed in the process. But with the sirens filling the city air, it was becoming more apparent that Esta might be right about the tower. It was an idea that made North’s blood run cold.
He hadn’t been much more than a kid himself when the tower in California had been activated, but he remembered the aftermath. The idea that something like that might happen again seemed completely impossible, but if Esta was right about the attacks, she was probably also right about the rest. The way North figured it, there was only one thing to do.
Once they were back at the warehouse, they were greeted by the man who’d driven the truck earlier. “There’s been an attack,” Floyd told him.
“We figured when we heard the sirens,” North said. “What’s the word?”
“It’s the convention. According to what they’re saying on the wireless, the delegates were in the middle of taking a vote on the vice presidential candidate—that easterner, Coolidge, was set to win—when everything went haywire. They’re talking about monsters, and they’re blaming the Antistasi.”
“Monsters?” North asked.
Floyd nodded. “Great beasts, according to the descriptions of the people who made it out. This one guy, he was saying the creatures looked like they were made from shadow. They killed a bunch of people already, and as far as I can tell, the attack is still going on—there are still people trapped in the Coliseum.”
North glanced at Esta, who gave him a dark look in return. I told you, she seemed to say.
“I want to hear for myself,” North told Floyd.
“We have the wireless set up in the main room.”
Together they went into the warehouse, where the other Antistasi North had hired were already gathered around the receiver, listening intently to the nonstop bulletins. They listened for a long time, trying to get a sense of what had happened. The attack had been violent. Already, they were starting to count the dead. But when the reports grew repetitive, North knew there was nothing more to learn, and he clicked off the receiver. In the end, fifty-three had been killed by some kind of magical beasts, and because the attacks were similar to what had happened at the Conclave back in 1902, they were already blaming the old magic.
Back then, the government had used the attacks on the Conclave to pass the Defense Against Magic Act. But that had been an attack on a private group of wealthy men. The convention was public, and the death toll was already horrifying. There was no telling what the Brotherhoods would do, no telling how much more they could turn the public against Mageus… except North already knew what came next. Esta had already told him what would happen.
At first no one moved or spoke. The group kept staring at the now-silent receiver, and then they began exchanging uneasy looks with one another.
“I know that they blamed the old magic for attacks like this before, but I’ve sure never heard of any Mageus with an affinity like that,” one of the men said, finally breaking the silence.
“Because it wasn’t Mageus,” Esta told him. She looked to North. “It was a setup. And it worked. Coolidge should’ve been nominated tonight, but now…” She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.
North launched into action. “The shipment I was telling you about is in the back,” he told Dom. “We’re going to be leaving town tonight. I’ll give you whatever you want for a good price, if you help me get it off my hands.”
Dom’s eyes lit. “Mind if I take a look now, seeing as I’m here and all?”
“Be my guest,” North said.
“You’re leaving?” Esta asked once Dom had disappeared to find the promised crates of Nitewein.
“As soon as we can pack everything up and Dom hands over enough cash for me to pay the guys I hired for the job,” he told her.
“You can’t run from this,” Harte said, stepping forward with fury in his eyes. “We told you what was going to happen.”
Which was exactly why he was leaving. “I have my boy to consider,” North said, refusing to feel even the smallest bit of guilt. “I’m not going to stay here and let him die.”
“So that’s it? You’re not going to help us?” Harte asked, stepping even closer, as though he wanted to go toe-to-toe.
North lifted his chin. “I’m going to protect what’s mine for as long as I can.”
“I don’t blame you,” Esta told him, placing a hand on Harte’s arm. She cut a warning look at him, before turning her attention back to North. “But I wish you’d reconsider. We could use the help.”
North shook his head. “Not this time.”
“The tower could go off as early as tomorrow night,” Harte pressed. “You’d walk away from that, knowing how many people will be hurt?”
“If it meant my family was safe?” North glanced at Everett, the boy with his eyes and Maggie’s heart. The boy who had made them a family. “I most certainly would.”
“Safe.” Esta gave him a sad shake of her head. “You say that like it’s possible for people like us to be safe.”
“For the last fifteen years or so, safe is exactly what I’ve been,” North told her.
“Have you?” Her tone was unreadable.
“I have my ranch, my family,” he told her. “I don’t need this mess you’re stirring up.”
“We’re not the ones doing the stirring,” Harte told him.
“Mark my words,” Esta added. “If that tower goes off, it won’t only be Mageus in Chicago who will be harmed. When Jack Grew becomes president—when, not if—nothing is going to stop him from making life for those with the old magic worse than it’s ever been. Even Mageus like you, who think they can run off to safety. They’re going to build more towers. Eventually, they’re going to come for your family, too.”
“Eventually isn’t today.” North understood what was at stake. He wasn’t an idiot, was he? Hadn’t he lived through more deeds and fought long and hard for the promise of a future for his children and their children’s children? But that future was still a ways off, and Everett was right here, real and whole. He couldn’t set the boy’s life aside for some distant possibility.
“We didn’t stop the attack, but we can still stop Jack and the terrible future he’s planning,” Esta told him. “We can stop ‘eventually’ from ever arriving if we destroy that tower. Tonight. Before he sets it off. We can save the Mageus in the city and those who have no idea what’s coming. Help us destroy the tower, and we can save your family.”
“You can’t destroy the tower tonight,” Everett argued. “An attack like that wouldn’t help your cause at all. You’d just be giving the Brotherhoods another reason to rally everyone against the old magic.”
“Leave it be, Everett. This is none of our business,” North told his son.
“The kid has a point,” Harte said to Esta.
“No,” North told them, stepping between his son and the other two. “He doesn’t. He’s not getting involved. Get your stuff,” he told Everett, who had the weapon he’d brought back with him from the market on his lap. He was already starting to take it apart. “We’re leaving as soon as we’re packed.”
Everett set the metal body of the flamethrower aside. “You can go if you want, but I’m not ready just yet.”
Looking at his son, the boy’s face a portrait of stubborn determination, North was struck immediately by how young Everett still was. It didn’t matter that North himself had been even younger when his own father had died or that he’d been about Everett’s age when he’d been jumping from place to place, getting into all sorts of trouble.
“I didn’t ask if you were ready,” North said.
“But I can help,” Everett insisted. “I understand machines. I’ve studied everything I could about the California towers—at least in theory.” Everett turned to Esta and Harte. “I can help,” he repeated.
“Maybe you can,” North told his son, “but you’re not going to.”
Everett frowned at him, and North saw the flicker of temper flash in his boy’s eyes. That little show of backbone was what he’d wanted from his son all along, but North found himself now wishing he’d never started down this path.
“Son—”
But Everett stepped around North, ignoring the warning he’d infused in that single word, and spoke directly to Esta. “If you’re going to go after that tower, you need to be smart about it,” Everett said. “It’s not enough to destroy it tonight. That would be another attack, and another reason for the Brotherhoods to retaliate. They might even be able to repair the tower in time to set it off like they’re planning to, and you wouldn’t have stopped anything. It would be better if we let the whole thing play out, but if we could disable the mechanism so no one realized… Or maybe if the machine didn’t work like they expected… With a couple of adjustments to the tower, we could turn their whole plan into an enormous, embarrassing catastrophe. We could save the people in this city who have the old magic and make Jack Grew and the Brotherhoods look like incompetent, dangerous fools all at once.”
“You don’t by any chance have an idea for how to do that?” Esta asked, exchanging a silent look with Harte that North didn’t like one bit.
“Yes,” Everett told them.
“No,” North said at the same time. “I told you—he is not getting involved. We’re leaving tonight.”
Everett met North’s eyes. “I can help with this, Pa.”
“What do you expect me to tell your mother if I have to go home without you?” North demanded.
“Tell her the truth,” Everett said. “If I can help these people stop the Brotherhoods from succeeding with the massacre they have planned, then I’m gonna. I think she’ll understand.”
Esta’s expression was unreadable as she studied Everett. Then her gaze lifted to North, and when her eyes met his, North put everything he could into the silent plea he sent her. Leave me my son.
“Your father’s right,” Esta said gently. “I can’t ask you to risk your life. Your parents have done too much for us already for me to let you get caught up in this.”
“I’m already caught up in it,” Everett said, his jaw going tight. Then the boy turned to North. “I was born caught up in this. You can leave if you want. I wouldn’t blame you, but I’m staying.”
“Like hell you are,” North growled, fear finally snapping his temper in two. “You’re going to get your ass moving so I can get you back to your mother in one piece. One way or another we’re pulling out of this city within the hour. If that means leaving all those books you brought with you behind, so be it.”
“I’d like to see you make me go,” Everett said. He squared his shoulders, like he wanted to remind North that soft as he might be, he was still already grown.
“You heard what I said,” North ordered, ignoring his son’s posturing. “Bring that contraption along if you’d like, but you’re not staying here. You’re coming back to the ranch with me. Tonight.”
Everett met North’s stare, and he didn’t back down. “I am not going to leave every Mageus in this city to die because you’re afraid.”
The accusation rankled, but North saw that it wasn’t the stubborn petulance of a child shining in his son’s eyes. Everett looked every inch the man North had hoped his son would one day become, and he was struck suddenly with the irony of it all. He’d thought to toughen his son up, to transform him somehow, but the boy was already there. And North hadn’t been smart enough to see it.
“Every Mageus in the city isn’t your concern,” North told him, but he knew already that this was a battle he was destined to lose.
“Of course they are,” Everett said. “Isn’t that what you and Ma have been going on about since I can remember? Helping others. Protecting those who can’t protect themselves.”
