The Serpent's Curse, Lisa Maxwell [new reading .TXT] 📗

Dolph Saunders and the Devil’s Own and then, later, with Paul Kelly’s gang. In those days, he’d still been Benedict O’Doherty, a name he’d only recently resurrected. He hadn’t yet fashioned himself into Harte Darrigan or pulled himself out of the Bowery through sheer determination.

Harte still didn’t want to look too closely at where the impulse to send the headpiece to the woman had come from. After everything that had happened at Khafre Hall—and with Seshat’s voice newly echoing in his mind—he hadn’t exactly been thinking straight when he sent the Order’s artifacts out into the world. He’d only had the impulse that he needed to get them out of the city, because he knew that Nibsy Lorcan could never be allowed to retrieve them.

Back then, the country had seemed impossibly large to Harte. He’d thought that by separating the artifacts, by sending them out into the far corners of that enormous world, it would be impossible for any single person to bring them back together and harness their power. He’d been wrong, of course. Even if Nibsy Lorcan might not find the artifacts for decades, Harte’s experience in St. Louis had shown him how easily they could fall into the wrong hands. Julian hadn’t been able to resist wearing the necklace that contained the Djinni’s Star, and the Society had found it. Harte had seen the discarded newspapers that littered the trains as he’d traveled; he already knew that Julian had paid the price for his naive stupidity. He only hoped that Maria Lowe had not been so unlucky.

Harte increased his pace, but walking faster couldn’t turn back the years or undo the mistakes he’d made along the way. Already the sky was growing darker and the city was beginning to come alive. Now that evening was falling over the streets, there was something about San Francisco that reminded Harte of New York. The two cities were nothing alike, but beneath the cover of night, they weren’t so very different. He’d come thousands of miles only to find himself in the same place he’d started—a crowded, filthy cluster of buildings filled with work-weary souls who only wanted to make it to the next day. A trap dressed up like a dream.

The thought made Harte walk faster, not that he could ever outpace the memory of the boy he’d been. He was so deep in the darkness of his thoughts—so determined that whatever mistakes he’d made in the past, he would find the headpiece and make this one mistake right—that he almost didn’t notice the fencing. Or the men who guarded it.

Harte pulled up short just before he crossed Kearny Street. On the other side of the intersection stood a trio of men. Each held a billy club as they watched the pedestrians with sharp eyes. They weren’t police, or at least they weren’t wearing the uniform of police, but behind them, a barricade of wood and barbed wire blocked the intersection. In the deep recesses of his mind, he heard Seshat laugh.

EXILED

1902—New York

Ruby Reynolds barely cared that she was crumpling the sheet of paper in her hand as she stormed into the Barclays’ library and slammed the door behind her. Theo didn’t so much as look up as she propped her hands on his desk.

“Your sister said you were in here working,” Ruby told him.

Theo continued annotating the notebook he’d been writing in, the words pouring from the tip of his pen in a slow, steady stream as ink transformed itself into his eminently readable hand. She knew that she was interrupting his studies, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’ve come?” Ruby demanded, her irritation growing by the second.

“I assumed you would tell me whether I asked or not,” Theo told her with a small, impertinent smile.

“They’ve all refused me.” Ruby threw herself into the nearby armchair. “It’s now official. Every single reputable paper in town has rejected me. I just received the Sun’s rejection this afternoon. They publish the absolute rubbish that Sam Watson spouts on a regular basis, but they rejected my article about the gala outright. Can you imagine?”

“Not at all, darling. You’re only going after the most powerful men in the city.”

Ruby knew that Theo was her greatest supporter—had been since they were children—but his words still rankled. “Who are they to deny the people of this city the truth?” She felt her indignation rise once more.

“Who indeed?” He finished the line he was writing and set the pen on the table before looking up at her.

“They’re a bunch of cowards. All of them,” Ruby said, still stewing with anger. “And I told the editor, Mr. Bartleby, so myself.”

Theo frowned at that piece of information. “You did what?”

“I marched straight into the Sun’s office and demanded to see the editor. They told me I had to have an appointment,” she muttered. “An appointment, if you can believe that!”

“What a novel idea,” Theo mused.

“This isn’t a joke to me, Theo.” Ruby felt her shoulders sink right along with her spirits.

“I never said it was, darling,” Theo said. “I’m merely imagining you storming into the offices of the Sun like an avenging Valkyrie. Did you finally manage to see Mr. Bartleby?”

Ruby deflated a little more. “No. He refused to meet with me, but I stood my ground. I told them exactly what I thought of their editorial choices.”

“You didn’t.” His mouth kicked up a little.

“Do not mock me, Barclay.” Then her temper faltered a little. “I couldn’t bear it if you thought I was a joke too.”

Theo’s expression softened. “I would never think that of you. But you had to expect this would happen,” he said, his smile fading. “I read your piece. It was wonderfully brave and honest, but the Order’s reach is long.”

Ruby let out a tired breath. The members of the Order might be some of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the city, but she had truly believed that