Prophecy's Child (Broken Throne Book 2) Page 10

  “So it’s a focus group?” Cait said. “That’s a first. A focus group to see how we can better serve our illegal endeavors.”

  Winnie shrugged. “It has to be done. Artos is dealing with a loss of business based on the New Amsterdam incursions. This is a chance to solidify some of what he’s already doing. Artos has done the heavy lifting here; we just need to gather some discussion points.”

  They quickly divided, and each went for their marks. It was mid-afternoon, so the owners should all be in, prepping for their evening. They were all supposed to be expecting the deliveries, after all.

  Winnie picked the first club on her list and opened the doors, oblivious to the two black sedans pulling up to a nearby alley, unloading Cleaver, Cricket, and six of Cleaver’s crew onto the streets of Fells Point.

  CHAPTER 21

  Winnie stepped inside the Brass Seahorse Saloon and looked around. Dark wood paneling and antiqued brass hardware made the bar seem ancient. It made Winnie imagine a world in sepia, with seedy villains and the detectives seeking justice. She smirked. She could use someone to bring a few villains to justice right now.

  “Can I help you with something, young lady?”

  A bearded bartender in his early thirties stood behind the bar. He wore a pressed white shirt with a black apron tied about his waist. He held a damp rag and appeared to have paused mid-swipe.

  “I’m Winnie Durham. I’m here to see the owner.” She glanced at her list. “Mr. Nick Wells. He’s expecting me.”

  “I’m Nick. And I wasn’t expecting you. Artos said he was sending over a rep with a few new items I might be interested in. He said nothing about a child.”

  “I’m eighteen.” Winnie held her frosty tone. “I have Artos’s trust and the things you need to take your side business to the next level. Or not. I have other clubs to visit.”

  Nick raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry. We got off on the wrong foot. I was surprised. You’re not what I think of when I hear charm runner.”

  Winnie came forward and swung the backpack from her shoulder onto the bar. She’d taken the largest load, and it was heavy, though it would get lighter as she moved through her list. “Artos authorized me to bring you his best. Everything has been adjusted using a new method we use to mask an item’s magical nature. Keeps Red Leg scanners from detecting the charms. You know there’s nothing like it. And it’s only for Artos’s top customers.”

  Nick fidgeted with his rag, looking past Winnie at the door. “Show me what you got?”

  She shrugged, opened her pack, then pulled out a small linen pouch. Winnie unwrapped the thin ribbon tying it closed, then unfolded the linen onto the bar and revealed its contents: a diamond stud earring, a small broach, a retractable ball-point pen, and a hair clip.

  Nick snorted and waved a hand at the pile of charms. “I don’t have much call for jewelry and such things.” He picked up the ball point pen. “What’s this do?”

  “It’s a forger. It can duplicate anyone’s handwriting, as long as they’ve used it to sign their name once. So, say you want to get around the health department and sign your own permit? Get the inspector to use this pen to sign his name and you can duplicate his signature whenever you want.”

  Nick set the pen down. “You suggesting I need to trick my way around the health department? I run a clean kitchen here.”

  Winnie winced, then picked up the hair clip. “This will cause the wearer to draw attention to herself, make anyone within five feet do whatever she says for five minutes after activation.”

  “How do you activate it?” Nick asked.

  “You put your hair up, then reach back and grab the clip while you shake your hair to let it down. Anyone in the spell’s radius will turn to the user, then do whatever he or she wishes for five minutes or until the clip is back in the hair. It’s powerful and you should be careful who you sell it to, but —”

  “This is crazy. What’s to keep someone from robbing my bar and getting away clean?”

  “I see your earring, but …” Winnie picked up the diamond stud. “This will make you immune to charms like the hair clip here.”

  She was just about to tell him about the broach, but he looked past her to the door again. Winnie turned. Cricket was standing there, holding the door open. His grin was wide as it could probably go.

  Cleaver Yorke sauntered into the room, followed by Garraldi. Winnie gathered her items on the bar, save for the clip.

  Cleaver turned in place, looking around. Winnie pulled her hair back, placing the clip to hold it in place.

  The big boss finished his slow turn and gave Winnie a feral grin. Something sinister sparked in his eyes. “Winnie Durham. I told you I’d have my way.”

  “So this is how you get it? You follow me to Baltimore? Or are you here for the oysters?”

  Cleaver boomed laughter. He pointed at Winnie. “I can have the world’s best without ever leaving my room, Miss Durham. I’m here to offer you a final chance to join me.” He gestured to Garraldi, who came over and took her backpack. “Like I said, no isn’t an answer I accept. One way or the other, you’re going to work for me. You know I have the sight, and that I’m telling the truth.”

  “If I remember correctly, you said we’d work together. Not that I’d work for you. A man like you must respect loyalty and surely understands that it isn’t personal. I met Merrilyn first. And he’s the boss in Baltimore. Not you.”

  Cleaver’s fists clenched at his side. Cricket and Garraldi were closing in.

  She only had a moment.

  Winnie reached up, pulled the clip from her hair, and shook her head to send the waves of brown hair spilling back to her shoulders.

  Cleaver’s men stopped, looking vacantly at Winnie.

  A surge of adrenaline. She pointed to Cleaver and spoke to the thugs. “I’m leaving. Don’t let him follow me.”

  Both men turned and walked towards their boss.

  “You can play games, Winnie—” Cleaver knocked Cricket to the ground with a firm shove“ — but you can’t get away from me forever.”

  The smaller man started to stand, wobbling on his feet. Garraldi reached Cleaver and grabbed him by one arm, but Cleaver lashed out with a fist and sent him stumbling back in a daze easily, dropping to the ground like a toy.

  The boss loudly laughed, beating the tar from his men.

  Winnie picked up the backpack and ran for the door.

  She dashed into the street … and a major dust storm.

  She looked around, grit stinging her eyes. She had to find her friends. They were going to get caught up in this, too, if she didn’t get them out of here.

  Winnie stumbled against the wind, crossing the street to the first club on Cait’s list. She was about to open the door when Cait burst out and crashed into Winnie.

  Two men exploded out behind her, grabbing Cait by the arms, yanking her toward them as she kicked the larger one with a booted foot. He grunted in pain, but he didn’t let go. The second man walloped Cait on the side of her head.

  She went limp in their grasp.

  The large one saw Winnie. He shouted to his partner, pointing at her as Cleaver came through the Brass Seahorse Saloon doors, snarling loudly enough for Winnie to hear above the storm.

  Another two men emerged from the swirling dust, holding a thrashing Tris between them.

  Winnie was lost and didn’t know what to do.

  She couldn’t leave her friends in Cleaver’s hands. And he’d only hold them until she agreed to his terms.

  Cleaver crossed the street and loomed over Winnie. His eyes were narrowed against the grit as he leaned down and shouted over the wind. “You’ve got balls, girlie-girl, I’ll give you that much! But as you can see, I was way ahead of you!”

  A bloodied Cricket and Garraldi were pushing through the storm toward them, apparently back in control of their faculties.

  Cleaver looked over his shoulder at the approaching men. “Nice trick. You’ll have to make one of those for me.
Took me a while to unravel it in the middle of the fight. Now, come with me and we’ll let your friends go.”

  Then, something stopped all of them in their tracks.

  An angry crowd rounded the corner and came marching toward them. There were hundreds of people, smashing windows along the storefronts and slashing tires with knives. As they got closer, she heard them shouting things like “burn out the chanter scum” and “end the chanters, end the storms.”

  Cleaver’s men let go of her friends, turning to defend themselves as several angry men tried pulling them into a fight.

  A bottle flew past Winnie’s face, so close the glass brushed her cheek. She fell back from an approaching man who was ready to throw a punch. He never connected. Cleaver intercepted the blow, punched the man, and sent him hard to the ground.

  Cleaver looked around, saw his men struggling with the rioters, and shot Winnie a glance as he dodged a punch thrown by his adversary. “Get your friends and go. We’ll settle this another day. I won’t forget what you did today. There will be payback.”

  Winnie nodded and shouted for Tris while running toward Cait, still dazed, crumpled against a lamppost. They reached her together.

  “I just got a text,” Tris said. “The rioting isn’t just here. It’s even worse in the Enclave. They’re starting fires and stopping firefighters from responding. We have to go!”

  “Help me get Cait to her feet!” Winnie shouted over the storm. “We’ll cut between the buildings to a side street. Hopefully the rioters aren’t as bad there. Then we can figure a way to get home. We have to help my mom. If they set fire to our building, she’ll never make it out!”

  They helped Cait to her feet, supporting her as they wove through the crowd, watching rioters fight with the New Amsterdam crew. A few looked their way, but most people paid no mind as they slipped down an alley and out of sight.

  CHAPTER 22

  The three friends moved through alleyways, staying away from the streets and avoiding the swollen crowds of angry middlings. Winnie kept hoping the rioting was localized to Fells Point, but it seemed to be spreading everywhere as they crossed several major thoroughfares, threading their way between buildings and alleys to clear the riot zone. Garbage burned in the street, wind and storm-tossed embers drifting in the air and endangering buildings.

  Cait called for them to stop in an alleyway, asking Tris and Winnie to quit holding her up.

  “I’m fine. Let me go. I was just a little dazed back there.”

  Winnie stepped back from Cait, looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was coming after them, then turned to her friends, panicked. “We need to get back to the Enclave. If it’s this bad here, it’s worse there. I’ve got to get to Mom!”

  Tris gestured toward the main street. “There’s no bus service in the middle of a riot, Winnie. And likely no taxis. We’ll have to find another way.”

  “We can try something I learned in the army,” Cait suggested. “We just need to find a parked car where no one will pay us any mind for a few minutes.”

  “What are you going to do?” Tris asked. “Hotwire a car?”

  Cait nodded. “I learned a spell for quick repairs to broken circuits. My sergeant told us it could be used to steal a car, and that she’d be watching us to make sure we didn’t.”

  Winnie wasn’t exactly a fan of the idea, but it seemed like their only option. “I don’t know what else we can do.”

  “Come on.” Tris waved them down the alley. “I saw something perfect down this way.”

  They followed Tris down the twisting alley until they were standing beside a small delivery van for a pizza place, parked by the restaurant’s kitchen exit. Tris hefted a broken piece of concrete and turned to Cait.

  “You’ll have to work quickly once I break the window. I’m sure they’ll hear the glass shatter in the kitchen.”

  Winnie waved her off and walked to the driver’s door. “Let me try something first.” She leaned over to the door’s keyhole and closed her eyes, pulling at the magical flows, teasing them into the lock’s mechanism.

  She focused on the threads to fashion a key, perfectly designed to turn the tumblers inside. It was one of the most complex things she’d ever done, surely, but she found it disturbingly easy, drawing on the extra power she’d unlocked. After a moment, Winnie was rewarded by a click. The lock unlatched and the door swung open.

  Cait smiled at Winnie. “Neat trick. You’ll have to show me.”

  “I’ll try and figure out what I did. I was mainly working by feel.”

  Cait slid into the driver’s seat and bent down to see beneath the dash. “You two get in. We’ll need to jet once I fire this up.”

  Winnie got into the passenger seat. Tris climbed in the back and crouched there amid a mountain of unassembled boxes. Cait touched the ignition mechanism, stroking it with her fingers. After a moment, the engine turned, then roared to life. Cait sat up, closed her door, slid the gear lever into drive, and hit the gas.

  Winnie looked over her shoulder. A pair of men rushed out of the restaurant, shouting. A couple tried to chase after them, but they didn’t get far. Cait turned onto the main street and left the alley behind them.

  She turned and sent the van hurling toward the columns of smoke haunting the distance. It looked like the Enclave was burning.

  Winnie hoped she wasn’t too late.

  ———

  It took Cait twenty minutes to thread through the debris and looters along their route to the Enclave. They had to back up twice and retrace their route as they reached a burning roadblock. It seemed like the rioters and looters were having a party. Bricks and beer bottles shattered and crashed against the van as they drove through the embattled city. She didn’t see police or Red Legs anywhere.

  Winnie wanted to rage, thinking they’d given up on her city.

  After an eternity, Cait turned down Eastern Avenue and headed into the Enclave. They passed two places where buildings had been set ablaze, fire and smoke joining the unrelenting dust storm in a deadly combination.

  They reached another set of makeshift roadblocks — burning tires and rubbish in the street.

  Cait stopped the van. “We’re only a couple of blocks from your place, Winnie. I don’t think I can get any closer. We’ll have to chance it on foot.”

  “I see crowds and smoke,” Winnie shouted. “We have to hurry!”

  She jumped out of the passenger side and ran towards home. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to her mother while she was on a job for Artos.

  She covered the two blocks with Cait and Tris trailing close behind, the smaller of her companions gasping from trying to keep up. Work kept Tris in a chair, monitoring panels and readouts. This had to be the first real workout she’d had in a while.

  She stopped when a crowd erupted through the dust down the street, waving clubs, a few brandishing Molotov cocktails. The mob swarmed through the street, looking for their next target, swiftly approaching Winnie’s apartment. She looked past the mob to a group of people huddled in front of the building — Mom and a few of their neighbors.

  And the mob saw them. A shout bit the air as one of the middlings in the front ranks pointed to the cluster of chanters huddled on the concrete. The crowd surged forward with a snarl of rage, like a pack of wolves spying easy prey. Winnie shouted to try and draw their attention but the group paid her no mind with another target already in sight.

  Winnie glanced at her friends. She didn’t know what the three of them could do against a mob of thirty or more, but she had to do something before it reached her mom.

  She turned and ran, shouting, almost unconsciously reaching out for the magic that was always waiting nearby for her. She absorbed torrents, all at once and as much as she could handle, then stretched her mind to draw in more.

  Her pores were bursting with magical energy. She boosted her speed with the residual energy still coursing through her.

  Surprising. Winnie didn’t know she could ma
ke magic work on herself in that way. She felt the familiar surge in the pleasure centers of her brain, same as when casting Sable magic, but she didn’t care.

  Winnie gathered speed and rounded on the crowd until she found herself standing between them and her mother. She was screaming at them to stop, her voice somehow amplified.

  The mob stopped about twenty feet away, shouting curses and waving their fists. One threw a flaming Molotov cocktail past Winnie, towards the apartments she was trying to save.

  Winnie reached out without thinking, using a magical flow to grab hold of the burning cloth at the end of the bottle. It burst against the building’s side, spreading the burning gas in a roaring splash of flame against the brick.

  Winnie grabbed ahold of that fire as well, reaching out with her hands and yanking on the blended flows of fire and magic. They swirled around her in a complex pattern that she struggled to control. If she let go now, the resulting explosion would strike anyone within a one block radius.

  From the corner of her eye, Winnie saw Cait and Tris standing off to one side, their mouths gaping. She knew how they felt. Winnie couldn’t believe that she’d managed this either. She had to do something with the power surging through and around her. It felt like she’d drawn all of the city’s magic to this one spot and now didn’t know what to do.

  Squinting against grit and smoke from the angry storm, Winnie had an idea.

  Instead of letting go, she let the magic and fire spread to the sky, drawing in the air and dust in an ever-widening arc.

  Winnie’s awareness spread outward as well and she felt other buildings on fire nearby. She invited every flame into her spreading umbrella of magic, fire, and swirling dust until she’d expanded over the entire Enclave and beyond into the neighborhoods nearby who also had rioters looting and fires burning. She drew those flames, too.