Prophecy's Child (Broken Throne Book 2) Page 3

  Cricket laughed. His two goons chuckled.

  “Cleaver keeps his own council, and I don’t make it a habit of asking the man why he wants what he does. The last guy who asked too many questions — well, let’s say he was discouraged from asking anything else.”

  “You’re saying he won’t take it well if I say I’m not interested? Like I said, we’re small time here, and that’s just how we like it.”

  “We’ve heard things about you, Winnie. Impressive things.” Cricket paced the store while Garraldi and Dugan stayed by the door. “This shop used to be bustling, so you can handle a larger scale. You might have had a setback or two, but that’s never stopped you. Has it?”

  Winnie stood still, not answering as she looked at him, watching him circle the room. He walked slowly, taking his time as he considered the shop’s empty shelves. When Winnie didn’t answer, Cricket continued his circuit, finally returning to his spot in front of Winnie, Cait, and Tris.

  “Cleaver Yorke wanted me to come down here and find out about you. You’ve checked out and seem to be in a bit of recovery. I get it. We all have setbacks. This is the ideal time for you to consider working under new management. Cleaver is making plans for expansion outside of New Amsterdam. He’ll be moving in on Baltimore soon and wants to make sure the local talent — ” Cricket pointed at Winnie “ — understands that there are openings in the operations we’ll be establishing along the way.”

  Winnie met Cricket’s ice-cold eyes. “I’m not interested. We’re not looking for new partners. Please express my regrets to Mr. Yorke, but our existing management is just fine.”

  “The existing management is stagnant, Winnie. Old fashioned.” Cricket became more animated. “Artos Merrilyn is a small-time operator and will never be more. Baltimore deserves a better leader.”

  “What kind of things could you do for us that we don’t already have?” Cait blurted, unable to wait.

  Cricket laughed. “Ah, the blond Amazon finally speaks. You’re Caitlyn, right? Ex-army with an impressive set of skills. We could put them to more appropriate uses, and let you keep working with your friend.” He turned to Tris. “You’re Tristan, the fixer. Of course, we could use you, too. If Winnie wants to play along with Cleaver, you’ll never have to worry about the Red Legs again. If Cleaver had been in charge, your cousin would still be alive and the city’s chanters would all be safe. Cleaver protects his Enclaves.”

  “I’m impressed you’ve taken the time to learn about me and my friends, Cricket,” Winnie said. “And I’m sure that all you’ve said is true. But we’re happy with the way things are and will pass on this particular invitation. Please convey our regrets, and gratitude for the offer.”

  Cricket met Winnie’s eyes and held them in silence. Finally, he said, “It isn’t wise to land on Cleaver’s bad side. He doesn’t take no especially well. I urge you to be smart and reconsider.”

  Winnie shook her head. “No, Cricket. We’re not interested in his offer. I don’t wish to offend him in any way, but we don’t want to work for someone we don’t know, especially someone so far from Baltimore. It’s like what you said about the storm. Things are different down here, and I believe it’s best to stay with what we know.”

  “I’m warning you, Winnie. I’ll pass along your refusal, but Cleaver won’t be happy, and I can’t promise that he’ll offer a generous proposition again.”

  “Be that as it may, he has his answer. Now if you’ll excuse me, we are leaving and I need to lock up.” Winnie gestured to the door and waited for the men to comply, not knowing what she would do if they refused. She had faith in Cait to take on one of the two goons behind Cricket, but she wasn’t sure that she and Tris could handle Cricket and the other man on their own.

  Silence stretched for a few long and uncomfortable moments. Then Cricket nodded, shot Winnie a grin, and stroked his thin mustache.

  “Very well, Winnie. I’ll pass along your message. I’m sure this isn’t our final encounter. As I said, Cleaver is looking to nurture his relationship with this city — I’d advise you to be careful and stay out of our way.” Cricket motioned to Garraldi and Dugan, then the men turned and led the way outside.

  Winnie watched them walk down the street and eventually out of sight. Once they were gone, she turned to her friends.

  “Cleaver Yorke is bad news,” Tris said. “He runs New Amsterdam with an iron fist. I heard he got his name because he chops off his enemy’s hands with a meat cleaver … ”

  “Well, I guess I better not double cross him, then.” Winnie said.

  Cait looked worried. “What are you going to do?”

  “What I was planning to do already. I’m going to talk with Artos. He needs to hear about this, and we have to go through him to get our operation up and running again, anyway.”

  “And you’re not worried about angering Cleaver?” Tris asked.

  “No. I figure Artos already knows Cleaver’s guys are in town. He’s probably already made a few moves, and Artos seems to always know what’s going on. I’m sure he’ll know what to do.”

  Winnie walked over, grabbed her coat from the rack by the door, then turned to her friends.

  “It’ll be alright,” she reassured them. “Artos will know what to do.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Winnie waited in the outer office watching Mr. Gunderson putter about his chores — or whatever it was he did for Artos Merrilyn. The small gray-haired man, dressed in a three-piece suit and tie like always, was fixing a tray with tea and coffee. He set a plate with scones on the tray beside a pair of cups and saucers, then turned to a French press and poured coffee into the silver pitcher.

  Winnie was so engrossed in watching the assistant that she failed to notice Artos open his office door and invite her inside. She heard him on the second mention of her name and flushed, embarrassed at how scattered she was. This was how it had been since the fight at the steel mill. This wasn’t like her — she always paid attention, and didn’t like surprises.

  Winnie stood and followed Artos into his office, and started toward his desk. Instead, he directed her to sit in the more comfortable lounge chairs next to the bookshelves lining the wall. As she sat, Mr. Gunderson entered and set the service tray on the table between her chair and the small sofa where Artos sat, smiling at Winnie as his assistant set up the tray. Mr. Gunderson poured her tea and Artos’s coffee before retiring to the outer office.

  Winnie sat back and waited for the older man to leave before speaking. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this treatment, Artos. It makes me think you’re up to something.”

  Artos laughed, picked up his coffee cup, then leaned back on the sofa. “Nonsense, my dear. You’ve been through a lot since I last saw you. This is my way of showing appreciation for all you’ve done, albeit in a small way. Nothing can truly compensate you for all you lost.”

  Winnie sipped her tea, wondering if Artos was referring to the loss of Joey in the raid or if he also knew about her pregnancy. Knowing what she did, it wouldn’t surprise her that this man was somehow spying on her enough to know everything.

  “It wasn’t pleasant for any of us, Artos, but we got the job done.”

  “You’re minimizing your role in the Harvester’s destruction. I’ve felt things change in the magical field surrounding our city. That happened after the machine was destroyed. And your friends had nothing to do with it. My sources say you somehow resisted its power to draw on your magical life force and instead caused it to overload and explode. Is that true?”

  Winnie shrugged. She didn’t like to think about it, and couldn’t remember much of the what had happened when she was strapped to the machine, anyway.

  Apparently sensing her discomfort, Artos changed the subject.

  “So, my dear, what brings you to my offices today? Are you ready to return to work? There is much to be done, if so.”

  “Perhaps, but something else happened today that I want to talk about. I received a visit from a few gentlemen
coming down from New Amsterdam. They came into my shop, told me they were taking over, and offered me a spot with Cleaver Yorke’s crew.”

  Winnie left the statement dangling while she gauged the old man’s expression. As usual, Artos seemed to know what was happening already.

  “And you said … ?”

  “I told them no, of course. What did you think I was going to say? You don’t seem surprised. Why didn’t you tell me about them coming if you knew that they would be? I could have been prepared instead of getting the crap scared out of me and my friends.”

  “I didn’t know why they were in town. Things have been, shall we say, tense between Sable bosses since the dust storms started pummeling the coast. Director Kane has ratcheted up the pressure on chanters across the board. This has cut into profits. When the bosses lose money, they look for ways to make more, including expansion into new territory.”

  Winnie sat back. “So they’re cutting in to Baltimore?”

  “Are they moving in to try and claim a share of our business here? Yes.” Artos met Winnie’s gaze. “Are they taking over? No, far from it. I still control the Sable trade in this city, and fortunately, I have loyal people like you backing me up.”

  “Of course I backed you, Artos. I don’t like being pushed around. You know that. But I want to know why they came to see me. I haven’t been actively running for two weeks.”

  His eyes softened. “Winnie, they came to see you for the same reasons that I did. You’re a remarkable young woman with substantial power. Word has spread since your confrontation with Kane. Yorke has friends in high places, and I assure you those friends have whispered about the girl who did the impossible, surviving where no one should have.”

  The chanter leader stood from the sofa, walked over to a map of the United Americas on the opposite wall, and pointed to New Amsterdam on the East Coast, just north of Baltimore. “It’s no accident that Cleaver Yorke is the leader of the Sable trade in the country’s biggest city. He’s clawed his way to the top, fought and killed and claimed control through brute force. Someday, when the time is right, I’ll tell you more about the man who rules New Amsterdam’s charm runners with an iron grip.”

  “You’re not helping ease my fears, Artos.”

  “I’m not trying to. You should deal with Cleaver Yorke carefully, especially if you meet him in person. Fortunately, you shouldn’t ever have to do that. I’ll take care of telling Yorke to stay the hell out of Baltimore. He should set his sights on Philadelphia or Boston. They’re both closer and ripe for the picking.”

  Artos returned to his place behind the sofa and looked down at Winnie.

  “The question for you, right now, is, are you ready to work? You and your friends must believe that it’s time or you wouldn’t have been meeting in the shop. I have a job that requires your abilities to mask a charmed object. So, Winnie, are you ready?”

  Winnie looked down at her hands, holding a teacup and saucer while trying to keep it from shaking. She’d asked this question of herself every day since her deadly encounter at the steel mill. She still didn’t know the answer for sure, but some things were certain: She still had to pay for her medicine and medical bills. Plus, there was one other thing she longed to know.

  Winnie looked back up at Artos. “I’m as ready as I’m going to be. But I do have one request.”

  Artos smiled and inclined his head for her to continue.

  “I need you to find out what happened to Danny. I saw them dragging him out the room while I fought the machine. I’ve searched for him, but no one seems to know what happened. I don’t think that Danny is dead, so, where is he? Promise that you’ll find out and I’ll go back to work for you now.”

  “I’ll do what I can to search for him, Winnie, but that is a promise I cannot make. Have you thought about what you will do if the news is bad? He was caught colluding against the Director himself. I will use my resources to search for him, and if it is within my power, I shall find Danny Barber, or discover what happened to him. But I can only promise to do my best.”

  Winnie felt herself relax. Artos was good to his word. That was one of the reasons she had told Cricket to pass along her NO to Cleaver. Winnie was loyal by nature. It was one of her strengths, helping her to command strong friendships with people like Tris and Cait. It also meant she was bound to those she chose to support. She’d cast her lot with Artos. That choice had been freely given and she would not turn her back on him.

  Fierce loyalty was what had her so focused on locating Danny. She was ashamed that she’d believed the others who had said he betrayed her. She had to make that right, had to find Danny and tell him she was sorry for her doubt. She wanted him to forgive her and tell her they could become the friends and lovers they had been before the machinations of Nils Kane, Constable Holmes, and Morgan had torn them apart.

  Winnie set her cup and saucer on and end table and stood, looking Artos in the eyes. “Find Danny and I’ll be your charm runner forever.”

  He laughed. “Careful what you say, my dear. Forever is a long time. Why don’t we agree that I’ll do what I can to locate Mr. Barber for you and you’ll take a few key assignments that have been awaiting your special talents?”

  Winnie nodded, and that was it. She was back in the employ of Artos Merrilyn, running charms and defying the law.

  Everything was fine, so long as she got Danny back.

  CHAPTER 7

  The Director of the Department of Magical Containment marched down the corridor of the department’s private detention facility, flanked by a quadrant of Red Leg guards. He stopped at a locked and barred door at the end of the corridor.

  Kane waited for the lead guard to unlock the elaborate mechanism then open the door to a stark room with concrete walls, painted white to match the tiled floor. An examination table sat in the room’s center.

  Kane’s subject was secured to the table by the broad leather straps attached to its frame. He nodded to the guard, waved a hand in dismissal, then stepped inside. The door was shut and secured behind him.

  The guards would wait outside until he finished, as they’d done on each of his daily visits for the last two weeks.

  It was a necessary distraction from his regular duties. He had so much to do, especially in the face of the citizen’s unrest over these strange storms plaguing the coastal cities. The people wanted answers and were pressuring Congress, who were in turn nagging the Assembly. Everyone wanted to know where the dust storms were coming from, and how they might be able to stop them.

  But, in truth, Kane didn’t know. Only that they were tied to what had happened with Winnie Durham at the steel mill. She had survived the Harvester — a feat which no one had accomplished before — and had managed to somehow destroy it and trigger imbalance in the magical continuum that he’d not felt since he was a child.

  Growing up in the United Kingdom, Nils had discovered his ability to sense the magic around him, just like his mother. She’d predicted Europe’s coming destruction. It was the reason she had worked to get him on one of the final refugee boats when everything was collapsing. She had known what was coming but had been unable to stop it. In the end, she’d been killed by rioting middlings, venting their fear and rage on any chanter in sight. He had watched her get dragged to the ground and mauled as his transport to the coast drove off.

  Nils had vowed to never be a victim again, to never again be helpless in the face of the middlings he hated so much. He would control the animosity that had ultimately killed his mother and use it to his own ends. He was more confident than ever: Winnie Durham was the answer. The challenge was in finding a way to manipulate her into doing what he wanted. If Nils could control her, he could steer the magic and restore the fragile ecosystem around the United Americas’ most isolated cities.

  Nils approached the exam table, discarding his suit jacket into a nearby chair. “Hello, Mr. Barber. Are we ready for our daily appointment?”

  “I don’t understand what you want from m
e. Ask me a question. Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything. Please don’t keep doing this to me.”

  The Director shook his head. “I want you, Daniel. That is all. The rest will come in time. Shall we begin?”

  Danny wailed as Nils pushed up his sleeves and leaned over him. Practiced fingers found pressure points on the boy’s skull, and with a surgeon’s skill, Kane weaved a fine lattice of magical flow directly into his subject’s brain.

  Using the magic, Nils could see inside the boy’s surface memories and his most basic desires. He manipulated the latter, as he did during each of these sessions, until he was satisfied. He was almost finished. Soon, it would be time to send young Mr. Barber back into the world, armed with his new destiny.

  Kane stepped back several hours later, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and mopping his brow. He rolled his sleeves back down and buttoned them closed around his wrists.

  He smiled at the unconscious subject sprawled on the table. He had enjoyed hearing the screams of pain during the most intense part of the session, but they had been distracting. So, Nils had knocked him out to focus on his task. He would return once or twice more to make sure his weaves stayed in place and that the magic worked in its intended manner. This time, Danny would serve the Director, same as his parents: effectively and without awareness of their actions on his behalf.

  Nils straightened his tie and pulled on his blazer before rapping on the steel door to signal the guards outside. The door opened and he stepped back into the corridor. The guards came to attention.

  “Take the boy back to his cell. Monitor him carefully and make sure he has something to eat and drink in the next few hours. He’ll need his strength for what’s to come. Understood?” Kane eyed the guards.

  “Yes, sir!” the men barked in unison, then went inside for their prisoner.

  The other two guards fell in behind Nils as he started back up the corridor toward the central hallway. He nodded to the Red Leg officer behind the desk on his way toward the elevators, then turned to the lead guard behind him.