For my mom, who taught me to read.
And my dad, who taught me to love the stories.
And for Kara, who is golden.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Soria, Destiny.
Title: Iron cast / Destiny Soria.
Description: New York : Amulet Books, 2016. | Summary: In 1919 Boston, best friends Corinne and Ada perform illegally as illusionists in an infamous gangster’s nightclub, using their “afflicted” blood to con Boston’s elite, until the law closes in.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016013279 | ISBN 9781419721922 (hardback) | eISBN 9781613121528
Subjects: | CYAC: Magicians—Fiction. | Criminals—Fiction. | Nightclubs—Fiction. | Gangsters—Fiction. | Prejudices—Fiction. | Boston (Mass.)—History—19th century—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.S678 Iro 2016 | DDC [Fic]—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016013279
Text copyright © 2016 Destiny Soria
Book and jacket design by Alyssa Nassner
Jacket illustrations copyright © 2016 Sam Wolfe Connelly
Jacket typography by Caleb Heisey
Published in 2016 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
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WE ARE THE MUSIC-MAKERS,
AND WE ARE THE DREAMERS OF DREAMS
—Arthur O’Shaughnessy, “Ode”
CHAPTER ONE
Corinne’s first day as a nurse at the Haversham Asylum for Afflictions of the Blood was a frosty Thursday. It had been a little over a week since the start of the New Year, and so far 1919 was not showing signs of promise—at least according to the head nurse. Corinne smoothed out her white starched uniform as the pale, hawkish woman clucked her tongue at the state of the world.
“Mark my words, this is the year when the Bolsheviks make themselves known,” said the head nurse. “America is under siege from within.”
“No doubt,” Corinne said vaguely. She wasn’t really paying attention. She couldn’t even remember the head nurse’s name, though she supposed it would come to her eventually. The corridors they walked were all the same hideous taupe, from floor to ceiling. It gave Corinne a headache, though that might have been due to the comically large ring of keys that clinked and clanked with the head nurse’s every step. Over the PA system, a dreary voice told Dr. Knox that he had a visitor, and to please report to the front desk.
The buckle of Corinne’s left shoe had loosened, and she hopped on one foot to fix it while the head nurse unlocked the door marked 205 in shiny black paint.
“You’ll start your rounds every morning at precisely seven a.m.,” she told Corinne. “Structure and punctuality are very important here. You’ll have a chart that explains which patients are confined to their rooms and which are permitted to take breakfast in the dining hall.”
The lock gave way with a groan, and the head nurse returned her key ring to her belt.
“Ada,” she said into the dark room. “Ada, I know you’re awake.”
“Morning, Molls,” came a voice from the corner opposite the bed. A small, barred window let in enough light for Corinne to make out the girl’s warm, sepia skin and high, jutting cheekbones. She was sitting on the floor, wedged into the corner with one knee clutched to her chest. Her eyes glinted in the dim daylight as she tilted her chin upward.
“You’ll address me as Nurse Heller,” said the head nurse. Then she turned to Corinne. “This is Ada Navarra. She arrived here only recently and is still adjusting. There was an . . . incident when she first came, so she’s confined to her room until Dr. Knox clears her.”
“What sort of incident?” Corinne asked, fiddling with a strand of yellow hair that had fallen from her neat braid.
“Some lunatic tried to jab metal into me, and I politely refused,” said Ada, eyeing Corinne. Her lips twitched slightly, and although her voice was weak, it held an edge. “You don’t look half old enough to be playing nurse, Goldilocks. Tell ’em you were eighteen, did you?”
“Dr. Knox was trying to perform a routine examination, and Miss Navarra flipped a table on top of him,” Nurse Heller said. “Ada, this is Nurse Salem. She will be assisting me on this ward.”
Ada chuckled and shook her head. Her scarf was coming loose, and tight ebony coils sprang free across her smooth skin.
“I fail to see what’s funny about that,” said Corinne.
“Salem? You gotta be pulling my leg,” Ada said, squinting at her.
“That’s enough, Ada,” said Nurse Heller. She rapped her knuckles against the doorframe. “You’ll show Nurse Salem respect or Dr. Knox will hear of it. And cover your hair—you’re indecent.”
Ada tugged at the gray scarf. Her lips were still twisted into a smirk, though the lines of weariness were unmistakable in her features.
“Say, Nurse Salem, you come from a family of witches?” she asked. “Because I have this awful pain in my rear and could sure use a touch of dark magic.”
“Salem is a Hellenization of the Hebrew shalom, which means peace,” said Corinne.
“Pardon me,” said Ada, retying the scarf with exaggerated gusto. “I did not know I was in the presence of a scholar. You can teach me some Latin while you scrub the latrine.”
“I don’t expect you’d be able to handle the declensions,” Corinne replied coolly.
Ada sat up a little straighter, her eyes suddenly bright.
“I can handle anything you care to throw at me, Goldilocks.”
“We’ll see.”
Before Ada could retort, Nurse Heller slammed the door and locked it. Corinne saw that her taut jaw was trembling and her knuckles were white where she clutched her key ring.
“These are very troubled souls,” Nurse Heller said after a few seconds. She straightened and patted at her coifed gray hair. “As they are hemopaths, we must pity their affliction. But as those here are also criminals, we must keep ourselves apart. If you let them under your skin, then you will be hindered in your duties. Am I perfectly clear, Nurse Salem?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Corinne ducked her head obediently and followed Nurse Heller to the next door. Her shoe buckle had come undone again.
The days in the asylum had been passing more slowly than the nights. Maybe that was because Ada could watch the sunlight trace its way along the tiled floor, creeping in excruciating inches until breakfast, and then surging to a blinding line of gold at lunch. After that, it disappeared in degrees, replaced by the umber of sunset, then the deep blue of twilight. Ada had been there only two weeks, but she already knew its every station.
Tonight, when the blue finally gave way to black, she did not move to the straw-stuffed mattress across the room. She stayed where she was, her back pressed against the unyielding corner. She h
ad tried to sleep in the bed the first night, but the inmate in the adjacent room had wept without ceasing, her wails vibrating through the wall.
The last Ada had heard from the woman on the other side was days ago. She’d screamed when they’d come for her. Ada told herself they had taken her to the infirmary wing. It was a lie, but a comforting one at least. Other than giving the nurses and doctors hell, there was no real comfort to be had in this place.
Her muscles and bones ached from her confinement, but she still did not move. If they were coming for her, she wanted to be awake. She wanted to fight back. The asylum was full of people just like her, but she still felt terribly alone.
Until today.
From outside the cell came the sound of a key sliding into the lock, jolting with force, and then the door swung open. Silhouetted by the light from the corridor, Nurse Salem leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, smile visible even in shadow.
“Well?” said Corinne. “Are you coming?”
Ada climbed to her feet. Blood rushed to her head, and the aching of her body retreated to the back of her mind.
“Two weeks?” she asked, joining Corinne in the corridor. “My grandmother could have planned a faster rescue than this.”
“I was going for a slow build to a grand finale. Like an opera.”
“You’ve never been to an opera in your life,” Ada whispered as they made their way briskly toward the stairs.
“Sure I have. I had two whole weeks of leisure while I was waiting for the suspense to build. Learned embroidery too.”
At any other time, the image of Corinne trying to thread a needle would have sent Ada into fits of laughter, but tonight she could feel the walls of Haversham crowding around her. She tried to shake herself free, but some part of her was still back in that cell, watching the darkness slither in. They descended the stairs two at a time. Corinne’s shoes clattered on the polished wood, while the cotton slippers they had given Ada were silent. The door in the stairwell led to another corridor on the ground level, and they crept through it.
Considering the costume and the fact that Corinne had been making rounds as a bona fide nurse that day, Ada supposed there was some kind of plan in place. Of course, there was always the possibility that Corinne had concocted an elaborate scheme to get in but hadn’t bothered with an escape route, in hopes that things would sort themselves out. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Ada jumped at a sound behind them, fighting the flurry of fear in her gut. There was nothing there. Corinne gave her a strange look, but as she opened her mouth to speak, there was a commotion around the corner, where the main entrance was. Doors were banging and feet were shuffling and a man was screaming. Another man snapped something to a nurse about a sedative. More scuffling. Then quiet.
Before Ada could grab her, Corinne edged along the wall until she could peek around the corner. After a few seconds of listening to the muffled voices, Ada joined her.
Two men in dark suits gripped a limp, ragged man between them. Their hats were pulled low over their features, but Ada could see that they were both unconcerned by the unconscious weight they held. One of them made a joke about the weather while the nurse on duty whispered nervously into her desk phone. The other one laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound.
Ada shivered and pulled Corinne back before they could be seen. It was clear enough that they were HPA.
“Dr. Knox wants to know if you have any paperwork on him,” the nurse was asking.
“Miss, I know you’re doing your job, but this slagger is getting heavy. Tell Knox it’s another one for the basement.”
The nurse relayed the information in a murmur; then there was the click of the receiver.
“Use the back stairs,” she said.
There was more grunting and slamming of doors. Corinne yanked on Ada’s sleeve and whispered in her ear. “What’s in the basement?”
Ada shrugged, but she was thinking about the inmate in the next cell over. The one they had come for late in the night.
Corinne shook her head and pulled a brass pocket watch from her uniform. The familiar sight was comforting. In four years, Ada had never seen Corinne without that watch.
“Five fifteen,” Corinne said softly. “Showtime. Stay close, and try to look contrite, will you?”
Ada didn’t get a chance to demand an explanation before Corinne marched around the corner toward the front desk. Lacking a better alternative, Ada followed her. She kept her head down in what she hoped was an approximation of “contrite.” Her heart was slamming against her rib cage, and she had to twine her fingers together to stop their shaking.
At their approach, the nurse jumped up.
“Nurse . . . Salem,” she said, fumbling only briefly for the name. There was a magazine on her desk that she shoved neatly under a stack of papers. “What are you doing?”
“Dr. Knox prescribed Navarra a brisk walk every four hours, no exceptions,” Corinne said. “Can you point me to the walking path? He said something about a pond?”
“It’s dark outside,” the nurse said.
Peering up through her eyelashes, Ada could see suspicion all over the nurse’s face. She was reaching for her earplugs, which dangled from her neck on a fashionable necklace that was probably a protective iron alloy rather than nickel or silver. Ada had the sudden, exasperating thought that maybe Corinne really had expected to just walk out the front door.
“Nurse Salem, any particular reason you’re gossiping in the hallway?” A man’s voice made Ada jump, and she whirled, finding herself face-to-face with Dr. Knox.
He was lumpy in his white coat, with a bald head and thin spectacles that he must’ve repaired since his last encounter with Ada. He ignored her and crossed his arms.
“Sorry, Doctor,” Corinne said. “I was just asking where I could find the walking path.”
“Go left,” he said, waving toward the front doors. “Weren’t you given a tour this morning? No one here has time to draw you a map.”
He cast a sympathetic glance toward the desk nurse, who seemed appeased by his scolding of Corinne. She sat back down.
“The agents are waiting for you in the basement, Doctor,” she said with a preening smile.
He nodded and finally acknowledged Ada. “Miss Navarra, I trust that after our discussion about rewards and consequences, you’ll be able to behave yourself on these little walks?”
Ada couldn’t recall any such discussion. In fact, the last time she had seen Dr. Knox, she had just flipped a table on top of him, but she just nodded.
“Good,” he said. “Remember, privileges are earned.” He patted Corinne on the shoulder in a fatherly gesture and left.
Ada saw the face Corinne made but didn’t dare say anything with the nurse still watching them from her chair. She kept her head down, reminding herself to look contrite, and they walked out the front door.
They didn’t turn left toward the brown grassy lawn. They just kept walking down the wide gravel drive—slowly at first, but soon they were sprinting. The sharp rocks stabbed at Ada’s feet, but she didn’t care. Moonlight wafted across the grounds like a jazz melody, and the cold wind of January had never felt so good.
“What about the gates?” Ada asked. She had to pump her legs to keep up, even though Corinne was much shorter. Her muscles were just now remembering what it meant to move.
“Jackson will have them open.”
“Jackson? He’s here?” The newest hire at Johnny’s club had been around for only a week before Ada was arrested.
“Cripes, don’t tell me you didn’t recognize him. I thought for sure he got the eyes wrong.”
No wonder Doctor Knox had seemed so forgiving toward her.
“Dead ringer,” Ada said, ignoring the burning in her lungs. “He’s good.”
“He’s an ass.”
A laugh burst from Ada before she could stop it. She didn’t know why she was laughing, except that her best friend was beside her, and they were running so fas
t her feet were barely touching the ground, and up ahead she could see the open gates of the wrought-iron fence surrounding the Haversham Asylum for Afflictions of the Blood.
They breezed through with a brief twinge of pain, crossed the road, and half ran, half slid down the long embankment on the other side. They had only the moon for light, and Corinne slowed as she headed for the line of trees. Ada followed close behind her.
“We gonna walk to Boston?” Ada asked. She rubbed her arms vigorously against the cold.
Corinne glanced over her shoulder toward the empty road, then blew some warm breath into her hands. She didn’t seem particularly concerned by the increasing likelihood of someone in Haversham realizing they’d been duped and chasing after them with iron-tipped billy clubs. But then Corinne never seemed particularly concerned about anything.
“I brought the Ford,” she replied, stopping for a moment to fiddle with the buckle on her shoe. “There’s an access road through here.”
“I hate the Ford,” Ada said.
“So sorry, Princess. I could always leave you here. Maybe your next rescue will be more to your liking.”
Ada knew it was a joke, but the mere notion of going back was like a knife in her stomach. Even as they went deeper into the wood, she could feel the asylum looming over them. Suddenly every stone and fallen branch was excruciating beneath her ill-protected feet. Corinne was looking at her strangely again as they walked, no doubt confused by Ada’s sudden reticence. Ada forced a tight smile.
“I’ll admit,” she said, “I was hoping for some explosions or at least a sleeping draft in the head nurse’s tea.”
“What are we, gangsters?”
“Well—”
“Never mind.”
The dead trees and underbrush extended for only a few hundred yards before opening onto a dirt road, where the hulking black Ford was waiting. Ada climbed in to shield herself from the rising wind, and Corinne leaned in through the driver’s side to grab some leather gloves from the seat.
“There’s a coat in the back, and aspirin’s under the seat,” Corinne said.
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