by Kady Cross
Outside, the building looked to be at least two centuries old. Its dark wood was made even darker by an earlier rain, and the old gas lamp above the sign—which could stand a fresh coat of paint—flickered in the evening breeze. The windows were made of small diamond-shaped panes of that old sort of glass that you couldn’t really see through. The door was heavy and the hinges squeaked, but inside it was pleasantly warm, lit with a golden glow and filled with low chatter and laughter. It smelled of meat pie and ale. Behind him, Wildcat’s stomach growled. He chuckled as he glanced over his shoulder at her.
“Reckon we might as well grab some food while we’re here.”
Her cheeks actually turned pink. “Sure. That would be good.”
They took a table not far from the fire. Jasper chose that one on purpose because he knew how much she enjoyed the heat. She’d curl up on the tabletop and nap if they’d let her, he thought. She was so much like a house cat, which made sense, given her appearance and abilities. He didn’t know how she’d come to be as she was, and he didn’t care, but he assumed it had to do with organites—the little critters that were responsible for all life, and for the current mutations in the human race that made some of them more than human.
“Can you smell her at all?” he asked. Cat’s intensely keen sense of smell was what made her an excellent tracker, along with her sharp eyesight.
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “There are so many other scents here it’s hard to focus on one. With this amount of people all I can smell is them, and food, and beer. I think I can smell her, but it’s weak. Maybe just wishful thinking.”
“We’ll find her, Cat.” He meant it, and he didn’t make promises he didn’t intend to keep. “I won’t stop until we do.”
Were those tears in her eyes? She’d blinked so quickly they were gone, but he could have sworn he’d seen tears. “Thanks, Jas.”
The barmaid came over, so Jasper ordered ale and two pies for them. “Any chance you’ve seen this girl?” he asked, taking the photograph from Cat’s fingers and handing it to the girl.
The buxom, freckled blonde looked at Sparrow’s face. “Oh, aye. Come in just two nights ago with some of the girls from Pick-a-dilly. Sung a right pretty song, too. She’s not in any trouble, is she?”
“No,” Cat replied before he could. “I’d just like to find her.”
“You’re her sister, ain’t you?” The barmaid grinned, revealing slightly crooked but clean teeth. “You look just like ’er.”
Cat smiled—truly one of the loveliest things Jasper had ever seen, even with her lips closed. “Yes, although I’d be most obliged if you didn’t mention that I was here looking for her.”
The girl nodded. “Right. You’re the elder. Got a baby sister and brother meself, and I understand your meanin’. I won’t say a word. She’ll probably be back with the girls tomorrow night.”
Jasper offered her one of the calling cards he’d had made a little while ago. It was simply his name, his telegraph number and the address for a postal box he kept. On the back he had scrawled the address of King House. “If you see her, talk to her or hear anything about her, maybe you’d be so kind as to let me know.”
Either the girl had a tic or she was fluttering her eyelashes at him. “Of course, ducks. Anything for you.” As she walked away he heard Cat emit a dramatic sigh.
“What?”
She rolled her eyes at him. In this low light her pupils were dilated, but that made them rounder and more normal-looking. “You can’t help yourself, can you? You’d flirt with a tin can if you thought it was female.”
“Flirt?” His voice cracked, the accusation was so incredulous. “How was I flirting?”
Cat made a face. “Maybe you’d be so kind as to let me know.” She’d made her voice so deep she had to tuck her chin to her chest, and every word and gesture was overly exaggerated. She snorted. “Should’ve winked at her while you were at it. Maybe give her a little pat on the bottom.”
“I have no desire to go anywhere near her bottom,” he retorted, not caring how it sounded. “And I wasn’t flirting. I was asking about your sister.” He tossed the photograph back at her. “Next time you ask.”
“You really don’t think she’s pretty?”
“She’s pretty enough.” He shook his head. Cat wasn’t the least bothered by his surliness. She was more surprised—apparently—that he didn’t want every girl he met.
In fact, other than Mei, she was the only girl he’d really wanted. He had flirted a bit with Emily, but only because she was such a sweetheart and it irked Sam when he did it.
“So, we’ll come back tomorrow night,” he said, changing the subject. “We can always check with the circus, as well.”
“Yeah, what is the Pick-a-dilly Circus?”
“They do a lot of acrobatics, animal stunts, freak shows. They’re just like any other circus except they seem to be good to their employees and their animals. They seem to have a lot of people like you and Sparrow working for ’em.”
One of her sharp black eyebrows shot up. “Like me and Sparrow? What do you mean, like me and Sparrow?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Cat. I mean girls who are different. People who can do things most people can only dream of. I’m one of them, too. You know I’ve never cared if your skin is dark or light or purple.”
She stared at him. For a moment he thought she might take a swing, and he was ready for it. Then she dropped her gaze. “You’re right. You’ve never acted like you were better than me, or treated me like that. I’m sorry.”
“Accepted.”
Their pies arrived at that moment, so nothing more was said. Jasper smiled at the barmaid and thanked her, and he didn’t care what Cat thought of it. He was not a flirt.
They didn’t eat in silence. Neither one of them was much good at staying put out with the other, just as they couldn’t seem to keep their hands and lips off each other. He asked about people they both knew and they shared amusing stories as they enjoyed the savory beef, vegetables and flaky crust.
Afterward, they took a walk by Pick-a-dilly, but it was closed for the evening, so there was no one about. They were on their way back to the velocycle when a strange whirring and clattering arose from a nearby underground exit.
“What’s that?” Cat demanded.
Jasper listened, a sense of dread suddenly overtaking him. “Metal,” he whispered. “And it’s in a hurry.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than half a dozen automatons of various shapes and sizes came streaming up the steps, headed right at them.
“Cat, move,” he said. When she didn’t, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her against the side of the building, putting his own body between her and the machines. The metal gang moved fast, mowing over anything in their path. Most people got out of their way, but a lamppost was twisted and bent as if it was nothing more than taffy, and the steps they had ascended were chipped and smashed from heavy footfalls.
Jasper braced himself for the sound of the velocycle being ripped apart like a cheap toy, but as soon as the automatons got within three feet of it, the cycle’s lights began to flash and a high-pitched hum emanated from it. The machines didn’t stop in their tracks, but they altered their course, swerving at just the last moment to avoid collision with the velocycle. Some of the automatons spoke as they marched. He couldn’t make out anything but one word, Master.
Most people might assume these were household machines that had gotten loose and were trying to find their way home, or some sort of prank, but Jasper had spent enough time with the crew at King House to be wary. And suspicious. He’d mention it to Griffin the first chance he got.
“That,” Cat said, “was one of the strangest things that I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of strange things.”
“Me, too.” He glanced down the stre
et where the automatons had gone. He could barely see them in the darkness. “Come on, I’ll take you back to the hotel. Where are you staying?”
“The Continental.”
He whistled softly. In the next alley over, a dog barked. “Fancy.”
She shrugged. “When am I going to get to London again? Figured I might as well live it up a bit.”
“Fair enough.” He didn’t want to think about the cost, or what she’d done to get the money. Cat wasn’t cruel and she wasn’t evil, and he had no right at all to judge.
They climbed on the cycle and made the trip back to the West End. He found a place to park just a short distance from the hotel door. “I’ll walk you up.”
Cat made a face. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do.” His mother would tan his hide if he ever let a girl walk somewhere unaccompanied.
They strode along the walk side by side, watching the brilliantly dressed guests of the hotel leaving for the evening’s entertainment. It was early to the upper classes. They’d likely be out half the night.
At the door of the hotel, he stopped. He wasn’t wearing his hat, so he couldn’t take it off or tip it to her. “I can fetch you tomorrow evening if you like, or is this where my part in the intrigue ends?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I would like you to come with me—if you don’t mind.”
She was so pretty when she was flustered. “You know I don’t.”
“Yeah, I suppose I do.”
Silence.
Jasper cleared his throat. “All right, I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.” He began to walk away.
“Jas?”
He’d only made it one step. Slowly, he turned. “Yeah?”
It took her two tries to meet his gaze. The uncertainty in hers inspired a fluttery feeling in his chest, as if a dozen butterflies were in there flapping their wings in excitement.
“Would you...” She folded her arms over her chest. “Want to come up?”
The distance between them was barely two feet, but he closed it regardless, coming to stand so that they were toe to toe. He placed his finger under her chin and lifted so that she was forced to look at him. “You know what’s going to happen if I come up.”
She nodded, and he removed his finger. This was when she said good-night—or goodbye.
Cat took a step back, then two. Jas felt each movement as though his soul was being pulled after her. She held out her hand. “Coming?”
Oh, hell.
He should say no. He should go. He should run away, or cut his heart out and hide it in a lead box, buried somewhere deep. Or maybe he should just ask someone to give him a good hard kick in the arse.
She dropped her hand, looking as though he’d slapped her. “Right. Good night, then.” She pivoted on her heel and practically ran into the hotel, leaving him standing on the sidewalk like the idiot he was.
When am I going to get to London again?
This might be the last time he saw her.
Panic grabbed him by the heart and squeezed hard. He didn’t think, he just let instinct take over. He ran through the hotel doors, looking around for her like a wild man. Then he saw her stepping into a lift all the way across the foyer. He rarely used his abilities where he might be seen, but tonight he didn’t care. In the space of a blink he was right behind her, following her into the small and otherwise empty lift.
She froze when she saw him. The gates were closed, and the lift jerked into motion.
“Jas—”
He grabbed her and kissed her. They were still kissing when they exited the lift on her floor. They broke contact long enough to get into the room. Jasper hung the do-not-disturb sign.
And then he shut the door.
Chapter Four
Cat woke up late the next morning.
Jasper had left sometime after four, claiming that he didn’t want people to see him leaving her room, because it might start rumors about her.
She had frowned at him and said, “I don’t give a rat’s arse about my reputation.” It wasn’t a complete lie.
He’d kissed her forehead. “I do.”
Something gave within the walls of her chest—like a sharp ping or the snap of a slingshot. While she and Sparrow had been loved by their parents very much, and even by the community, there were those who looked down on a marriage of mixed color. Looked down on the children that were a result of that marriage. From the time she started looking womanly, she’d had to protect herself against men who would use her or take advantage. And she could protect herself. Sparrow, too.
Maybe that was part of the reason she was so angry at her sister—for being duped into thinking that rich man was going to marry her. Sparrow should have known better. Their lives had taught them better. But then, her sister was something of a romantic and kept hoping a man would come along who didn’t care what color she was or wasn’t. Cat had always thought such a man didn’t exist.
Until now.
So, she hadn’t protested his sneaking out, especially not after the kiss he gave her before leaving.
“Meet me downstairs at seven,” he’d murmured before he left.
Seven o’clock that evening wasn’t for many hours yet, so that left her with plenty of time to kill. She decided to spend it exploring the city a bit and doing a little shopping. She wasn’t the shopping type—mostly because dresses were useless in Five Points. But Five Points was being demolished, the people moving on, and she wasn’t going to be that Wildcat anymore. Well, she’d keep the name. It suited her more than Catherine ever had—Mary Catherine, at that. Sparrow’s real name was Mary Elizabeth. Their father had been a “good” Irish lad, and their mother had been happy to become Catholic, having a strong belief in God.
Religion was on a pick-and-choose basis for most of Five Points. Sin all week and repent on Sunday. Cat wasn’t much for church, but she knew where she was going when she died.
So, she went to a fancy shop that sold what was called prêt-à-porter clothing. Ready to wear. She didn’t have to be measured and wait weeks for the darn thing to be done. She found a pretty dress in her size and bought all the bits and pieces that went with it. It was terribly expensive, but it would be worth the look on Jasper’s face when he saw her in it.
She’d made it only two hours without thinking of him. And not even two, because she had started thinking about him—and the night before—shortly after leaving the hotel. But she’d made herself stop. She was not going to moon and pine over him. Not going to pin any hopes on him. She was going to collect Sparrow and go home to New York, where they’d have a nice house and Sparrow could have the life she deserved.
Someday Cat might even forget about Jasper altogether.
She had tea in a little shop not far from where she got the dress, and filled her belly with sandwiches and cakes that were so delicious. Then, she bought some chocolates and continued on to another shop that sold beautiful soaps and creams. She spent money there, as well, and at the cobbler’s. Her last stop was a jeweler’s. Nothing fancy, just some earrings and pins for her hair. And she had all of it sent to back to her hotel, where it would wait for her, rather than having to lug it about town. She walked around and saw the sites—purchased an umbrella—and then made her way back to the hotel around four o’clock.
The gown was hanging up when she entered the room. The rest of her purchases were set out on the bed, each wrapped as they had been at the shop. Such pretty things! She’d never, ever had anything so lovely before. She was almost afraid to wear any of it.
Cat ran a bath and used some of the oils she’d purchased in it. Jasmine. She loved the smell of jasmine. And her soap was a bergamot-and-jasmine blend that was almost delicious enough to eat. She scrubbed and soaked, washed her hair, then read a book while she ate chocolates right from the box. When the
water went from warm to cool, she climbed out and toweled off. Then, wrapped up in two of the thick towels, she started to get ready for the evening.
She dried her hair with the special device attached to the bathroom wall. It drew warm air up from the boilers below the hotel. She used a low setting because her hair would end up looking like a tumbleweed if she didn’t. Once it was dry, she used a blend of oils on it, made from a recipe of her mother’s. Then she began dressing.
There was nothing quite so nice as new underclothes, and these ones were silk trimmed with fine, delicate Brussels lace. Blush-colored stockings were held up by matching suspenders, and her new corset, which was a pale rose satin, was one of the newer designs by a woman in France. It laced up the front and had reticulated boning that allowed much more freedom of movement for the lady wearing it. Supposedly she’d created the design for lady spies. It was certainly ingenious, and comfortable.
She sang to herself as she dressed. What a difference in her mood from yesterday! It wasn’t all because of Jasper—she wasn’t going to give him that much credit—but she had to admit he was a big part of it. The other half was knowing that her sister was all right, or at least that she had been a few days ago. If she had friends, that was good. If she’d literally run away to join the circus, well, that was better than all the things Cat had thought about and fretted over. And after tonight, it would all be behind them.
Her hair often had a mind of its own, so she merely pinned some of the oiled and smoothed curls up and let the rest fall down her back. Her hair was probably her one true vanity. She rubbed some oil into her shoulders and arms, as well. Then she pulled on the deep rose gown, which cleverly buttoned up the front but had a panel that concealed the buttons.
When she was done it was five minutes to seven. She stepped into her new pumps, grabbed her wrap and started cautiously for the door. She didn’t often wear heels, so she took it slow at first. But the shoes proved sturdy, and she quickly regained her confidence in being able to put one foot in front of the other.
