Page 122

Story: A Forbidden Alchemy

“I’ll tell you what,” Patrick said then. “I’ve got a better idea. Pol?”

Polly stepped forward, body tensed.

“Scribble this will you, Polly? Make it anonymous. Write to Belavere City and tell ’em there’s a man named Lionel Billings sacking containers in the Dorser Shipyards. Tell ’em he’s got a few crates of contraband bluff in his warehouse.”

The longer Patrick spoke, the whiter Lionel became. “Wait. WAIT!” he yelled when he saw Polly shut her eyes. “All right!” he said. “I skimmed some guns off the top. There! I admit it. That’s what’s in the sack.” He looked furtively between Patrick and Polly.

Languidly, Patrick held a hand up. “Never mind, Pol. Scratch that last.”

Polly opened her eyes, then stepped back behind Otto.

Lionel wiped his forehead. “I’m sorry, Pat. All right? It were only three guns. Three out of a few hundred.”

“Three of theUnion’sguns,” Patrick said. “Of which I paid you handsomely to keep for me.”

“Yeah, in fuckin’ bluff,” Lionel said, anger rising. “Do you know how hard it is to move it round here? There’s coppers on every corner.”

“Say no more, Lionel. I’ll have Scottie and Otto come through in the morning. They can take it all off your hands.”

“They can’t take my fuckin’ bluff—”

“Then they’ll take your hands.”

Lionel seethed. “I ain’t listenin’ to threats—”

“It ain’t a threat, Lionel. It’s a promise.” Even from a distance, his voice skittered over my skin. The temperature seemed to dip. “You should know this: I don’t make a habit of handin’ bluff over to men of bad character. Even less so to fuckin’ shipyard guard dogs selling it to poor folk for more than it’s worth. I made a concession when it came toyou. I made a promise to myself that I would only do so while the relationship served the Union. Have you stopped serving the Union, Lionel?”

Lionel twitched. “Imma proud fuckin’ member. Have been since the first attack.”

“Good,” Patrick said. “Then I won’t be needing to take your bluff… or your hands,” Patrick turned and locked eyes with Otto. “Grab the guns. It’s time we were on our way.”

Lionel stepped forward, a hand out. “What about payment?”

Patrick turned back slowly. I thought I heard whips strike the air as he responded. “What payment?”

“We agreed on a vial of proper Artisan ink.”

Patrick laughed coldly. “Yeah, well, we agreed you’d keep my bloody guns out of the hands of the House, didn’t we, Lionel? You get to keep the bluff we’ve already gifted you, and count yourself fortunate I don’t take everythin’ you’ve ever touched.”

The man blustered. The guns glinted. “I stole those fuckin’ containers and stowed them in me yard, like you asked! Those coppers could’ve had me arrested!”

“And the Miners Union thanks you,” Patrick said without a hint of feeling. “We’ll be in touch the next time we need a plan completely cocked up.”

Otto retrieved the sack, paying no mind to the twitching pistols at the men’s sides.

“You think I’m scared o’ you, Patty?” Lionel spat, voice quaking withire. “You’ve brought naught but a boy, a blindman, and a couple of whores with you—”

Patrick stopped in his tracks.

Donny stepped forward. “Ah, I wouldn’t do that, Lionel,” he said, all levity in his voice now gone. It was the first time Donny had ever made me nervous. He suddenly seemed every bit the Colson brother Patrick and Gunner were. Cold, unforgiving. Dangerous.

Patrick didn’t speak right away. Instead, he turned slowly, until he was facing Lionel again. I felt Polly edge onto the tips of her toes, as I did.

Neither Patrick, Otto, nor Donny drew a weapon.

“Say that again for me,” Patrick said in a voice made of smoke and violence. It curled down my chest and between the hairs on my head, making them stand on end. I was possessed with the sudden urge to throw myself in his direction. “Patrick,” I said in warning.

He didn’t turn.

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