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Donny slowed a moment, then hurried to catch up. “Bernie? What’d he do?”

Patrick tried to frame the words carefully, though they fell flat no matter their shape. “He insulted a friend.”

“A friend?” Donny scoffed. “Who?Otto?Probably deserved it.”

“Not Otto.”

“Then who? Bernie is a dolt, but he’s no threat, Patty. We ought to leave him be. People will think—”

“I need a word with the man,” Patrick placated. “That’s all.”

He could feel Donny frowning behind him. “No cuttin’?”

“No,” he said. “No cuttin’.” Though the idea had merit.

“Thisfriend,” Donny continued. “Who is he then?”

Patrick didn’t answer, and Donny only sighed. The youngest Colson brother pulled a pistol from the inside of his coat as they walked, feeling for the bullets within the barrel. He blew smoke over his shoulder and did not ask further questions. He rarely did.

The Colson boys did what was asked of them. Just as they had for their father.

“Just give the man a scare, Donny,” Patrick told him. “And we’ll be on our way.”

CHAPTER 19NINA

I awoke in the same clothes I’d traveled in.

The fabric had dried and creased in odd places. My boots and socks had been removed. I stared, confused, at the cherry blossom walls, the concave ceiling, and the light seeping in from the window.

Kenton Hill.

I groaned, sat upright. To my surprise, I did not ache all over the way I’d expected I would. There was a muted throb from the bump at the back of my head, but otherwise, the only sensation came from my fingertips. They tingled.

I raised them to eye level, inspected them curiously, and then recalled the taste of metal on my tongue.

Idium.

My eyes widened. I smiled.

On the floorboards by the door, three plates of food sat waiting, untouched. The mashed potatoes had browned and a thick skin clotted the gravy. A bowl of oats was sweating. I wondered how long I’d slept.

There was a note by my feet, folded unevenly.

Miss Harrow,

The left pipe releases heated water. Don’t burn yourself.

It wasn’t signed.

I stared at the lettering for a long while, tracing the elongated tails of theP’s andF’s. I looked at the name,myname, with a sort of removal, as though I was spying on someone else’s mail.

The pipes were indeed different temperatures. I turned them on one at a time, watching the steam rise slowly from the first. I filled a large copper basin halfway and turned the valve until the flow of water subsided.

Then I laughed.Genius.I wondered how the water was heated, if it was by fire or gas or some other invention I hadn’t yet seen. How did it arrive at the turn of a lever?

I followed the paths of the pipes out the window and couldn’t find where they led.

But I resolved that I would.