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“I’m glad to see that the two of you made a good life for yourselves,” Esta said.

“We do okay,” North said. “But that’s mostly to do with Maggie. Once she healed up, she was a woman on a mission. News traveled fast about what happened, and it didn’t take all that long for Maggie to wrestle control away from that Professor fellow. Especially since he was trapped behind the Brink.”

“Maggie leads the Antistasi now?” Esta asked, and there was a note of something North couldn’t decipher in her voice.

“No one person leads them anymore,” North corrected. “Maggie saw what happened with Ruth and with the Professor. Even if she could have stepped up, she didn’t think any one person should have that much power. Still doesn’t. The Antistasi have gone back to being what they always were supposed to be—a loosely organized group of like-minded individuals. We still take action when it’s warranted. Like tonight at the Green Mill.”

“Because Torrio is working with the Professor?” Esta asked.

North was suddenly glad for the darkness of the truck. They’d been trying to figure out what Torrio and the rest of the Chicago Outfit had wanted with Mageus in the city for some time, but now that the words were out of Esta’s mouth, the pieces came together. It was another of the Professor’s ploys to wrestle back control.

“Actually, we were there for the Nitewein,” he explained. “The Chicago Outfit tends to use more opium in theirs, which gets people hooked a lot faster. In the last few months, they’ve started using it to blackmail any Mageus who are unlucky enough to get caught up with them. We weren’t aware of Torrio’s connections,” he admitted. “But that makes a helluva lot of sense, especially considering what the Outfit has forced people to do with their affinities.”

“Good people,” Everett added. “And they end up taking the fall when things go sideways, like they always do.”

“What will you do with the Nitewein you’ve taken?” Harte asked.

“Probably we should destroy it,” North admitted. “But I’m not one of the teetotalers who want to tell other people how to live their lives. It ain’t exactly fair that Sundren get to buy their bootleg liquor and drown their troubles in relative safety but we don’t. There’re plenty who use the Nitewein to help them handle the effects of affinities they can’t otherwise use.” He paused, wondering how much the two of them knew… how much they’d missed. “It’s gotten a lot worse, you know. The Defense Against Magic Act has only been strengthened these past years with Prohibition.”

“It’s going to get even worse still,” Esta told him with a quiet certainty that made North feel more than a little uneasy.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” he said. “Right now, though? There are plenty who need a bit of something to take off the edge, so we’ll dilute the mixture and then unload it on the Nitemarket.”

The truck rumbled to a stop, and North knew he had to make a choice about what to do with this new development. The back door lifted, and he jumped out, considering his options. “Why did you say you were in Chicago?” he asked, looking up at them.

“We didn’t,” Harte said, hopping out of the truck. He was dressed to the nines, sleek charcoal suit and crisp collar and cuffs—or it had been before the little dustup they’d found themselves in that night. Esta stood above them, looking like she was auditioning to be a hood ornament in that gold dress of hers. Harte helped her down.

By now a few others had come out of the warehouse to help them unload the Nitewein. North gave them a subtle nod, and they surrounded the truck. One of his guys stepped closer to Esta and took her by the arm, to keep her from shifting out before they could stop her.

“Maybe it would be best if you start explaining,” North told them.

Harte seemed to suddenly realize they’d gone from being rescued to being trapped once again. He eyed the one who had ahold of Esta, looking like he wanted to kill the man himself. “Maybe you should call off your men.”

North shook his head. “Not quite yet. Just because we might have worked together before doesn’t mean I’m amenable to renewing our partnership. Especially when I know what it might eventually lead to.” He focused on Esta, a reminder that he knew what her plans were.

“I know what you think of me,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm considering her position. “And I know that if it weren’t for Maggie, you probably wouldn’t have let me leave Denver. But you trusted me once before, and I’m asking you to trust me again. Because we need your help.”

“For what?” North asked.

“We need to find the Antistasi in Chicago. A group of them are planning some kind of attack on the convention, and we need to stop that from happening,” she told him. “If they go through with the attack, it’s going to change things in ways you can’t even begin to comprehend.”

North knew he shouldn’t even ask. Every time these two had turned up, his life got flipped on its head. But he couldn’t stop himself. “What is it that you think is going to happen?”

“If the Antistasi do what they’re planning, the Brotherhoods are going to retaliate by activating some kind of a tower.”

Everett had come up next to them and was listening. “Like the one on top of the Coliseum?”

“What’s this you’re talking about?” North turned to look at his oldest.

“It’s a great big thing,” Everett said. “Didn’t you see it? We drove right by it last night.”

North had been to Chicago enough times that he hadn’t really been paying attention, but Everett was new to the city and had been taking everything in like the rube he was.

“If you remember, I was busy doing the driving,” North told Everett, annoyed with himself for missing something like that.

“I’m not sure how you could’ve missed it,” Everett said. “It was way up on top of the building’s roof, and it was all lit up like a Christmas tree, with a great big American Steel sign and the Stars and Stripes spotlighted from below. I figured it was some sort of advertisement.”

“That’s J. P. Morgan’s company,” Esta said darkly as she traded another meaningful glance with Harte. “That tower isn’t an advertisement. It’s a weapon.”