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“It would have unraveled everything,” Harte realized. But then another thought occurred to him. “If someone else could give the girl Ishtar’s Key, maybe someone else could raise her too?”

The words in the diary wavered a little, as though suddenly the past was no longer set in stone.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be Nibsy that raises you,” Harte said, watching as the entry became more unsteady. Esta’s name was still there alongside Viola and Jianyu’s, but the ink almost seemed to vibrate with a new possibility. It had to mean that he was onto something.

“What if someone else could find her when she jumps forward and raise her to do what you did?” Harte pressed, thinking it through. “If there was someone else there in the future, waiting for her, we could eliminate Nibsy before this past becomes the truth.”

Esta’s expression was unreadable. “It would be such a risk to change the time line that much,” she told him, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. “And even if we were willing to take that risk, who would we choose? Who could we trust?”

But they didn’t have time to find the answer. Outside their window, a siren started to wail.

Esta leaned over and looked out through the gauzy curtains. The curse that came out of her mouth would have made a longshoreman blush.

“What is it?” Harte asked, but in truth, he already knew.

“They’ve found us.”

PART III

ALLIANCES

1902—The Bowery

Keeping the early-afternoon light wrapped around him, Jianyu made his way down Prince Street toward the heart of the Bowery and the stretch of the boulevard that held the Bella Strega. His pockets were weighed down with the coins he had collected from two opium dens and a fan-tan parlor, payment from the owners of each for Tom Lee’s protection. The coins jangling in a pocket against his leg were a constant reminder that he was no longer his own man—that he had not been for weeks now. The circle of silk on his wrist was another reminder. One that was becoming more urgent.

Since he had accepted the piece of ritual magic in exchange for Tom Lee’s help to locate Cela, the silken cord around his wrist had been easy enough to ignore. As long as Jianyu spent most of his days serving as lapdog to Lee, the tong leader had been happy enough and had not pushed the arrangement. Week after week, Jianyu had supplied information about the Order’s patrols to Lee, who passed it on to the men at Tammany Hall. As the number of abductions and disappearances decreased, the police took the credit for calming the chaos in the Bowery, and Lee’s standing with Big Tim Sullivan and Charlie Murphy had grown more secure.

But the Order had pulled back in the past two weeks. Without information to deliver to Tammany, Lee was becoming impatient. And with the On Leong’s established ties to the political machine, things were growing more tense in Chinatown. Mock Duck’s Hip Sings were becoming more brazen and violent in their attacks. Two days before, they had ransacked a gambling parlor that Lee protected and sent one of Lee’s men to the hospital with numerous knife wounds. The attack was a reminder to Lee that control over the Bowery was still anyone’s game, and Jianyu had not yet fulfilled his promise to deliver the Strega.

That morning, Jianyu had noticed that the bit of silk seemed to be tightening around his wrist. It was growing colder as well, like the blade of a knife poised and ready to slice. It was a message—of that Jianyu was certain. Tom Lee would not wait indefinitely for results. It did not matter if Cela was safe. As long as the silken cord tied him to Lee, their agreement stood. There was no breaking it, not even with Viola’s blade. If he did not give Lee Dolph’s cane—and control over the Devil’s Own—he had no doubt that the braided silk would rip his affinity from him. But handing over Dolph’s cane and his people to Tom Lee was an impossibility.

He would not betray the Strega or the Devil’s Own, but to appease Lee, Jianyu had to make a show of his efforts to retrieve the cane. And so he had set his course toward the Strega.

Turning east, Jianyu pulled the light more securely around himself and kept a brisk pace through the nearly deserted streets. It was late in November, and the air was already starting to turn cold. Soon, winter would arrive, and with it, the punishing cold that Jianyu hated perhaps more than any other part of this terrible land. He missed the humid heat of his homeland on those cold, dark days. But there was no going back, no escape from the city, and no retreat from the course he was on.

Now that summer had closed its final pages, now that he was staring into the promise of winter’s wrath, Jianyu did not know what was to come. Darrigan and Esta still had not returned. Nibsy wore the Delphi’s Tear securely on his finger. And the Order’s Conclave was ever closer on the horizon.

We have Newton’s Sigils, he reminded himself. For reasons he could not guess, Nibsy had not tried to retrieve them again. If they could get the papers back from Nibsy, they might be able to figure out how to use the silvery discs. Because if he had to die, he would make sure his friends were safe.

As he made his way through the Bowery, the city seemed to be holding its breath. Throughout the dirty streets and shadowed alleyways, a strange, uneasy silence had simmered all through the summer. But the recent calm of the streets was only a mask for the chaos that waited beneath. It was only a matter of time before a spark would ignite the tinder of the city, and the streets would erupt once again.

How could it be otherwise? The danger of what was to come crept like a warning against his skin.

When Jianyu finally arrived at the Bella Strega, he paused, overwhelmed by a sense of loss he had not expected to feel. From across the street, he watched the entrance of the building that had once been his home, making note of people who came and went through the familiar, heavy door. Nibsy was likely inside, sitting in Dolph’s seat in the saloon as though it had been his all along. Jianyu could picture him clearly: the boy’s slight build, the glint of his thick spectacles, and the coldness in his eyes. How had none of them recognized the ice in him? How had none of them seen the snake in their midst?

And how could they hope to defeat him, when Nibsy held the power of the marks in his hands?

Finally, the person Jianyu had been waiting for emerged from the saloon. Werner Knopf had once worked for Edward Corey, the owner of the Haymarket. Before Bridget Malone had died in a fire there, Werner had helped her keep control over the often-rowdy dance floor. He had a particular affinity, one able to stop the air in a person’s lungs. It made him dangerous in his own right, but Werner had never been a leader. He had always been content to take orders—first from Corey, then Dolph, and now from Nibsy.

Jianyu still was not quite sure how Dolph had managed to lure the boy to the Devil’s Own or whether collecting Werner had been a good idea. But Jianyu had seen Werner’s fear in the Flatiron. That night the boy had been willing to ignore Nibsy’s orders to save himself. Perhaps he would be willing to do so again.

Once more, Jianyu pulled the light around himself, and then he began to follow Werner north along the Bowery, matching the other boy’s pace. It was a risk, following him like this, because it was possible Werner would be able to sense him there, but it was a risk he had to take.

He followed Werner down one street and then another, until he realized the other boy’s final destination was the Little Naples. When he disappeared into Paul Kelly’s cafe, Jianyu found a place that was out of sight, and he settled down to wait.

It was nearly dark before Werner emerged, looking more than a little harried. Jianyu released his affinity and took one step from the shadows of the doorway he had been waiting in. Werner quickly noticed him waiting there, but to Jianyu’s relief, the other boy did not take his breath. Not immediately at least. Werner’s eyes shifted, right to left, as though he felt he was being watched, and then he gave a small jerk of his head, which Jianyu took to mean he should follow.