Page 46 of Magick and Lead
“Now, how do we find Prelate Kortoi?” she asked, taking a comb from my dresser and running it through her long hair.
I tried to think, but the sight of the beads of water tracing down her skin again distracted me. I turned my attention to the carpet and cleared my throat.
“I’ve been thinking about that. He was at the presidential mansion yesterday morning, but that doesn’t mean he’s there now. And even if he were, we can’t just waltz in there and take him out. The place is too heavily guarded. Any attack is going to take planning and coordination. So, step one, we have to find out exactly where he’s going to be and when. Get his schedule and itinerary.”
“How do we do that?” she asked.
“I know someone. A woman who works as a secretary in the State Department. She’d know. Or she could find out.”
“Another woman friend?” The Irska of the Skrathan gave me a dragon’s glare.
I put my hands up defensively. “Just an acquaintance. I swear.”
She relented. “Fine. Where do we find her?”
“On a Saturday? Only one place. The Cat’s Meow. It’s a club over on the west side. Leave it to me. I’ll find her and?—”
“And I’ll come.”
I sighed. “Essa…”
“Why do you say my name like that?” she demanded.
“Like what?”
“It’s like…” she shook her head. “Never mind.”
A moment passed as we gazed at one another. It felt like the tension between us was a tightrope, and balancing on it like an acrobat was everything that had happened in Maethalia. Every beautiful moment. Every kiss. Every lie.
“It’s too risky for you to go to a place like the Cat’s Meow,” I said quietly. “It’s the biggest dance hall in Ironberg. If you were somehow recognized…”
She brandished her dagger. “Listen well, Poet. I don’t trust you. And I’m not letting you out of my sight until Kortoi’s blood is on this blade. Where you go, I go.”
God, she was so damned bossy. It might have been hot—if she weren’t about to puncture my lung with that meat-sticker. Obviously, there was no arguing with her.
“Fine, you can come,” I said. “But you’re going to need a dress.”
“This is an Admite dress,” she protested, holding up the dress she’d been wearing.
I gave the thrift shop gown a once-over. It was simple, casual, and serviceable, but it was nothing fancy.
“It’s a nice dress,” I told her. “But not for the Meow. Let’s go.”
23
ESSA
Charlie took me into the shopping district of the city, and for a moment, I could only stand on the street corner, my jaw agape. Women bustled past in shoes with long heels and skirts so short they only came down to their knees. Men with silk scarves around their necks (ties, Charlie called them) shouted and waved their hands to get motor cars to stop and pick them up. Then off they would go, the horseless wagons chugging away down the street. Food vendors shouted from their carts. Boys jogged down the street, tossing a ball back and forth. Black ropes were strung from poles above us, and Charlie told me they contained electricity, which I surmised was the necromancer magick that kept the city running. I’d witnessed a similar scene yesterday when I’d first arrived, but then I’d been so focused on finding Charlie that I hadn’t been able to take it all in. Now, the wonder of the sights and sounds almost left me feeling lightheaded.
And the rats here are delicious, too!Othura chimed in from the back of my mind.
A teenage boy grabbed Charlie’s arm and tried to hand him a flyer for what he termed anall-girls chorus revue.
“I want to go,” I said as he shrugged the boy off.
“No, you don’t,” Charlie said, crumpling up the paper.
“But what is it?”
