Iron Cast(24)

She could tell by Corinne’s expression—nostalgia chased by irritation—that she had succeeded. Corinne didn’t like being reminded of her family.

“Not fair,” Corinne told her.

Ada smiled and kept playing, but she slid into a new melody, drawing inspiration from the ocean that still stretched beyond the horizon. She summoned only emotions this time, no accompanying memories. Freedom. Power. A boundless, howling rage.

It was Corinne’s turn.

Corinne closed her eyes as the emotions filled her. She licked her lips and began to recite.

“Oh, a hidden power is in my breast,

A power that none can fathom;

I call the tides from seas of rest,

They rise, they fall, at my behest. . . .”

As she spoke, the tide began to rise. The sun fell behind roiling gray clouds, and the ocean boiled with the oncoming storm. Ada blinked, and they were no longer on the beach but on the edge of a towering cliff. The wind beat around them, pelting icy rain. A crash of thunder shook the rocky ground, reverberating in her chest. Then came the lightning, a jagged gash so bright that it seared the insides of Ada’s eyelids.

Corinne was grinning again, looking far too pleased with herself.

“Lightning comes before thunder,” Ada said.

Corinne scowled at her, and the illusion dropped. They were suddenly back in the common room, knee to knee on the couch. The rain that had been dripping down Ada’s face just a moment earlier had vanished without a trace.

“Best two out of three?” Corinne asked.

Ada laughed. Years ago, when they had first started this game, it had been a way to practice, with Corinne holding the illusions of everyday objects in her hands and Ada coaxing the simplest emotions from her violin. The harder they had pushed each other, the more complex the exercise had become, until it was less like practice and more like a conversation—a call and response with an intimacy that was lacking during onstage performances.

“I told you, I’m going to bed early,” Ada said.

“Wait.” Corinne grabbed her wrist before she could get up. “Don’t you want to talk about Saint?”

The feeling of contentment Ada had managed to cultivate shattered. She slid her legs off the couch and started wiping down her violin with the felt cloth she kept in her case.

“He’s a coward and a snitch,” Ada said. “What else is there to talk about?”

“He’s been our friend for years.”

“That’s what I thought too, but friends don’t push your head onto the chopping block to save their own neck.” She shoved her violin into the case, a little more roughly than she intended.

“He was scared,” Corinne said. “I’m not defending him, Ada, but can’t you—”

“If it were you instead of him, would you have sold me out?” Ada asked. She snapped the case shut and faced Corinne. “If you were scared and alone in a room with the HPA threatening to send you to lockup, would you have turned on me?”

Corinne shook her head. She didn’t even hesitate.

When they were twelve years old, the day that Ada had decided to move out of the Cast Iron and away from her insufferable new roommate, a member of Johnny’s crew had muttered a racial slur within earshot. Ada had ignored it, as she always had, because it was easier that way. But Corinne, who had not managed a kind word for Ada since the moment they’d met, called the man out in a room full of people and demanded an apology.

He had begrudgingly given one, but only after Johnny had come into the room to see what the commotion was. The incident accomplished nothing but to make the man hate both of them equally. Ada never forgot it, though—not because she had needed Corinne’s help, but because she knew that Corinne’s strange brand of loyalty was not to be taken lightly. Something had changed between them that day, and though it wasn’t something that Ada could readily identify, she had not left the Cast Iron after all.

“I know Saint was scared,” Ada said. “So was I. But I kept my mouth shut, and he didn’t, so how am I supposed to ever trust him again?”

It was not a question with an answer. Ada stood and picked up her case. She knew it wasn’t fair to ask Corinne to stop being friends with Saint, but she also knew she didn’t have to. Corinne would have already made that decision herself.

And, deep down, there was a part of Ada that just wanted to punish him.

She didn’t want to examine that part of herself too closely. It was easier to lock it away like her violin in its case. It was easier to just forget about Saint and the wildflower painting and all the other gifts and jokes and small comforts throughout the past several years. Remembering only made the nightmares about the asylum worse, because it meant that her incarceration hadn’t been bad luck or even justice for her crimes. The terror and the sleepless nights had been done to her by someone she trusted and loved.

Ada didn’t think she could live with that.





CHAPTER FOUR



Pickings were slim at breakfast the next morning. Apparently the cook had decided to take the day off. Saint was sitting alone at one of the tables in the club, staring into a coffee cup. Corinne and Ada ignored him, sitting on the opposite side of the room. It was a surreal experience for Corinne. Just a few weeks ago the three of them had been sitting at this same table, cutting up about something inconsequential. Ada was teasing Saint about one of the new delivery boys, and Saint was blushing to the tips of his ears. Corinne remembered laughing until she couldn’t breathe.