Iron Cast(54)

“Do you think he was lying?” Ada asked.

Corinne shook her head. “It’s hard to tell. He’s hiding something for sure. What do you think?”

“Those HPA agents were there for a reason,” Ada said after a few thoughtful seconds. “But I don’t think he knew anything about Johnny.”

“That settles it, then,” Corinne said, linking arms with both of them to start walking back to the street. The slushy gray snow crunched underfoot. “We’ll pay a visit to Down Street, see if the Witcher brothers have anything to say for themselves.”

“Not tonight,” Ada said. “You know they don’t let anyone into the back room after ten.”

“Why do you think the Witchers are involved?” Gabriel asked. “I didn’t think they were part of Johnny and Carson’s rivalry. Down Street doesn’t even host shows.”

“It’s the only other iron-free joint in town,” Ada said.

“The Witchers don’t party like we do, but they still have their fingers in a lot of pies,” Corinne said. “Illegal sorts of pies. The Witchers may not be involved, but I’ll bet they know who is.”

Gabriel didn’t say anything. Corinne wondered how long he was going to pout about being left out of all the heroics. The three of them were walking in the direction of the club, with Corinne still linked between them. The hotels and restaurants they passed were bright with activity, as women in furs and men in silk hats cavorted between their nightly entertainments. Competing music drifted from establishments as doors swung open. Corinne was overwhelmed by the carefree nature of it all. Johnny was dead and her world was ripping at the seams, and somehow these people could go about their lives without noticing.

“We’ll want to come back to the Red Cat at some point, I guess,” Ada said, breaking into Corinne’s reverie.

Corinne quickly pushed away the troubled thoughts and grinned at her.

“You saw it too?”

“It was hard to miss. I can’t believe we never noticed before.”

“What are you two talking about?” Gabriel asked. He managed to keep the irritation in his tone to a minimum, though it obviously cost him some effort. “And why do you think you’ll learn any more from Carson by barging into his club a second time?”

“It’s not Luke we want to talk to again,” Ada said.

“His name might be on the deed for the Red Cat, but he’s not the head of their crew,” Corinne said. “His wife, Eva, is.”

By half past one, Corinne had fallen asleep on her cot, her grandfather’s watch cradled in her hands. Ada wrapped herself in her blanket and sat with her back against the wall for almost an hour before she gave up. She was exhausted, but sleep wouldn’t come. Corinne was convinced that if they just asked enough dangerous people enough dangerous questions, then they could somehow make sense of Johnny’s murder. That if they found answers, then they could somehow stop the HPA from inching ever closer. That they could prevent the Cast Iron from closing its doors for good.

Ada had told Corinne that together they could do it, because that’s what she was supposed to say. That was always the way of things between them. Ada made the promises, and Corinne found a way to keep them. But this time Ada wasn’t so sure. Ever since Johnny’s death she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that Haversham was somehow inevitable.

Eventually she climbed off her cot, dragging her blanket like a cape into the common room. When she saw Saint sitting on the couch, working in his sketchbook, she almost turned around. He glanced up, and his face colored. He hunched back over his work.

Ada decided she didn’t care and curled up in an armchair. For half an hour they were silent. Ada laid her head on her arm and tried to doze off, but sleep didn’t come any easier than it had in her bed. She gave up and stared at Saint until he met her eye.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

His freckles were still drowning in blotchy red. One of the things Ada had always liked about Saint was how his emotions always flared on his face. In the Cast Iron it was usually impossible to tell what anyone was feeling.

“I want to know what you were thinking,” Ada said.

Saint’s throat worked with a swallow. He looked back down at his sketch.

“I’m serious,” Ada said.

“What does it matter now?” he murmured.

“I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to live with you. How I’m supposed to ever trust you again.” Ada straightened in the chair and put her feet on the ground.

“They were going to put me in lockup,” Saint said. “All that iron and steel. It’s worse than the asylum.”

“The bulls didn’t have enough to arrest us.”

“That’s never stopped them before,” he said. “Not when it comes to hemopaths.”

“Even if they did, Johnny would’ve gotten you out.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He got me out of the asylum, didn’t he?”

Saint’s mouth quirked with the start of a reply, but he just pressed his lips together.

“What?” Ada asked.

Saint placed his pencil on the top of his sketchbook and watched it roll down the incline into his lap.

“Just because he got you out doesn’t mean he would’ve helped me.”