Iron Cast(67)

Iron was painful to be near and excruciating to touch. Alloys like the steel in the Ford were less severe but still unpleasant. Corinne never thought much about the cause that was hiding somewhere in her blood. Her body’s reaction to iron was just a natural part of her life. She couldn’t touch fire or drink arsenic either.

“You know when you put two magnets together and they repel?” she asked.

Gabriel didn’t say anything, but his gaze slid away from the road and onto her for a moment. Corinne decided that was his way of saying yes.

“It feels like that,” she said, closing her eyes. “As if every drop of blood in your body were one magnet, and the iron were another. Or like holding a red-hot brand half an inch from your skin. Except the pain is waiting everywhere. It’s in the ceilings and the walls and the floors. It’s in the simplest objects that no one else ever thinks twice about. The whole city is a minefield.”

Gabriel’s reply was a long time coming. “I’m sorry.”

Corinne wondered if he was sorry for his gun or for the car or just for her in general. She would gladly accept apology for the first, but the second he couldn’t help, and even the notion of the last infuriated her.

“I wouldn’t trade it,” she said. “Not for anything.”

His eyes met hers again. Corinne could feel her heartbeat in her head, pounding once, twice, thrice. Gabriel looked forward again. He had to keep the car at a crawl on the slick road, and Corinne watched the passing streets through the frosty window.

They were only a few blocks from the Cast Iron when Gabriel spoke again.

“I wish you and Ada would reconsider going to Down Street.”

He didn’t look at Corinne this time. She studied his profile, but she couldn’t read him in the uneven shadows. She could see that his hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

“Johnny wouldn’t want us to give up,” she said. “We have to figure out who’s responsible.”

“And what about when the HPA catches up with you? Or the ironmongers? Dammit, Cor, it’s not a—”

He had to swerve to miss a car that was backing into the street. Corinne slid across the seat and into him. He turned his head, and for a split second their lips were a hairbreadth apart. He smelled of champagne and cigarettes, and she could feel the hard line of his shoulder against her chest.

Outside, a car horn rang out, and Corinne blinked out of her daze. She dragged herself back to her side. Gabriel swore again under his breath and straightened the car. Corinne saw the storm brewing in his expression, but he was silent now. She’d never seen his temper crack before. It was almost a relief to know that his control wasn’t as perfect as it always seemed.

“Johnny gave me everything,” Corinne said. “I was sick and alone, and he was there for me. Without him I would never have become a wordsmith. I would never have met Ada. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him, even now that he’s dead.”

Neither of them said anything more until Gabriel braked the car in front of the Cast Iron.

“I don’t know what to think about you,” Gabriel said.

The way he said it was like a confession. His grip on the wheel had loosened. The amber glow of a streetlight through the window softened his features, until all the angles and severity were faded, and he seemed suddenly unguarded.

“Think the worst,” Corinne said. “I don’t like expectations.”

She was watching him closely, so she caught the smile that brushed his lips. It felt strangely like a victory.



At nine thirty, Ada was waiting in the common room, with her coat already buttoned and her hat firmly in place. Corinne and Gabriel were supposed to be back an hour ago, and telling herself not to worry wasn’t doing any good. Her heart was still clenched tightly, and nerves burned at the base of her throat. Saint was still in the armchair with his sketchbook. Occasionally he would squint toward the ceiling, trying to visualize, then hunch over again. The sound of pencil on paper was soothing, but not enough to ease the ache in her chest.

When the panel slid open and Corinne skipped down the stairs, Ada didn’t know whether to hug her or smack her.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

Corinne raised an eyebrow at her and headed for their room. She was barefoot and held a shoe in each hand. “Well, after the party we had to catch a show,” she said over her shoulder.

Ada heard some scrambling, and then Corinne reemerged wearing her ankle boots. More suitable for the weather, but not for the evening gown she still wore under her coat.

“Then we had to get a nightcap,” Corinne continued. “And of course there was some passionate necking in the back of the Ford.”

Saint looked up with a start, just becoming aware of their conversation.

“Wait, what?” he said, blinking.

Corinne laughed.

“If you’d been here earlier, you could have been my date,” she said. “You missed a night of champagne, caviar, and my relatives trying to outdo the Havershams in snobbery.”

Saint actually looked a little sick at the notion. “I honestly can’t think of a worse way to spend an evening,” he said.

“Me neither.”

“Aren’t you going to change?” Ada asked her. “And where’s Gabriel?”

“No time for that,” Corinne said. “Gabriel kept the car running. If we don’t make it to Down Street before ten, we won’t get in to see the Witchers. We need to know what they know about Johnny.”