The Serpent's Curse by Lisa Maxwell (read an ebook week .TXT) 📕

earth, where feet belonged, but when she came through the stairwell door into the bar that occupied the bottom floor of the building, the saloon was empty except for two men. It didn’t take a genius to look at their broad, flat foreheads and swarthy skin to know that the Italians hadn’t shown up at this particular bar for a random drink. Even if they hadn’t reached for their guns as soon as she came through the door, Cela would’ve known they were Paul Kelly’s men.

At first she thought maybe she could pretend she didn’t understand why they were there, but she hadn’t taken more than two steps before they closed ranks.

“Why don’t you go ahead and have a seat?” the one said, kicking a chair so it slid across the floor in her direction.

She glanced up at the bartender, a West Indian man who was polishing a glass and who glanced away as soon as their eyes met.

No help at all.

It was clear—he didn’t want any trouble, and she didn’t blame him, exactly. Businesses like this depended on their owners making nice with all types. He didn’t know her and didn’t owe her a thing.

Straightening her spine, Cela faced the two Five Pointers. “Is there something you gentlemen needed?” she asked, pretending innocence.

The one with the scar across his eyebrow smirked. “Sit.”

Reluctantly, she took the chair and did what he said. They’d expected problems, she told herself, but for the Five Pointers to have come after her so soon likely meant that something had gone very wrong.

Cela had known this would be a possibility the second she’d realized the Order had sent three ships instead of one, but she trusted Jianyu and Viola. She only had to wait this out, and they would come through for her. She had to believe that.

It wasn’t like she had much choice.

A few minutes later, things got even worse when Abel was pushed through the door of the saloon by another pair of Five Pointers. He should’ve been clear on the other side of town, so the fact that he was there made Cela’s stomach sink. It meant that things were worse than bad. It meant that things might even be beyond fixing.

She stood to go to Abel, but the one with the scar—and a gun—stepped between them. “Save the reunions for later,” he said, waving his sidearm to instruct two of the others to lead Abel to a chair across the way.

“You okay, Rabbit?” Abel asked. “They didn’t touch you?”

“I’m fine,” she told him, which was a flat-out lie. There wasn’t anything at all fine about this situation.

The minutes dragged on, one after another, until the city was shaded by night and the streetlights came on. The saloon was filled with the kind of uneasy silence that you find in funeral homes or hospital waiting rooms, where the news coming is sure to be bad.

“Johnny should’ve sent someone by now,” one of the men said, his flat Bowery accent twisting the words.

“You know what he told us, Razor. These things take time. We’re supposed to sit tight until we hear—no matter how long that takes.”

The one called Razor—like that was any kind of name—thumbed at his nose. “I don’t like it. If Paul finds out—”

“Paul ain’t gonna find nothing out,” the other guy said. “He got picked up earlier by the coppers. Saw it myself. He was all trussed up and carried off in a police wagon. The way I see it, he’ll be in the Tombs for weeks. That is, if they don’t transport him to Blackwell’s Island for a longer stay.”

Abel caught Cela’s eyes from across the open space. Paul Kelly arrested? That answered one question but raised others—including why they were being held here by Kelly’s men, especially if Kelly himself wasn’t calling the shots anymore.

The doors of the saloon flew open, and a large, boisterous group of men burst through the door. They were clearly day laborers, probably from the docks nearby, and they’d clearly already been drinking. There were a couple of Negro men in their number, but Cela didn’t recognize them.

Kelly’s guys were on their feet in an instant, but the newcomers were already at the bar and causing all sorts of commotion. Out of nowhere, someone threw a punch, and their drunken noise transformed to an impromptu brawl. The barroom was suddenly a mess of confusion. Men were everywhere, wrestling and shoving one another, knocking over tables and chairs. There was nothing Kelly’s guys could do but back up and try not to get caught up in it.

Abel was at Cela’s side in a second. “You okay?”

“I told you I was,” she said, flinching at the sound of a glass breaking. She glanced at Razor, but he was stuck behind a trio of men who were tussling in the corner.

“You all about ready to go?”

Cela looked up and realized it was Joshua standing there. “What—”

“Quick, now, before they realize,” Joshua said.

Together they picked their way through the chaos. They were nearly at the door… and then they were there, and all they had to do was open it, and—

When the door swung open, another Five Pointer was there. He wasn’t overly tall, but he had shoulders like a brick wall, and he had a gun pointed in their direction.

Abel started to step forward, but Cela caught his arm. She wasn’t about to lose her only brother like that. From behind, she sensed movement, and when she turned, Razor and the other man were there, boxing them in.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the guy at the door said with a smirk.

Her brother gave Joshua a look that Cela didn’t like one bit. “Abel Johnson,” she whispered. “Don’t you do anything stupid.”

“You should listen to the girl,” the Five Pointer with the gun said, but the words were barely out of his mouth when his whole body jerked. He barked out a surprised yelp as his eyes went wide, and then he lunged for them.

Except he