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

a victory it had been to take them from Dolph, perhaps even a greater victory than taking the Devil’s Own. After all, the riffraff Dolph had surrounded himself with was expendable. The Bowery teemed with other Mageus just like them—desperate and easily led. But these books? The knowledge they contained? Irreplaceable.

Selecting one of the volumes from the shelf, James brought it to the desk and opened it. It was a small ledger, filled with handwritten notes in various languages, sketches of alchemical recipes, and collected scraps from other sources. He turned to one of the inked illustrations. James had been drawn to this particular page again and again over the last few weeks—ever since he’d seen the newspaper accounts of Esta’s and Darrigan’s supposed deaths, ever since he’d realized they were still out there in the world, still within his grasp. The figure on the page was the image of a snake eating its own tail. Wrought in brilliant ink, the gilded highlights made the snake seem like it was moving each time the page shifted.

James could tell that the image was important by the care that had been taken with it. He ran his fingers over the serpent, wondering what, exactly, it had signified for Dolph. In general, the ouroboros was an ancient symbol that represented the beginning and end of time. Chaos and order. Magic and its opposite. But Dolph had placed enormous importance on this ancient symbol. He’d adopted the symbol as the mark for his gang, doubling it to include two interlocking snakes—one living, one no more than a skeleton. Life and death, Dolph used to say. Two sides of the same coin. Inscribed into the skin of any who pledged Dolph Saunders loyalty, the mark stood as a signal to others in the Bowery, but it also served as a guarantee that they would not betray the gang.

No… the marks had been a guarantee that the Devil’s Own would not betray Dolph Saunders.

Dolph had infused the gorgon’s silver head with Leena’s ability to nullify nearby power, and combined with Dolph’s own particular ability to borrow the affinities of any Mageus he touched, the cane had been a uniquely devastating tool. While Dolph had lived, that smiling Medusa had the ability to tear the affinity from any who wore the mark—and in doing so, destroy its bearer. But the power in the cane was larger than Dolph Saunders, and the possibilities it held had not ended with his pathetic life. Like the snake in the image, forever devouring its tail, the magic within the silver gorgon head continued on—infinite. Like all magical objects, that power could be used. James had only to figure out a way to access it completely, and to align its power with his own.

He had been working tirelessly ever since he’d moved into Dolph’s rooms, but the only thing he’d managed was to make his own mark tingle with awareness. Once, he’d managed to make Werner look almost unsettled. But to use the power in the cane? To direct it as easily, as effortlessly as Dolph had? He would need something more to amplify his affinity. He needed the ring.

It wasn’t lost on James that had Logan not failed so spectacularly at the gala, he might already have complete, unbreakable control over the Devil’s Own. As it was, there was still unease within their ranks. Everyone had been nervous since Dolph had been killed. Everyone had been on edge with the constant threat of Tammany’s patrols and the Five Pointers’ presence in the Bowery, but Viola’s appearance the day before had only made things worse. She’d been an unwelcome reminder of the past, and the news she’d brought about Mooch’s imprisonment was still filtering through his ranks.

If she’d only accepted his offer of a new partnership. Instead, she’d told James that she needed time—to consider, to think. She’d walked out that night without any promise to return.

Viola’s departure might have meant that she was plotting against him, but it didn’t matter. The movement of the Aether assured him that whatever Viola might attempt to do, she was only setting her own trap. All he needed to do was watch and wait. The answers would come to him soon enough.

Suddenly James felt the Aether tremble. He paused. Something was happening. Some new part of the game had begun.

He closed the notebook and placed it back on the shelf. It would be best to get back down to the Strega, to make his presence felt before his meeting with Kelly. Best to shore up his authority now, before he went.

At first everything seemed as it should in the saloon. Men and women curled around their drinks, and warm magic filtered through the air. The Aether still trembled uneasily, but it did not immediately reveal the danger.

Then James realized the change—near the bar, a boy with a shock of red hair was talking to Werner. The last he’d seen the boy, Mooch had been unconscious on the street. He should have still been in the Tombs—or better, dead—not here in the Strega where he could tell the others how James had left him behind, ripe for the picking by Tammany’s patrols. Mooch was a problem James would have to consider, but for the moment, the Aether gave him no answers.

Soon that would change, James thought as he gripped the cane’s head and felt the power vibrating within it. Soon his plans would fall into place. He would no longer be forced to feel his way through darkness, and the Devil’s Own—Mooch included—would be his to command. But for that future to arrive, James needed the ring, which meant he needed to keep Paul Kelly on the hook. He glanced at the clock and realized that, for now, the problem of Mooch would have to wait. Paul Kelly would not.

THE HEART OF THE MATTER

1902—New York

Viola waited behind a pushcart parked near the corner of Elizabeth Street, watching for the