It took Jin a few moments to remember he was in Spindrift when he woke the next morning. He’d dreamed of his house on Admiral Grove, his mother talking about certitudes and his father talking about theories. Still, when he tumbled out of bed, it wasn’t with the optimism at having outsmarted a foe or the excitement of a possible lead to his parents, but dread. He didn’t even get to bask in the comfort of being back in Spindrift again.
Something felt wrong.
He knocked on Flick’s door, and it swung open beneath his knuckles. The room was empty. His brow furrowed. Strange.
The doors to Spindrift flung open downstairs before Jin could think more on it, and he hurried to the balcony. Arthie stood at the threshold, and he wished her every emotion didn’t bleed into him. He wished she didn’t look unkempt and wild, warning him that something was wrong.
“Get everyone to Imperial Square,” she said. She was breathless.
Jin wasted no time. He crossed the balcony and tugged on the rope, ringing the bell to alert the others. Arthie’s panic became his, and then everyone else’s as urgency swept Spindrift’s wooden walls. Doors flung open across the tearoom.
Jin darted down the stairs to meet her. “What happened?”
“The Ram knows we don’t plan to hand over the ledger,” Arthie said.
Jin swallowed a laugh. What had been the point of breaking into the Athereum? Of everything they’d risked their necks for?
“What about my things?” Chester shouted, swinging his blanket from the upstairs balcony. He shrank back at Arthie’s look.
“We’re coming back,” Jin said gently, ushering him down. The boy brought his blanket anyway, telling Reni he trusted no one. They all had a little bit of Arthie in them.
“You, get word to Matteo Andoni on Alms Place,” Arthie ordered someone. “The rest of you, leave in groups. Don’t need a row of ducks waddling ten blocks over.”
Jin rounded the flip-top and pulled out a box from under the counter. “How do you know—”
“I met the Ram last night. Felix saw men mobilizing this morning.”
Cold dread settled in his limbs and he nearly dropped his umbrella. “You met—”
“We don’t have time for this,” she said in a low hiss. “Has anyone seen Flick?”
“Her door was open,” Jin said with a shake of his head. “No one’s seen her.”
The Ram would not be so bold as to utilize the Horned Guard to attack them, but there were plenty of others who hated them. Plenty waiting for an excuse. The Ram only had to point, and one of White Roaring’s gangs would rise to the occasion with cheer.
“Find her,” Arthie ordered. “I want to know where she’s been.”
Somewhere behind the kitchens, a window shattered.
Everyone stopped.
Jin wished he was asleep and this was all a bad dream. He wished he could roll over and leap into a new one with pastries and candies.
Arthie moved first. She turned to Chester and shoved a map in his hands. “You remember the house on Imperial Square, don’t you? It’s a safe house. Knock and tell the housekeeper Penn would like hot chocolate with his pie, and they’ll let you in. I’m counting on you, eh? Good boy.”
Three sinister shadows fell across the frosted glass doors, each holding something long and wicked.
“Plodders,” Jin said. They were the only gang who couldn’t afford guns. They weren’t the brightest of the lot either, but they made up for it in brute force.
The sudden silence inside Spindrift was starker than a gunshot.
Arthie swept a look across their crew. “Line up against the wall by the entrance. At Jin’s signal, file out.”
Then she squared her shoulders and threw open the doors.
The Plodders were dressed like the streets they ran, a terrible shade of brown like they’d rolled about in mud before showing face. Faded trousers, ratty sashes, dusty bowler caps, yellow collars bright. Arthie feigned surprise, taking several steps back to draw them inside.
Jin waited until the Plodders cleared the entrance, then gave Chester a nod. He squeezed past them and through the doors, grabbing hold of the hand behind him, each of them doing the same until a Plodder turned around and broke the line, throwing the new girl to the ground. Several more Plodders trundled inside and slammed the doors shut before anyone else could escape.
“Boys, and girl,” Jin said, inclining his head. He swung his umbrella up to his shoulder beside Arthie. “Long time no trouble.”
The leader of the gang, Davison, tapped a bat against his open palm. He looked half drunk.
“Let me guess, someone told you there was a party to be had,” Arthie said, pulling back the panel of her jacket to flash her pistol at him.
Davison swayed. “I’ve always wanted to wipe those smirks off your faces. Now I’m getting paid to do it.”
Arthie reached for the teapot Jin had set down on the counter earlier. “Might I interest you in a cup of tea first?”
He only stared blankly, then jerked his head. His filthy lot converged.
Arthie swung the teapot, shattering it against Davison’s head before she grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket and swept the counter with his face, teacups shattering, teaspoons scattering. She threw him at the bricked column, where he struck his head and fell.
Pitiful fellow.
Jin sighed. “You didn’t have to go and ruin my favorite tea set.”
“You said that about the last one too,” Arthie replied, straightening her jacket.
The rest of the Plodders looked at one another.
“Oh, don’t look so disappointed, lads,” Jin placated. “Plenty of tea to go around.” He picked up a stack of saucers. “Fancy some biscuits too? You can’t come into our home and expect us not to treat you with proper Casimir hospitality.”
The Plodders came at them all at once.
Jin moved toward the tables, flinging saucers at throats and shoving chairs out of his way. A Plodder lunged when Jin’s stack ran out, and he swung his umbrella, toppling him with a calculated strike to his leg. He kicked another Plodder out of the way and swung for the third one’s hand, but the girl grabbed the end of his umbrella and yanked it out of Jin’s grip.
“Gently. Gently!” he chided when it struck the wall.
She lashed out with a wicked knife dulled with rust and dirt. Jin swerved, and when she lashed again with startling speed, he grabbed a chair and threw it up as a shield. The force of her arc drove the knife through the seat, snapping the wood in two, but not before Jin slammed it—and the end of her blade—downward through her thigh.
He cringed. That was going to leave a mark.
A burly Plodder came at him with another knife, and Jin whipped out his own, landing a strike that bought him time to whirl the fellow against his body when yet another one came at him with a club. The club struck the Plodder on the head, knocking him out cold, and Jin rammed his knife between the other’s ribs as a thank you.
Jin tugged the knife free, tossing the club up and into his hand. “Much obliged.”
“Jin!” Arthie yelled. His blood spiked, and he nearly tripped when he ran, flinging the club at another Plodder. But after all this time, he should have known he didn’t need to worry about Arthie.
He found her bashing the heads of two Plodders together, both far taller and larger than she was. In the beat of calm, she wiped a smear of blood from her cheek, her eyes wild and cold in a way that gave Jin pause.
“Get the others out,” she said, her voice strained.
He stepped closer. “I’m not leaving you here.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Neither did I.”
Arthie leaped back and thrust her knife into a Plodder’s gut with one hand, hurling it at another in the same move. She clenched her jaw as if struck, swaying as if she were losing blood. Something was wrong.
He started toward her before he jerked to a halt at a sound he knew well. Too bloody well.
A hiss.
A sputtering whoosh.
Fire.
Flames ripped across the counters where rags had been stretched to dry. Terror struck every part of him. Held him captive. The fire crackled, roared, reached with angry protests.
No. Not Spindrift. The adrenaline from the fight disappeared, leaving only stone-cold dread.
Arthie fought to get by his side. “Breathe, Jin.”
He opened his mouth and a sound came out. He couldn’t form words. He couldn’t think past the chant in his head. Fire, fire, fire.
“Stay calm,” Arthie hissed in his ear. She was struggling. Why was she struggling? She didn’t fear fire the way he did. With a growl, she turned away. Her knife caught the light as she lobbed it again, then she nabbed his and disappeared. Through his tunneling vision he saw her parry a Plodder double her size.
Get the others out, she had said.
He swallowed. He could do that. He rubbed at the scarred skin of his arm. Breathed past the claws digging into his chest. Dropped to his knees and scrambled for his umbrella, tightening his fist around it after what felt like forever.
He turned to the others pressed against the shadows. Reni was bent over a Plodder, his fangs in the man’s neck. A couple of the others were helping Arthie.
Jin threw open the doors. Too slow, too slow. He ushered the others out, counting heads, then losing track and counting them again. He lifted one of the younger ones into his arms and hurried into the street, prying her hands from his neck.
He swayed under the open air, his knees threatening to give out under him. But he had to turn back. He gulped down fresh air, blinking away the darkness before turning back to the angry, orange mouth of Spindrift. Arthie couldn’t hold off the Plodders on her own. He couldn’t be afraid of his home, of his everything.
One foot in front of the other, he made it to the doors before an explosion shook the street.
And Spindrift went up in flames.