Chapters (41)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- Map of Seattle
- Contents
- Epigraph
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Epilogue
- Tor Books by Cherie Priest
- About the Author
- Copyright
“I don’t recognize the one fellow who hurt his leg, on account of it’s hard to see when people are wearing masks. But the other one’s name is Isaac West—I’d know his voice anyplace. He’s a chemist from Tacoma who’s been moving sap under his own brand, calling it ambrosia. I heard Yaozu didn’t like it much, and I also heard West wasn’t planning to change his behavior any. And that Otis fellow they’re looking for—I bet it’s Otis Caplan.”
“Who’s that?” Zeke asked, bonking his forehead against Houjin’s mask.
“Used to be in the army. The Union, I mean. He was a scientist. He invented some kind of gun that everybody liked, and it made him a mint. Then he switched from dealing arms to dealing sap a year or two ago, and now he’s making another mint. Bought a big house in San Francisco, but he comes up here pretty regular.”
“What about the other two, the ones we followed up here?” Angeline asked.
Houjin said, “One of these guys called them Jay and Martin.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know everybody. Give me a break.”
Zeke’s voice was low with awe. “I heard of Otis, back before I came in here. Every time there was a rumor going ’round that Minnericht was dead, or missing, or gonna retire, or anything, people used to say Otis Caplan was coming to take over the operation.”
“I don’t think he ever discussed it with Minnericht,” Angeline said wryly. “And anyway, Yaozu beat him to it. Do I even want to know why you know of these men, Red?”
“Probably not, ma’am.”
Zeke sat back on his heels and asked, “I think my filters are stuffing up.”
The princess sighed, and looked at the boys one at a time. Seeing the same thing on each face, she relented. “I think we’ve done enough mischief for now. My mask is starting to chafe me, too. Let’s turn around,” she started … but whatever she’d planned to add was drowned out by the sputter of something loud, and coming closer.
Everyone tensed and retreated, and soon all four backs were pressed up against the wall—as close as they could get, as if they could melt right into the rocks that formed it.