Ember by Kristen Callihan Page B

f a c e h ea t .
    “ No, ” she said.
     
    “ D i dn ’t t h i nk so. ”
    He sh ift ed t o f ace he r . “ Found a be tt e r way do de f end you r se lf , have you? ”
    S h e si m ply gl a r e d .
    “ Look it , f ann i ng i s f o r babes. I f you ’r e go i ng t o go ou t , l e t me show you a d iff e r en t game. One whe r e we can make mo r e b l un t , and you ’r e no t hang i ng i n t he w i nd. ”
    “ I don ’t know. ” Absen tl y, she s t uck he r hand i n t o he r pocke t t o f ee l t he c o i n h i d i ng t he r e. H i s co i n. She d i dn ’t b ri ng it ou t , l es t it ca t ch B ill y ’ s eye. She s till d i dn ’t tr us t t he c r ook f a rt he r t han she cou l d t h r ow h i m. “ I ’ m t h i nk i ng of l eav i ng London a lt oge t he r . ”
    “ And go wh e r e ? ” Billy’s a pp a ll e d ton e i m pli e d th a t th e e ntir e ty of th e world wa s cont a in e d w ithin th e a r m s of th e T h ame s a nd th e riv e r Lea.
    He r thu m b r a n ov e r th e bu m ps a long th e surf a c e of th e coin’s c e nt e r m oon . “ I ’ v e an a unt in F r a nc e. O r so I ’ m told . ”
    “ L i v i n g w i t h f r og s ?” H i s n o s t r i l s f l a r ed. “ Y o u ’ r e o f f y o u r nu t if you ’ d r a t he r li ve w it h a bunch of f ancy fr og l egs t hen spo rt w it h me. ”
    M ir a nd a bit off a s m il e. “ Pe rh a ps I am. ”
    “ Come on, l uvy , t h i nk of a ll t he r eam swag we cou l d pu ll . ” He wagg l ed t hose b r ows aga i n, and she nea rl y l aughed, w h i c h h e s a w , a n d p r e ss ed h i s ad v a n t age a cc o r d i n g l y . “ I suspec t you li ke t he t h rill of dange r . Jus t a b it , eh? Te ll us t he tr u t h, now. ” He ri sked h i s damaged a r m t o g i ve he r a li gh t nudge.
    D i d she? M ir anda s t a r ed ou t at t he smoky c it y s tr e t ched be f o r e he r . A pe r son cou l d go m i ss i ng i n London ’ s da r k co rri do r s. O r a pe r son cou l d be f ound. Sma ll fl u tt e r s bu ilt up i n he r be ll y at t he t hough t .
    O n a w h i m , s h e p u ll ed h er c o i n o u t . “H eads I s t a y . T a i l s I go . ”
     
    B e for e sh e could s e cond - gu e ss h e rs e lf , sh e toss e d it high . T h e coin r ea ch e d its ze nith a nd s eeme d to p a us e as if d e ciding h e r f a t e. I t c a ught th e f a ding light a nd glint e d for just a m o me nt , th e n shot do w n to mee t h e r outstr e tch e d h a nd .
    T h e y b e nt ov e r h e r p a l m in unison .
    “ A moon? ” B ill y ’ s t h i n li ps t w i s t ed. “ Wha t’ s t ha t t hen?
    Hea ds? O r t a ils?”
    A l a ugh slowly took h e r as h e r fing e rs clos e d ov e r th e coin . “ Hea ds . De finit e ly h ea ds . ”
    She t ook a deep b r ea t h, and desp it e t he r ush of coa l dus t and g ri me t ha t fill ed he r mou t h at t he ac ti on, she f e lt li gh t e r , c l ea r e r . Hope b l oomed wa r m and g l ow i ng, li ke an embe r fi na ll y g i ven air. “ Pa rt ne r s t hen. ”

Chapter 8
N e w Y ork C ity , Ma y 1881
    I s aa c Ma y e r h a d w ork e d for Archib a ld Wa ll a c e for pr e cis e ly e ight y ea rs . An e t e rnity wh e n it c ame to Wa ll a c e S t ee l . M r . Wa ll a c e did not k ee p em ploy ee s . He r e pl a c e d th em, e ith e r wh e n th e y quit –m ostly on a ccount of f a il e d n e r v e s— or w h en h e g r ew t i r ed of t h e i r c u r i o s i t y . O n l y h i s ma jordo m o , G il roy , st a y e d . N ot th a t m ost p e opl e a ctu a lly s aw G il roy . He wa s m or e a ghost in th e v a st ma chin e th a t wa s Wa ll a c e S t ee l , t a king c a r e of M r . Wa ll a c e ’s n ee ds a nd k ee ping th e world out .
    As for M r . Wa ll a c e, h e wa s not a bad em ploy e r . N ot in th e l ea st . Ha lf of th e ti me, h e wa s a bro a d , tr a v e ling on busin e ss — or at l ea st th a t wa s wh a t h e cl a i me d . N o , not a bad em ploy e r at a ll . But on e wa s co m p e ll e d to ov e rlook