Again Barrons seemed to search her eyes. “So you decided to stop them?”

For the first time in years, Mina couldn’t hold a man’s gaze. She looked away. “Consider it my charitable act for the day, but if we don’t hurry up and catch him, it will all have been for naught.”

That stirred him to action. “Which way did the other bomber go?”

“That way.” She pointed.

“Follow me.”

Grabbing the frequency controller, she took it with her, in case someone else happened to activate the device. Barrons moved mercilessly, barely giving her time to keep up with him, ducking and weaving through streets and alleys, hunting through the night. From the black gleam of his eyes, his hunger was still in ascendancy. Her own vision was still darkened. Neither of them had the street-smart instincts of one of the rookery-born, but she could scent a man now, and the sharp tang of chemical. The predator inside her would be able to track him no matter how far he ran.

“There,” she whispered, pausing beside Barrons as he peered around the corner.

The Warren loomed ahead of them, several of the whores visible through the archway that led into the yard behind it. The little mechanical man marched steadily toward it, tracing the shadows that ran along the walls here.

“Where’s the controller?” There was no sign of him in the streets.

Leo had a pistol in his hand, his gaze searching the rooftops. “Damn it. Can’t see him.”

“How well can you shoot? Could you hit the clockwork?”

Their eyes met, a sense of that long-ago camaraderie from the Venetian Gardens springing to life. “Yes.”

“We don’t have time to find the controller,” she said, eyeing the Warren. “The blast radius has to be smaller than forty feet. I can smell the nitroglycerin inside it, and from the size of the clockwork soldier’s body, it cannot hold enough of Nobel’s blasting powder to harm the Warren from here. Shoot it.”

“Are you insane?”

“We don’t have a choice,” she snapped.

Another second to hesitate, then he nodded, stepping out into the street and into a marksman’s stance.

The sound was almost instantaneous, the pistol retort echoing a second before a wall of noise exploded down the street. Light bloomed, the wall beside her shaking and leaving the soles of her boots vibrating.

Barrons was on his knees, one arm thrown over his face to shield it as a flare of orange light washed over him. He fell back onto his other hand as the force of it hit him, his hair dancing in the windblast. Bits of glass and debris tore his sleeve, filling the air with the scent of blood, and then suddenly the wind vanished, leaving the hot flicker of orange flame playing over his chiseled face as he lowered his arm.

Her ears were ringing. Mina staggered to his side, catching his arm. “Are you all right?” she yelled.

Nodding grimly, he stared at the wreckage in front of them. Blood dripped down the side of his face from a gash near his eyebrow. Mina touched it gently until he looked up, pushing her hand away.

The bomb had obliterated half the street and several houses. If she concentrated, she could just make out the sound of frightened screams cutting through the ringing in her ears. Dozens of women and children tumbled out of the Warren, staring at the gaping hole in the street.

“That was larger than expected,” Barrons mouthed at her.

“I’m not a scientist,” she snapped back. Movement shifted; a man fleeing across the roof opposite them. Mina pointed, and Barrons snatched up his pistol again, aimed, and then fired.

The fellow catapulted off the roof, the body hitting the ground so hard she could almost imagine the sound of it.

* * *

Shadows materialized out of the looming darkness of the streets. Blade thundered into view, his face drawn tight with terror and his fists pumping at his sides. He saw the Warren, standing safe and whole, and staggered to a halt, black eyes raking over the bomb’s devastation. Mina hovered behind Barrons, her shoulder pressing against his.

“They’re safe. The duchess and I were patrolling the vicinity when we came across the bombs.” The two men clasped hands and Blade’s shoulders slumped in relief. Mina couldn’t take her eyes off Barrons. Why lie like that? Their eyes met. Barrons glanced away with a carefully neutral expression as he explained the situation, leaving out certain details, such as why precisely she’d been helping him.

“Thought she was—” Blade couldn’t say any more.

“This was what Morioch was waiting for.” The sound of artillery faded and Barrons’s gaze cut toward the wall. “Sounds like they’re retreating for the moment.”

“That bastard.” Fear gave way to an almost feral fury on Blade’s face. “That bleeding coward.” His hands dipped to his belt and returned with one of those barbaric unsheathed razors he favored. “I swore if he touched my wife I’d return the favor—”

“That’s not your greatest concern,” Mina broke in. All eyes were suddenly upon her, including Barrons’s. “I recognized one of your enforcers. He was helping the two men who tried to bomb the Warren.”

Recognition lit Barrons’s dark eyes and he swore. “Henley. I didn’t note it ’til now, but she’s correct. He was trying to kill her.”

If anything, Blade’s expression darkened further. “Where is he?”

“No longer breathing,” Barrons replied. “I took care of it.”

“That means Morioch knows your defenses, your weaknesses, your strengths,” Mina said.

“He was obviously counting on Henley and his men to destroy the Warren and break the heart of the rookery. If that had happened, we’d have come running back,” Barrons said grimly, “and he would have hit the wall with everything he had.”

“You cannot assume Henley was the lone Falcon slipped into your ranks,” Mina finished. “Why else would the duke call off the attack? He must know it failed.”

Blade’s nostrils flared with fury. “Barrons, I want you on guard here, just in case there is someone else. I’ll leave Tin Man at the gate, but I want you inside where nobody can see you. Get yourself cleaned up. I’ll check on Honor and then…” His voice turned silky soft. “Then I’m gonna make sure that bastard don’t ever forget the first mistake he made in this war.”