Chapter 14 – Like Striking a Match

It didn’t come as much of a surprise to anyone when, only three months after the dinner at the Morey, the body of Gallo Napoliello turned up with its throat cut.

“All things considered, I’m surprised Herb held out for as long as he did,” said Cheshire. “He was never going to let one of the old Lucky’s boys live, not if there was a chance of him getting support from out of state. And if the meeting went as badly as everyone said, someone had to pay for it. Are you sure you don’t want a splash of color?”

Cheshire turned away from his closet and held a blue- violet necktie up to Jakub’s collar. It probably wasn’t fancy by Cheshire’s standards, but Jakub still blushed at the thought of wearing something so eye-catching and…silk. He cleared his throat and genty urged Cheshire’s hand back. “It’s a funeral, Chesh. It’s not really the time for fashion.”

“Says you,” said Cheshire, and he looped the tie around his own neck. Jakub paid close attention to him tying the knot. “It’s not like we’re going to pay respects anyway. Herb just wants us there to make a statement.” He finished and smoothed his jacket down as he faced Jakub properly. “Well?”

At a glance, Cheshire was dressed in a normal, black suit, plenty appropriate for a funeral—it was only up close that someone would notice the delicate pinstriping and monogrammed cufflinks. Jakub was torn between wanting to roll his eyes, and wanting to roll the fresh wool under his palm. “It’s a statement,” he said. “But you don’t need me to…” He frowned, swallowed, and started again. “It looks good on you.”

Cheshire grinned, puffing his chest out. “You think so?” He smoothed down the lapels and then reached back into the closet. “Let’s get you set up, too,” he said as he offered up a new piece. “A very normal, classic black necktie just for you.”

Jakub accepted it and drew it around his neck. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” he asked, trying to keep Cheshire’s attention off his hands as he made his first attempt at the knot. “Getting all of Manhattan together again so soon could lead to… I don’t want to know.”

“Is it any better of an idea to refuse?” Cheshire replied. “If this is a power play and we don’t show up, that’s only going to make them more desperate to reestablish the hierarchy.”

Jakub finished his knot after only restarting twice, and he faced Cheshire with his hands at his sides, eyebrows raised, daring him to comment. Cheshire pursed his lips and held out for as long as he could. It seemed to cause him physical pain. “Do you mind if I…?”

Jakub held his ground a moment longer; it made him blush to think that he had grown bold enough to tease. “Go ahead,” he said at last.

Cheshire’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he hurried to untie the sloppy knot. “You just need a little more practice,” he said. “Let’s hope Herb gets fed up with the lot of them, so we have lots more occasions to dress up for.”

“That’s not funny,” Jakub muttered, but then Cheshire took him by the shoulders and turned him around. His cheeks darkened further as Cheshire reached around him to knot the necktie.

“I know you don’t really care about this stuff, but it does look great on you,” Cheshire said happily as he tightened the knot to Jakub’s throat. “It’ll be mostly Manhattan people there, so they won’t think twice about seeing you in a tie.”

Jakub swallowed, leaning back into his chest. “It’s just a tie—it’s not a big deal.”

“Just trying to put you at ease. I know you hate being the center of attention.”

He wrapped his arms across Jakub’s chest and gave him a squeeze—Jakub took in a deep breath as if he could inhale and capture the sensation, so he could call on its memory later. “Thanks,” he said, and, summoning his courage, he turned his face towards Cheshire’s. “I, um. I appreciate you always looking after me.”

Cheshire hummed against his cheek. “You do a lot more looking after me,” he replied. “That’s…” He chuckled, and Jakub’s mood was dampened a bit with the realization of how nervous Cheshire sometimes was with him. “That’s what you do, right? When you’re steady with someone?”

“Yeah,” Jakub hurried to reassure him, even though it made him squirm. “Of course it is.”

“Good.” Cheshire gave him one more tight squeeze and then let go so he could steer them toward the full length mirror next to the closet. “Take a look,” he said cheerfully. “See? Tasteful and handsome.”

Jakub took in his reflection and wasn’t sure how to name the emotion that came over him. He hardly spent any time in front of mirrors—was fairly certain he didn’t own one, other than a small, pocket mirror he had used a handful of times when working on his guns, or one of the boss’s cars. It wasn’t often he was faced with his own…face. He blushed again as he fingered the knot Cheshire had just tied for him and looked over the suit. Nothing about it seemed all that extraordinary to him: he was clean, sure, his hair combed, a noticeable lack of wrinkles in his jacket. It shouldn’t have felt any different, let alone special. But Cheshire sure seemed delighted, so he tried to look more closely. He only gained more self-conscious embarrassment for the effort. What was so endearing about plain black and a faceful of freckles anyway?

“I like it,” Jakub said, so determined to be supportive that Cheshire saw straight through him.

“You don’t have to force it,” Cheshire replied, and he chuckled as he straightened the lines of the jacket along Jakub’s shoulders. He deadpanned his face to match Jakub’s usual demeanor. “I’d be satisfied with ‘it’ll do.’” Jakub started to protest, flustered, but Cheshire continued. “But thank you for humoring me.”

He kissed Jakub’s cheek, which wasn’t nearly enough; Jakub turned so he could meet Cheshire’s lips for a proper kiss. “It’s what you do, right?” he said, cheeks burning; Cheshire’s grin, surprised and pleased, made it worth it.

They left the apartment together and met up with Burke in the lobby, who for once showed remarkable restraint in his attire. For the most part, anyway—he had accented his plain black jacket with a navy blue tie, with wreaths of orange making up a paisley pattern. Cheshire gestured sharply at him. “Really, Burke?” he said, flabbergasted. “You’re wearing that?”

“What?” Burke betrayed not one ounce of self-consciousness in the face of Cheshire’s disdain. “Yours is blue, too.”

Cheshire made to argue, but then he stopped himself, shaking his head. “Just make sure you stand next to Herb instead of me,” he said as he led them out of the building. “Or I’m going down in the hole with Napoleon, I swear.”

“Ye’re a mental case,” Burke retorted, and Jakub stayed out of it, content to be amused by their bickering all the way to the cemetery.

The church service had been held in Manhattan, a poorly kept secret meant only for close relatives and friends. Likely his remaining family were hoping to avoid any entanglements with Lucky and her crew, with tempers still so high and prides tarnished. So naturally, as soon as Herb had figured out that the burial would take place in Brooklyn’s Woodside, he had spread the news as far and wide as possible. As the three of them parked and headed for the cemetery entrance, Jakub wasn’t surprised to see Big Mitts and their crew already milling about, as well as a group of the Union City Boys who must have gotten up early for the trip.

“This is a bad idea,” Jakub said again as they leaned against the stone wall a calculated distance from the rest of the “mourners.”

“Bloody disrespectful on top’a that,” agreed Burke. “Napoliello was a right prick, but they could wait for him to be in the ground before gunning down his relations.”

Cheshire scoffed, though he didn’t sound as sure as he usually did. “It’s broad daylight, outside their normal turf. Herb isn’t an idiot—they’re not going to start a gunfight.” He shrugged. “Not today, anyway.”

Jakub eyed the Union City Boys as they passed a lit cigarette between them. At least two had pistols shoved down the backs of their trousers. They might have just been smart enough to come prepared—Jakub had his own revolver inside his jacket—but then again, maybe they knew something. He tugged a pack of cigarettes out of his coat. “I’m not so sure teaming up with Manhattan was a good idea from the start,” he admitted. He then quickly shook his head. “Not that we had a choice at the time.”

Cheshire shrugged again, and when Jakub held a cigarette out, he lit it with a snap of his fingers. “It’s a little hairy,” he admitted. “But the boss said he wanted us to expand, and there are only so many directions to head in. If we can make nice now, Barney’s gonna thank me for it eventually.” He laughed. “That’ll be the day, huh?”

“Yeah, someday when you got pigs on your balcony ‘stead of pigeons,” said Burke. “But if ye’re feeling lucky, you can try yer hand today.”

He motioned to further down the curb, where another car had just pulled up, and Barney and Hannah climbed out. They were dressed for the occasion, Barney sporting his hat from the Morey dinner he was so proud of. Jakub frowned around his cigarette as he watched them approach. This is going to be that terrible meeting all over again, he thought, studying them for weapons. If not worse.

“Gentlemen,” Barney greeted, a note of sarcasm to his voice. It was always off-putting to see him in a good mood. “Ready for round two of the Great Manhattan Shit-show?”

“Sure are,” said Cheshire, smirking along. “Glad you could make it.”

“Couldn’t live up to the name without you,” Burke added.

Barney shot him a glare, but he didn’t get the chance to retort; Cheshire laughed and threw his arm around Burke’s neck in a playful headlock. “Ha! Good one. He’s funny, ain’t he?”

Barney eyed them both and then snorted. “A riot.”

“I don’t see Reynoso,” said Hannah. Jakub couldn’t help but feel sorry for how tense and exhausted she looked already. “Or Masterson.”

“They might have found a way into the ceremony,” suggested Cheshire. “I’m sure they’ll come across with the procession.”

Barney snorted again and adjusted his hat, even though it didn’t need it. “That Masterson is a piece of work. Takes some balls to go after your enemies at a funeral.”

“You’re here, too, you know,” Cheshire reminded him. “And so are you,” Barney shot back. “Honestly, I’m surprised—you two been so chummy lately, I figured you’d come with him.” He scoffed. “You could have ridden his dick all the way over from Manhattan.”

Jakub tensed and pulled the cigarette from his mouth before he chewed straight through the filter. The subtle tug of hurt at the corner of Cheshire’s mouth twisted his gut and forced the words straight out of him. “Barney, shut the fuck up.”

Everyone turned to stare, bewildered, but Jakub went back to smoking, determined not to falter. I should have stood up for him before, he thought with heavy conviction as he stared back at Barney. I’m not letting the chance go ever again.

Burke gave a short back of laughter, breaking the momentary tension. “Funny,” he said. “Ain’t he?”

Barney glanced between the three of them, off kilter and at a loss. “Just stay sharp in there, all right?” he muttered, and he moved on toward the cemetery entrance. “Nice tie, Jake.”

Hannah cast Jakub a questioning look, and only then did he feel uncertain of his outburst. She continued on without comment. Once the trio was more or less alone again Cheshire wrapped his other arm around Jakub’s neck and drew him in. He pressed his lips close against Jakub’s ear.

“God, I could kiss you right now,” he whispered, and Jakub shivered, but then he let go of both his companions and laughed. “Sorry, Burke,” he said. “Just pigeons for me this time.”

“‘Bout time someone said it,” replied Burke. “Not that I can believe you just did.”

Jakub exhaled a puff of smoke. “I just don’t want him in there with a big head,” he said, though he couldn’t help a feeling of triumph.

Their humor was cut short moments later by the arrival of the hearse and its procession. Everyone looked on as members of Napoliello’s family and gang filtered out of their cars, and the pallbearers took up their positions. Just as Cheshire had suggested, Camila, Herb, and a slew of their goons emerged at the tail end of the proceedings. Both were handsomely dressed in long fur coats that didn’t seem necessary given the mild weather.

“Christ,” muttered Burke, and he patted himself down for a cigarette. “A ‘piece of work’ is right.”

Jakub tried to watch everything at once. Napoliello’s relatives were stone faced as they bore the coffin into the cemetery, though he could see many of them shift, suppressing the urge to glance behind them. Camila and Herb followed arm in arm. Herb even cast a smirk at each of his guests, though his eyes were hard, taking stock of everyone who had chosen to accept his invitation.

“It’s obvious what he’s trying to do,” Jakub said quietly as the three of them fell into step behind the other gangs. “But he’s messy, and this is dangerous.”

“First sign of trouble and we’re gone,” Cheshire promised.

They marched on. All things considered it was a very pleasant day for a funeral, with a bright, cloudless sky overhead and only a faint breeze rustling the grassy plots. Nearly as soon as they passed through the gates they were surrounded by rows of headstones on either side of the lane, names and dates stretching on into the distance. Jakub tried not to look at them, focusing instead on the different groups ahead. Barney and Hannah were conversing quietly, but everyone else was tense and stoic, their eyes on Herb, as if waiting for a signal they weren’t certain would come at all.

“Think Herb dug a few extra ditches to prepare?” said Burke, chewing on his cigarette without lighting it. “Bang, bang, kick, thud, problem solved.”

“That’s not funny,” Jakub scolded him. He looked to Cheshire, expecting to have to curb some quip from him as well, and was surprised to find Cheshire’s expression dull and serious. It wasn’t often he couldn’t find even a trace of a curled lip on the man. “You okay, Chesh?”

“Hm?” Cheshire shook himself, and immediately the smile Jakub was used to snapped into place. “Oh, sure. It’s been a long time since I was in a cemetery, that’s all.”

Jakub thrummed with curiosity. His parents? he wondered, eyeing Cheshire for clues. He’s never  mentioned them, so maybe… But Cheshire was watching Herb now, focused on the present, nothing to give him away.

“Same, then,” said Burke. “Not much to miss, though, is there? Bones in the ground. Like it makes any damn difference where you end up after ye’re dead.”

Parents, Jakub thought with greater confidence. He vaguely remembered Burke saying something about coming to America with his uncle as a child, and the clipped bitterness in his voice wasn’t difficult to puzzle out. He frowned, taking a last breath of his cigarette before dropping it beneath his foot. It occurred to him that he had no idea if his own parents’ bodies had ever been found or buried.

The group turned down another lane to the east, taking them to the waiting plot. Everyone fanned out around the open grave, and with the coffin lowered the priest began a few last rites. With the service already conducted at the church, and Napoliello’s relations painfully aware of their many unwanted guests, it was bound to be a short ceremony. Camila and Herb stood close to Napoliello’s cousins, their manners appropriately solemn compared to the tense irritation of the mourners. Everyone waited for what they assumed to be the inevitable conflict.

But Herb didn’t signal for anything. He and his boss listened respectfully to the prayers of the old priest, and they remained still as the coffin was finally lowered into the earth. They didn’t interfere with or try to participate in throwing earth over the grave. As the burial concluded, it slowly dawned on the different gangs that the fight they had all come dreading might not take place at all.

“I guess that’s it?” mumbled Barney as the crowd dispersed. Herb and Camila, once again arm in arm, moved boldly to the front for the walk back toward the entrance with their entourage in tow. “They brought us all out here for nothing?”

“Not for nothing,” replied Jakub. He watched as Big Mitts and the Union City Boys hung back long enough for the rest of the Napoliellos to fall into line behind Camila. Even after the disastrous dinner, everyone had heeded Manhattan’s call— everyone had been prepared for a war they had no reason to fight. They had more than made their point.

And as soon as they reached the cemetery’s main lane, Jakub saw it: the entrance had been blocked by a collection of familiar black and white police cars. A line of uniformed officers awaited the procession, each of them as prepared for violence as the gangs had been, and at the front of them, hands on her hips, stood US Marshal Hazel Adalet.

“Oh, Herb,” Cheshire murmured, only loud enough for Jakub to hear. “What the hell are you up to?”

“Is this where we turn tail?” asked Burke, the same unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Stay calm,” said Hannah. “Keep walking.”

Camila and Herb didn’t break stride, so the rest of them had no choice but to follow suit. It took an agonizing length of time to make the walk as anxiety wound everyone tight. Jakub stayed close at Cheshire’s side. We could just walk away, he thought, casting a quick glance deeper into the cemetery. Turn around and head to  the  wall,  hop  over  and  double  back  when the coast is clear.

“Officer,” Herb greeted once he had nearly reached the exit. “Can we help you?”

“Marshal,” Hazel corrected him stiffly. She waved for him to continue on. “This doesn’t concern you, Mr. Masterson.” She looked past him to the rest of the approaching procession, and Jakub took in a deep breath in preparation as her eyes landed on them. “We’re here to speak with Barney Kozlow.”

What? Jakub looked to Barney, who stopped in his tracks. Hannah took his elbow, obviously baffled but desperate to keep him from saying anything stupid. Even Cheshire seemed thrown. But when Jakub returned his attention to Herb and saw the hint of a smile he was trying to hide, it made perfect sense. Napoliello wasn’t  the only one that  spoke  out  against Manhattan at that dinner, he thought, sweating into his jacket. He looked to Burke and found the same conclusion there. But how can he have leverage over the feds?

“The rest of you need to move on,” Hazel continued, motioning to the other gangs who were also a mix of confused and bitterly resigned. “Pardon our intrusion.”

“Herb, what’s the big deal?” asked Cheshire. “We all got the message already.”

Herb gave an exaggerated shrug. “Like the lady said— doesn’t concern me.” He looked to Camila. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she said, and the officers parted enough for them and their crew to continue on.

“Hey,” said Cheshire, and before Jakub could stop him, he hurried after them. “Herb, wait up!”

Hazel shot him a glare, and Jakub held his breath as the pair passed each other, but she didn’t try to stop him; she was heading for Barney. Forced to split his focus between them, Jakub stayed at Barney’s other side. The rest of the gathering was still shifting uncomfortably: Big Mitts and their crew moved tentatively toward the exit, while the Napoliellos and Union City boys hung back, too curious to know Kozlow’s fate, and the cops tried to watch everyone at once. For his part, Barney didn’t seem to know if he was furious or petrified, and he stared back at Hazel with harried eyes.

“I’m Barney Kozlow,” he said roughly. “What do you want?”

“I have some questions for you,” said Hazel, and to her credit she seemed unfazed by the electricity in the air around them. “But this isn’t the place for it. You need to come with me.”

“We have a right to know what this is about,” said Hannah, still gripping Barney’s arm.

“No, you don’t.” Hazel tapped the marshal’s badge pinned to the lapel of her suit jacket. “We’re not going to stand around here making more of a scene than necessary. Please come with me.”

Burke crossed his arms and glared back at her. “He’s not going anywhere unless ye’ve got a warrant on you.”

Hazel cocked an eyebrow and then reached into her jacket. “All right.”

Jakub cast a quick glance past her. Cheshire had managed to stop Herb and Camila just within the cemetery gate, a nervous smile in place as they talked. Mitts had paused nearby, and they and the rest refused to be ushered on by the increasingly anxious police officers. If the standoff carried on for much longer…

“I have a warrant for your arrest,” said Hazel, flipping open a paper pulled from her jacket. “For the murder of Gallo Napoliello.”

Barney paled, and Hannah kept a tight grip on his arm. “That’s ridiculous,” she said as everyone shifted and murmured. “We’ve never had anything to do with them.”

Hazel quickly tucked the warrant back into her jacket. “All the same, he’s coming with me.”

“We all know who’s responsible,” spoke up one of the Napoliellos, pointing emphatically at Herb and Camila by the gate. Jakub took a step back as attention across the group shifted; his companions took notice and stealthily did the same. “That bitch and her attack dog murdered Gallo, and you’re wasting time with these small time weasels? He’s right fucking there!”

“Ma’am, you need to take you and your family home,” said Hazel, losing patience. “Let us do our job.”

“She does have a point,” called Herb, his smugness drawing an incredulous look even from Cheshire beside him. “I really hated Gallo Napoliello. It makes a lot more sense.”

“You son of a—” the woman began, but she was interrupted by the sound of a sudden gunshot, and the cemetery erupted.

Jakub had no idea where it had come from at first. The familiar bang of a .38 revolver sent his heart skipping, and everyone started moving at once. Barney, Hannah, and Burke fled for the east wall—the Union City boys toward the opposite. One of the boys had his gun in his hand already. As Jakub turned to run he caught only glimpses of Big Mitts and their crew diving for cover while the police drew their guns, and Cheshire dragging Herb by his fur coat around the stone wall out of the cemetery. Their eyes met for a brief moment but there was nothing either could do other than retreat in opposite directions.

“I’ll kill him,” Barney huffed as the four of them sprinted between rows of headstones toward the east wall. “I’ll kill that fat bastard!”

“Just run!” said Hannah.

She had one hand twisted in Burke’s coat and was practically dragging him along. Burke’s eyes were round with fright as he struggled to keep up, while Jakub was too overcome with confusion to feel any concern for himself. Of all of them, Jersey? he thought, trying to make sense of it. What the hell are they thinking? He glanced behind them at the sound of more gunfire, but the parties had scattered, and it was impossible to pick out the various factions. He did, however, catch sight of two of the police officers following them. He drew his revolver.

They reached the edge of the cemetery, where the stone wall that started at the entrance ended in favor of iron rod fencing. Barney didn’t hesitate; he threw himself at the fence, nearly reaching the top rung in a single leap. Hannah and Jakub rushed to help, and with each taking a foot, they boosted him over the top. He landed roughly, gripping the bars to keep from spilling to his knees.

“Hurry up!” he snapped. “Leon’s place isn’t far from here—we can make it.”

Jakub and Hannah assisted Burke over the top next—he cursed the entire way over. But as Hannah made the climb with only minimal help from Jakub, the cops finally made it in range. “Hold it!” shouted one as they both leveled pistols.

“You’re all—”

Jakub opened fire, each shot taking chunks out of headstones and monuments. The cops dove for cover. As Hannah dropped to the other side of the fence she peered through with concern. “Jakub—”

“I know,” he reassured her as he shoved the gun back into its holster. The last thing we need now is dead cops.

He jumped, catching as high up as he could on the bars and bracing his feet for leverage. He stretched his left hand and felt his fingertips hook over an ornament, but when he tried to pull himself up, the metal digits twitched abruptly, and he couldn’t keep his grip. The shift in weight would have dragged his feet back to the ground if not for Hannah and Burke reaching through the bars to support him.

“Back off, pigs!” Barney shouted, and he fired a few shots into the dirt to keep the police from trying anything. With Hannah and Burke’s help Jakub was able to make another lunge for the top of the fence, and he dragged himself over and down the other side.

“What about Bloom?” Jakub asked as soon as his shoes touched the ground. “We can’t just—”

“He can take care of himself,” said Hannah, and she took hold of Burke again as she led the way across the street. The other side held small homes crammed close together, offering plenty of narrow lanes and backyards for them to lose the pursuing cops through. “We need to get off the streets and worry about him later.”

“I hate this,” muttered Burke, allowing Hannah to pull him on. “I really do.”

Barney gave him a push. “Shut up and keep moving.

They’re still on us.”

They weaved through the buildings, and gradually the distant pop of gunfire ceased. Jakub glanced behind them and couldn’t see any sign of the pursuing officers. But more than that he listened for booms, even breathed deeply through his nose as if he might be able to catch the smell of Cheshire’s magic on the wind.

No, he knows better. Jakub swallowed and forced himself to keep pace with the others, further away from the melee. Adalet didn’t come for him—she’s got nothing on him. He’ll be fine.

***

The first gunshot caught Cheshire completely off guard. He had been trying to keep eyes on Herb, on the Napoliellos, on Barney, on Hazel—that one of the Jersey boys would draw on them was the furthest thing from his mind. Apparently, even Herb hadn’t considered it as a possibility; his expression went blank with surprise and he rocked with the report of the gun.

Is he hit? Cheshire thought. With the thick fur coat cloaking Herb’s already broad frame no wound was visible, but there was no mistaking the paleness that came over his features. Cheshire grabbed him by his coat and turned, dragging him around the entranceway’s stone column to get them both out of the line of fire.

He caught a glimpse of Jakub moving to flee and felt a flash of relief. He’ll be fine. He can get out of this, easy.

Cheshire pushed Herb up against the stone wall just outside the entrance and only then realized that Camila was close at his side—all but clinging to him. “Are you shot?” he asked, though he already knew the answer; he could smell the blood, could even feel it slicking his black gloves.

“It’s nothing,” said Herb, even if his grin was mostly grimace. He reached for his left shoulder, and at last Cheshire could see blood seeping through the fur near his armpit. “Who the fuck shot me?”

Chunks of stone exploded off the walls, and Big Mitts and their crew retreated from the cemetery amidst more gunfire. Cheshire could hear the cops shouting orders and others swearing wildly, and there was no telling where the sides had been drawn or when it would spill into the streets.

“Come on,” Cheshire said, and he drew Herb away from the wall. “Let’s get out of here.”

Camila immediately moved to Herb’s other side. “Start the car,” she ordered one of their followers, who ran ahead down the sidewalk to obey. Thanks to the Napoliellos there were an awful lot of cars stretching behind the hearse to go past, and they didn’t make it more than a few steps before Cheshire realized how unsteady Herb was. He tried to hurry them on, only to be interrupted by shouts from behind.

“Hold it right there!” yelled what sure sounded like cops, and when Cheshire turned to look back, he could only watch as two officers were gunned down by figures emerging from the cemetery. A pair of Napoliello’s former goons rounded the gate, eyes wide with the panic of the shoot out, and they quickly spotted the retreating Manhattanites.

Cheshire dragged Herb down behind the bumper of the nearest car just as more gunshots rang out. He could have sworn he felt a bullet pass through the end of his ponytail. As the Manhattan gangsters traded shots with their attackers, Herb struggled to draw his gun, so Cheshire took it from him. He managed to get a few shots off but didn’t accomplish anything, until Camila snatched the gun from him. She leaned out around the car and shot one of their attackers straight between the eyes. One of her men clipped the other and sent him diving back through the gate.

“You’re still not going to show me your magic?” Herb asked incredulously.

“Not in front of cops.” Cheshire yanked him upright once more, though it took a great deal of effort. He’s too pale, he thought, and he was relieved when another of Herb’s boys came to help support him. He’s losing a lot of blood. The coat must have been absorbing a lot more than its dark color was letting on. Swallowing a curse, he looked to Camila. Her eyes were hard and her knuckles white around the gun. She could see it, too.

What happens if Herb dies? Cheshire thought, his head spinning as he helped drag Herb down the sidewalk to the waiting car. Is Manhattan done for? The sharpness in Camlia’s demeanor said otherwise. Jakub was right—this was one big mistake, but they ’re gonna make everyone else pay for it.

He shoved Herb into the back of the car and climbed in after. Two pairs of broad shoulders made it extremely cramped but Cheshire was determined to know just how bad things were. As familiar left-hand Nicole took the wheel, Camila beside her, Cheshire finally yanked Herb’s coat and jacket back to see the damage.

The bullet had caught him in the arm, between his shoulder and bicep. As soon as the wound was uncovered it pulsed with fresh blood, and Cheshire hurried to shove the full pressure of his palm against it. Herb jerked, swearing at him.

“Where’s the closest doctor?” Nicole asked as she pulled away from the curb, scraping the bumper against the car in front of them.

“Elmhurst.” Cheshire shook his head and forced himself not to say it. He won’t make it, not  when  he’s  losing  blood  like this. But when he met Herb’s gaze, the truth was there anyway, plain to see. Herb’s lip curled.

“So who was it?” he asked, grimacing.

“I didn’t see,” said Cheshire. He resisted the temptation to look to Camila again. Is there nothing I can do? It suddenly didn’t seem that long ago that he had contemplated unleashing his full magic on Herb and his entire roomful of Manhattan goons, and here he was, scrambling for a way to save him for fear of he didn’t know what.

An idea came to him then, skating along his nerves in a chill. Without giving himself too long to think on it he stripped one glove off. If this works, it might save his life, he thought, and he tore Herb’s shirt away from the gunshot so he could press his bare palm directly to the wound. And if it doesn’t, don’t stop. He took a deep breath and finally looked behind him to memorize the shapes of Nicole and Camila in the front seats. If you kill him with this, you’ll have to kill them, too.

“Herb, take a breath,” he said, and then he shoved his shed glove between the man’s teeth to quiet his attempt to question. “Bite this.” He took a deep breath of his own. “Please don’t explode.”

Cheshire concentrated on the torn flesh surrounding the deceptively small wound. It’s just like lighting  a  cigarette, he told himself. He pictured the glowing butt of a lit cigarette, burning just like he had done for Jakub a hundred times. Biting his lip, he imagined putting that same fire into just the surface of Herb’s shorn flesh. Bunny please, don’t blow him up.

The magic surged, and with a small burst of light and a puff of smoke, Herb’s wounded arm burned and singed. He screamed into the glove, writhing and shoving; his thick fingers dug bruises into Cheshire’s biceps. Cheshire did his best to keep him still, afraid to let go even though his palm ached with the heat. It wasn’t until Herb had finally started to catch his breath that Cheshire realized Camila had turned in her seat and was holding the gun to his head.

“I’m helping!” Cheshire lifted both hands in surrender, and in doing so displayed the outcome of his work: Herb’s inner arm was scorched, excruciating even to look at, but the bleeding had stopped. “If we get him to the hospital quick he can still…” He turned his head, and abruptly Camila leaned back.

Her expression shifted from murderous to shocked, and she lowered the gun. Cheshire caught a glimpse of his own face in the rear-view mirror, and finally he understood her reaction— bright lines of glowing red streaked from his forehead down to his chin, making up the same pattern branded on both his palms. It only lasted a few seconds, swiftly melting away to leave only his stunned expression staring back at him. But Camila had seen, and she leaned away from him, crossing herself.

“What the hell did you do?” demanded Nicole.

She didn’t sound surprised or frightened enough to have seen the sigil; Cheshire quickly turned back to Herb just in case. “I cauterized the wound…I think.” He pulled out his pocket square to cover the ghastly burn with. “It’s not bleeding as badly. Just get us to the hospital as fast as you can!”

Herb groaned. He was drenched in sweat, eyes rolling back, but his grip on Cheshire was still strong. “Take it easy, Herb,” Cheshire awkwardly consoled him. “You’ll be all right.”

Herb spat Cheshire’s glove out and sagged deeper into the carseat. “It was one of the Jersey boys,” he said through gritted teeth. “Wasn’t it?”

Cheshire gulped. “We’re almost there,” he replied. “Just try not to move too much for now. You’re gonna make it.”

Herb sighed, and at last his grip began to relax. “Thanks,” he muttered. His eyelids were heavy and pinched with fatigue but he met Cheshire’s gaze. “You’re my hero.”

Cheshire felt his stomach turn, and he hoped Herb was in too much pain to see that queasiness in his face. “Don’t mention it.”

***

At the hospital, Cheshire stayed with Camila while Nicole organized the rest of their crew. His gloves were full of blood but he kept them on anyway, nervous about Camila seeing his brands. It was probably too late for that kind of caution, but he couldn’t help it.

“Herb’s the toughest son of a bitch I’ve ever met,” he told her, not for the first time, as they waited for some word from the doctors. It wasn’t the truth but he didn’t think she’d question. “He’ll be fine.”

Camila didn’t reply. She was nestled deep in her fur coat, staring straight ahead with a vacant, yet somehow still intense expression. He found it deeply unsettling and struggled to find something new to say.

“I know what you were both trying to do today,” he began cautiously, watching her face for any reaction. “But if you keep trying to strong arm everyone into doing what you want, this is going to keep happening.”

“It won’t happen again,” Camila said quietly, but with a certainty that chilled him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You can go after Union City, sure. Burn it to the ground if you want. That’ll just make you more enemies.”

Camila’s gaze shifted toward him. “It worked for you and the Foleys,” she said.

Cheshire gulped and rubbed the back of his neck, only to cringe at the dried blood he was smearing into his collar. “Well…I guess. But only for a while—we ran into plenty of trouble with other gangs after that.” He thought briefly of the Townshead boys and the terrible cost they’d exacted from Kozlow encroaching on their perceived territory; it made his palms itch. “You can’t keep throwing your weight around without blowback. You may have friends in the feds but that’s going to run out eventually, too.”

Camila sighed and straightened up from her thick collar. “You’re wondering how we did it,” she said. “Framed your boss’ son. We paid off a witness—it was easy.” At last she met Cheshire’s eyes directly. “I’m not afraid of the feds.”

“Can you…” Cheshire licked his lips. “Would you mind unpaying your witness? How am I supposed to keep working with you if you put my boss in jail? Kozlow will go to war for this.”

“Come to Manhattan,” Camila said, as if it were obvious, and Cheshire froze. “Leave Kozlow.”

Leave Kozlow? Cheshire stared back at her, speechless. He couldn’t quite wrap his brain around the suggestion, as suddenly all he could think about was Jakub. He made it out of the cemetery fine, I’m sure, he thought, despite attempts to stay focused with Camila watching him so closely. They probably found a way to Leon’s… “Um, what?”

“Come to Manhattan,” Camila repeated, her voice so low and firm that he feared for a moment she might try to hypnotize him. “You saved my dear friend’s life today, and I’ll reward you for it. You don’t need to stay loyal to Kozlow and his son after how they’ve treated you.”

“How they…hold on.” Cheshire shook his head, which unfortunately didn’t help to clear it. “I can’t do that. Kozlow is…” He faltered, suddenly feeling very small beneath Camila’s unwavering attention. Kozlow is  where  Jakub  is.  He’d  never leave them. Would he?

“Kozlow is the boss,” he tried again. “What is everyone going to say if I hop the river right after you frame his son? They’re gonna think I had something to do with it.”

Camila blinked. “So?”

“So? So…come on, you know how that looks.” Cheshire began to sweat but this time managed not to reach for his neck. “My reputation matters to me. I’m not a snitch and I’m not a turncoat, sorry.”

Camila let out a sigh and sagged back into her nest of fur. “I’m disappointed in you.”

Cheshire swallowed back a grimace. “You Manhattan people sure know how to hit below the belt,” he said, hoping to take the sting out by making light. No such luck. “If this is what your idea of a ‘reward’ is I’ll keep my magic to myself next time.”

Camila gave a tiny shudder, and Cheshire froze again, fearing he’d overstepped. She slipped one gloved hand out of her coat. “Do you have a nickel?”

“Uh…sure.”

Cheshire handed one over, and he watched, baffled, as Camila pushed to her feet and headed across the waiting room to a payphone. Her call lasted only a few minutes, and then she returned, settling down into her furs again like a wild animal in its nest. “The little Kozlow will go free,” she said. “But he will learn his place.” She fixed Cheshire with a serious eye. “I’m only doing what I have to, to survive.”

“I know,” Cheshire said quickly, his emotions tipping between relief and apprehension. “Please just…survive more quietly for a little while, maybe?” He smiled weakly. “Or at least, keep it to the other side of the river, so I can help calm this side down?”

“Agreed,” said Camila, and once she had relaxed into her seat, Cheshire did, too.

***

Jakub and the others made their way across town one alley at a time, and at last they reached the Szpilman’s hardware store in Maspeth. They hid out in the basement, Burke expressing his disbelief over the events again and again. Jakub took a seat on the piano bench with his back to the instrument so he could watch the door. Even if Marshal Adalet knew to check Barney’s in-laws, the basement entrance was hidden well enough that they shouldn’t have to worry about being found out, but that didn’t stop his caution. He smoked down the rest of his cigarettes while they waited.

“It’s not safe to go home,” said Hannah, sitting next to Burke on the sofa while Barney paced back and forth in front of them. “It might not even be safe to call. The police came to the funeral because they knew it would be easier to catch you there than at your home. They’ll probably have officers around the building to keep you from going back in.”

“We can’t just sit down here forever!” Barney gestured angrily as he continued to pace. “What if they go after Wanda? After my son? Lucky is out of her mind—I’ll make her pay for this!”

“We need to find out what they used to frame you, and how we can turn it against them,” insisted Hannah, keeping her tone even to try to calm him down. “If they’ve bought someone out we can pay more—if it’s forged evidence, we can destroy it. We’ll figure something out.”

“Masterson’s no fool,” Burke added. “If he wanted to start a war wouldn’t he have killed you, too? If it’s a warning he’s keen on delivering, there’ll be a way out of it.” He made a squeamish face. “Prob’ly not something you’ll like, then.”

Barney turned on him with a scowl. “What, you’re a fan? You and Bloom both have been up his ass from the start! How do I know you—”

“Barney,” said Jakub, and Barney flinched as if suddenly wary of being on the other end of Jakub’s temper again. But he kept his voice low, following Hannah’s example. “Bloom left with Masterson. He’ll be able to get out of him what their real game is. There’s no point getting worked up until we know what they want.”

Barney scrubbed the back of hand across his mouth, and though at first it didn’t seem as if he had any intention of backing down, with a deep breath he finally dropped into a chair. “I know what they want,” he grumbled. “They’re just pissed because of that stupid fucking dinner. Whatever their ‘game’ is, I’m not playing it! They’re gonna learn they can’t fuck with Kozlow.”

“They will,” Hannah assured him. “Once we handle the feds first.”

They waited for another hour. Leon came down with an offer of booze—just a few swigs each to calm the nerves. He didn’t have any news for them. Jakub tried not to worry, as Cheshire had gotten himself out of much worse scraps, but he still ached to see him. He just needed to be sure.

The phone rang. Hannah answered, and everyone held their breath, straining their ears. After listening for a while, anxious but quiet, Hannah shifted back and forth. “You’re sure?” she asked. “We could just… All right. Yes, you’re right. I understand.” She hung up.

“Well?” Barney asked impatiently as he pushed to his feet again, ready to resume his pacing. “What’s going on?”

“It was your father,” said Hannah. Her face was grim. “The marshal is there, and…he wants us to come home.”

Barney gulped. Despite all his temper and bravado there was fear in his eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Hannah waved him forward. “Come on. I’m sure he has a plan.”

Burke made a doubtful face, which luckily Barney didn’t see as they all moved toward the exit. Without further speculation or conflict they piled into Leon’s car and headed south across Brooklyn to the Kozlow’s. As they expected, a herd of police cars awaited them, just like at the cemetery. Hazel stood on the sidewalk. Her hair was tousled and there were spots of blood across the front of her blue suit jacket, and her eyes locked onto their car the moment they turned the corner. Beside her, Kasper leaned heavily against his cane.

“He has a plan, right?” said Barney as they parked. “You’re sure.”

“I’m sure he does,” replied Hannah, but she didn’t say more than that as they disembarked.

“Barney Kozlow,” Hazel called, as authoritative as ever, as if no interruption at the funeral had taken place. “These officers are going to handcuff you, and you’re going to get into this car.”

Barney eyed the approaching officers warily. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

Hazel glared back, unmoved. “I’m not going to ask again.”

“Go on, Son,” said Kasper, gesturing Barney on. “Answer her questions, and be respectful.”

Jakub stood back, tense and uncertain what to do as he watched Barney put into handcuffs. The boss must know what he’s doing. But what if the feds have more on him than we know? What if he really does go away for this? He looked to Kasper and found the man’s expression unreadable. Will he really go to war against Manhattan?

Barney looked downright nauseated as he allowed the cuffs to be put on him. The officers ushered him into Hazel’s car, while Hazel herself shared a few more quiet words with Kasper. He nodded and then waved Hannah over.

“Think this is really it?” Burke whispered. “We’re fucked, ain’t we?”

“I don’t know,” Jakub admitted, and his attention was drawn to the end of the street, where a cab had pulled to the curb. The back door opened and a head of honey-blonde hair poked out, only to duck back into the car a moment later. Jakub’s heart began to pound, and he glanced at each of the officers—it seemed as though no one had noticed. He licked his lips. “But there’s nothing else we can do right now.”

Once Hannah finished with Kasper, she returned to

Jakub and Burke. “I’m going to follow them to the station,” she relayed. “This is how we find out what they have on him. Stay with the boss, okay? He needs to know everything that happened.”

“Sure,” said Jakub, forcing himself not to look again toward the cab. “Good luck.”

Hazel sped off with her prisoner, and one by one the police cars followed, then Hannah. Kasper started heading inside even before the last one had pulled away. Though Burke followed immediately, Jakub hung back, and once the last car was gone he was rewarded with Cheshire climbing out of the cab.

Jakub’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Cheshire.”

“Jakub!” Cheshire jogged down the sidewalk to him with equal relief plastered across his smiling face. “Thank God, you’re okay. Aren’t you?”

“I’m fine.” Jakub looked him over, and the hairs on his neck stood on end when he realized Cheshire’s gloves and sleeves were covered in dried blood. “Are you?”

“Oh—yeah, I’m fine.” He turned toward the building and motioned for Jakub to follow. “I’ll tell you all about it.”

The pair of them ducked inside, and after Cheshire had a moment to drop off his gloves and jacket in Jakub’s apartment, they joined Kasper and Burke on the top floor to confer. Burke relayed their half of the morning’s exhausting events and Cheshire his. Jakub couldn’t help but frown deeply as Cheshire described the use of his magic.

Kasper, too, regarded him with a stern and troubled look from across his desk. “You saved Masterson’s life?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Cheshire insisted. “And it’s going to work out for us—he and Reynoso agreed to call off the feds. Adalet will ask him some questions, the witness will say he made a mistake—it’ll be all right.”

“That doesn’t change what they’ve done,” said Kasper. “Manhattan does not control us, and we cannot allow them to continue thinking they do.”

“Don’t they?” said Burke, but when Jakub shot him a glare, he winced a little and hurried to explain himself better. “They’ve got us by the balls on this one, at least. We gotta wait until Barney is in the clear before we even think about retaliating.”

Kasper’s brow furrowed more deeply, so Cheshire tried his hand again. “They’re only showing off for pride’s sake,” he said. “If we let them think they won this round, they’ll calm down for a while. And we’ve been doing good business with them—there’s no reason to keep going back and forth until it’s war.”

“A war they started,” Kasper said icily. “Which we’re more than capable of finishing.” He fixed Cheshire especially with a piercing look. “Like we did the Foleys.”

Cheshire leaned back, and Jakub wasn’t sure what to make of the clear hesitation in his face. “I’d rather it not come to that,” he said, with more honest seriousness than he usually showed the boss. “We can coexist. It’ll be better for everyone.”

“If we are going to get paybacks, it doesn’t have to be

now,” Jakub added, and Kasper immediately fixed his attention on him. “Once Barney is freed, we can let everything settle down and figure out where Harlem and Union City end up. We can bide our time and come up with a real plan. Or, we find a way to make them useful to us. If the other gangs are worried about surviving Reynoso, maybe we can play nice and let them wear each other thin before risking ourselves.”

Kasper grumped thoughtfully, and he nodded. “Yes, you’re right. If they’re able to wield the US Marshal’s office, we need to be able to, too. We need more ears in Manhattan and beyond. We need to get a step ahead of them.”

Neither Cheshire or Burke looked convinced, so Jakub hurried to keep Kasper’s attention away from them. “We will,” he said. “If we’re patient, we can beat them.”

Kasper nodded again. Jakub led the three of them out of his office before any more could be said.

“What a fucking mess,” Burke muttered as soon as they were out of the penthouse. He looked ready to launch into a screed, but then Cheshire cleared his throat.

“Can we go to your apartment, Jakub?” Cheshire asked. “There’s…one more thing you should both know.”

His demeanor was serious enough to put Jakub on edge, and he quickly agreed. The three of them retreated to his apartment and huddled around his small table to share cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey between them. And then Cheshire let the truth tumble out.

“Lucky asked me to leave Kozlow for them,” he said, and Jakub almost choked on his cigarette smoke.

“Ye’re fucking serious?” Burke exclaimed, though he then quickly hushed himself to a near whisper. “Seriously?”

“I’m serious!” Cheshire leaned his elbows against the table. “I told her no, of course. Today was exactly the ‘shit- show’ we all thought it would be. Why would I ever want to be a part of that?” He glanced to Jakub and flinched guiltily. “And! Of course, I wouldn’t betray Kozlow anyway.”

Jakub frowned. His stomach churned and he wasn’t sure why. “Who else knows?”

“On our side, just the two of you.” Cheshire loosened his tie nervously. “I don’t know about on their side, though. She kind of hinted that part of the reason they went after Barney was because of me.”

“Fucking hell,” muttered Burke. He took another long swig from the bottle. “You’d better be keeping your lips sealed about that, then. Any Kozlow would shit kittens if they thought for a second you’d really jump ship.” His gaze darted to Jakub. “Right? Bloom’s solid so there’s no reason to tell them.”

“No, there’s not,” Jakub said, and seeing Burke’s relief made him bristle. Did he think I would say anything? But then his severe expression made Burke grimace, and he tried to relax. “No one says a word: not to the boss, Barney, Hannah, or anyone else.” He looked back to Cheshire. “And you have to make sure Lucky knows you’re not interested. If she thinks there’s a chance you’ll change your mind, she might try something else that won’t be as reversible as a witness’s mind.”

“No, no, I’m on it,” Cheshire reassured him, emphasizing with gestures from his cigarette. “I was very clear—I’m no traitor.” He took a quick drag. “Herb owes me and I’m gonna make real sure he remembers it, the next time he tries anything.”

They stayed holed up in the building for most of the day. Everyone of Kozlow’s was eager to hear the story of what had happened at the cemetery, which led to a lot of visitors over the hours. They listened to the radio for news, but it wasn’t until Edith showed up in the evening with a heaping of supper that they had the full report: two police officers and three others killed, half a dozen more injured. Most of the Napoliellos had been arrested along with all but one of the Union City boys. But other than Herb himself, the Manhattan crews had escaped mostly unscathed, and the streets everywhere could only wonder who would act next.

At one point after supper, when Burke returned to his own apartment for a nap of exhaustion, Jakub finally had Cheshire to himself. He drew him into the bedroom, kissed him hard and then met his gaze seriously. “You’re really all right?”

“I am if you are,” Cheshire replied playfully, but then his grin sobered. “You don’t have to worry about me, Jake. I meant it when I said I’m no traitor.”

“I know.” Jakub leaned into his chest, needing a few moments of Cheshire’s arms around him. “Not that they deserve it. You’ve done more than enough for Barney after the way he—”

“It’s all right,” Cheshire interrupted as he obliged him with a firm embrace. “Really. I just want things to go smoothly, however that has to happen.”

Jakub sighed. “I know.”

He tugged Cheshire into another kiss, and as sweet as it was, he couldn’t stop from wondering. Would he be happier, away from Kozlow? He held Cheshire tighter. Manhattan can’t be trusted, either, but he deserves better than this.

They left the bedroom just as the news came in: Barney was being released.

He made it home with Hannah just after sundown. By then Wanda had come down with Kasper Jr., and she with the rest of Kozlow’s loyalists gave them a warm reception. Just as Cheshire had reassured them, Hazel’s supposedly reliable witness had recanted their statement, and with all other evidence too weak on its own, no charges would be filed. Barney took great pleasure in recounting Marshal Adalet’s frustration, as if he could claim any credit for it. But at the very least, he had been spooked enough that it didn’t take as much to convince him of their patience strategy as it had his father. He had no intention of putting himself in the crosshairs again too soon.

And it worked, for a time. Cheshire and Jakub gave their well wishes to Herb when he was discharged from the hospital, arm in a sling but otherwise on the mend. They had his assurances that he had every intention of laying low for a while. Between booze and mail fraud business was good, and both sides of the river continued on in tense but peaceful coexistence. Even Manhattan itself relaxed back into its status quo.

But it didn’t come as much of a surprise to anyone when the rest of the Union City Boys washed up on the river shores.

No one had seen a thing.