A Dawn Most Wicked

thing—I knew I was.

Clack-clack-clack, thwump!

My eyelids snapped wide. Cass had the spyglass in one hand, and she was holding it out to me. “Take it.” At the jump in my eyebrows she added, “So you can’t forget me. No matter what happens, you’ll look at this, and you’ll remember how it was. You’ll remember the freedom of the river and the power of the Queen.” She reached out and stroked the steering wheel fondly. Then her eyes, still puffy and overbright, slid back to mine. “And no matter what happens, you’ll remember me. Cassidy Cochran. The fastest pilot on the Mississippi.”

I reached out, surprised to see my hand trembling, and ever so slowly I closed my fingers around the tarnished brass. Briefly I touched the palm of her hand—warm, rough, and unforgettable—and then I eased the spyglass from her grasp.

Clack-clack-clack. I drew it open, examining it. Old fingerprints coated every inch of the brass. Thwump! I let it fall closed, and my gaze lifted to hers. “Good-bye, Cassidy Cochran. I wish you all the best. And I . . .” My voice faded, and before I could summon more words—before I could conjure more excuses to drag out this moment—Cassidy popped onto her toes, grazed a kiss on my cheek, and whispered, “Good-bye, Danny Sheridan.”

Then, in that long-legged lope of hers, she strode past me, down the stairs, and out of my life forever.

For a long moment I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe. . . . But then I heaved a lung-ripping sigh and shambled to the open window. With the spyglass in hand I watched the final rays of daylight sink behind the horizon.

And as I watched, I pretended that I was king of the world. That this gleaming steering wheel was taking me exactly where I wanted to go.

I rolled my head back and let the breeze cool my cheeks. Let the sunset sear through my closed eyelids. And as I stood there, I felt a shift in the wind—a shift that rattled deep into my bones.

It started with a prickle in my shoulders—like little pins and needles stabbing me from the inside out. Chill bumps rolled down my arms despite the sun, and all I could think was when had I gotten so cold? When had I forgotten what it felt like to enjoy a brief patch of sunshine?

And then, just as suddenly as the cold had come, a wave of heat crashed over me. All my hairs shot straight up, and a painful joy stabbed through me. Through my chest. Through my gut. My knees almost buckled.

Because I was alive. And no matter what came for me today or tomorrow, during last night—with Joseph and Jie—I had done something right. I had made a choice and I had fought for it until the end. It was more than I had ever done in my life. More than I’d ever known I could do.

So let Clay Wilcox come, I thought. I would face him unflinching and unafraid. I would face anything life threw at me. Because breath still burned in my chest and my fingers could still curl into fists.

There was no atoning for what I had done, but I could always keep it from happening again.

And I would. I would.

EPILOGUE PHILADELPHIA, 1876

I scuffed toward the bottom of the hospital stairs. They led me to a wide, marble-floored room, and though I knew I ought to walk quietly, I didn’t. I was too preoccupied to worry about stealth.

Because I wanted to go back to Eleanor. I really wanted to go back. My hand slipped into my coat pocket—to a familiar piece of brass. I withdrew it, slowed to a stop on the final step, and examined it in the dim moonlight.

Cassidy’s spyglass. Three years since she’d given it to me. And almost two years since I’d managed to get the thing open. I didn’t know if I had left it untouched for too long or if it was well and truly broken. I had barely looked at in two years—two years and four months, to be exact. Ever since I’d seen an article in a St. Louis paper declaring the happy union of a Miss Cassidy Cochran and a Mr. Kent Lang.

Lang gave her a brand-new steamship as a wedding gift, and last I heard, the Sadie Queen II had won the Baton Rouge, Natchez, Memphis, and even the St. Louis horns. I had done the right thing by leaving Cassidy behind . . . but that didn’t make the old ache hurt any less.

Except . . .

I cocked my head to one side. I hadn’t thought of her in weeks. Months, even. Not until right now had my old best friend and other half flickered through my mind.

I flipped the spyglass over. Tossed it from one hand to the next. There was buoyancy in my chest. Maybe I’d finally let Cassidy Cochran go. And yes, the more I dug at the old wound, the more I realized it didn’t sting anymore. Actually, there was a new hole in my heart—a bigger, blacker hole than Cassidy had ever left behind.

Because I wanted to go back to Eleanor. I really wanted to go back. She had pushed me in ways I hadn’t been pushed since . . . since Cass. And, the truth was, Eleanor had pushed me even harder. Pushed me even further.

And God, that kiss beneath the streetlamp—it had left me dizzy from wanting her. Breathless and so hungry, I thought I would die from the inside out if she ever stopped kissing me . . .

Hell, I might die now, just thinking about it. She was so . . . so fierce. Fierce when she smiled. When she fought. When she called me a scalawag . . . And fierce when she kissed.

“Goddammit.” The word whispered off my tongue as I stared at the spyglass. Then, louder. “Goddammit.” Because why couldn’t I be the one for Eleanor? Why did I have to be in love with a girl leagues above me and miles more deserving?

With a growl I tugged at the spyglass—not because I expected it to open but because I had pulled it from my pocket and didn’t know what else to do with it. I yanked once. Hard.

The spyglass moved. I blinked.

But then Jie’s voice slapped into my skull. “You coming?”

My head bounced up. She slunk from a shadow beside the front door. “Yeah,” I murmured, and as I eased off the final step, my gaze dropped back to the spyglass. It had moved—I’d felt it move.

I crossed the hall and tried tugging it again. This time, it snapped free.

Clack-clack-clack!

My jaw sagged. It was even more tarnished than three years ago, but it had opened. My eyes leaped to Jie’s. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged one shoulder. “So?” Then a bored yawn cracked through her jaw. “Can we please go? Joseph is waiting.”

“Sure,” I mumbled, nodding absently. But I quickened my stride, and just as I reached the door, I tried shutting the spyglass.

Thwump!

Then again. Clack-clack-clack, thwump! Clack-clack-clack, thwump! A laugh broke through my lips. After three years the spyglass had magically opened again. It was . . .

Incredible. That’s what it was.

“Let’s go,” Jie groaned, shoving the front door wide.

“Right. Sorry.” I shoved the spyglass back in my coat pocket and followed her from the hospital. Our heels clicked on the front steps then sank into the grass as we jogged toward the street. Toward a top-hatted silhouette waiting beneath a streetlamp.

But I felt eyes on my back. I knew Eleanor watched me . . . and it made my chest tighten. With need. With desire. With regret.

My feet slowed to a stop. My fingers curled into fists that clenched in time to my pulse, and I couldn’t seem to keep my head from twisting around to stare at Eleanor’s window on the second floor. I couldn’t keep my eyes