The Fatal Flame by Lyndsay Faye Read Free Book Online Page B

streamed into it from the open door beyond. It gladdened my heart as nothing had that morning.
    “You’ve been palavering flash more or less nonstop since I was five,” I said to the back of Valentine’s neck. “I didn’t know whether you savvied the difference any longer.”
    I didn’t add,
And it sounded good to me, old and familiar, as if we were about to feed the horses and then give them the sour apples from the crooked tree by the fence. Do you remember that, how we’d collect the fallen ones? Do you remember that tree, and do you remember their hot teeth against our fingers?
Because that is just the sort of thing we absolutely do not mention. Whether by unspoken agreement or purblind cowardice, I couldn’t possibly say.
    “Of course I savvy the difference,” Val retorted. “Hell on horseback, I can
read
, can’t I? Do you use that pate of yours for anything other than decorating your neck? You do know what flash is
for,
yes, my Tim?”
    “To keep respectable people from understanding a word you say.”
    He half turned to look up at me. “Yes, and to prevent mace coves and canary birds and idiots like the alderman from realizing I’m educated and can outbrain them in jig time.”
    “That’s . . . extremely clever,” I owned reluctantly. “And never occurred to me.”
    “Pissing away from the wind doesn’t occur to you,” Val muttered as we passed through the miserable pornographic hallway and into the greater world of Ward Four.
    The spring breeze carried manure along with the sharp salt, but it struck our faces like a benediction nevertheless. Five steps with an iron rail on either side led to the Queen Mab’s entrance, and our colleagues had arranged themselves on the stairs as if playing a child’s game where to touch the street meant losing. All save for Kildare, of course, who stood with a spoon to his neck in the middle of the cobbled road. Beginning to look hopeful. The girls surrounding him were boneless with relief, one or two openly weeping and the others smiling in wonderment at a miracle. As for their leader, her bright, speckled face was flushed with triumph.
    “Sláinte chuig na fir, agus go mairfidh na mná go deo!”
she cried, and pushed Kildare away.
    A roar of merriment went up as the molls started cheering and embracing. Connell barked a laugh and yelled something I understood equally poorly, while my brother swept his black silk hat off in salute. The curve of a smile tugged at my lips, and Mr. Piest shouted, “Welcome to America, patriots all!” at the top of his concave lungs.
    “Any lass who wants good cheer and stout Irish company, come to the Knickerbocker Twenty-one Engine Company of a Sunday in Ward Eight, and don’t forget to bring your menfolk!” Val called out, returning his hat to his high brow. “Real employment for your beaus, rum and hot stew gratis, all courtesy of the Democratic Party!”
    I sighed. “Will you ever stop politicking for as much as five seconds?”
    “I’ll be croaked one of these days, and then likely a good deal quieter,” he returned cheerfully.
    Nine girls waved to us, turning back toward the waterfront. The sight of all those dark and brassy heads striding away from the Queen Mab was a considerably spruce one. I was about to demand that Val help me with the unconscious blackguard upstairs whether he wanted to or not when a hoarse shout prevented me.
    “Wait!” Kildare cried. “You wi’ the spoon and all! I don’t even know yer name!”
    One by one, the lasses glanced at one another.
    And then, as was only fitting, exploded into laughter again.
    “Dear heavenly saints on high, have mercy upon the mad and likewise upon the merely stupid,” Connell prayed, chuckling heartily.
    “Oh, my God,” I said.
    “Well, can you blame the man?” Val grinned, leaning against the railing like a card sharp at a table. “I’d split that doxie like a fence post, given an invitation.”
    “Valentine.”
    “Oh, come off it, just look