Foul Lady Fortune

Alisa came to the stoop of the photography shop, looking around to confirm that the location was right: 240 Hei Long Road. This was it.

She went around to the back door, banging noisily with both fists. She didn’t care if the neighbors heard; there was nothing overly suspicious about a late-night visitor. “Celia! Celia, it’s me!”

A lock turned on the other side. When the door opened, it wasn’t Celia waiting but Oliver Hong.

“Hello,” Oliver greeted, tilting his head curiously. There was a cat in his arms, purring as he scratched its small head. “Who are you?”

“Where’s Celia?” Alisa demanded in return.

“Right here.” At Celia’s voice, Oliver shifted aside, making room for her at the doorway. Celia, already wearing a dressing gown, looked taken aback when she walked out. “Alisa, what are you doing so far outside the city?”

Alisa’s fingers tightened on the vial in her pocket. She was moving to pull it out, but then she hesitated, eyes flickering to Oliver. Everything she knew about him flashed through her mind at once: all the casualties he had caused while in the field, all the people who were afraid of him for what he was capable of. If the grapevine wasn’t lying, some even whispered that he was the handler for Priest.

“Rosalind asked me to give you something,” Alisa said carefully. “But you—just you. She doesn’t trust anyone else.”

Celia blinked, then exchanged a glance with Oliver. The unspoken part of that statement was clear. Alisa would not be giving Celia anything if it meant Oliver would also get his hands on it.

“Alisa, it’s okay,” she said. “If you trust me, you can trust Oliver, too.”

Slowly, Alisa released her hold on the vial, letting it settle safely back into her pocket. What a bizarre idea. Trust didn’t come in package deals. Just because Oliver treated Celia well didn’t mean that same kindness would be extended to everybody.

Alisa turned to Oliver. “Did you know?” she demanded. “That your brother had been made into a killer?”

The only indication that she had surprised Oliver was the cat’s meow of complaint. His grip had tightened on the small animal. “I beg your pardon?”

“You must have known that something was off,” Alisa continued evenly. “Even if you didn’t know the outright reason, you must have considered that one must exist if our people were going after your own brother. You had the power to figure out why. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you chase it until the end? Why didn’t you nudge higher and higher until someone could tell you about Warehouse 34?”

Oliver took a moment to absorb her accusations. She had been speaking as if each one was a sucker punch, and now that she was finished, it was his turn to be on the offense.

“Alisa, was it?” Oliver confirmed. “What are you talking about?”

He didn’t seem to want to take the offense.

“Orion Hong was brainwashed into making the kills across Shanghai!” Alisa said, her volume rising. For Rosalind’s sake, she was suddenly furious. “And we knew. Some branch on our side has been sitting on photographic evidence for who knows how long, only so that we could steal the finished experiment. How could you let that happen? Why didn’t you put it together?”

Alisa knew she had thrown her blame too far. She couldn’t have expected Oliver Hong to have clairvoyance into the future. All the same, he was supposed to be a terrifying, powerful operative. What was the point of that if not to be used?

When Oliver and Celia said nothing in response, Alisa took a step back. Celia had pressed a hand to her mouth, taking in the information. Oliver’s expression was carefully neutral.

“Why didn’t you care enough to figure it out?” Alisa finished, landing on the question that she had really been wondering this whole time.

“I did,” Oliver finally replied. “Just in the wrong goddamn direction.”

Celia blinked. She lowered her hand. “What?”

“From that very first visit, I recognized my own mother’s work in Warehouse 34,” he said, each word strung close to the other, like he could only say this in one breath. They had reached the very end of the line: no secret had any meaning remaining. “It had to be a Nationalist operation in some manner—there was no doubt on that. But I didn’t want to bring a fight to her, so I stayed out of it. I never even reported it. I was so intent on leaving her alone that I couldn’t have imagined Orion was connected to this. That she was hurting Orion, her own son.”

Alisa didn’t know what to think.

She didn’t need to. She was done here.

Alisa turned on her heel and ran. She heard Celia call after her, but she ignored it. She ignored everything except the world around her, the night howling and the trees rustling as she picked her way through the forest.

When Alisa reached into her pocket again, the glass vial had turned so cold that it stung her palm. It wouldn’t do to lose it. She slowed and took the vial out, letting her breathing return to normal.

The Nationalists wanted it. The Communists would kill for it. The Japanese would conquer them both with it. Her brother had sacrificed so much because he’d wanted to see the city changed, and Alisa was only ever going to work toward seeing that to fruition. And right now, no faction deserved her loyalty when they were making the very same scramble for power that would split the city apart once again.

Alisa looked up at the moon, regaining her directional bearings. Rosalind trusted her to protect this vial, and Alisa would protect it. The moment she fell off the grid, no one would be able to find her.

That was a promise.