Free Wicked City by Alaya Johnson Page B

another word. I had a flash memory of my time in Shadukiam yesterday—Amir sitting by the fountain, using his powers to fetch us drinks. Not even the mayor of New York City could top that kind of hospitality. When she had left, Jimmy Walker reached for his glass and cocked his head, his smile quizzical. Well? It seemed to say.
    True, I had in the past enjoyed champagne in his presence at an exclusive party in The Carlyle hotel. There, he had laughingly enjoined me to sing with the band. I moonlighted at Horace’s speakeasy on 24th Street, for heaven’s sake—an establishment he might have even patronized with one of his vaudeville floozies. I would gain no points by pretending to abstain now, when the past six months had set me firmly on the side of alcoholic vice.
    I lifted the glass.
    â€œTo accommodation,” he said, lifting his.
    â€œI’m not sure that’s something I want to drink to,” I said.
    He leaned forward, his beau eyes trapping mine. “Then how about to freedom? Because I suspect, Miss Hollis, that you’ll continue to improve your fashion so long as we can keep you out of a prison uniform.”
    I’d say this for the man: he had enough charisma for a roomful of people. And unlike a vampire’s Sway, I wasn’t immune to this kind of persuasion.
    I took a sip and cleared my throat. Whiskey, not gin, and eye-watering strong. “I’ll do it,” I said.
    The mayor smiled and drank. “I’m glad you’ve seen it my way, Miss Hollis.”
    I nodded absently. I wouldn’t bother to tell Elspeth and the others of this request—it would necessitate too much explanation, and besides, I was doing my best to protect them.
    Though it made me feel like the worst sort of hypocrite, Jimmy Walker wasn’t wrong about my feelings on prohibition of all kinds. True, Faust had dangerous side effects that had injured countless humans and Others alike, but most of those dangers had been greatly mitigated by six months of public awareness and the reduced potency of the drug. But I would never let Jimmy Walker learn that last fact. It was one thing to harbor private doubts and quite another to actively help the enemy of my friends.
    â€œWhat about the recent deaths?” I asked. “Even you can’t legalize Faust if it’s starting to kill vampires outright.”
    Jimmy Walker swirled the liquor in his glass. “No one quite knows what happened to those suckers—”
    â€œDid they pop?” I asked.
    The mayor frowned at my interruption. “I’m not sure I can tell you that, Miss Hollis,” he said. “The investigation is ongoing.”
    â€œLike the one about me harboring a child vampire?”
    Walker gave a dismissive shrug. “However they died, I don’t think it had a thing to do with Faust. We’ve had it for six months, so why would it start poisoning vampires now?”
    â€œMaybe the effect is cumulative?”
    â€œPerhaps. It might be too early to rule it out. But I’ll make you a promise. If we find out that those suckers died because of something that Faust did, and not some other reason, then I’ll argue for prohibition myself. And you won’t get any more visits from the vice squad.”
    I felt my vague uneasiness melt away with the languor from the alcohol. I considered the almost shocking decadence of what we were doing here. Bargaining for the legality of one dangerous drug while enjoying another, all in the safety of the mayor’s office. I hated people like me, once . But the moral lines seemed hazily drawn.
    The mayor pulled out a cigarette from a case in his inside pocket and offered me one. I declined—Mama thought smoking was unladylike, and I’d never quite gotten the hang of breathing it in. I wondered about the slightly herbal hint in his cigarette. Probably something dreadfully expensive, just like his suits. If Mrs. Brandon had been telling the