Read The Gilded Age, a Time Travel for Free Online

is.”
    “You
mean you’ll know the status of the victim.” She swallowed hard. “ My victim.”
    “Yes.”
    “Is
he alive or dead?”
    Chiron
wouldn’t answer. Apparently he didn’t like being reminded of the despicable
incident any more than she did. “We’ve arranged for a delay in your
arraignment.”
    Excellent.
They’d arranged for a lot of things, apparently. Zhu congratulated herself. It
wasn’t just a matter of reducing the charge against her. Maybe this was a
chance to redeem herself. She hadn’t known how badly she’d wanted that till
now. Of course, she’d t-port to 1895. Of course, she’d know exactly what to do.
    *   *  
*
    “ Now what do I do?” Zhu mutters to Muse as she hauls the girl by her elbow out of
the Japanese Tea Garden. “She doesn’t have the aurelia. She was supposed to have the aurelia, and she doesn’t. She doesn’t have it!”
    “Stay
calm, Z. Wong,” Muse whispers. “You’re attracting too much attention.”
    “Stay
calm? I’m freaking out!” This must sound like Zhu’s got two voices
coming out of her throat, one answering the other. A devil woman? Oh, yeah. She
can sympathize when the girl howls, fear, puzzlement, and dismay screwing up
her face. “Muse, you will switch to subaudio mode. Now. ”
    “Assume
she is the contact,” Muse insists, still blasting in projection mode. “She was
there. Take her to the mission, and we’ll look for the aurelia.”
    “Look
for the aurelia? Look where?”
    “I
not go! I not go!” the girl wails.
    “I don’t
know,” Muse says. “I will analyze, okay? Ask her name. We believe she was
called Wing Sing.”
    Zhu
seizes the girl by her shoulders. She’s much bigger than Zhu expected,
as tall and thin as Zhu. Are they attracting attention? No. No one promenading
in the park pays any attention to a woman dressed in Western clothes taking
forcible custody of a scruffy Chinese girl. ”What’s your name?”
    “I
Wing Sing.” She points toward the Pacific Ocean. “I go home, Jade Eyes!”
    “Wing
Sing.” Zhu sighs with relief. “Thank goodness. Yes, home. That’s exactly where
we’re going. We’re going to the home, Donaldina Cameron’s home. The nice mission
on Sacramento Street.” Zhu points downtown, in the opposite direction.
    “Not
go to fahn quai! ” Wing Sing cries, struggling. “I die first!”
    “You’re
going to be just fine.” Alternately pushing and pulling, Zhu wrestles the girl
to the Park and Ocean Railroad station where they can catch the steam train
downtown. Zhu puffs, sweat drizzling beneath her corset. The stays gouge her
ribcage, making her breath catch. “When is the next train, sir?” she asks the
conductor.
    Now
people in the passing crowd begin to take notice of her struggle. A buxom blond
woman watches them shrewdly. The woman wears elaborate pink flounces and a
grotesque hat studded with carcasses of Brazilian humming birds. A black
brougham drawn by two lathered geldings waits at the curb. The driver of the
brougham notices Zhu and Wing Sing, too.
    “Well,
miss.” The conductor, a well-whiskeyed fellow in a rumpled uniform, clicks open
his pocket watch, checks it with drunken precision. “I reckon it’ll get here
when it gets here.”
    Zhu
catches his small gesture to the driver. The driver knocks his whip handle on
the brougham’s door. The conductor pockets the watch. He turns a gold coin
through his fingers.
    What is
going on? A chill runs through Zhu. She picks up at once the covert
communication between the conductor, the driver, and whoever waits in the
brougham. All of them, on the lookout.
    Suddenly
three Chinese men leap out. Dressed entirely in black, they wear queues tightly
braided, oiled, and wrapped in buns at the napes of their necks. Black slouch hats
are pulled low over their foreheads, black slippers on their feet. One is a
wiry little fellow, tattoos covering his hands, a curved knife tucked in his
belt. The second is a fat man, diamond rings on every