Her jeans and T-shirt, patches, holes, and all, were still packed away in the bottom of the wardrobe. They weren’t going to last much longer, but she wasn’t about to wear skirts into the fight that was sure to come. The butter-soft denim felt like heaven against her skin—familiar, safe, hers as nothing in this world could ever be. She put them on as she would put on armor, filling the pockets with all the courage she could find.
The T-shirt wasn’t warm enough for a San Francisco autumn morning. A walking-suit jacket came out of the closet, ridiculously inappropriate with the jeans but warm enough to serve its purpose. Her jungle boots were pressed into service as well, though Mac mourned the sneakers she’d left so far behind.
Last came the pendant. She’d hidden it away as she’d put aside all thoughts of returning to her own time until her work in the past was done; now it seemed right to wear it.
To remind her how all this must end.
She had no weapon other than her Swiss Army knife, no particular skills to protect Liam from his own recklessness. But if he were walking into a trap, he wouldn’t be doing it alone.
She slipped out into the hallway with instinctive caution. A man was leaning on the balustrade a few rooms away, his attention focused on the Grand Court below.
Mac went the other direction, crouching low to avoid his notice. Chen had stopped her from following Liam before; it wasn’t going to happen again. She steered clear of the sluggish elevator and found the stairs. No one stopped her.
The Palace Hotel had more than one exit. The one she chose was as far from the Grand Court as possible, leading out to an alley that was peacefully dark and quiet. Market Street was empty except for a scattering of delivery wagons and a few preoccupied individuals on early morning errands. Mac broke into a jog under the flickering streetlamps and constructed a map in her mind.
She knew how to get to Chinatown. The location hadn’t changed in over a century; it was still centered on Grant Avenue, though everything else had altered drastically since the 1800s. No famous pagoda-like arched gateway welcomed her arrival, but she knew when she’d come to the right place.
The buildings were different than the Chinatown she remembered from her own time: more crowded, closer together, built of wood and brick and surprisingly plain. This was not a place designed for tourists.
Streetlamps here were few and far between. The faint scents of fish and sandalwood mingled in the air along with less pleasant odors. On Grant itself there were ordinary little shops displaying silks and lacquered trays, dried fish and fresh poultry, herbs and medicines.
But what Mac sought wouldn’t be in the open. She shivered and moderated her pace, every sense alert. The alleys branching off the main street were as narrow as canyons, pitch dark, with overhanging balconies almost touching to either side. They might hide anything, including an ambush. Or a certain Irishman who’d get himself killed trying to take on the world single-handedly.
Damn you, Liam, she thought desperately, if you die after all the work I went to to save you—
Someone bumped hard into her shoulder from behind. Mac spun around, the ridiculous little knife in her fist.
The attacker stumbled back, raising a gloved hand to ward Mac away. “Pardon me,” the person whispered in a strained voice.
Mac looked into the pale eyes that peered from beneath the brim of an oversized hat. At a body muffled in a coat that nearly dragged on the ground and trousers rolled up to flap around slender ankles. And feet wearing dainty pale blue lace-up boots.
Her gaze snapped back to what she could see of the face.
Good grief. It was—
“Caroline!”
“Rose!”
They stared at each other, dumbfounded. Mac was the first to regain her senses. She grabbed Caroline’s arm through the bulky coat and dragged her into the doorway of a closed shop.
“What in hell are you doing here?” Mac hissed.
Caroline tugged the muffling scarf from around her chin and thrust out her jaw. “I could ask the same of you. But I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew you were part of this somehow—”