“How can you be such a cad?” she demanded, squaring off against Paddy with her hands on her hips.
“That’s the way of the wicked world, darlin’.”
Lily’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment she looked almost as formidable as Paddy Doyle. “Maybe so,” she snapped. “But I’m still not buying any stupid lottery ticket.”
Paddy’s smile broadened into an outright grin. “You got a better idea?”
“Actually, I do.”
Lily was still holding the Hexers’ baseball, and now she slapped it into the grimy hand of the closest Hexer and grabbed the bat from his slack-jawed neighbor. “One pitch. If I miss, we each owe you a nickel. If I hit a homer, you owe us a nickel. Every one of you.” She counted heads. “That makes sixty cents total.”
“But — you can’t!” Sacha said.
“Why not?” Lily asked curiously.
Sacha stared at the shiny blond hair, the immaculate white stockings, the frothy lace petticoats peeping out from under her dress. “Because you’re a girl!”
“I’ll have you know that Smith and Vassar have both fielded baseball teams for at least the last twenty years,” she declared as if that settled the matter beyond all question.
“And which professional league do Smith and Vassar play in?” Sacha asked sarcastically.
Lily rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, what hole did you crawl out of? Haven’t you ever heard of Lizzie Arlington? Or the Bloomer Girls? Or — oh, never mind!” She broke off in disgust at the depths of his ignorance and stalked off across the vacant lot toward the upturned tin can that served the Hexers for home base.
Meanwhile, the Hexers had clearly accepted Lily’s bet. They were running out to take up their fielding positions — or maybe, Sacha thought cynically, just to cut off the escape routes.
Lily limbered up at the plate, spitting on her palms and kicking at the packed dirt of the empty lot like some tobacco-chewing slugger from the heart of the Yankees lineup. Sacha groaned inwardly at the thought of what the Hexers would do to them if Lily actually won. But then he told himself not to worry. She’d just swing and miss. And even if she didn’t miss, how hard could a girl really hit the ball?
Pretty hard, it turned out.
In fact, hard enough to send a blistering line drive shrieking across the abandoned lot to shatter a window in the neighboring tenement building.
After the glass shattered, there was a moment of stunned silence that seemed to stretch into eternity. Then three things happened all at once. A woman in curling papers leaned out the window and started screaming at them in language that would have shocked a dockworker. The Hexers scattered across the abandoned lot to hunt for their ball. And Lily rested the bat triumphantly on one toe and crowed, “that’ll be sixty cents please!”
Sacha couldn’t decide who was being more wildly optimistic: Lily or the Hexers. Sure, most of the time a ball bounced back off a window after cracking it. But Lily had hit that one harder than he’d ever seen a kid hit a ball. And if she thought the Hexers were going to pay up on their bet after she’d lost their baseball for them, she was crazy.
“Uh … maybe we should go now,” he said, tugging on her elbow.
Throughout all this, Paddy Doyle hadn’t moved a muscle. But now he laughed and said, “I wouldn’t wait around to collect if I were you. In fact, I’d get lost before they realize you put their ball straight through that nice lady’s window and they’re never gonna get it back again. Nice hit, by the way.” He grinned wickedly. “If you field as well as you bat, I might just have to fall in love with you.”
Sacha opened his mouth to demand that Doyle apologize for insulting Lily, but then he looked over at Lily and noticed to his annoyance that she didn’t look insulted at all. “Let’s get out of here,” he grumbled. “You’re never going to get your sixty cents. They probably don’t even have sixty cents. And if you stick around to ask for it, they’ll just wallop us.”
“Are you saying they made a bet they couldn’t deliver on?” Lily demanded, her eyes flashing with indignation. “That’s … why … why … that’s unsportsmanlike!”
“I happen to agree with you,” Paddy said, flashing his wicked smile again. “But I’ve a reputation to maintain, and I can’t afford to ruin it. Not even for pretty girls who play baseball.”
And then it really was too late. The Hexers descended on Sacha, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and dragged him behind a broken-down beer wagon. They didn’t bother with fancy footwork or pugilist’s rules; they just knocked him down and jumped on him. Lily hovered over the writhing pile, brandishing the bat, torn between the desire to help and the fear of seriously hurting someone. Finally she threw the bat away and waded in, armed only with her fists. Not that it did any good. Valiant though Lily might be, she was no taller than Sacha and even skinnier.
Which was why he was so surprised when one of the Hexers was suddenly jerked backward by a strong hand, just as he was about to land a crushing blow on Sacha’s nose.
He was even more surprised when he realized that the hand was attached to a crisply ironed shirt cuff and a seer-sucker suit sleeve.
“Payton!” he gasped. “What—”
“If you don’t mind,” Payton replied coolly, “I’d rather leave the explanations for later. I’m rather busy at the moment.”
The next few seconds went by so fast that Sacha only got a confused impression of flying limbs and scrabbling feet. When the dust cleared, the Hexers were on the run and Payton was calmly brushing off his trousers and inspecting his suit for damage.
Lily sat on the ground a few feet away from Sacha, sucking at a nasty cut on the back of her hand and staring at Payton with an expression that bordered on outright hero worship. “Wow!” she said. “That was better than a Boys Weekly story! What is it, judo?”
“Kung fu.”
“Can I learn it?”
“You’d better if you plan to go around insulting the Hell’s Kitchen Hexers on a regular basis.”
Meanwhile the Hexers were busy vanishing down the nearest alley — all except for Paddy Doyle, who was glaring at Payton with open hostility.
“Hello, Philip,” he said. He made it sound like a girl’s name. Or worse.
“Hello, Paddy. You might as well come back to the station with us. You really want the Inquisitors coming ’round to talk to your mother?”
“You leave my mum out of this! She’s got enough worries!”
“Shouldn’t you have thought of that before you added to them?”
“We can’t all be model citizens like you, Philip.”
“Come on, Paddy! You’re smarter than this. How’s it going to help your mom if you end up in jail like your brothers did?”
But Paddy wasn’t having it. “Wolf knows where to find me,” he said with a careless shrug of his shoulders. “Tell him that he can come talk to me at the Witch’s Brew anytime he likes. But he’d better leave you behind. Sullivan don’t allow no pets on the premises!”
Payton opened his mouth, looking like he was about to let loose some blistering reply to Paddy’s insult. But then he turned away and stalked off in stormy silence.
“Is that the same Paddy Doyle whose pig got loose in the Inquisitorial Quotient exam?” Sacha asked when he finally managed to catch up with Payton.
“It wasn’t his pig,” Payton spat furiously. “He’s too piss-poor shanty Irish to afford a pig. Or anything else he hasn’t stolen from someone who actually works for a living.”
“You know him?” Lily asked.
“I used to,” Payton said through clenched teeth. “We used to be best friends.”