He inhaled sharply as what felt like a knife twisted into his gut. He couldn’t exhale. The pressure in his chest tightened, and he was sure it would crush him. He grabbed the edge of the desk in front of him. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t gasp. He couldn’t coax a shred of air out of his lungs.
Vianca didn’t release him until he was on the floor, his back digging into the leg of his chair. Then the air burst out, and he coughed and rested his head against the ground as the ceiling slowed its spinning. He’d experienced her torture dozens of times, but he’d never get used to the feeling of suffocating.
“Enough,” she commanded, her lips pursed. “What puppet is allowed to say such things to its master?”
She bent over him as he weakly got to his knees. “I’ve given you everything, and I will give you half the volts you need to pay Torren. But don’t assume I care so much about you that you’re invincible. I could kill you at any moment I wish.”
Five thousand volts.
Five thousand.
He could survive this. A burst of hope filled his chest, sweeter and more relieving than the air.
“Does this cover the recompense for Miss Salta and Mr. Kitamura?” she asked.
He wasn’t thick enough to answer. Everything in this city had a price, and telling Vianca off wouldn’t have done him any good. What he was feeling right now, it wasn’t even close to gratitude, but he knew better than to act anything less than beholden.
“I can give you the volts next week,” she said.
“I only have six days left,” he croaked.
“Then a few days from now. I won’t forget.”
ENNE
If Enne could conquer her fear of heights, then she could knock on a gentleman’s door the hour after her bedtime.
She reminded herself that Levi Glaisyer was no gentleman.
When Levi answered the door, his hair was wet, and he smelled like soap and freshly applied cologne. He wore a casual pair of trousers, dark socks and a white undershirt. Something stirred in her stomach as he leaned lazily against his doorway.
“’Lo, missy,” he said. “Have you come to share secrets?”
“Something like that,” she said, and hurriedly brushed past him before he could see her face redden.
Last time she’d come here, his apartment had been impeccable. Now dishes lay in the sink and he’d closed his blinds, so the only light came from a dim lamp beside his couch. A half-finished art piece, mostly emerald green swirls and spikes, rested on the coffee table, surrounded by papers and oil paints. Water splotches—possibly intentional—dotted the canvas. Thin lines like puppet strings stretched from the top of the painting to the green smudges.
Interesting. She’d never imagined Levi as an artist. She couldn’t tell if he was a particularly good one, though—she didn’t understand what the painting represented.
“I thought we should talk about last night,” Enne said. Since they’d left the blood gazer’s, the black seed of doubt about Lourdes had grown into a forest, and Enne was lost in its center. She hadn’t believed Lola’s accusation at first—hadn’t wanted to believe it—but the more she reflected on it, the more the pieces she knew of her past began to make sense.
He gave her a dark, expectant look and sat down on the couch, motioning for her to join him. “The part about you getting into a fight with a Dove, or the part about what the Dove told you?”
“Both.” She hesitated, searching for how to begin. It would be easiest just to blurt out the truth, heave it off her shoulders and let Levi take away her burden. But she wasn’t sure how long his loyalty to her would last once he learned she was a Mizer.
“You can trust me,” Levi said. “Whatever it is.” And criminal or not, she believed the sincerity in his voice. Whether or not she’d still been in danger, Levi had rushed into the Deadman District last night to save her. Guilt pinched inside of her. She wasn’t sure she would have done the same for him.
“Once I tell you, you can’t unknow it,” she warned, because deceit wasn’t fair to him. “And I’m grateful for all the help you’ve given me—I really am, but we’ve reached a point where my secrets are becoming...dangerous. This one isn’t about Lourdes.” She looked at her lap. “It’s about me.”
His pause terrified her. For a moment, she thought he would agree and ask her to leave.
He was all she had.
“Now you have me curious.” Levi scooted closer, and her shoulders relaxed. She wouldn’t be alone in this. “Are you the long-lost daughter of some wighead—”
“I’m a Mizer,” she whispered.
He froze. “That’s not possible.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding since last night. “Scordata is my blood name. I don’t know which kingdom or family it comes from. Probably a minor—”
“She must’ve been joking,” he said abruptly. “It was a prank.”
“Knowing Lourdes’s history, and seeing how Lola tried to kill me after she told me the truth...I wish it were a joke.” Enne grabbed one of the throw pillows and hugged it to herself. “That’s not even all of it. She said my split name was Dondelair.”
Levi choked out a laugh. “Now I think you’re trying to fool me.” Somehow, he still managed one of his smirking smiles at a time like this.
She threw the pillow at him. “I wouldn’t joke about this. I’m not...shatz, or whatever you say. I know how dangerous these secrets are.”
“That’s some very unladylike New Reynes slang, you know.” He met her eyes, and she could tell he was searching for any Mizer purple hidden among the brown. She tried not to shiver under his gaze. “Before you tell me this story, I need to know—is the blood gazer taken care of? If she knows, then—”
“She’s taken care of,” Enne said quietly, remembering the hatred in Lola’s eyes after she made the oath.
“Good.” He shook his head and stood up. “I’m going to make a drink. Do you want one?”
No, her reflexes said. But she was no longer home. No longer Enne Salta.
“Oh, um. Okay. And cookies, too, if you have them.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You made a dozen the other night. How can you even look at another one?”
“Easily. While salivating.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I have a box of stale tea cookies just for you.”
Several minutes later, he returned with two glasses and a box of gingersnaps. The drink was amber-colored.
“It’s called a Gambler’s Ruin,” he said. “Mix of bourbon and coffee liqueur and orange bitters. Reymond introduced me to it. Sorry—I’m out of garnish.”
Enne took a sip and grimaced. She and the boys had very different tastes.
“You’re supposed to drink it when you’re feeling confident.” He laughed hollowly. “‘It’s flirting with losing just for the thrill of it,’ Reymond used to say.”
Then Levi downed his drink all at once. He coughed afterward and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“Reymond’s dead,” he murmured.
“What?” Enne asked, certain she’d misheard.
“Sedric Torren had him killed today.”
The hair on her arms rose at the mention of Sedric’s name. After poisoning him, it had been easy to forget how powerful he truly was. Reymond Kitamura ran the largest street gang in the city, but Sedric Torren could still order his execution and never face justice. If Sedric ever realized the part she’d played in tricking him, she’d share the same fate as Reymond...or worse.
“Levi...I’m so sorry.” She’d come here for comfort, but she hadn’t even considered that Levi might need some, as well. And now that she knew, she saw the unmistakable shock in his eyes, in the rigid way he was carrying himself. She wanted to hug him, but she was awkwardly curled up on the other side of the couch. And crawling toward him, touching him—that all felt like dangerous ground. She was already on dangerous ground with Levi Glaisyer.
Instead, she reached out and took his hand. He jolted at her touch, but didn’t pull away.
“Yeah,” he murmured, setting his empty glass down. “I’m sorry, too.”
Enne waited another five seconds—counted them precisely in her head—and pulled her hand away. She felt warm all over.