It took everything in her to conceal her panic. “I... I haven’t slept, of course. It’s nearly morning.”
Vianca waved her hand dismissively, and Enne’s shoulders relaxed. Levi’s contacts had worked, even under the donna’s calculating inspection. “You’ll have time for rest after we’re done. I need to hear if the rumors are true.” Vianca leaned forward gleefully. Happiness was an emotion that didn’t suit Vianca’s face. “Is Sedric Torren dead?”
Enne nodded, swallowing. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his hand around her throat and the repulsive lust in his stare.
“And the Chancellor?”
“Yes, he’s dead.”
Vianca laughed with such mirth that—to Enne’s horror—she reached forward, grabbed Enne’s hand and shook it in excitement. “The whole city is talking about you—about Séance. How you killed them both.”
Enne startled. “But Levi was the one who killed Semper.”
“My Levi?” Vianca echoed, dumbfounded. “How interesting. But the truth hardly matters. What’s important is what people say, what the papers are printing. Your Séance character is about to become the most notorious criminal we’ve seen in almost twenty years.” She laughed and gave Enne’s hand a last little shake. “You must tell me all about it.”
“About...the murders?” Enne asked. She fought the urge to look away from the donna’s face. Her many frown lines coiled unnervingly when she smiled.
“Yes. And about the House of Shadows.”
Despite not having properly rehearsed her words, the lies flowed easily. Vianca was so enraptured, she listened to the entire story without asking questions.
“When Levi won, and the Game finished, its rules were over. So he stood, pointed his gun—” she swallowed again “—and shot the Chancellor in the head.”
Vianca clapped. “Delightful. Delightful.”
Then the donna leaned back and studied Enne a second time. The presence Enne had felt during the Game—her Mizer abilities—hummed inside her, and she nearly tremored, imagining Vianca’s stare peering straight through Enne’s lie.
“This whole act you put on is quite convincing,” Vianca purred, “but I’m starting to believe you were corrupted before you ever set foot in this city.” Vianca grabbed Enne by the chin and peered at her closely, turning her face from side to side. Enne shuddered and kept her gaze fixed on her lap, in case Vianca noticed the faint outline of the contacts. “Are you a pearl, or are you a bullet?”
There was an unpleasant truth to Vianca’s question. Enne wished she knew the answer herself. She’d like to consider herself a pearl, but pearls were breakable, and she had proved herself not to be.
Maybe she could be both.
“I have excellent plans for you, my dear,” Vianca cooed, relinquishing her grasp on Enne’s face. “But for that, we must talk in the morning. I want to speak with Levi now. Send him in.”
“Yes, Madame,” Enne responded, more than eager to leave.
Enne slipped out the doors into the other room, and the others snapped to attention. Levi immediately stood and came to her side. “She didn’t notice the contacts,” Enne whispered.
“Good. Anything else?” His hands found her wrists, and he turned her arms over, as if examining her for injuries.
“She wants to see you.”
He eyed the closed door warily, then he took a deep breath and cracked his neck. “The night’s almost over.” Enne didn’t know if he was reassuring her or himself.
Then he molded his face into something expressionless and entered Vianca’s parlor. The door closed behind him.
Enne tried not to worry about whatever meeting was unfolding in the other room. Levi had braved Vianca for years before she’d met him, but the way he’d braced himself before walking in, the little bit of fear in his eyes—it almost broke her heart. Because he felt just as trapped as she did, and it was a terrible way to feel.
It was too easy to let her feelings slip out of control. It had nearly happened in the pay phone booth. In the Mole station. In the elevator.
The Phoenix Club knew Levi’s face now. They’d be hunting for him. Enne’s purple eyes were deadly enough—it wasn’t safe to fall for someone with a bounty on his head.
Even if she already had.
She collapsed on the seat beside Lola. From across the room, Jac tossed her a box of spice cookies. Enne hadn’t even realized how hungry she was. She thanked him and tore into them.
“Levi told us,” Lola said. Her eyes found Enne’s. “What have you done?”
Enne was too exhausted for words. She wasn’t prepared for another round of Lola’s paranoid accusations. “I thought we were past this.” It wasn’t a question—it was a challenge.
Lola shifted awkwardly. “We are. I mean, I waited at Luckluster for hours.”
“And I told Vianca to find you. I wanted to make sure you were all right.” Enne handed her a cookie. “Because we’re friends.”
Lola nodded numbly.
“So, Enne,” Jac said. “Does your new power thing mean we’re all about to be rich? I’m your friend, too.”
She might’ve laughed if she weren’t so tired. Since the Game, she’d worried about her eyes all night, but somehow Jac had managed to find humor in her dangerous situation. He, too, had seemed wary of her talents before, and maybe he still was, but she also trusted him. Yes, she would also call him a friend.
Levi, Jac and Lola—only they knew her secret. It was now the four of them against the entire city.
“Priority number one, in the morning,” he said. “I’ve always wanted a car. Something really sleek. Like an Amoretti. In white.”
“As if you’ll be driving in the near future,” Lola said. “You’re the second of the street lord who helped kill the Chancellor. Maybe you should talk to Vianca after Levi and beg for her protection, too.”
Jac blanched. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Enne tried to come up with something comforting, but found she had nothing to say. Lola was right. Through no fault of his own, Jac had lost his freedom, too. “So I’m a wanted man now, eh? That means I need a street name. The other seconds have street names.”
This time, Enne did laugh. Jac managed to find reasons to smile when there should have been tears.
“The other seconds are scarier than you,” Lola told him.
He raised his eyebrows incredulously. “You’re her second. You’re not scarier than me.”
“Yes, she is,” Enne said, popping a cookie in her mouth.
“I am,” Lola agreed. “And Enne’s scarier than Pup, too.”
Jac pondered this. “True.” Then he shot Enne a teasing smirk.
“I am not scary,” Enne grumbled. “I’m elegant. And charming.”
“You can be all three,” he ceded, and Enne decided that was satisfactory.
Her guidebook had been right about the City of Sin. It was morally decrepit. It was disgusting and rotten. It was stained black to its very core.
But her guidebook had been wrong about one thing—it had been wrong about her. She had entered New Reynes as delicate as glass. She had even shattered. But as it turned out, beneath the dust and shards, something stronger lay within her, a substance less easily broken.
She would never forget the ache of her mother’s death, but she would also never regret uncovering the truth—about Lourdes and about herself.
Even deep within St. Morse, Enne could still make out the wail of sirens outside. She could still hear the echoes of engines roaring, timers ticking and guns firing.
Her guidebook claimed the City of Sin was a game.
She’d made her first move.
LEVI
“Levi, my dear,” Vianca cooed as Levi entered the donna’s unholy, unfashionable lair. “Look at you.” She tsked with feigned concern as she examined the bruises on his eye and neck. “I’m surprised you can walk.”
He sat on a chair across from her, and it made him as stiff and uncomfortable as she did.
“Miss Salta has proved to be quite an impressive young woman,” Vianca mused.
He didn’t like that smile on her face. “Yes, she is,” he answered carefully.
“Tell me—how does it feel to be a celebrity? You’ve always wanted that, haven’t you?”