by Amanda Foody
Two others appeared behind him. The first was a girl, who nestled her head into the curve of Bryce’s shoulder. She had golden hair that hung wavy and frizzy down to her hips, and she was attractive in an overtly sexual way—swollen lips, cleavage spilling out of her dress, pale skin flushed as though breathless.
The second figure was a man, one Levi didn’t recognize. He was tall, his black hair dusted with gray, and his light brown skin wrinkled around his forehead and eyes. Since Levi knew the Dove Lord was female, he could only guess that he was the second of the Doves: Scythe. The latest rumors claimed he’d killed over forty-six people, and, like the other members of the gang, he was named after his weapon of choice.
Scythe peered around the room, looking displeased to be in the company of those so much younger than himself. But he said nothing.
Bryce sauntered toward the table and took the seat opposite Levi, while Rebecca sat beside him. He leaned back into his chair, crossing one leg lazily over the other. “Séance, it’s a pleasure seeing you again. And Pup, it’s nice to more formally meet.”
“You, as well,” Levi forced out. He wondered why Rebecca had joined them, when none of the others had brought a companion, but after Enne’s words to Jonas, he wasn’t looking to anger anyone else.
“I admit, I’m flattered to have received an invitation. And to be in the presence of such...” Bryce looked at Levi disinterestedly “...celebrities.”
“We needed to meet,” Levi began, ignoring his dig. “We’ve all heard rumors about what happened at the Guild, but it doesn’t seem like anyone has anything specific to say. There was open fire without instigation.”
Bryce paled but maintained an easy smile. “A dreadful business.”
When he didn’t elaborate, Rebecca leaned forward, frizzy hair hanging around her, as though telling a scary story over a fire. “There’s not much we know for certain. It happened two nights ago, and it was a planned attack. A team of whiteboots—it’s impossible to guess how many—opened fire with assault rifles. It was clearly meant to be a bloodbath. Eight of our workers died. Six more were taken to the hospital and apprehended there.”
Jonas lit a cigar and leaned back in his seat. “Where did the whiteboots acquire those automatics? That’s what I want to know. Those permits don’t extend to standard law enforcement. Only the Families have—”
“We’re at war, didn’t you hear?” Rebecca snapped.
“I forge those permits,” Jonas told her. “I know how the process works. One day after the papers cry blood, and the whiteboots are already equipped for such an attack?” Jonas shook his head. “Hard to believe the force organized that fast, even for this.”
“They managed operations like that during the Great Street War,” Levi pointed out.
Jonas snorted. “Captain Hector is so old he was probably captain then, too.” He shot an apologetic glance at Scythe, who remained impassive at the comment, despite obviously being the oldest one at the table. “It’s all hard to believe.”
“I don’t understand why the whiteboots didn’t apprehend anyone at the scene,” Levi said. “What was the point of such an organized operation if the objective wasn’t to capture Bryce?”
“I don’t think the objective was to capture me. It was to kill me.” Bryce rolled up his sleeve, exposing a gash on his forearm, covered in stitches. “The bullets all came from the back side of the property, where my office was. I got nicked with some glass—Rebecca and Harvey thankfully were in a different part of the building, which was how we were able to evacuate in time.”
“Evacuate where?” Scavenger asked.
Bryce’s eyes shifted between them and rested on Enne. “We’re not accepting any business for the next few days. Not until we can be certain we’re safe.”
It was Enne’s turn to kick Levi under the table. Enne had paid the Orphan Guild a visit only yesterday, so clearly Bryce was open for business. Maybe just not for Jonas. Someone had ratted out their last location, and so now Bryce had no reason to trust the Scar Lord...or Scythe.
But Levi needed the lords united against the South Side. A united front would mean fewer whiteboots north of the Brint. It would mean business as usual and volts flowing in the Irons’ accounts. To make that happen, they needed to work together. And if that cooperation wasn’t going to be built on trust, it needed to be built on something else.
“So what are you going to do?” Levi asked.
“What do you mean?” Bryce asked.
“Eight of your associates are dead. Considering the sort you employ, I would’ve thought you’d have returned the favor by now at Humphrey Yard.”
“We’re an agency, not a gang. I find them contracts. Not trouble.”
“You’re right. This is the responsibility of the lords,” Levi said seriously. “This attack wasn’t just on you—it was on the North Side. If we do nothing, then we let it happen.”
Jonas laughed and flicked his soot in the ashtray. “I don’t care what you and this missy—” he pointed his cigar at Enne “—did at the House of Shadows. The Scarhands overwhelm the size of your operations, of your connections, of your manpower. And you,” he added, gesturing to Scythe. “Your lord doesn’t even bother to show. Should we all be offended? We not good enough for her?”
“Ivory doesn’t need to show,” Scythe answered coolly. “Her presence is felt all the same.”
Levi shivered, proving Scythe’s point.
“You’re all shatz if you think I’m going to send my own on such a stunt,” Jonas said. “We have no interest in what happens to any of you.”
“Half of your men came from me,” Bryce growled.
“You provide a convenience, not a necessity,” Jonas countered.
“And you know what’s best? How long has Eight Fingers been dead? A week?” Rebecca cocked her head to the side. “You sit rather comfortably in his seat.”
“You insult rather comfortably in a room full of killers.”
She grinned. “Bryce is the businessman. No one claimed the same of me.”
Levi felt the goal of this meeting slipping away from him. He needed to act, otherwise the lords would leave here not just as rivals, but as enemies. And everything would end up worse than it started.
“I would never suggest an idea I wasn’t willing to execute myself,” Levi began. Enne gave him another kick under the table, hard enough that Levi cringed.
“Oh, you have a scheme?” Jonas said with a sneer. “We all know how good you are at those. Forgive me—I didn’t think you meant outplaying Captain Hector in a game of cards. I can’t guess what other service you’d provide.”
“I don’t want to play the captain,” Levi said. “I want to play you—all of you.”
The room fell silent, and Levi knew he was at that moment—like in the twelfth round in Tropps, when you were asked to turn over your cards, to back up your bluff with something to show for it. Right now, Levi might’ve found his palace, and he might’ve earned back his gang’s respect, but he still needed to rewrite his reputation.
It was lucky for him he had more than a bluff: he had an alliance with Harrison Augustine, and he had Tock’s blood talent.
Already, a plan began forming in his mind.
“Séance,” he murmured. “Why don’t you tell the others exactly what you’ve been planning?”
Enne cleared her throat. Levi expected her to kick him again for putting her on the spot like this, but she’d obviously come prepared. “During the Great Street War, the gangs lost because the North Side betrayed their lords.” She gave each of them a significant look. “I have a way of ensuring history doesn’t repeat itself.”
She explained the same plan she’d already shared with him.
“My gang is mine,” Jonas barked. “I work for no one but myself and the other Scarhands. I’m not putting my volts into the hands of some girl gang run by a South Sider.”
Enne squeezed her hands into fists. “I killed the Chancellor. And Sedric Torren.”
/> “And both of them preferred the South Side, didn’t they?” Scythe inspected her coolly. It was the first words he’d spoken unaddressed. “Until you’ve killed a worthier opponent, you’ve proven nothing.”
Clearly, Enne wasn’t going to win tonight. But she’d already hired her counter, and Levi wanted to hold true to his promise to help her. He needed to make this work.
“How about this?” he offered. “Each of you can make a wager. Let me take our vengeance on Captain Hector. Let me claim the North Side as ours. If I manage it, then you’ll each open twenty percent of your gangs for investment. If I fail, then we return to how it was—every gang for themselves, every lord opposed to one another.”
“What are you planning on doing?” Jonas asked, his voice low enough to be a growl.
“That would ruin the fun of it,” he said, because even he couldn’t finish crafting such a plan on the spot. “But you’ll know it when it happens.”
The room remained quiet. Jonas took another puff of his cigar. Scythe stared at Levi like he was assessing him for a second time. Bryce still looked as though he’d swallowed a bug.
“No skin off my bones,” Jonas said finally. The others nodded, as well.
Levi stood, his heart hammering. That feeling of destiny stirred inside him. “Then excuse me—I have ruin to plan.”
LEVI
When Levi and Enne returned to the main level of the Catacombs, they found Jac, Tock, Lola, and Enne’s new counter sitting in a circular booth in the VIP section, bouncers blocking any view between them and the other patrons. Levi recognized some of the faces at the other tables—a Guillory Street heiress always gracing the tabloids, a few famous musicians, and, of course, Narinder. He greeted every guest by name, all charming smiles and small talk. Levi was beginning to realize exactly how humiliating it was that he hadn’t recognized Narinder at their first encounter. He really was as connected as Harrison had claimed.
Levi and Enne slid into the booth.
“How did it go?” Jac asked, and Levi immediately searched for signs of the symptoms he knew too well. Thankfully, he found none.
“Levi decided to stake all of my plans on a reckless wager,” Enne growled. “Apparently he’s planning some stunt on the whiteboot captain.”
The others’ eyes widened.
“Not enough wagers in your life already?” Jac asked darkly, as if Levi hadn’t thought to merely ask for the things he needed. As if Levi wasn’t constantly resorting to desperation. “What are you planning?”
“I’d tell you,” Levi assured him, “but I haven’t decided yet.”
“So all that was just talk?” Enne asked, her tone accusatory.
“I said I haven’t decided yet. Not that I didn’t have a plan at all.” No blood had been spilled, despite Jonas’s expectations, so Levi considered the meeting a success. And he didn’t appreciate everyone else dampening his mood.
Levi sent a pointed glance at Enne. “I don’t think you should be calling me reckless when you argued with Jonas like that.”
The new girl with the eyeliner shrugged. “Did you leave an impression?” she asked Enne.
“Oh, she left an impression, all right,” Levi grumbled. He met Enne’s eyes, and saw she had her nose crinkled in annoyance. Levi was all too used to that look, and he hated the way he’d grown to like it. He hated that the way Enne had talked back to Jonas only made her more attractive.
“Jonas has some information I’d rather he didn’t,” Enne said, unflinching as she held Levi’s gaze. “And I wasn’t about to let him use it.”
The new girl threw back her head and laughed. “You’re right. None of this is boring.”
“And who exactly are you?” Levi asked her.
“My name is Grace.” She wrapped an arm around Enne on her one side, Lola on her other. She offered no other introduction. Enne couldn’t have hired anyone more different from herself—her black dress held together by shredded fabric and little else, her jewelry doubling as a weapon or a prayer piece. “Who are you?” she asked.
Levi gaped. “Don’t you read the papers?”
“You’re absurd,” Tock groaned from across the table.
“So was Ivory there?” Lola asked, craning her neck to see into the crowds. “I don’t see any Doves around.”
“Scythe came. She didn’t,” Levi answered.
“I still can’t believe what you promised them,” Jac said, shaking his head. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
Levi frowned. “You used to have more faith in me. What happened to, ‘You’ll think of something. You always do’?”
Jac’s face darkened. “That was before the Shadow Game. Before you started keeping secrets and making bargains with half the city.”
“They’re all a means to an end,” Levi said.
“Your end,” Jac snapped.
Enne watched them both with a furious intensity. “What are you talking about? What other bargains have you been making?” When Levi didn’t answer—didn’t know how to answer—she stood up. “You know, I believed you when you said you’d help me. But if you’re keeping secrets, I’m not sure why I’m still giving you chances. We’ve figured out everything we needed without you.”
Levi felt like he was trapped in an endless loop of games, and every time he came close to beating one, another began. It was wager after wager. If the other lords demanded Levi take revenge for the Guild, then he would do it. If Vianca asked him to bet Jac’s friendship on his success, he would do it. If Jac asked him to keep Enne at arm’s length, he would do it. Promises and secrets, promises and secrets. There seemed no way to help himself other than to hurt someone else.
And the last person he wanted to hurt was her.
Lying to Enne about Harrison was the right choice, he knew, but the longer she stood there—her expression changing from frustration to hurt with each passing heartbeat—he couldn’t help but feel like a coward.
“I hope whatever you want is worth it,” she growled at him. Then she stalked off in the direction of the bar.
If only she knew that of all the things he wanted, he didn’t want any of them as much as he wanted her.
Grace stood. “If a girl like that saved me from certain death, I’d at least kiss her.” She grabbed Lola’s wrist and pulled her up.
Levi winced. “Tell her—”
“Tell her yourself,” Lola snapped, and the girls stormed off into the crowd.
Levi took a deep breath. He’d deserved that. He slumped deeper into the booth and buried his head in his arms.
“Yeah... That got awkward.” Tock grabbed the drinks the girls had left behind and cupped them in her arms. “I’m gonna go, too.”
Once they were alone, Jac started, “When I asked... I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t,” Levi said, in the most even-toned voice he could manage.
But Jac did anyway. “I’m sorry about how it’s turned out, but I’m not sorry for asking.”
Levi’s skin heated with anger, but he didn’t respond. He understood why Jac had asked this of him, but he wondered if his friend knew how much it hurt.
Finally, he murmured, “How was last night?”
“I was offered a job.” Jac gave him a weak smile. “Didn’t take me long, huh?”
It was good news, but Levi still felt like he needed to muster up enthusiasm. “That’s great.”
A bartender stopped by, and behind him, Narinder. Before Levi could order, Narinder rested his hand on the bartender’s shoulder. “They’ll both have Gambler’s Ruins,” he said smoothly. Then he slid into the seat across from Levi where Enne had sat moments before. “Enjoying your night?”
Five minutes ago, Levi told himself, you were in a better mood. Five minutes ago he had called the night a success. He had plenty of cause to celebrate.
“Thank you,” Levi told Narinder. “And I’m sorry about this morning. It was selfish of me.” It was one apology, but he felt like he had dozens more to make.
&nbs
p; Narinder cast a look around the club. “Scavenger, Scythe, and the Guildmaster have already left. As far as I’m concerned, this night has played out without incident.”
Jac laughed darkly. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Then, when Levi shot him an annoyed look, Jac scratched his head sheepishly and slid out from the booth. “I’m going to find the others. Well, actually, that might be a bad idea.” He looked up and scanned the crowd, meeting the gaze of a girl who had been giving him eyes for the past five minutes. “And that looks like a worse idea.” With that, Jac slipped off.
Within moments of being alone with Narinder, the bartender returned with their drinks. Levi took Jac’s as well, and quickly downed them both. The guilt quieted in a rush of bourbon.
“Do you know what people are saying about you?” Narinder’s lips tilted into a smile as he slid to Levi’s side. “Nearly everyone I spoke to tonight had a different take on the famous Levi Glaisyer.”
Levi suppressed a grin—he couldn’t help it, even as morose as he was. “What sort of things?”
“Well, I’m not sure if all of them are true,” Narinder said. “There’s one about you winning so many volts in a night that you bled out a whole casino.”
“That is true,” Levi said. “The owner was a muckhead. It was revenge.”
“I heard you still carry the Shadow Card around in your pocket.” Narinder reached into the pocket of Levi’s suit jacket and retrieved the Fool card. Even several days after the Game, even after Levi had turned it into a story, the look on the character’s face still made his heart hammer. “I see that’s true.”
Levi quickly grabbed Narinder’s hand in a mute plea for him to return the card—he didn’t want to look at it. But Narinder stilled as they touched. The alcohol had sent Levi’s mind into a pleasant sort of tilt; his gaze fixed itself on Narinder’s lips.
“You gangsters are very direct,” Narinder said, obviously noticing Levi’s stare. Even so, he inched closer and pressed a hand against Levi’s thigh.