King of Fools

by Amanda Foody

  “It’s...it’s the middle of the night,” Enne stammered.

  “These restrictions they’re proposing on Talents of Mysteries. How could he support these? He has a Talent of Mystery! The hypocrisy!” There was a strange slur to her voice, like Vianca was drinking. “He’s a fool if he thinks he can beat me. I killed the last candidate—could I not do the same to him?”

  Enne didn’t answer. Honestly, she didn’t think so. Not because Harrison was too powerful, but because she didn’t think even Vianca had it in her to kill her own son.

  “Why are you calling me?” she asked tiredly.

  “Because this is important. It’s what you’re doing for me, isn’t it?” Vianca snapped. Enne didn’t remember Vianca ever asking Enne to become her late night confidante. “My son will lose. I know he will.”

  Enne slid down to the floor and hugged her knees to herself. She waved Grace and Lola away—there was no point in them losing sleep, as well. And then she assured the donna of everything she wanted to hear.

  * * *

  The next evening, Enne stood at the edge of Sweetie Street, wearing her black silk mask and swallowing down her ladylike sensibilities. She didn’t consider herself a prude—at least, not by Bellamy standards—but seeing the man in front of her parading down the alley shirtless, red lips swollen, lipstick stains across his chest and shoulders, Enne couldn’t help but feel out of place. She reached into her purse and rooted around for her black lipstick. As she applied it, she reminded herself that she wasn’t the same girl who’d left Bellamy. Then she returned the tube to her bag, tucked right beside her revolver.

  She was so distracted that she didn’t notice the black Houssen motorcar brake in the alley behind her, splashing puddles onto the curb.

  Levi slipped out of the driver door, his collar popped to conceal his face, his homburg hat casting a shadow over his eyes.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said.

  “Is that your motorcar?” she asked. “Is that how this works now? I get one, so you need to get a fancier one? How did you even buy that?”

  “I signed a bunch of contracts for the Irons today. I thought after this, I’d drive you home, and you could give it to Lola.” He had the decency to look apologetic, but she’d already agreed to let him help her tonight. That seemed forgiveness enough.

  A memory crept across her skin where Levi’s lips had touched. She crossed her arms. “Or I could drive it home.”

  “Can you drive?”

  She could not. “Yes.”

  He watched her warily, as though waiting for her to snap at him. Part of her liked that she knew exactly how to break Levi Glaisyer. The other part of her found it depressing. He’d apologized, and he’d supported her in front of Ivory when no one else would. She was still hurt, still indignant, but she was also tired, and despite it all, she would rather see him smile.

  Levi strolled to the edge of the street and took a step down it. Enne reluctantly followed. “So what does your guidebook say about Sweetie Street?”

  “Shockingly, it didn’t recommend touring the red light district with one of the North Side’s top ten most eligible people.”

  She expected him to laugh, but instead he tripped awkwardly over a cobblestone. “You saw that?” he asked.

  Enne smirked. “Nine seemed too high. Don’t they know you’re better looking in your wanted poster?”

  Levi smiled at her, his expression hopeful. Just because they weren’t hurting each other.

  Of all the devastating secrets he’d told her, it was this moment that broke her heart the most.

  She shook away her thoughts—she couldn’t get distracted. Tonight, Enne would finally claim power for her own.

  “Let’s get on with it, then,” Levi said, significantly more lightness to his step. Enne plastered on a business face and recited the words she’d perfected with Grace from earlier. The gangs are opening up for investments and you—yes, you—now have the once-in-a-lifetime chance to buy in. After all, no industry in New Reynes is always on the up like crime.

  They headed into the first building on their right, its foundation of wooden beams resembling stilts and painted in rainbow stripes. The third and fourth stories leaned to the right, as if trying to spill into Tropps Street, and blue lights blinked from inside, making Enne’s head spin.

  “We’ll start with a tame one,” Levi said, pushing open the door. “It’s called the Beck and Call. Pretty clever. So you can have me—”

  “At my beck and call,” Enne finished. “Not that clever.”

  They stepped into a lounge area. Because it was still early, Enne only spotted a few workers—dancing to the sultry music, wiping down the bar.

  Enne felt her shoulders relax. This was no worse than any New Reynes tavern.

  “Can I help you?” one of the workers asked. He was dressed in a suit jacket and matching trousers, but with no shirt underneath. His eyes widened as he took the two of them in, recognition dawning on his face.

  “We’ve come to speak to the madame,” Levi explained.

  The man nodded and hurried off. He returned a minute later with a surprisingly young woman dressed in gold from head to toe. Although very little of her was exposed, her clothes were tight enough to be a second skin.

  “I don’t know why the pair of you are here,” the woman said, “but I don’t want any trouble.”

  “No trouble,” Levi told her, “only opportunity.”

  The madame narrowed her eyes, but nodded and motioned for them to follow. She led them down a narrow hallway and opened a door to a small office, where Enne and Levi took seats on fur-lined chairs in front of her desk.

  The woman pushed away this morning’s copy of The Crimes & The Times to clear off the surface. “Dreadful things in the papers, all thanks to you two. Dark times repeating themselves.” She looked between them accusingly.

  “We’re not looking to revive the old war,” Levi said. “In fact, that’s exactly why we’re here. We all share the North Side, and we’re doing our part to keep our home safe. We wondered if you might be interested in helping us achieve that.”

  She raised her eyebrows expectantly, but said nothing.

  Enne cleared her throat. “Membership in the gangs is exclusive, but now, each of the gangs have committed themselves to supporting the North Side. However, as the attack on the Orphan Guild proved, the whiteboots have weapons, numbers, and resources we don’t. So every business in the North Side is being given the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to invest—”

  “What you’re saying,” the madame snapped, “is that you want us to pay for our protection.”

  “Not at all,” Enne said, all practiced smiles. “Every volt you invest gives you a share of ownership. When the gangs profit, so will you. When the North Side is protected, we are all made safe.”

  The woman was silent for several moments, and Enne wondered if they had sold it. According to Grace, everyone in the City of Sin spoke the language of volts, but this was no simple transaction—this was risk. This was history.

  This was power.

  The woman leaned forward, lowering her voice to a hiss. “And when you and every gangster hang in Liberty Square? Where do my volts go, then? Who protects us, then?”

  Levi stood abruptly, the charm never leaving his smile. “If you change your mind, you can find the Spirits in the Ruins District.”

  Enne shot him an irritated look, but he pulled her outside before she could confront him.

  It was drizzling now. Levi opened an umbrella and offered it to her, but Enne took a step back.

  “The ‘Spirits’?” she demanded. “Did you just name my gang, Levi?”

  “I think it sounds good. It suits your street name—”

  “It sounds ridiculous.”

  “Well, sorry. I just blurted it out.” Seeing as Enne wouldn’t stan
d close to him, he handed her his umbrella and let himself get wet. “Her words were making me nervous.”

  They’d unnerved Enne, too. Now, whenever she closed her eyes, she pictured the two of them hanging side by side at the gallows.

  “Don’t be put down about her yet,” Levi said. “We’re hitting up lots of others.”

  Enne sighed. “Where to next?”

  “Everywhere. Anywhere.”

  Two hours later, Enne and Levi had collected a mere fifty volts for the Scarhands, one hundred for the Doves, and eighty for the Irons. Most of the brothels on Sweetie Street had turned them down or accused them of coercion. Enne had seen more nakedness that evening than she had in her entire life, and she was desperate to leave the red light district behind.

  The pair wandered into a quieter establishment called the Dirty Deed, and after being turned down yet another time, took a break to brood at the bar.

  “The market is a good idea,” Enne grumbled.

  “This is still a novel concept to people,” Levi said. “If you give them time, they’ll—”

  Someone tapped Levi on the shoulder, and both of them turned around. A woman wrapped her feathered boa around his neck and planted a large kiss on his cheek, leaving a mark of green lipstick behind. Enne startled so much she nearly toppled over. Her gaze dropped to the woman’s cleavage.

  “You should smile,” the woman purred. “You look like you could have some fun.”

  Levi stiffened and spit a feather out of his mouth. “I was having fun.”

  The woman’s smile faltered, and she shifted her gaze to Enne. Upon seeing Enne’s mask, her smile fell altogether. She released Levi’s shoulders and backed away. “I’m sorry. Enjoy your night.”

  As soon as the woman was out of earshot, Enne let out a fit of laughter. “I think I scared her.”

  “It’s hard to tell how short you are, sitting on a barstool.”

  “And it’s clearly hard to tell who you are from behind.” Enne sipped her drink. “In fact, I wonder if she recognized you at all.”

  Levi shot her a look that was both amused and annoyed, and Enne could almost feel a sense of normalcy returning to them. Maybe she could pretend his smirks didn’t make her heart beat faster, and he could pretend he wasn’t looking at her like the way he was now.

  Except they weren’t pretending very well at all.

  Levi bit his lip. “I want you to know that—”

  But Enne didn’t want to know, not when things finally felt bearable again. So she held up her hand. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Ruin it.”

  He grimaced and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Will you let me drive you home?”

  His sorry face really was a work of art. She wondered if he’d practiced it just so she’d forgive him. If so...well, it had worked.

  “Fine,” she answered. “On one condition.”

  “Anything,” he said seriously.

  “You show me how to drive.”

  PART II

  REWARD

  7

  “There was a street lord whose name was a number, and he changed it every time he made a new kill. Whatever it was, he owned that number. If you said it, no matter what you were talkin’ about, he’d find you and kill you. His name remains One-One-Six, the name he claimed the day he died. That’s why none of the house numbers in New Reynes have that number. All these years later, we’re still afraid.”

  —A legend of the North Side

  LEVI

  Levi surveyed the casino floor from a balcony. At ten o’clock, the room was at its loudest: the clicks of a spinning roulette wheel, the cheers of winners, the chatter of patrons clustered around the bar.

  A month had passed since Levi and Tock had destroyed Revolution Bridge, a month since Enne had launched her stock market. In that time, with the gangs united and the whiteboots forbidden from crossing the Brint, everything about the North Side had become more. Pubs that typically closed in mornings now kept their bars open twenty-four hours. Cabarets advertised their newer, more scandalous shows with vedettes in feathered corsets parading down Tropps Street. Gangsters strutted about the streets like kings, even as their bounties climbed three or four times as high. Levi had earned more, recruited more, and cheated more than any other time in his criminal career, and now he beheld his domain below with the pride of a prize rightfully earned.

  The Martingale Casino, though smaller than St. Morse and Luckluster, boasted a patronage of over a thousand gamblers every week—and it was now the Irons’ largest contract. Spotting the Irons was simple: each of them, like Levi, wore silver jewelry. The spades dealt at the card tables, the diamonds kept careful eyes on the patrons from each of the exits, the hearts performed onstage or poured drinks at the bar.

  The owner of the casino, a burly man with a beard that curled at the end like a corkscrew, slung his arm around Levi’s shoulder. Now that Levi’s ribs had finally healed, the touch no longer hurt like it used to. With his other hand, the owner handed Levi a leather pouch filled with orbs.

  “This isn’t due until tomorrow,” Levi reminded him.

  “I wanted to give it to you myself. From my hand to yours.” He squeezed Levi’s arm. “My only regret is that I didn’t hire from you sooner. I gotta ask, how do you do it? What’s your secret?”

  “There is no secret. Just cleverness.” Technically, his secret was cheating, but that was roughly the same thing.

  The owner laughed. “You’ll tell me one of these days. I’ll wear you down.” He checked his watch and slapped Levi’s shoulder again. “Break time is over. I better send the other dealers back on the floor.”

  He disappeared down the stairs, leaving Levi to admire his work. After years buckled down by Vianca’s demands, he’d finally built the empire he’d always wanted. He was wealthy in both volts and reputation. Tomorrow, when his six-week deadline with Vianca expired, it would be time for the donna to finally accept that Levi was more than just hopeless ambitions.

  He was a legend.

  A figure appeared at the edge of the balcony, a man Levi didn’t recognize. He wore dark-rimmed glasses and an ill-fitting suit. “My apologies for barging in, but I was hoping to run into you.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Levi. It had pink swirls, like some sort of carnival ride. “My name’s Fitz Oliver. I’m a—”

  “I know who you are,” Levi said quickly.

  Fitz Oliver was a real estate mogul who owned half the residential complexes on the North Side, and he was far wealthier than his cheap clothes would lead Levi to believe.

  Levi shook his hand. “I’m here for business tonight, making rounds. I can’t really—”

  “I’ll only take a moment of your time.” He smiled until Levi reluctantly shoved the business card into his jacket pocket. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, the North Side is due for a change next summer.”

  “You mean the boardwalk,” Levi answered. He’d heard some talk about that. He didn’t realize it would open in less than a year.

  “We’re hoping to open several new casinos on the boardwalk—large enough to compete with St. Morse, Luckluster, all the greats. I’ve spoken to several other reputable dealers. But, well...”

  “But I’m the best,” Levi said, grinning.

  “I can’t walk down the street without seeing your face, whether it’s on a wanted poster or a tabloid. This city can’t seem to make up its mind about who it loves and who it despises.”

  Levi couldn’t tell if that was meant to flatter him or not. “All that matters is people are talking.”

  “Nothing is decided,” Fitz said hastily. “But we’d welcome you to contact us.”

  “Just to be clear,” Levi said, clearing his throat. “This would be about—”

  “Purchasing a casino, yes.”

&
nbsp; Levi’s heart stuttered. He’d always thought about owning his own gambling joint someday, a sort of wistful dream that any card dealer might have.

  Two months ago, he’d been broke, scrambling to pay back the final investors of Vianca’s scam and hold the Irons together.

  Now, he had the whole city within his grasp.

  “Well, thank you for considering me,” Levi said smoothly, despite his stomach twisting into excited knots. “I’ll give you a ring at some point. I have some ideas that might interest you.”

  “And we’d be happy to hear them,” he answered. “But I warn you—the real estate doesn’t come cheap. It’ll be nearly sixty thousand volts—with a fifteen-thousand-volt down payment.”

  Levi nearly choked. Sixty thousand volts was six times higher than the payment he’d once owed Sedric Torren. Six times higher than the bounty the City of Sin currently had placed on his life.

  “I’m sure that can also be arranged,” Levi managed. He held out his hand for Fitz to shake. “I’d be careful talking about new dens around the Casino District, though. People might think you’re trying to steal their dealers.”

  The man stood up and tipped his hat. “Why steal theirs when I could have yours?”

  “What’s this?” the owner of the casino asked at the top of the stairs, Tock lingering behind him. “Am I interrupting anything?”

  “Not at all,” Fitz answered. “I was just leaving.” He grasped the owner’s hand in a polite shake and left before he needed to introduce himself.

  Levi avoided the owner’s curious gaze, focusing on his third. “Tock?” he said. “Why are you here? I thought you took the night off.” Lately, Tock had been taking a lot of nights off, and the Irons gossiped that she’d met someone she didn’t want them to know about. “Stood up, were you?”

  Tock rolled her eyes. “Just because you openly brood about your romantic woes doesn’t mean I have to.”

  The owner let out a holler. “Romantic woes? Levi must be the richest person in the North Side. I can’t imagine him having any trouble.”