Ace of Shades_The Shadow Game Series

by Amanda Foody

  “Where am I?”

  “The House of Shadows.”

  Levi’s skin crawled. So this was the haunted mansion where the Phoenix Club played the Shadow Game. The haunted part, he reminded himself, was just a superstition. Levi had imagined this place as more...luxurious, decked out with black velvet and silver opulence. But his surroundings looked much like the basement of any shambled home in Olde Town.

  It took him a moment to remember he was here to die. That he hadn’t been able to stop Enne from disappearing into the crowd at Luckluster. He swallowed down a wave of panic. Where was she now?

  “Now, don’t worry,” Shark said. “I got your jacket and hat over there with your invitation.” He nodded to a pile of Levi’s belongings a few feet away. His pistol and the Shadow Card gleamed on top.

  “That’s generous of you.”

  “Don’t be smart. I’m here to prepare you for the Game, but I’ve been told not to touch your pretty face.” Shark leaned down to examine Levi’s black eye. “You’re already fairly roughed up. Where’ve you been hurt?”

  “My right leg,” Levi said. “And a broken rib.”

  “Well, I’ll be sure to find some new spots, then.”

  Levi braced himself as Shark grabbed beneath his arms and lifted him like a bag of straw.

  “It’s a lot easier if you stand up,” he said, then threw a staggering punch at Levi’s shoulder. It dislocated with a pop.

  Levi shouted and fell forward, caught by the ropes tying him to the pillar. Every breath he took ached. The man raised his enormous boot and kicked Levi’s hip bone—not hard enough to fracture, but definitely enough to bruise.

  Shark kicked him once in each shin as Levi sputtered.

  “Nothing personal, you know. I don’t even know your name.”

  “It’s...Levi,” he breathed.

  Shark punched his chest, forcing the air out of him and hurting his ribs enough to make Levi scream. The force of it sent his body colliding with the pole behind him.

  “I didn’t say I wanted your name.”

  His fist slammed into Levi’s left thigh.

  Levi had reached the point where he felt himself retreating. It was an old, familiar feeling, of curling into that cold place in his mind where the aches of his body and heart couldn’t follow. Though the place was meant for comfort and self-preservation, it had its costs: each time he returned there, he left pieces of himself behind, pieces he sometimes never found again.

  When he’d left home, he thought he’d left this place behind him, as well.

  He leaned unsteadily against the pillar and concentrated on reality. On the pain all over. On the dim overhead light. On the smell of mold and the taste of blood.

  The final blow got him in the side of the neck. Levi’s head knocked against the pillar. He slumped over and puked—for the second time that night. Even as he vomited whatever remained in his stomach, he was both in the basement and that somewhere else. Here and not here.

  When Levi finished retching, Shark cut the rope binding him. “Don’t bother running. You know you won’t get far.”

  Levi didn’t think he could run at all if he tried. His hands fell limply to his side, and Shark handed him his suit jacket and hat. Levi took it with dread, knowing it meant the night’s festivities were about to begin.

  “Now let me get a look at you.” Shark’s eyes ran up and own Levi’s body. “Oh—my mistake.” Before Levi could brace himself, Shark put two hands on his shoulder and shoved it back into its socket. Levi screamed and staggered back.

  “I’ll be keeping this gun of yours.” Shark pocketed the pistol. “But here’s your invitation.” He slipped the Shadow Card into Levi’s breast pocket and patted it with a malicious grin. “Look sharp. Now we go upstairs. That’s where the fun is.”

  Fun for him, maybe. The only thing waiting for Levi was death.

  Shark pushed him up the stairs, and Levi’s bones ached with each step, so painful he needed to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. A fog of cigar smoke greeted them at the landing, and they entered a dark room with all black furniture that matched Levi’s original vision for the House of Shadows. Two men lay on couches in the corner, too transfixed by the women in front of them to notice Levi and his captor. The women giggled teasingly and played with their transparent slips, their legs miles long in silver shoes with heels like razors.

  “You know,” Levi wheezed, “this isn’t as bad as I thought.”

  Shark grunted and shoved him up another flight of stairs.

  “Is Sedric Torren here?” Levi asked, though he doubted that Shark had news about whatever had happened to Sedric and Enne.

  “Never knew him to miss a party,” he replied.

  Each time Levi heaved one leg painfully in front of the other, he thought, this is one of my last steps. He knew he should feel terrified—earlier, he had. But now that he was here, the House of Shadows felt too surreal to warrant anything but numbness. Maybe the effects of the sedative hadn’t fully worn off. Maybe he was still in that someplace else, trying to protect himself from reality.

  They entered his execution room.

  Ten people sat around a long felt-topped table, and others spectated from chaises in the room’s corners. Their skin had a gray cast to it, like the skin of a peach gone shriveled and moldy, and it was impossible to guess their ages. They looked neither young nor old, neither alive nor dead. They stared at Levi with empty eyes, their expressions still. All that moved was the shadows across their faces, flickering in the light of the metal candelabra.

  The black-and-silver-striped walls made Levi feel as though he were entering a cage.

  “Our first guest has finally arrived,” one man said. His face was long, and his chin hooked outward into a point. His mostly gray hair was parted down the center, sharpening his severe widow’s peak. Levi had seen his picture before, of course, but the black-and-white newspapers failed to convey that Chancellor Malcolm Semper was equally gray-cast and haunting in person.

  Shark left, and the thump thump of his feet on the stairs echoed around the room. Levi scanned the faces of the Phoenix Club for Sedric, but none of them were him.

  “Levi Glaisyer, why don’t you take a seat?” Semper gestured to the chair beside him.

  “Where’s Sedric?” Levi asked.

  “Mr. Torren isn’t a member of the Phoenix Club, so he doesn’t participate in our Game.”

  Levi limped to his chair and settled into the rigid leather seat. Was this where Alfero had sat when she died? Or Gabrielle Dondelair when she won?

  The only remaining empty chair was directly across from him.

  “We will explain the rules once our final guest arrives,” Semper said.

  So Levi didn’t even warrant a solo execution. He wondered who else the Phoenix Club had decided to play with tonight.

  “We weren’t expecting another player,” said a woman Levi recognized as Senator Josephine Fenice. Her wild silver hair draped across her body down to her waist. She was Semper’s right hand and the woman who personally oversaw the execution of the previous Mizer royal family of New Reynes—even the children.

  “I received a last-minute message,” Semper explained. “Mr. Torren feels he has more to offer us. He’s very eager to please.”

  Levi’s heart stuttered at the mention of Sedric. What had happened between him and Enne? Did she finish what she’d come to do?

  “Who is the player?” Fenice asked.

  “The message didn’t say,” Semper answered. “Only to expect him here at two.”

  Levi had little idea of the time, only a guess that it was almost midnight. He heard the ticking of a clock in the back of his mind, counting down to the tenth day, counting down to his end. He tried to push away his concern over Enne. He needed all his concentration.

  Once upon a time, Gabrielle Dondelair ha
d won this Game. He needed to forget about all the legends, all the nightmares. The Shadow Game was a game like any other; there were winners, and there were losers. He wasn’t helpless. He wasn’t finished. He needed to remind himself who he was.

  If anyone in this city had a chance of outplaying unbeatable odds, it was the Iron Lord.

  ENNE

  Enne’s head smacked against glass, jolting her awake. Her eyes flickered open briefly, but, glimpsing Sedric’s face, she immediately squeezed them shut again. She heard a door open, and a warm summer wind kissed her skin. She was in a motorcar, but her surroundings were slanted awkwardly to the left. The noise of Tropps Street was gone. The events of the evening gradually returned to her—Levi’s disappearance, the drugged drink, the Shadow Card—and she held her breath to keep from crying out.

  Sedric cursed and climbed out of the car. The door closed.

  She eased her eyes open. Voices murmured outside, their tones escalating. Judging from that and the tilted angle of the car, they must’ve been stuck in a ditch. The windows were darkened with screens, so Enne had no way of confirming this—nor any idea where in the city they were.

  She quietly reached for the abandoned suit jacket on the seat in front of her. Inside, she found her revolver from earlier, which Sedric had stolen. Rather than take it and alert him that she was awake, she emptied it of bullets and slipped them in her pocket, where the leather case with the injection was still carefully concealed among folds of satin.

  The Shadow Card was sitting on her lap, the face of the Fool laughing up at her. It was the invitation card, she knew, but whose? Had Sedric meant it for her, or was he only delivering her Levi’s? She didn’t think Sedric knew Enne and Levi had any connection.

  Only two things were clear now: Enne still needed to kill Sedric Torren, and she needed to stop the Shadow Game.

  Voices. Footsteps. The seat tilted forcefully. The engine roared, and the motorcar jolted forward out of the ditch.

  The door opened. She closed her eyes, feigning unconsciousness.

  Someone—Sedric, probably—sat opposite her, bringing the odors of sweat and cigar smoke with him.

  As the car resumed its course, she didn’t move for another ten minutes. Enne desperately hoped he couldn’t hear her heart pounding.

  When the car finally stopped, Sedric lifted something to her nose. The stench of ammonia made her lurch. “Sleep well, doll?”

  “Where are we?” She forced her voice to slur, as if she was just coming to.

  “A place known as the House of Shadows.” A malicious grin spread across his face, sending dread seeping across Enne’s skin. “You might say it’s the best gambling in the city.”

  Sedric opened the door and stepped outside. Over his shoulder, Enne caught her first glimpse of the House of Shadows. The name couldn’t be more appropriate—the dark stone of its exterior looked as rough and jagged as a cavern wall, and though lights danced in the windows, they were muted behind fishnet curtains. A faint bass rumbled in the air, and a flute whispered a mournful melody into the night. Beyond the tall evergreen trees lining the driveway, the city’s skyline glittered in the distance.

  Zula’s warning whispered through her mind. More than anything, stay away from the House of Shadows.

  On her first day in New Reynes, Levi had told her that the Phoenix Club orchestrated the Revolution and the deaths of all the Mizers, so Enne understood the risks of entering their lair. But the fear she’d heard in Zula’s voice that day—it sounded as though there was more to the House of Shadows than simply politics and history. Whatever dangers awaited her inside, it was something more. Something Enne had never known before.

  Sedric handed her an envelope. “Take this to Malcolm Semper.”

  She sucked in a breath. The Chancellor? He was the most powerful man in the Republic, and the leader of the Phoenix Club. Her heart clenched as she took the envelope. He was the man who had murdered Lourdes.

  “They’re expecting you,” Sedric told her.

  “Expecting me for what?”

  “For the Game.”

  Enne’s breath caught. At the edges of her vision, she glimpsed shadows. The ghost of Gabrielle Dondelair. The silhouette of Lourdes. They had both tried to protect her, but in the end, they would all face the same fate.

  “Unfortunately,” Sedric continued, “I won’t be able to watch—I’m not a member of the Phoenix Club. But rest assured, I’ll be exploring the other entertainments the House of Shadows has to offer.”

  She let out a shiver as she slipped the envelope in her pocket, unsure if Sedric was giving her an opportunity to save Levi, or her own death certificate.

  “They don’t know who you are,” he told her, a grin playing on his features. He was relishing this. “They don’t particularly care. Times are changing—repeating, so they claim. And so they’re playing again.”

  “Playing because...of the times?” Sedric wasn’t making sense.

  “There’s a price to keep the devil away, when the devil comes knocking.” He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out of the motorcar. She stumbled onto the grass. “Tonight that price is you.”

  As far as Enne was concerned in that moment, the city was full of devils. Sedric Torren. Vianca Augustine. Malcolm Semper. She’d paid a price to all of them already.

  Very suddenly, Sedric slapped her across the face. Enne gasped and backed protectively against the side of the motorcar, her cheek stinging.

  “That was for St. Morse,” he snapped. He stepped closer to her, and fear bubbled up in her throat. She glanced around, but there was no one nearby to witness—not even their driver. They were alone.

  This was her chance. But his glare rooted her to the spot.

  “Black Maiden is a rather uncommon flower,” he said. “Imported. Untraceable. Neither of the Families own it. Where did you get it?”

  She could still hear Vianca’s words in her mind. This cannot be traced back to me. The omerta grasped a bony hand around her throat, cutting off her air.

  He took a threatening step closer, and Enne instinctively lifted her arms to protect her face. “Who are you working for?”

  She could do nothing but stay silent.

  His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, sending millions of chills of warning down her back. “I won’t ask nicely again,” he hissed. His fingers slid through her hair and squeezed. He jerked her head back, and tears formed in Enne’s eyes from the pain. She slipped her hand into her pocket and fingered the edges of the leather case.

  “Is it Vianca?” He pulled her hair harder, and she whimpered. The omerta forced her to shake her head. “Tell me.”

  “No one,” she lied, slowly sliding the case out of her pocket. In some ways, that was the truth. Vianca might have given the order, but if she killed Sedric Torren, she would do it for Levi.

  He slammed her head against the car door. She cried out, stars spinning in her vision. The case dropped silently onto the grass.

  Please no, she thought.

  “You’re lying,” he said. He relaxed his grip on her hair and instead slid his hand to her throat. His chest pressed against hers, and she tried to stretch away, to put as much distance between him and her as possible, but his hip bone was jammed painfully into her side.

  He won’t kill you, she told herself. The Phoenix Club is expecting you. He already said so.

  That didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt her first.

  His grip on her throat tightened. She let out an involuntary sputter.

  “You will die tonight,” he growled. While he spoke, she managed to lift her calf up and hooked her finger around the strap of her heel. She carefully slid it off her foot, trying not to lose her grip on it. She was dizzy from lack of air. “It will be long. It will be painful. The last time there were two players, the Phoenix Club didn’t get to have their fun. I tol
d them this time they could have it with you.”

  Enne knew exactly which game Sedric was referring to—the night Gabrielle had played to save her daughter’s life. As anger flooded through her, Enne squeezed the heel and, with all the force she could muster, jammed it into his eye.

  Sedric howled, letting go of her and covering his eye with his hands. Bloody tears dripped down his cheek. “You bitch,” he snarled.

  Enne shoved him away and frantically bent down, breathing heavily and feeling around for the leather case. She found it and slid off the lid. She had only just gotten a grip on the syringe when Sedric kicked her in the side, sending her sprawling.

  Then he grabbed her by the front of her dress and hoisted her to her feet. His left eye was squeezed shut, but there was so much blood, Enne couldn’t be sure there was much of an eye left. His other arm aimed, ready for a punch. Before he could take a swing at her, she kicked him in the groin and slid out of his grasp.

  She landed face-down on the grass, the syringe still clutched in her first.

  When she looked up, Sedric had his revolver pointed at her. He clutched his eye with one hand, and there was a feral look in his other. He laughed madly. “You really should’ve let me have my fun.”

  Then he pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  His cursed and opened the revolver’s empty compartment. Then he looked at her, his eyes wide, as she lunged forward and stabbed the syringe into his leg.

  She would not be his victim tonight.

  He would be hers.

  Within moments, his limp body fell on top of her, his stomach on her back. She grunted and pushed him off, disgusted by the feel of him against her. He rolled over in the grass, staring with one eye into nothing.

  She shakily got to her feet and looked down at his body. She felt no remorse. Not for him, not even for herself. Rather than breaking her, her surrender left her cold and steady with anger, with resolve.

  Enne picked up the envelope Sedric had given her before he’d slapped her. He’d said something about two players, which meant Levi was inside—alive, but preparing to play the Shadow Game. If she was going to save him, she needed to join him in the House of Shadows.