by Amanda Foody
Tock hoisted Lola back up and looked her over. “I don’t really know you,” she told her. “But I could.”
Lola flushed a shade so bright it matched her hair. Both Grace and Enne choked on their drinks.
“Um,” Lola sputtered.
Tock nodded at Lola’s harmonica. “Do you play? I brought my sax.”
Lola nodded, looking dazed, and let Tock lead her away into the party.
Jac had no intention of being upstaged by Lola, aspiring librarian, so he pulled Sophia away from her set-up of mixed drinks and loose candy wrappers. “We need to talk,” he told her.
When they reached the dance floor, Sophia slid her arms around his shoulders. “Then let’s talk,” she said.
Having her so close to him made his heart squeeze nervously. He wasn’t Levi—he wasn’t the one who came up with the plans. He suddenly had sick feeling he was about to make a fool of himself.
“I don’t think your plan for Delia and Charles to destroy each other is going to work,” he told her.
She pursed her lips. “Way to kill the romance, Todd.”
Jac coughed out an awkward laugh. “Even if one of them kills the other, one of them will win, and then what will you do?”
“I’ll do what I’ve been doing—I’ll weasel my way into their inner circle. I know them better than anyone—”
“But they don’t know who you are, so how can you really know them?” Sophia had told Jac they were half siblings, so Jac assumed Sophia must’ve grown up estranged. But clearly there was something she hadn’t told him.
A dark look crossed her face, and she dropped her arms from his shoulders. “Why are you asking me these questions? You haven’t told anyone who I am, right?”
“No. No, of course not,” he said quickly. He wasn’t good at this. He was losing her. “But I have a better idea for how destroy your family.” Jac peeked over his shoulder, but the Irons were too lost in their dancing and card games to pay them any attention. Still, he leaned closer and explained Levi’s agreement with Harrison Augustine.
Sophia’s green eyes widened in shock. “That’s who you were going to call last night. You were going to give him Delia’s name.”
“I was, but I’ve decided to wait. I’m working for Harrison as a favor to Levi, but I keep feeling like all I’m doing is helping another monster rise to power. I don’t want to be complicit.”
“So what do you want?” Sophia asked.
“I want it to be you. You should become the next don.”
Sophia backed away, out of his reach. “I can’t do that.”
“But you could. You’re their sister! You have as much claim as they do. And after the election is over, we can burn it. All of it.”
Jac flushed. Maybe he shouldn’t have said “we.” This was why Jac was never the smooth talker—he didn’t open up; he unraveled.
“But this is suicide.” Her voice was high-pitched, and she trembled the same way she had in the tunnels beneath the Mistress parlor. Maybe her fear of the dark and the fear of her siblings were one and the same. “They can’t know who I am. If they find out...”
“You’ve been getting close to Delia for months,” Jac pointed out. “There’s always been that risk.”
“Close enough to interfere, yes, but to rival them?” She let out a strained, hopeless laugh. “You either underestimate them, or you overestimate me.”
Jac had witnessed enough of Delia’s twisted laboratory to know to fear her and her brother, but that was him. Where was Sophia’s easy confidence? He’d never seen her this vulnerable.
“Everyone at Liver Shot eats out of the palm of your hand. You bet on and win every fighting match.” One of the other dancers bumped into them, causing them to stumble even closer together. Jac caught Sophia by the side and steadied her, and her chest pressed against his. He swallowed and tried to focus. “You’re the most confident person I’ve ever—”
“That’s because I’m lucky,” she snapped at him. “I told you how my talent works. Of course I win all my bets. I was lucky I got my promotion. Lucky we made it out of that den today alive.”
Jac’s hands started to sweat. He wasn’t convincing her—he was only making her angry.
“And I might be lucky,” Sophia continued, “but Delia and Charles are invincible. It doesn’t matter how many charms I have—their methods are much more effective than mine. I’ll never outplay them. I’ll only expose myself and undermine everything I’ve worked for.”
Jac recognized the fear in her voice. It was the overwhelming nausea he’d felt when he walked onto Chain Street this afternoon. It was the nightmares that woke him up in cold sweats. It was when he took the long way home simply to avoid certain places.
Jac had felt that terror when he agreed to enter the Torren empire, and clearly, Sophia had, too. And they’d both braved that fear in order to do something they believed in.
That made them the same.
If Sophia could confront him and show him that he could want more, that he could be more, then he could do the same for her.
“It meant something to me today, to burn down that den,” Jac said quietly.
Sophia averted her eyes. “I know that.”
“Why did you want to do it?”
“Because they’re both monsters, and they’re my family. It’s my responsibility to bring them down.” She hugged her arms to herself. Jac got the feeling he was watching her unravel, too. “I’ve already sacrificed so much to do this—more than you could ever guess. I owe it to myself to make those sacrifices worth it.”
After a moment of hesitation, he grabbed her hands and squeezed them reassuringly. All it had taken was the smell of gasoline, and Jac’s decision had been sealed. He would do whatever it took to see Luckluster Casino and all the Torren dens reduced to rubble.
Maybe he didn’t know Sophia well; maybe she didn’t know him. But if they were both bound to this path, then they might as well walk it together.
“I won’t tell you what to do,” he said, “but if you choose this, then I’ll help you every step of the way.”
She looked down to where their hands touched, and her expression softened. “But it’s not the same for you. All you need to do is give Harrison a name and leave. You’re not in it like I am. You could go back to...” She crinkled her nose and looked around the room. “Overly greased hair and suits with the tags still on.”
He grinned wryly. “Well, I won’t pretend like the Irons are a class act—”
“That girl is literally vomiting in the corner.” Sophia nodded at Stella, who was indeed bent over a waste bin.
“I...” Jac couldn’t argue about the Irons, but she was wrong about him. He was at a party surrounded by friends but feeling like an outsider, because what he wanted wasn’t here anymore.
“I could get a new job,” he murmured, “but I could never leave. There will never be a time when I walk past Chain Street and don’t get chills. When I won’t have nightmares that send me into a spiral for days. When I won’t wake up telling myself I have to fight, that I never get to stop fighting.”
Sophia bit her lip. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.” She squeezed his hand, and it made his stomach tie in knots. “I’ll do it,” she murmured. “But if I regret this several hours from now, I’ll blame you and that face of yours.”
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“Nothing, and it’s very upsetting.”
Jac grinned as he led her to the corner of the room, where Levi sat, staring into the bottom of his glass.
“’Lo,” Jac said to him.
“’Lo,” Levi echoed, not looking up.
Jac had no idea why Levi would be sulking at his own party, but what he had to say couldn’t wait for Levi’s mood to improve. He cleared his throat. “I want you to meet someone. This is my boss.”
Levi took a look at their hands and raised an eyebrow. Then he wearily set his glass down and stood up. “I’m glad you came—I’ve been meaning to
talk to you. Harrison needs a name by tomorrow. He wants to meet and everything. I know it hasn’t been long—”
Jac cleared his throat a second time. “That’s actually why I came over. This is—”
“Sophia Torren,” she finished for him, holding out a taffy as an offering. All her nervousness from earlier had vanished, as though confidence was a switch Sophia could simply turn on and off. When Levi just stared at her instead of reaching for the candy, she dropped it into his empty glass. “I’m going to be the next Torren Family donna.”
ENNE
Enne’s stomach was still recovering from her drunken gossip with Poppy that morning, but she sipped her Hotsy-Totsy, anyway. It was an excuse to sit even as the party grew wilder around her. She wasn’t in the mood to dance. She wanted to think.
Her bullet had provided the diversion needed for Levi to escape and for Tock to destroy the bridge. It wasn’t that Enne was bitter about their lack of gratitude—well, she definitely was bitter—but she couldn’t stop replaying the moment in her mind when she’d fired. When she squeezed a gun in her hand, she felt capable. She felt powerful.
Her thoughts drifted back to her familiar fantasy: the figures of the Phoenix Club disappearing around her like smoke. This time, they vanished in a puff of gunpowder.
“Are you just going to sit there and mope all night?” Grace demanded.
“I haven’t been moping,” she answered. It’d be nice to share her thoughts with Grace, but Grace had yet to swear to her, which meant there was still so much about Enne that she didn’t know.
“That was a good shot earlier.” Grace peered around the room, and her gaze settled on one of the tables. She winked at Enne. “I’m sure there are more ways to upstage the Irons. Do you know any card games?”
“Just one,” Enne answered darkly.
“Well, you should play a game of Tropps with me. I already know what I’ll bet.”
“And what is that?”
“My oath.”
Enne stiffened in surprise. “You shouldn’t bet that on a card game.”
Enne expected Grace to laugh, but instead she asked, “Why not?”
“Because swearing to me is about more than loyalty. There are...secrets. Things you don’t know.” Grace had worked as an assassin. She wore weapons as though they were accessories. But when she learned the truth, would she also look at Enne differently? As a danger to them all?
Enne’s secrets always seemed to push everyone away.
Rather than argue, Grace grabbed Enne’s hand and dragged her through the crowd. The air smelled of spilled bourbon, sweat, and cigarettes, and it was hot from the many bodies pressed together.
They approached a table and slid into the two available seats, Enne in between Grace and a pretty-faced card dealer.
Grace slid an orb into the pot, and it glowed dimly with a couple volts. “We’ll be boring for now. Loser has to buy the other dinner.”
Enne nodded shakily and took the hand the dealer slid her.
You may take your cards.
She heard Malcolm Semper’s voice as though he stood behind her, and her hands trembled as she stared at her hand. But they were only normal playing cards. This was only a game.
The dealer shot her a charming, lopsided smile. He had dimples and a dusting of freckles beneath his eyes. “You look nervous. Have you ever played before?”
Enne shook her head.
His face lit up, and he began to explain the rules. “All players, as you can see, start with three cards. Every round, you’ll be given a new card if you continue to bet.” As Enne leaned in to show him her cards and ask a question, he pushed them away with a laugh. “This isn’t like blackjack or poker. In Tropps, the dealer is another player in the game. You can’t go showing me your hand.”
But even as Enne lowered her cards, he continued to lean closer. Enne might not have minded if she wasn’t so on edge. He was attractive, and he had a smile full of innocent intentions, but Enne knew better than to believe that about an Iron.
They played for a few rounds. Each time Enne reached for a new card, she held her breath, preparing for a Shadow Card’s vision to take over. Every so often, she looked across the table, expecting to see Levi, sickly and draining of life.
“This party is mostly Irons,” the dealer told her. “How do you know Pup?”
“We’re friends,” she mumbled. Friends who’d barely spoken in weeks.
“They’re not close,” Grace said, then nudged Enne sharply in the ribs, scooting her another inch closer to the dealer. Enne shot her a stormy look.
“Didn’t you come back with him?” The dealer furrowed his eyebrows. “I remember, when he came back from the bridge, you were behind him.”
Enne was surprised anyone had noticed them at all, amid the hollers and cheers for Levi.
“I was there,” she told him drily, turning away from him and attempting to focus, once more, on the game. This was supposed to be a party, but all Enne felt was irritated. “I was there for all of it.”
“At the bridge?”
Enne should’ve been more careful, but she couldn’t help herself. “For the bridge. For the meeting at the Catacombs. For the death of Semper.” As she spoke, the image of Semper behind her vanished, like a bullet tearing through smoke.
Enne didn’t know much about the game, but she had a pair of queens, and she was certain that counted for something. “Fifth round is the first reveal, right?” She threw the pair down on the table, then scooted the extra inch closer to the dealer, close enough that their legs touched.
But the dealer was no longer paying attention. He stared at the cards, or maybe at the table—anywhere but at her.
He swallowed uncomfortably. “I...” His eyes flickered to something over her shoulder, and he quickly stood up, stumbling over a chair leg. Enne supposed others might find his clumsiness charming, but his lopsided smile seemed rehearsed, the more she saw it.
“I’ll take over this game, Tommy.”
A drink was thrust into the dealer’s hands, which he nervously accepted before hurrying off.
Levi slid into his place and collected the cards. “Why don’t we start over?” he asked, but the players, too, were leaving the table.
“Look who finally graced us with his presence,” Grace said flatly.
Levi ignored her and shuffled the cards, cascading them nimbly between his fingers. Enne stared at the bit of silver peeking out of his breast pocket. She’d been given a similar card by Sedric Torren, but she’d left hers behind in the House of Shadows. It only brought bad memories, and she didn’t want to wear her pain like a trophy. She wondered if that’s how Levi looked back on the night that haunted her—just another victory, just another story.
Levi dealt out hands for only him and her. Grace cleared her throat. “What about me?” she asked.
“I’d like to talk to Enne,” he said. He had a seriousness to his voice that told her he’d come to talk about business. That was what they were after all—business partners. Nothing more.
Enne nodded for Grace to leave, and then she and Levi were alone.
“I’m going to send messengers to the other lords,” he told her. “We need to meet again. Tomorrow night. And if they’re true to their word, they’ll open up twenty percent to your market.”
“You shouldn’t have put my plan on the line like that,” Enne snapped at him. “You had no right.”
“They were going to decline it. It’s thanks to me they now have to give it a chance.”
“And what would you have done today if I hadn’t been there? I have nothing to thank you for.”
Levi pursed his lips. This would’ve been the perfect opportunity to actually thank her, but he seemed intent on ignoring it. “Are you prepared? Because I already made a list of businesses to ask to invest.”
“That’s great. You can give the list to Grace. She’ll help me take care of it.”
Maybe she was even more bitter than she’d thought. Enne sifted
through her cards so she could look at something other than him wincing.
“I want to help you, Enne.” He whispered her name—it wasn’t an apology, but there was fear in his voice.
“Do you?” she asked. “Because I never hear from you. You’ve been keeping secrets. How did you get the whiteboots to evacuate Revolution Bridge? Why aren’t there any whiteboots in Olde Town?”
He stiffened. “I can’t tell you that. It’s too—”
“Dangerous?” she guessed, letting out a quiet laugh. She squeezed her cards so hard they bent. “If we were really in this together, we actually would be—risk and reward.” She didn’t want to be the forgotten face in Levi’s legends. Being partners was a pretty thought, but if it wasn’t meant to be, then she would rather become a legend on her own.
“You’re right.” He put his hand on hers and pried her fingers away from the cards. She hadn’t realized she’d been trembling. “Why don’t we leave? I don’t want anyone to overhear.”
That proposition seemed dangerous in its own way, but even so, Enne nodded and let him lead her out of the party. They crept down the corridor into an empty room, one that was still uncleaned and coated in broken window glass. Levi closed the door behind them, silencing the music. A breeze from outside swept through the room, sticky and smelling of the sea.
“I didn’t want to tell you this. Because Vianca can’t know.” Levi paused. “This is the part where you agree with me. That you’re too easily compromised. That I shouldn’t tell you.”
“No, I think you should,” Enne said indignantly. She blew a sweaty strand of hair out of her face.
Levi sighed and walked toward what remained of the windows. Enne measured the distance between them and took a step back to make it wider.
“The morning after the Shadow Game,” Levi started, “I met Harrison Augustine, and I made a deal with him.”
Enne’s thoughts returned to Worner Prescott’s party that afternoon, how Vianca had trembled under the scrutinizing, judgmental gazes of everyone in the room. Levi was playing with fire.
