King Of Fools (The Shadow Game series, Book 2)

by Amanda Foody

  The ballroom was thrown into darkness. This only caused the guests to scream louder. The noise of it pierced through Enne’s ears, but the sound was sweet. This meant the plan was still unfolding. There was still hope. She clung to that, and to Levi, in the dark. Tock had managed it.

  I love you. I trust you.

  Maybe that really would be enough.

  Bang!

  A woman’s scream rang out, followed by a chorus around the room.

  Someone had been shot.

  It was impossible to make out the victim in the darkness, but Enne spotted a figure only feet away, wearing a dark mask with a hooked bird’s beak, like a vulture. They held something in their outstretched hand, and it gleamed through the dim light of the stars through the window.

  “Holy muck,” Levi breathed. “Is that—”

  But then someone slammed into them, knocking the wind out of Enne. Their hands broke apart, and Enne was pulled away in the stampede of bodies toward the exit.

  “Enne!” Levi called, pushing toward her, but there were too many people between them.

  Everyone kicked and shoved to reach the door, though the shooter had only fired once. Enne, smaller than so many of them, was wedged painfully between several panicked couples.

  Now that she was separated from Levi, she had her chance. She could turn herself in. She could claim she’d been the assailant. Enne had told Levi that she’d trust him, but Levi’s plan had been violently disrupted. They hadn’t planned for a murder, and with such high-profile attendees at this party, the whiteboots and private bodyguards would quickly secure all the doors, to ensure the assailant didn’t escape.

  And that the others outside couldn’t get in.

  Enne made a split-second decision, pushed through the crowds, and wove through the maze of hallways in the darkness. Then she found the door where Lola and Grace had left her earlier and sighed with relief. It was still unmanned. The plan hadn’t failed yet.

  The door swung open, and Jac stumbled inside, his tuxedo covered in dust, his black hair windswept and tangled from running. Through the open doorway behind him, Enne heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire. Her stomach lurched—what was happening outside?

  Jac took several deep breaths, his hands on his knees, then he looked up. His eyes widened with relief when he saw her. “You’re okay,” he breathed. “What happened? Is Levi here?”

  Something sinister planted itself in Enne’s mind. She didn’t know where the thought came from, but she felt a sudden tightening in her lungs. And then she knew.

  The omerta.

  “We’ve been betrayed,” he rasped, taking a step toward her and letting the door close. “You need to find Levi. Tell him it’s all over. If we don’t escape, it’ll be a massacre.”

  As Jac spoke, Enne’s fingers reached for the slit of her dress, but it was not of her own doing. Her heart clenched as she struggled against the omerta’s power. But of course, she couldn’t fight it.

  “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Jac laid a consoling hand on her shoulder. “Just tell Levi—”

  She cupped a hand over her mouth and choked on a sob.

  Jac’s eyes widened when he saw what she held, but he didn’t react in time. He moved only enough to let her go.

  You will break his heart, and then you will die.

  Enne raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

  K

  “Legend says the Bargainer can take anything from you. A name, a face, a memory. I wonder what they do with all of them. They only approach the desperate, they say, but everyone is desperate. They must want something, don’tcha think? They must have a goal.”

  —A legend of the North Side

  LEVI

  Levi tried to chase after Enne the moment they were pushed apart, but the crowds quickly consumed her, and he could barely make out anything in the darkness.

  Panic seized at him. His plan was already collapsing, but he didn’t know how to save her and save the night, too.

  He knew the omerta had twisted a lot of what she’d told him, but he had to believe that those last words had been her own. That she loved him. That she trusted him. If she could have faith in him, then he had to believe she wouldn’t immediately surrender herself. Whatever Vianca had planned, they could escape it.

  His sights fell on another figure in the crowds, the same one he’d spotted earlier, with a feathered mask like a hooked beak. He was the one who’d fired the gunshot. He was the one who’d derailed Levi’s plans.

  But Levi didn’t run after him for what he’d done.

  Levi ran after him for who he was.

  Feathers had always been Scavenger’s calling card, but Jonas wasn’t supposed to be here. Not yet. Not right when the power went out. The other lords had agreed to wait outside with the gangsters, so if Jonas was here, something was wrong. If Jonas had betrayed them, then everything he’d planned might truly fall apart.

  Jonas fled through the door to the theater, and Levi followed, apologizing as he pushed his way through the crowds. With all the chaos, Jonas didn’t notice Levi was following him. That he was probably thinking he’d gotten away with it.

  Levi slipped through the theater door and immediately collided with Jonas. He grabbed a fistful of Jonas’s shirt and slammed him against the wall of the ticket booth. Cursing, Jonas fought against him, until Levi snapped his fingers and lit a flame, illuminating both their faces.

  “Pup?” Jonas spat. The stench of him made Levi’s nose wrinkle.

  “Why are you here?” Levi demanded. Then he looked down and noticed the gun gleaming in Jonas’s pocket. It was an antique—far flashier and more expensive than anything the Scar Lord would typically carry. As the weapons provider to the North Side, Jonas usually only carried guns he could sell—easy marketing.

  Levi recognized that gun.

  “Harrison Augustine made you an offer,” he said flatly. “Is that why you betrayed us?”

  “Betrayed you?” His eyebrows furrowed. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “You’re supposed to be outside!”

  “My second is there. My gang is there,” he growled. “I haven’t betrayed anyone.”

  “They’re going to lock the doors to find the culprit, which means no one will be able to get in or out.” He slammed Jonas against the wall again for good measure. “You’ve ruined the plan, and you might’ve killed every gangster already inside.”

  “Then leave with me.”

  “Séance is still here.”

  “Then it will be your own fault if you die tonight,” Jonas spat. “How did you even know about Harrison, anyway?” When Levi didn’t answer, Jonas smiled. “I knew you couldn’t be that clever. He’s been helping you all this time. That’s why no one likes the Irons—you want to believe they’re really winning, but all of it’s a cheat.”

  “Cheating or not, we were all going to win tonight. Was his offer really worth it?” Levi was so angry that his skin began to heat. It could’ve been a repeat of his fight with Chez Phillips all over again, the only difference being that he had never been Jonas’s friend.

  “Wow, you really must have some sort of complex,” Jonas sneered. “It takes something special to work for mother and son. You’re not even worth being called a cheat. You’re just an Augustine bitch.”

  Levi punched Jonas in the face, knocking his head against the ticket window.

  Jonas took a swing at him, but Levi dodged it. As soon as he did, the lights in the theater flickered on, and with a heart-stopping jolt, Levi realized they weren’t alone.

  Someone watched from the stage, standing beneath a single spotlight. Her hair was white.

  “Ivory?” Jonas called hesitantly.

  Ivory raised a rifle. It was an automatic, similar to the ones the troopers and Families carried. Levi and Jonas instantly raised their hands in the air, and both, at the exact same moment, let out a muffled “Muck” under their breaths.

  “Come here,” she commanded.


  Levi and Jonas shared a meaningful look. Only moments ago, they’d been close to killing each other, but neither of them hated the other so much to die over this. Suddenly, they were on the same side. And though the numbers might’ve been two-to-one, that weapon would’ve been terrifying in anyone’s hands, let alone the most notorious killer in the City of Sin.

  “Don’t say anything that will irritate her,” Jonas growled at Levi under his breath. “You know what? Don’t say anything at all.”

  “As if I’d leave my life in your hands.”

  “You’re talking. And you’re irritating me.”

  They walked down the theater’s aisle toward the stage, keeping their arms raised. Levi’s heart quickened with every step. Was Ivory acting alone, or had the Doves betrayed them, too? His plan to end the war between the North and the South Sides was already crumbling, but if the gangs also turned against one another, then all hope was lost. He’d be lucky to leave this encounter alive.

  “There was blood too soon,” Ivory said. “It wasn’t yours to take. Who is responsible?”

  “Are you threatening us?” Jonas asked coolly. Levi had personally found the assault rifle to be a strong indicator of a threat, but Jonas had always had a brain smaller than a lead bullet.

  “One of you two killed Worner Prescott,” Ivory said. “Now all our plans have to change. They could be ruined.”

  Levi cleared his throat. “Why would I have ruined my own plan?”

  Ivory let out a laugh so choked it sounded like a cough. “Your plan? You mean your pathetic ultimatum? Something much bigger is going to happen tonight. We failed at the riot, but we will succeed this time.”

  There was far too much in that statement to process. When the debate had gone out of control too fast—had that been Ivory’s doing? Who else was she working with? What did she have planned?

  Jonas cleared his throat, and when he spoke, he did so under his breath, so only Levi could hear. “I saved your second. You still owe me a favor,” he murmured. “See that I don’t die here.”

  If Jonas had done anything less than save Jac’s life all those months ago, Levi would’ve left Jonas to die. As far as he was concerned, Jonas had still betrayed all of them, whether or not he’d actually sold them out. But so had Ivory, apparently, and Levi wasn’t thick enough to have a go at both of them. Not by himself.

  “Don’t do it,” Levi told her carefully. “You’d be making a mistake.”

  “Then don’t make me kill you, orb-maker. You’re still a required piece.”

  Levi’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know that meant, other than that it was a threat. He and Jonas weren’t getting out of this without a fight.

  He glanced at Jonas and saw his fingers were twitching, signaling him. On his left hand, Jonas counted down.

  Three. Two. One.

  In a heartbeat, Levi had his gun in his hand. He crouched and aimed at the stage above.

  But Ivory was gone.

  Jonas whipped around wildly. “Where did she—?”

  A hand grabbed Levi from behind, throwing him down with the force of a strength talent. The breath was knocked out of him, and his pistol flew from his hands and slid across the carpet.

  Ivory stood over him. When he rolled over to reach for his gun, she stepped onto his side, her bare foot digging painfully into him. She pointed her rifle at Jonas as he straightened, his own gun raised.

  “This one will fire first, as I’m sure you know.” Ivory sneered at Jonas and patted the top of her weapon.

  “I thought you only killed with your namesake,” Jonas said.

  “I wasn’t planning on killing tonight.” Beneath her, Levi struggled to reach for his gun, but it was too far away. His heart pounded. Neither he nor Jonas could best Ivory in a fight—not even together.

  Jonas seemed to realize the same thing, because his eyes flickered to Levi with a look that said, I won’t die for you. Levi instantly regretted holding true to his debt for when Jonas had saved Jac. There was no point in acting honest among the crooked, and now that mistake might cost him his life.

  Then Jonas surprised him. He cracked his neck and put a second hand on his gun, clutching it decidedly with both hands.

  “You know what Reymond used to always say about you?” Jonas asked Ivory. “That everything about you was a lie.”

  “Are you trying to scare me?” she asked.

  Jonas circled around the theater aisle, and with every step, Ivory jammed her heel harder into Levi’s side. Levi gasped, but he didn’t resist.

  “A lot of talents come in threes,” Jonas continued. “The Augustine talent comes in threes. Chaining comes in threes. And—”

  “Don’t,” Ivory warned. She lowered her gun from Jonas and aimed it directly at Levi’s face. Levi cringed and pressed his cheek to the floor. There were countless ways his story could end, but if death had to be one of them, he’d prefer it not to be shot at point-blank range.

  “That’s why Reymond and I were such a good team,” Jonas told her. “Because he found the lies and I found the truths. And it’s taken me years, but I know almost all of yours. So if you’re going to kill anyone, you might as well kill me.”

  Levi hadn’t known Jonas had one noble bone in his body. He also had no idea what they were talking about, but judging by Jonas’s face, Levi didn’t think he was bluffing.

  “I hope Pup is worth your loyalty,” Ivory said.

  “Reymond is still worth my loyalty,” Jonas countered. Then he lunged to the side, making Ivory quickly point her rifle at him. But even as she fired—an ear-deafening Pop! Pop! Pop!—she failed to notice that Jonas’s move hadn’t just been a dodge.

  Levi’s gun skidded across the floor toward him.

  He grabbed it, raised it, and fired.

  Ivory fell back, clutching her right shoulder. Blood coated her clothes—some even dribbled down her lips. Levi pushed her off him and scrambled away before she could reposition her rifle.

  “Time to run,” Levi panted once he reached Jonas.

  They sprinted up the aisle, and Ivory’s gunfire roared after them. They reached the back of the theater and rushed toward the doors, only to find several others waiting there. Levi counted seven faces blocking each of the exits. They had matching white hair and each held a different weapon: a spear, a rope, a saber, a flail, a carbine, a flamethrower, a scythe.

  Jonas and Levi skidded to a halt.

  “Muck,” Jonas breathed, in a way that sounded like defeat.

  “Split up,” Levi told him, shoving him to the right. They didn’t have any chance two against seven, especially when the seven were Doves. But he wasn’t willing to surrender—not here, not yet.

  And so the two of them took off down opposite aisles. Levi mapped out his escape route in his mind. He would climb up on the stage, burst through the dressing rooms, and flee out the back hallway. He would find Enne somewhere in the chaos, and he’d tell her to abandon all their plans. He’d tell her to run.

  But just as he made it past the curtain, something wrapped around his legs and dragged him down. He crashed onto the wooden floor, the rope from one of the Doves tangled around his feet. He kicked it off as the Dove stood over him, two others flanked behind her. He eyed their scythe and saber with dread.

  “We were told not to kill you, but you shot Ivory,” Scythe said. His voice betrayed no emotion, only a cool matter-of-factness. Levi tried to peek at where Ivory had been in the seats, but the stage curtain blocked his view. “I don’t know why she insisted on keeping you alive. You’re not a lord; you’re a show.”

  Scythe leaned down and removed something from Levi’s front pocket: the Fool card. He flipped it over so the art faced Levi, and Levi flinched just seeing it. “You want to distribute fakes tonight, but you’re too afraid of your own story.”

  Across the theater, Jonas screamed. Levi couldn’t see him, couldn’t get to him, couldn’t save him. He wasn’t even sure he could save himself.

  Scythe straightened, his wea
pon poised against Levi’s throat. “I’ll kill you for this.”

  Levi swallowed. “If Ivory insisted I stay alive, I think you ought to listen to her.”

  Scythe grabbed Levi by his tuxedo collar and yanked him to his feet. “Who would spew the wishes of the person they almost killed?” He dropped his scythe to the ground with a clatter. “Your death could’ve been honorable, if you’d deserved that. But you don’t.”

  While Levi tried to wrestle out of his grip, Scythe threw him to the floor—with surprising force for an older man. Levi gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, as his head knocked painfully against the wood. Before he could collect himself to fight, Scythe held Levi’s feet together, reached for a rope from the stage floor, and tied it around Levi’s ankles. Behind him, one of his companions pulled the lever of a crank. It spun.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  Levi cursed as he was jerked forward. The rope was connected to a piece of machinery that controlled the stage curtains, a short, heavy contraption of gears nailed into the floor. Even as Levi grasped at the ground, the force of the pulley spinning dragged him forward, like a fishing line reeling in its catch. Once he reached those gears, the metal would crush his legs.

  “The theatre is soundproof. That means no one will hear you scream,” Scythe said before turning with the others and disappearing into the dressing rooms.

  “Wait!” Levi called after them, his voice high and strangled. He struggled to untie the knot, to kick out his feet, but it was impossible while the rope dragged him on his back. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself in time. His death would be painful, and it wouldn’t be quick. He would bleed out on the stage floor.

  “Help!” he shouted. His shoes reached close enough to kick at the metal contraption, and he locked his legs, his back still braced against the ground, fighting against the force of it. His muscles burned, trembled. “Someone! Help!”

  Levi’s last thought before his feet slipped was that he always knew he would die in this casino.