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

by Amanda Foody

  LEVI

  With his eyes squeezed shut, bracing himself for the agony of bones being crushed, Levi didn’t see the person lunge behind him to pull down the lever—he only heard the gears shudder to a stop. He sputtered and rolled over, his own relief making him dizzy.

  “You’re lucky I saved you when I did,” a voice said from beside him.

  Levi blinked at his companion, his vision slowly coming into focus as Harvey Gabbiano sat cross-legged beside him. His face was painted with concern, but not so much at Levi’s physical state as at the time on his watch.

  “You saved me?” Levi rasped, fingers shaking as he unknotted the rope around his ankles.

  “Of course I did. Of course...” Harvey’s voice trailed off, as though his words were meant to convince himself. He didn’t meet Levi’s eyes. “I needed to find you. I have something to give you.”

  Harvey slipped his hand into his tuxedo jacket and pulled out an envelope. Levi didn’t reach for it. He was grateful someone had saved him, but he would’ve preferred it be anyone else in this casino. The Gabbiano family were Chainers, and even if Harvey claimed he didn’t use his blood talent, Levi trusted Harvey and his crew about as far as he could throw them. “You don’t have to look at me like that. The favor is free.”

  “Nothing is free,” Levi responded flatly.

  “Would you rather I left you to die?” He flashed Levi a smile, and even if that smile didn’t meet his eyes, something about it was reassuring. Trustworthy. But Levi knew that was just Harvey’s talent playing tricks on his mind. He didn’t know Harvey well, but he suspected those effects were involuntary. He couldn’t help but charm.

  And so Levi couldn’t help but distrust him.

  Harvey pushed the envelope closer. “Take it. It’s not a favor for you. It’s a favor for someone else.”

  Levi hesitantly accepted it. He tore open the envelope and pulled out a Shadow Card. His heart dropped as soon as he saw the silver foil, though to his mixed surprise and relief, it wasn’t the Fool.

  It was the Emperor.

  “You’re invited to join him in the ballroom,” Harvey said. He climbed to his feet and held out his hand to help Levi up. Once again, Levi didn’t accept the favor.

  He shakily stood on his own. “Join who? What is this?”

  “Haven’t you been wondering where your friends are?”

  Levi’s stomach knotted. Jonas was gone—probably as good as dead. If the backup generator had been turned on, then a fair amount of time had passed since the lights originally went out. Jac and the others should’ve already infiltrated the casino, but they’d never made it inside. Something was wrong.

  Harvey checked his watch. “You’re running late—”

  Levi reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Harvey’s jacket. “Do you know what happened to them?” Levi growled.

  For the first time, Harvey truly looked at him. He wore a pained, apologetic expression, which, for all Levi knew, could be a trick, as well.

  “You already know—Ivory betrayed them,” Harvey answered. “Now the casino is on lockdown. No one comes in. No one goes out.”

  “Ivory betrayed us, you mean,” Levi countered. “You and Bryce were part of this, too.” Levi was in no condition to fight, but he would—if only to punch that slimy, panicked frown off Harvey’s face.

  “It had to be tonight. He didn’t have a choice,” Harvey snapped at him. “She plans to kill him tonight.”

  “Ivory?” Levi asked.

  Harvey gave a bitter laugh. “Didn’t she already tell you? I thought you were her favorite.” He wrenched Levi’s hand off him and stepped away. “You’re needed in the ballroom. I have other Cards to deliver.”

  He walked off toward the dressing rooms.

  “Harvey! Wait!” Levi called, rushing after him, but Harvey ignored him and disappeared out the exit.

  Levi cursed. He didn’t care about what Harvey’s words had meant. He just needed to find Enne, and they needed to leave.

  Levi returned to the lobby and found it hauntingly still. The guests huddled together in groups, whispering in panicked voices. St. Morse staff stood in a barricade by the front door, and Levi hurried toward them.

  “I’d like to leave,” he said flatly.

  “There’s been an incident outside, sir. I’m afraid we cannot allow anyone to leave...for your own safety.” The man’s face grew flushed as he spoke.

  “What sort of incident?”

  “We don’t want to alarm you, but there’s been some gang violence—”

  “I’d still like to leave.” He pushed past the man, hard enough for the man to stumble. His heart was racing with panicked questions. What sort of violence? Who had been hurt?

  The man grabbed at his jacket, but Levi shrugged him off. “No, sir, you can’t—”

  “If you don’t let go of me,” Levi growled, snapping his fingers to ignite a flame, “I’ll burn you so badly you’ll never make it out of here, either.”

  The man let go.

  Levi turned and shoved at the revolving door. It was locked. He whipped around. “Unlock it,” he hissed. The fire in his hand grew brighter.

  “I can’t,” the man said, his voice hitched. “We didn’t lock them.”

  Levi tried several more times, but still the door wouldn’t budge.

  No one comes in. No one goes out.

  Dread seeped into him, and he jammed harder at the door. An unwanted memory entered his mind, of the power of the Shadow Game as it drained his life.

  He pulled the Emperor card from his pocket and stared at it.

  Another invitation. Another game.

  He brushed past the attendant again and made his way toward the ballroom. He’d had a similar feeling in his stomach when he’d climbed the stairs in the House of Shadows. It was a hollow feeling, a stirring of something inside him, pulling him somewhere he was meant to be.

  He’d been wrong about destiny. It wasn’t found within a handsome smile on a wanted poster, in the touch of Enne’s fingers intertwined with his, in an opportunity meant only for him. All of that had merely been desires, fantasies.

  The true feeling of destiny was dread.

  Music began to play in the ballroom when Levi entered it, a band of musicians nervously continuing onstage. Standing in front of them was Vianca Augustine, a microphone clutched in her white-knuckled hand.

  “What has happened tonight...” She swallowed. “It is a tragedy, but the culprit has been apprehended. And until the authorities alert us that the incident outside has been resolved, it’s safest to remain inside the building.”

  Levi frowned. If the St. Morse staff was guarding the doors to prevent the guests from learning the truth—that the entire casino was mysteriously locked—Vianca had to know, as well. Indeed, she looked paler than usual—almost ghostly. She’d staked everything she had on Worner Prescott, and he’d been killed right beneath her nose. She had played the game, and she had lost.

  “The music is still playing, the drinks are still being served,” she said. Levi grimaced. Continuing the party seemed in bad taste after a man had been murdered. Since none of the guests around him moved toward the bar, he assumed they agreed with him.

  Vianca’s eyes scanned the crowds, and then, to Levi’s horror, they fell on him. She faltered for a moment, though he’d never known her to be at a loss for words.

  “You,” she growled. Her words sounded so sharp that the entire room stiffened.

  Levi swallowed under everyone’s gaze. Somewhere behind him, he heard his name. There were whispers, gasps. Vianca was going to expose him. He nervously loosened his tie. He’d already been hanged once tonight.

  Vianca’s mouth twisted into an unnatural smile, and her aura coiled away from her, reaching for him. “Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

  Then Levi realized this wasn’t just about rejecting her offer. She knew about Harrison.

  His first thought wasn’t for himself, though it should’ve been—Vianca sounded fu
rious enough to kill him. Instead, he thought of Enne. This was why she’d been so scared. What else had Vianca planned?

  “Answer me!” Vianca shouted. The microphone screeched at the change in volume.

  There was a gasp, the undeniable sound of an omerta squeezing the life from its victim.

  Levi reached for his throat, but the sound hadn’t come from him.

  Because Vianca wasn’t looking at Levi—she hadn’t been this whole time. Her gaze was focused on someone behind him.

  Before Levi could turn around to see who that person was, a shot rang out from across the room.

  Bang!

  Scarlet blossomed across Vianca’s chest, and blood seeped between her fingers as she clutched at her heart. Her mouth hung open as she looked between the three people in the room still standing.

  Harrison Augustine lowered his pistol. He didn’t sigh or smile or whimper. He didn’t make any expression at all.

  Levi felt the omerta snap inside him, with a sound like a bone breaking. He took a deep breath, deeper than any breath he’d taken in four years, as Vianca Augustine’s body slumped to the floor.

  The donna was dead.

  As triumph coursed through him, his first thought was of Enne. He scanned the room for her, but she was nowhere. With the casino on lockdown, she had to still be in the building. He needed to find her. Whatever terrible plan Vianca had devised for the night had been foiled. At last, the two of them were finally free.

  Behind him, someone let out a loud, strangled laugh. There was a coppery taste to the air, and black crept into the corner’s of Levi’s vision, an aura like smoke.

  Didn’t she already tell you? Harvey had asked him. I thought you were her favorite.

  In Levi’s shock at Vianca’s death, he’d forgotten that there’d been a third person left standing. That more than Levi and Enne had been freed. That there had always been a third.

  The doors of the ballroom slammed closed.

  Levi finally turned around.

  Bryce Balfour clutched at his throat as he took the stage, and his eyes were the color red.

  ENNE

  Jac jolted back from being shot at such close range. Blood blossomed across his white shirt, and he fell, clutching his lower abdomen. His heavy breaths punctured the silence in the hallway.

  Enne cried into her hand. The omerta continued to urge her forward, choking her like a clamp locking around her throat. Her finger trembled against the trigger as she resisted, and she didn’t even have enough breath to utter an apology or to call for help.

  Again, the omerta urged. Again.

  Jac looked up at her weakly, and Enne waited for him to curse her, to blame her the way she blamed herself.

  Again, the omerta commanded as Enne let out a sob and dark spots bled over her vision. She could feel Vianca’s bony hand tightening around her chest, breaking her own heart along with Levi’s. Again.

  Jac coughed up a mouthful of blood. When he spoke, he didn’t clutch at his stomach. He clutched at his Creed. “It’s all right,” he managed. “I’ve beaten worse.”

  Bang!

  Enne gasped for breath as Jac’s head slumped to the side, crimson pooling from his chest, and the omerta released her.

  “No, no, no, no,” Enne moaned, and she scrambled toward Jac’s body. She felt for a pulse, but didn’t find it.

  I killed him. A wave of nausea passed over her, and Enne hugged her arms to herself. She’d never felt more helpless—not during the Shadow Game, not during any time spent with Vianca. Jac was Levi’s best friend. He was her friend. And no amount of tears or apologies would bring him back.

  Enne had no idea if Harrison would succeed in his plot to kill his mother—tonight, or ever. But if he did, Enne hoped Vianca suffered. That it was slow. That every wicked thing she’d ever done was magnified on herself tenfold. And when the donna did die, Enne’s only regret would be that she hadn’t been able to do it herself.

  Enne was still shaking when she realized she wasn’t alone.

  Harvey Gabbiano took in the image of her and the revolver and Jac’s body, and for a moment, Enne came truly close to being sick. She slid the gun across the floor, away from her.

  “I didn’t... I...” The words died in her throat because, of course, she had.

  “What happened here?” he asked sharply. In his hand, he held two envelopes.

  “I couldn’t—” The omerta squeezed at her throat. “I can’t explain.” She didn’t dare look Harvey in the eyes. Even if this was Vianca’s doing, Enne had pulled the trigger.

  Harvey knelt beside Jac, and his fingers brushed Jac’s Creed. “I’ll move him for you. I’m one of the only ones who can go in and out of this place.”

  Enne cringed. She should be the one to move him, to stay with him, but even the thought of touching him again made her stomach quake.

  “What do you mean?” Enne asked.

  Harvey nodded at the door. “Try it.”

  She narrowed her eyes as she did. But no matter how hard she pushed, the door wouldn’t budge.

  “What is this?” Enne asked, her voice hitched. “Why won’t it open?” She tried again and again, panic rising in her until tears flooded her eyes. She sank to the floor, her knees against her chest. The world felt broken.

  Harvey crawled to her side and placed one of the two envelopes in her hand. “You’re needed in the ballroom,” he told her.

  “I’m staying here,” she snapped, even if she hated to.

  “You can’t,” he murmured. He placed his hand over hers, and she flinched, as though her shame was a grime he could feel against her skin. Then he sighed and let her be, and something about the gentle way Harvey tucked the other envelope in Jac’s pocket made her trust him.

  “Okay,” she whispered. She didn’t care about whatever debt she might owe to Harvey, only that he would take the body away. Take away what she had done.

  As Harvey lifted Jac and pushed open the door, Enne moved out of his path, her eyes fixed on the puddle of blood left behind.

  “There’s a loophole to killing her, you know, which I’m sure she didn’t tell you. It’s family,” Harvey said, and a dark look crossed his face. “Levi isn’t the only one who made a desperate deal with Harrison Augustine.”

  He gave her a weary smile. Unlike any of his previous ones, it didn’t appear to be a trick. “I’m sorry about all this,” he said, and then he let the door close behind him.

  As Enne tried to blink away her tears and pick apart what he meant, she slid out the contents of her envelope.

  A Shadow Card. The Empress.

  The taste of bile filled her mouth. She couldn’t play the game again. Not tonight. Not ever.

  Trembling, she turned the envelope over and read the writing scribbled on the front. Erienne Salta. In all the time she’d known Harvey, she’d never given him a name other than Séance. And the Empress figure on the card unnerved her—they might’ve addressed the envelope to Erienne “Salta,” but was there something more sinister the card implied?

  For several moments, she froze there, her cries quiet and broken. She’d killed Jac. The gangs outside were compromised. But a dreadful feeling inside her warned that worse was coming.

  I need to find Levi, she told herself. She needed to tell him. She needed to save him. And if they lived through tonight, there would be time later to fall apart.

  Enne pocketed her gun once more and followed Harvey’s summons to the ballroom. A crowd barricaded the door, but she pushed through, tripping over her own gown, the Empress card crushed in her fist.

  It was when she emerged at the front, tears blurring her vision, that she felt the gunshot.

  For a moment, she thought she had been the one shot. She startled at the jolt in her chest, and she looked down at the layers of satin, searching for red. Something snapped within her, piercing, relieving. She took a deep breath as a heaviness lifted off her shoulders, one that had been there for months.

  She realized what had happened be
fore she saw the body, yet still the image shocked her. Vianca Augustine lay face-down, blood seeping out around her, soaking confetti and joining the spilled champagne on the stage floor.

  Yet neither Enne nor Levi were dead.

  She should’ve felt joy. Even relief. But the longer she stared at Vianca, the only emotion she felt was rage. Jac had died minutes before her. Had Enne fled somewhere other than that hallway, had she fought the omerta harder, had she done anything differently, then maybe Jac would still be alive. Maybe none of this would’ve happened.

  Behind her, the ballroom doors slammed closed.

  “Some other players have arrived,” a voice said into a microphone, and Enne tore her gaze away to see Bryce Balfour bent over, examining the body. Levi and Harrison were the only others in the room left standing. Everyone else crouched on the floor, many with their eyes squeezed shut in fear.

  “Why don’t you come up here?” Bryce asked Enne, motioning her forward. “I have a few more safe cards to distribute.”

  But Enne felt far away as she studied the scene around her, as though watching from a distance. Too much tonight didn’t make sense. Harrison had killed his mother, ensuring that the carriers of her three omertas survived, but he’d also done it in a crowded room. He still held his gun, in fact. Yet no one moved against him. None of the guests even spoke at all.

  She opened her mouth to ask, “What’s going on?” but she didn’t know if the words came out. She didn’t trust her own senses.

  She must’ve spoken, though, because Bryce responded, “This is a game. My game. And tonight, everyone in this casino is going to play.” He licked his lips as he turned back to the crowd. “If everyone would reach into your pockets, you should all have a card.”

  Hesitantly, every person searched themselves, and Enne watched numbly as the guests each pulled out a plain, typical playing card.

  “Would those with the Shadow Cards please join me up here?” Bryce asked impatiently, meeting Enne’s gaze. With a start, Enne realized that his eyes were scarlet, like a story plucked from one of Grace’s legends.

  She felt foolish now for never suspecting. Bryce’s eyes, Enne recalled, had always looked bloodshot. He’d been wearing contacts, just like her.