Lola stared at her incredulously. “You won’t make it out alive.”
Enne slammed the drawer closed and grabbed Lola by the shoulders. “Levi is going to die the same way Lourdes did. Ineedto stop the Shadow Game, and all I have is a revolver with no bullets.”
“The Shadow Game?” Lola’s eyes widened. “The Torrens aren’t part of the Phoenix Club.”
“I trust Vianca’s sources.”
Lola’s face shadowed. “So it’s like that with Vianca?”
Enne let her go and stared at the floor. She couldn’t bring herself to lie to Lola anymore, even if it meant Lola abandoning her.
“Time is already running out,” she pleaded. “Please, Lola.”
After a few moments of consideration, Lola relaxed her shoulders. She drew a key out of her pocket and unlocked a different drawer of her desk. “These were your bullets.” She handed Enne three of them, then she rummaged around for additional knives and weapons. “You reallycanfit a lot of daggers in that dress.”
Killing a man with a gun? That would be easy. Impersonal. Enne might not feel the guilt over murdering someone like Sedric Torren, but her skin crawled to think of how close she’d need to get to him to use a knife. To feel his hands grabbing her as she attacked him. To hear him curse in her ear as she ended his life. She wasn’t sure she could do that.
“Do you have poison?” Enne asked.
Lola hesitated. “I might.” She pulled out a small leather case and closed the drawer. “This belonged to my younger brother, once. But he doesn’t need it anymore.” There was unmistakable sadness in Lola’s voice.
Enne slid off the lid. Inside was a syringe, filled with a wine-dark fluid. She reached in to touch it, but Lola slapped her hand away. “It’s almost instantaneous death. Very obvious, and very traceable.”
Which meant she’d need to get Sedric somewhere private. Enne shivered.
“It’s an hour walk to Luckluster from here,” Lola said. “A thirty-minute Mole ride.”
It was seven thirty. Levi could be there by now. Levi could already be dead. “There’s nothing faster?”
“Nothing that I...” Lola’s face broke into a grin. “You can pick locks.”
Enne’s skin prickled nervously. She didn’t like that daring look on the blood gazer’s face. “I can picksomelocks.”
“My neighbor sells Mistress for the Augustines. Got himself this real nice Houssen Amberlite in his garage. It’s fast. And brand-new.”
Nine days ago Enne would’ve immediately vetoed the idea. Stealing a car? It was dangerous. It was shatz.
But it was the fastest way to save Levi.
So Enne swallowed her reservations, slid the leather case into the pocket of her dress, and asked, “Can you drive?”
LEVI
Levi picked up a card. The king of clubs. He fought back a confident smile as the man next to him turned over a pair of queens and a three of spades. To reveal such an advantageous Tropp so early, the player was trying to seem cocky, even though he looked everywhere but the card table. It was the easiest bluff to spot.
Levi took a sip from a glass of the tonic water he’d brought with him from St. Morse. Nobody noticed him dab his pointer finger in the glass as he set it down. On the back of the king of clubs card, he stealthily drew aKCwith his finger.
Normally, Levi preferred not to resort to cheating. But tonight, he could afford nothing short of winning.
The rounds continued, and Levi easily outplayed the man’s bluff. The dealer called the game for the Iron Lord.
His opponent threw his cards on the table in defeat, and Levi took the pot. He’d won two and a half thousand volts tonight, which meant he had just enough to pay back Sedric—with his own casino’s volts.
Levi felt the weight of the pouch of orbs in his pocket. Examined the mountain of red and black Luckluster chips in front of him.
He was done. He was safe.
He let out a sigh that he’d been holding in for months now and leaned back into his chair. Levi had never been inside Luckluster Casino, and the Torrens couldn’t have decorated it in any way more opposite to St. Morse’s royal grandeur. Everything was red and black: the furnishings, the lights, the attire. But despite being one of the city’s two richest casinos, inside, it looked more like a cheap nightclub. The ambience and color scheme was probably meant to appear fiendishly luxe, but even to Levi—who was certainly no prude—everything about the casino seemed vulgar. Fishnets, cherry lips, black lace, scarlet nails. Satin bedsheet curtains; glow-in-the-dark artwork of lips and curves; dancers lounging in windows above the main gambling floor, their long legs and stiletto heels dangling from the bannisters.
