The walls of the room suddenly felt smaller, closer. And, at last, Enne began to cry.
“I...” He blinked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.” Slowly, hesitantly, he moved closer to her as her shoulders heaved and took her in his arms. His touch was warm. Enne almost slid away, but truthfully, she welcomed the comfort—even from him. She had no one else.
“I’ve never met one of her others,” he murmured. “I’ve always been alone.”
“I want to go home.”
“I know.”
“I want to find Lourdes.” She’d never needed her mother as much as she did in this moment. Missing her felt like missing something vital in her chest. It ached as she steadied her sobs.
“I promise we will,” he said. She clung to his words like a life raft.
“But what if Vianca gives me another assignment?” she asked.
“Then you do it. That’s all you can do.” He let her go, and she pulled away from him and wiped her nose. “Tomorrow night, we’ll go to the Sauterelle. We’ll learn what we can about Lourdes.”
She nodded. It was a start. She picked up the orb and handed it to him one more time. “Iwantyou to have it.”
He took it, though she could tell it hurt him to do so. “I promise, Enne.” Her name sounded strange on his lips. He’d always called her “missy.”
“I’m going to help you. We’re in this together, you and I.”
She smiled weakly. They were, in more ways than one.
As he opened the door to leave, she asked, “What were you talking to Sedric about? I saw you speaking earlier, in the Tropps Room.”
He paused and looked back at her for a moment, his expression perfectly blank.
“Nothing,” he said. “We were only talking about a card game.”
Before Enne could ask another question, Levi was already closing the door behind him.
DAY TWO
“If you must visit, reader, then I implore you: remain only on the South Side. Do not cross the Brint. Do not believe their smiles. Do not stray into their lairs. Or you may never come out.”
—The City of Sin, a Guidebook: Where To Go and Where Not To
LEVI
In an abandoned park in Old Towne, Jac Mardlin leaned against a wrought iron fence, his newsboy cap tilted down over his face. A briny morning mist hung in the air from last night’s rain. Everything was dark; it was perpetually dark in Olde Town. The buildings were made of glossy black stone, their spires and archways casting barbed shadows into the alleys. It all looked and smelled like a grotto.
Jac was a mere silhouette in the mist, still and quiet.
Levi might not have recognized him if not for the signature gray aura encircling his friend’s body. It was light and smelled of linen, and Levi felt himself relax from its familiarity, like returning home after a long day.
Levi tapped him on the shoulder, and Jac opened one eye. It was gray. Everything about Jac seemed gray and colorless, except for the red card tattoos on his arms and the faded scars beside them.
“’Lo, Levi.” He yawned and crossed his heart.
“Long night?”
“I had a shift.” Jac worked as a bouncer at a gambling den called the Hound’s Tooth a few blocks from St. Morse. The den’s owner was one of the Irons’ oldest clients.
Unlike the other gangs, which operated on crime and on New Reynes’s constant appetite for sin of all sorts, the Irons appealed to only a single vice: greed. They worked as contractors. Every few months, Levi selected a new gambling establishment and promised the owner that, if they hired his kids, he could raise their profits by 20 percent in three months. First, Levi brought in the card dealers, his expert cheats. Then he brought in the bouncers, the actors, the bartenders. He could sweeten every pot and rig every game—he had his consulting down to an art—and all he asked for in return was 15 percent of any growth. It was a deal very few could refuse.
“You look like you had a long night, too,” Jac said.
