“I lied.”
“What did you see?” He spoke so quietly that Levi barely heard him over the snaps of breaking wood. The hallway was a whole other level of shatz that Levi couldn’t handle right now. In the vision, he’d thought that the black doors belonged to someone else—but the visions were just dreams. If Levi thought about them too much, he’d lose it, and he was running out of things to lose.
“What did you see?” Jac repeated.
Several yards away, Levi caught an Iron watching the scene. He didn’t know her name—she was probably a low-ranking runner—nor did he think she recognized him. She smiled. An enemy lord was dead.
What she didn’t know was that Reymond had saved Levi from starvation when he was twelve years old. That Reymond had taught Levi everything about being a lord. That, without Reymond, the Irons would’ve fallen apart years ago.
The second floor of the building collapsed, tearing the rest of the structure down with it. A wave of dirt and pebbles crashed over the street, and Levi covered his eyes. Dust coated his lips. He spit, then he grabbed his hat off the ground, shook it clean and whispered a goodbye.
* * *
Vianca’s secretary looked up from her files. “Mr. Glaisyer! Madame Augustine—”
Levi threw open the door before she could finish.
He’d been working for Vianca for four years, and still her office made him nervous. Decorated in velvet and swathed in darkness, a luxurious cave with a dragon lurking within. Her menacing eyes peered at him in the dim lamplight.
“Levi,” she purred. “It isalwaysa pleasure.”
Her aura smelled like emerald green, pines and vinegar. It wafted about the room, curling into corners, kissing the skin on Levi’s neck. He shook off his revulsion and leaned against the bookcases, his arms crossed.
“Reymond Kitamura is dead,” he spat. He was too furious for the words to register, even though it was he who spoke them. It felt as though he’d been shot, but was in too much shock to feel the pain.
Although Vianca didn’t smile, she had a way of making her frowns look like pleasure. “Is that why you’re covered in dirt?” She preferred Levi to wear suits, especially the crisp ones she bought him. Every time he stepped outside of St. Morse, she wanted the city to know he was hers. He never obliged, and the omerta never forced him. Still, he knew her wishes. He knew how she liked him.
Like a puppet, dangling on her strings.
“I was there,” he fumed. “He was murdered. And it wasyourfault.”
She pursed her lips and poured herself a cup of tea from the black pot with the jagged handle. Levi could tell it was her favorite blend—the tea smelled bitter, even from across the room.
“How exactly amIresponsible for the death ofyourbusiness partner?” she asked. Her gaze roamed up his body and his clothes, searching for tears and bruises and weak spots like a miner searching for gold.
“Sedric’s thugs locked him in a building and burned the place down.” Levi shuddered—he could still see the flames when he closed his eyes.
“You think killing Reymond—who was a perfectly successful criminal in his own right—was a message for you? How...” She sipped her tea. “Narcissistic.”
His nostrils flared. “Iknowit was a message for me.” He took the two Shadow Cards out of his pocket and tossed them on her desk.
She paled. The silver backs of the cards glinted like blades in the lamplight. Shakily, she reached for them. “How did you get these?” she rasped. She traced a long manicured nail over one of the edges, as though searching for a trick.
“They were gifts from Sedric Torren. One three nights ago. One today.”
“The House of Shadows has been empty since the Great Street War.” The House of Shadows was the mysterious mansion where the Phoenix Club had once played the Shadow Game. Legend claimed it was haunted.
“Not anymore,” Levi said. He didn’t add what he knew about Lourdes Alfero, that he might not have been the Phoenix Club’s first victim since their grand reopening.
“Six more days,” she read. “Until what?”
“Until my deadline. Until I’m dead.” He slammed his hands on her desk. “Tenthousandvolts. Are you happy now? Your scam is going to get me killed.” He took the clock off her desk and chucked it against the wall. It shattered. Vianca didn’t even wince, which only enraged him further. Nothing touched her, yet every attack pierced him. “And where were you? Away! Away campaigning for a hopeless election that’s already rigged against you.”
She said nothing, which was fine with Levi. He wasn’t finished yet.
“And Enne! I bring her here because she needed help. Thick of me to trust that you, just once, would actually help someone. Helpme.” He panted, out of breath from shouting. The secretary outside had probably heard everything he said, but he didn’t care. He was furious enough to kill Vianca...if only he could.
Slowly, Vianca stood up, and Levi instantly felt smaller. Younger. Weaker.
