“These aren’t businesses—they’re gangs. Who cares if the numbers don’t add up?”
Grace bent down and snatched a glossy piece of paper hidden under the girl’s notebook, pulling away the whole magazine with it. “Really, Charlotte?” She threw the copy ofThe Kiss & Tellacross the room. “So when you find an error, what do you do?”
Charlotte shrugged and grabbed herself a piece of candy from the bowl beside her. “I give it to Marcy. She lives for it.”
Enne looked around at the girls and realized Marcy, the youngest girl among them, who wore glasses so large they made her face look bug-like, was the only one actually working. The others were reading from Enne’s stash of romance novels or braiding their hair.
“This place is a mess,” Lola said flatly. “It’s a good thing we’re not hiring a boy, otherwise none of you would get anything done.” She tipped Charlotte’s bottle of pink nail polish over on her magazine.
A number of voices chorused around the room.
“That was fromKipling’s,” Charlotte snapped first.
“We’re getting a boy?” Marcy asked, flushing and dropping her piece of chalk.
“As ifyouever do anything here other than chauffeur Enne around and sneak out every night,” Grace muttered to Lola.
Lola whipped around, as though trying to decide who to strike first. Enne whacked her over the head with Grace’s notebook.
“Enough,” she hissed. “Charlotte, I want you to call the potential investors on the next sales list and see if you can make up these losses. Grace, if you’re going to spend time fixing Levi’s math, I expect you to charge him for it. And Lola—um, play nice.”
Lola rolled her eyes. “I hate all of you. And I especially hatethis.” She kicked a pink fur pillow across the floor.
“I’m going to my office,” Enne groaned, and then she swept off down the hallway. It’d been several hours since she last manned her phone, and knowing Vianca, she’d probably tried to call a dozen times in Enne’s absence. Lately, the donna’s list of requests grew ever longer and more absurd, including demanding the Spirits run election polls and forcing Enne to recite all the reasons why Harrison was a failure as a son.
Lola followed Enne to the headmistress’s office, which the two of them shared. She slung her top hat on the desk and instinctively reached for the radio.
“The North Side isn’t a no-go zone,” Harrison Augustine told the reporter in a muffled voice, like he was pushing the microphone away. “The Mole lines are operating normally. In fact, violent crimes in the North Side have decreased by—”
“The Senate vote regarding the registration of the Talents of Mysteries is tomorrow,” the reporter interrupted. “You’ve expressed reluctance regarding this in the past. How do you feel now that the vote is this close?”
Enne sighed and reached for the half-full mug of tea on her desk, sweetened with six teaspoons of sugar. The election wasn’t for three months yet, and she already needed a vacation.
“Public fear is on the rise, and I think what everyone—NorthandSouth Side—wants is extra peace of mind. That’s my only comment.”
“What a mucking useless answer,” Lola spat. “It’s no wonder Prescott is beating him.”
Enne’s heart clenched. Even if she hated the First Party for its connections to the Phoenix Club, Enne had a vested interest in seeing Harrison win the election. If Harrison won, then she and Levi would be free of Vianca forever.
“Just because our polls say one thing, doesn’t mean—” Enne started.
“Our polls are right.” Lola fiddled with the radio dial, switching between talk shows, music, and static. “You know, Vianca would probably approve of a publication that shows the North Side’s support for Prescott, since no one else will print the truth.”
“Is that how you’re pitching things to me now? How they would please Vianca?”
“You use the name Séance, which was Lourdes’s pen name. It’s her legacy.”
Enne knew Lola felt more strongly about politics than she did, but she’d never imagined Lola would play such a card.
“It wasn’t her legacy,” Enne snapped. “It was her death sentence.”
The words might’ve been harsh, but they worked. Lola quietly returned to changing the radio stations, and Enne slipped out of the room to clear her head.
Enne climbed the stairs to the dormitories and spotted a cat perched on the bannister. In an effort to make the finishing school feel more like home, Marcy had adopted thirteen strays, which she’d named after famous legends from the North Side.
“You’re not supposed to wander,” Enne told him, picking him up. Marcy had named this one Veil for the black fur on his head, matching the tales of how Veil had kept his face hidden. As Enne carried him back to the dormitories, she noticed the calico, Inamorata, curled up asleep in the hallway, and that one of the doors had been left ajar.
Suddenly a hand clasped over Enne’s mouth. Another hand circled around her waist and held her firmly.
