“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 furious 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.
