“Can’t I be both?” Levi murmured.
Narinder pursed his lips, like he wanted to say no. But instead he told him, “I guess we’ll find out.”
* * *
Over the past two weeks of refurbishment, the Irons had decorated their museum as lavishly as the dumpsters of Olde Town could provide. Discarded Faith charms and trinkets hung along the staircase, clacking and chiming as people brushed past. Every piece of wooden furniture wore a new silver coat of paint.
As Levi entered, the Irons straightened in their rocking chairs and splintered barstools, pausing their card games and whispered conversations to stare at him. The air felt uneasy and still.
Confused, Levi sauntered over to Tommy. “Don’t stop your games on my account.” When Tommy looked away instead of responding, Levi grabbed the magazine out of his hands. “TheKiss & Tell? Bit of a trash tabloid, isn’t it?” He glanced at the title on the opened page: “Most Eligible Persons of the North Side.”
“Oh,” Tommy said, clearing his throat. “It’s, um...”
Levi furrowed his eyebrows. “Why are you all acting like someone died? Did Scavenger make it in here or something?” He scanned the sketched faces and recognized Narinder as number one. “Bet he’s pleased,” Levi muttered, though secretly, he was, as well.
Then, past a few famous cabaret vedettes and businessmen, down at number nine, Levi found his own face, straight from his wanted poster. He tried very hard to suppress his grin. Tabloids were ridiculous, of course, but—Levi straightened out his shirt—he did look pretty good.
Levi slapped Tommy on the back, making him wince. “Muck, Tommy, I’m the one with the broken ribs here.” He scanned the other faces around the foyer. It seemed the tabloid wasn’t why they looked anxious. “Anyone going to fill me in on what I’ve missed?”
Mansi stood abruptly, making her stool skid across the stone floor. “Chez is dead.”
Whatever Levi had been expecting her to say, it wasn’t that.
“Dead?” Levi rasped. “From what?”
“From burns.” The look in her eyes made it clear her words were an accusation—no, a conviction. Chez had tried to challenge Levi, and so Levi had murdered his third.
Mansi stalked past him, bumping painfully into his side, and stormed out of the building. Levi watched the door close behind her with nausea churning in his stomach. He squeezed Tommy’s shoulder and bent over, certain he was about to be sick.
No, he wasn’t like the other lords.
“You’re hurting me,” Tommy told him, and Levi wrenched his hand away.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“So it’s true?” Tommy asked nervously.
Levi remembered it all with disturbing clarity. The starved look in Chez’s eyes when he’d found Levi in that alley. The feeling of Chez’s gun pressed against his temple. The burning mouthful of Gambler’s Ruin that Levi had spit on him. The bloody flesh and exposed bone circling Chez’s wrists where Levi had grabbed him.
They’d been friends, once.
Now Levi actually did taste vomit. “I...”
“Levi!” Tock called from the top of the stairwell. All the charms and chimes clattered as she descended a few steps. “You have a phone call.”
Levi barely even registered her words before he rushed up the stairs, fleeing from the other Irons. Tock grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him up the last step. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she hissed. “They’ve been sitting there all day like this.” She grabbed the copy ofThe Kiss & Tellhe was still holding and threw it on the ground.
“Is it true?” Levi whispered.
“It’s true.” She led him to his room, and he numbly followed. “But you need to pull yourself together. Harrison Augustine is on the phone.”
Levi’s stomach lurched again.Finally. He ran to the telephone resting on a repurposed absinthe crate in the room’s corner. “’Lo?” he breathed into the receiver.
“You called?” The purr in the voice was unmistakable.
“Yes,” Levi growled. “Two weeks ago. Where have you been?”
“It’s been busy since the announcement. Interviews, visits, speeches—”
