“I don’t,” he agreed. He set the newspaper down in his lap, revealing a front-page photo of the destroyed Revolution Bridge.
“Why not?” Jac demanded. Last night, after listening to their plans, Levi had merely muttered to Jac, “I trust you,” before abandoning them to interrupt Enne at a card table. Now Jac realized Levi hadn’t listened at all.
“Harrison wants to quietly back the winner of this feud,” he answered. “Nothing about you is quiet. How are you even connected to the Family?”
“I’m Charles’s and Delia’s sister,” she answered. “We’re all half siblings.”
“Do they know about you?”
“No,” she answered, but Jac knew that wasn’t the full answer—he just didn’t know what the truth was.
“How do you plan on winning this?” Levi asked. “At best, you control one den.”
“I know all the supply routes.” Sophia’s words were smooth from her rehearsal that morning with Jac. “I’ve met nearly all the Apothecaries, who are more interested in stability than loyalty. With Harrison’s resources, we could convince them of my leadership and block Delia’s and Charles’s shipments. We—”
“‘We’?” Levi repeated. His gaze flickered to Jac, and he narrowed his eyes. “All Harrison needed was a name. That’s the whole assignment. The whole p-promise.” He stuttered a bit on the last word.
Jac straightened. “I’m helping her.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Iwantto.” He kept his voice firm, but he still withered at the dark expression on Levi’s face. Even though he’d braved some of his worst fears these past few weeks—and set them aflame—part of him still looked to Levi to anchor him.
Silence fell a second time, and it didn’t let up until the motorcar stopped.
At least Levi trusted him enough not to turn the car around, Jac told himself. The thought didn’t make him feel any better as he climbed out and stared at the Kipling’s Hotel in front of him.
Even more than its adjacent high-end department store, the hotel was famous for murder. On the first day of the Revolution, the best friend of the prince of Reynes was shot in the head in the bathtub of the grand suite. Now the hotel had been transformed into a sort of museum, with tours open during business hours. The decorations inside had a disturbing sort of glamour, with vases full of glass eyes, and scarlet carpets dripping down marble stairs.
Jac shook his head and rubbed his Creed. He was a sorry excuse for a member of the Faithful, but even he could tell this place was unholy.
A man stood up from a chaise in the lobby, wearing an eyepatch and a slim-fitting suit. Jac guessed him to be in his thirties, and like his mother, his eye was so green it looked like a jewel you could pluck out.
Despite his haggardness, Levi plastered on a million-volt smile and smoothly shook Harrison’s hand. Unlike Jac, Levi wore his suit like it was made for him.
“Have you seen the papers?” Harrison asked Levi. “If I’d known your stunt would havethislevel of repercussions, I never would’ve agreed. They’re adding travel and licensing restrictions to those with Talents of Mysteries, like we’ve gone back in time twenty-five years. It’s barbaric. Even if it barely affects the South Side, I still—”
“They’reconsideringrestrictions—”
“It’ll happen, mark my words,” he said darkly. Then Harrison shifted his gaze to Jac.
“Harrison, this is Jac Mardlin, my second,” Levi introduced. Jac took Harrison’s hand to shake, even though it felt wrong. An ex-Family prince and an ex-addict weren’t the sort of men who usually crossed paths.
“And this is Sophia Torren,” Levi told him.
Harrison cleared his throat with surprise. “You look like a Torren,” he managed, and Jac couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or an insult. Sophia’s brown curls did resemble those of her siblings, but the differences between them still seemed obvious to Jac. Her green eyes, for instance. And her lack of bloodlust.
Harrison shot Levi a wary look, one that twisted Jac’s stomach like a corkscrew. They might fail before they’d even had a chance to plead their case.
Sophia seemed to share his thoughts, because she told Harrison, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I’m afraid I can’t say the same.”
“Yes. Purposefully so.” She flashed a winning smile, and Jac had to admire the confidence of her bluff. It was hard not to be charmed by her.
Sophia’s response relaxed Harrison’s shoulders. “We can talk in my room.” He led them to an elevator, and from there, to an upper floor suite. The morbid decor in Harrison’s rooms matched the rest of the hotel. From the coffee table, a radio replayed Sergeant Roy Pritchard’s same statement about the explosion at Revolution Bridge, assuring the citizens of New Reynes that they were still safe and that the efforts to clean out the North Side would be tripled.
“Ever hear of this station?” Harrison asked.
