Bryce’s aura. A curling mixture of black and scarlet, thicker than smoke. The metallic taste of it overwhelmed Levi, and all of his senses ignited in warning. His split talent was weak—he could only sense the auras of those he knew well, or, in Vianca’s case, someone who had power over him. The fact that he could now see Bryce’s...
Levi took a step back in alarm.
“What’s wrong?” Bryce asked, frowning.
Levi opened his mouth, but he could think of nothing to say that didn’t sound shatz. His mother had once told him to run if he ever encountered a black aura. That a black aura belonged to nothing human. A dozen different street legends crossed his mind, each more outrageous and horrifying than the next.
Levi didn’t believe in superstitions, but he did trust his instincts.
So he took off. He pushed his way through the crowded dance floor until he was out the door in the humid July night air, and by the time he returned home, Levi had convinced himself he’d only seen a trick of the light. Yet as he lay in bed, he could picture nothing but that noxious darkness, with its red veins and coppery taste.
Like his own blood.
ENNE
Enne vowed that the first purchase with their stock market earnings would be a bed. She tugged the sheet over herself, trying desperately to avoid thinking about what the previous owner had done on this mattress to leave such disturbing stains. Grace and Lola had retrieved it from a Casino District dumpster, crowing as though they’d stumbled upon lost treasure, but Enne would treasure nothing more than to toss it back into the filth it came from.
“So we starved for two weeks for no reason,” Grace grumbled on Enne’s right. “If you would just make volts, then I wouldn’t need a rich South Side man to cater to me. I’ve gotyou.”
Enne had told Grace the truth about her lineage that morning, the day after she’d given Enne her oath. Grace had taken it surprisingly well. In fact, she’d been most upset about how Enne refused to use her blood talent, as though she’d taken pleasure in their recent bout of poverty. Lola had made Grace swear on every man she’d ever killed that she’d tell no one, but Enne already trusted Grace. And she was relieved that she’d no longer need to sneak around to apply her contacts.
“Enne’s talent isn’t a joke,” Lola snapped at Grace on Enne’s other side. She held her pillow over her head.
Grace ignored Lola and rested her head on Enne’s shoulder. “I’ve just been thinking...” she mused. “Gabrielle Dondelair must’ve had it pretty good before, you know...”
“She died?” Lola said drily.
“Yeah, sure.”
“You know that even if Ennedidmake volts, we couldn’t just go flaunting them, right? We can’t just be broke one day and wildly wealthy the next. People would start asking questions.”
Grace shrugged. “So we reinvent ourselves as South Side heiresses. We basically already have.”
“Both of you, quiet,” Enne hissed. “The lords agreed to the market. I’m going to meet potential investors with Levi tomorrow night. We’ve gotten what we wanted.”
“Maybeyouhave. But I’m going to have to do more math, and that has never been what I wanted.”
“Boo hoo,” Lola muttered underneath her pillow.
“I’veactuallykilled people, unlike you, you fake, sneaky...” Grace reached over Enne to smack Lola, painfully leaning on Enne’s hair in the process. “You act like a killer, but you’re just a killjoy.”
Lola swatted at her, refusing to remove the pillow from her face. “Well, you look like a twelve-year-old without your eyeliner.”
Enne pushed Grace off her and sat up, running her fingers through the knots in her hair. “I would like to sleep if you two could shut up.” She hadn’t slept well in weeks. Every night meant a visit to the same hallway, and for someone who prided herself on her practicality, Enne could come up with no explanation for why this happened—only that it wasn’t good.
“You mentioned that you can’t make orbs without an orb-maker,” Grace said, apparently not finished with their conversation.
“Yep,” Enne answered tersely.
“And Levi refused you.”
“Yep,” she said at the same time Lola responded, “The only rational decision he’s ever made.”
“Have you ever tried just depositing them yourself?” Grace asked. “You know, the way anyone would deposit volts into orbs from their skin?”
Enne had never considered making volts without Levi. “Would that work?” she asked quietly.
“Of course not,” Lola snapped. “What Mizers makeisn’tvolts. It’s energy. The orb-makers turn it into volts...why are you getting up?”
