Page 19 of Heart of Thieves

I study the threads of magic coursing from me to her, golden light blazing between us. She’s casting a powerful visual illusion of utter darkness to Enzo alongside a feeling of suffocating weight similar to what I just did to Forsyth. Like she’s giving the shadow a heft so crushing that Enzo’s brain may short-circuit.

Sure enough, an instant later, he slumps over her, rippling into invisibility as his hold on the magic keeping him corporeal breaks.

Lola pushes weakly to her feet, chest heaving. The Nocturne illusion bleeds away, and she staggers as though she can barely hold up her own weight. Her hair is a tangle around a flushed face shining with sweat, and her expression is anything but triumphant as she leans on the nearest lamppost to steady herself.

Gods, she’s beautiful.

“What are you smiling about?” Laurel asks.

I blink, mentally kicking myself. “The secret we got. It shows who St. James’s new right hand is. Our job was successful.”

Her eyes narrow, and then my nerves buzz with the feel of her in my body. She puts my hands on as though they’re gloves and forces me to drop the voratium still clutched in my hand.

Shit.

The illusion fades instantly, and Laurel’s eyes snap to Lola. Recognition narrows her glare as she glances to me and back again. “That’s her, isn’t it? The one people thought you were in love with during your game.”

“She’s just some girl,” I say, mouth suddenly dry. “Magazines print whatever juicy gossip they think will sell, regardless of its veracity.”

Her lips purse.

Run, I want to scream at Lola. Get out of here!

But her limbs are quaking, clearly so heavy with fatigue she can barely move.

“She’s got a lot of sin in her,” Laurel muses, and I hate what those words mean. That she’s strumming along Lola’s nerves. That she’s testing her to see if she might be able to puppet her around the way she does me.

“Who doesn’t?” I ask. “Surely she, out of everyone in this city, is not your highest concern.”

Laurel seems to hear the desperation I’m trying so hard to keep out of my voice because her eyes snap to mine. She reaches for the sash at her waist and pulls out a small engraved pistol. “Shoot her.”

I blink. “What?”

“You heard me. If she’s just some girl, then get rid of her.” She holds out the pistol for me to take. “The gods have decreed she’s a sinner—they’ve shown me through my magic. So do it.”

I lick my lips. Laurel’s presence vibrates against the marionette strings inside me. If I want Lola to get out of here alive, I need to move quickly before Laurel decides to take over and do it herself.

“Fine.” I snatch the pistol as though I couldn’t care less and point it at Lola. Then I take a step forward as though to get a better aim, fake a stumble, and trip into Laurel, slamming us both to the ground as I fire past Lola.

Lola whirls, eyes widening.

I don’t need to sense emotions to feel the way glimpsing me pointing a gun her way breaks her. I see it in the way her body twitches. In the way her jaw hardens. In the way she blinks several times in rapid succession.

She snatches up a briefcase from the sidewalk and stumbles into the bushes, vanishing just as Laurel pushes herself upright.

“You . . . you did that on purpose.” Laurel’s voice is not cold or angry the way I expect it to be. It’s barely more than a whisper. Almost like she’s choking back sobs.

“I tripped.”

She stares at me for several long moments. A thousand emotions chase themselves across her face like shadows in the starlight. Frustration. Confusion. Fear. Her magic floods through me, rooting me to the spot, slamming my jaw closed so hard it sings.

The prickle of her control delves beyond my voluntary movements. My lungs solidify so I cannot draw in air. My pulse halts as my heart stops beating. Pain explodes in my skull, but I cannot cry out.

Then she swallows, eyes widening, and she releases me, stumbling backward. “I—I . . .”

I cough, doubling over.

“I have to go,” she chokes out before sprinting away, disappearing up the road and around the corner.