Page 66 of Heart of Thieves

“Who’s there?” Isla whispers.

“You go on ahead,” I say, feigning concern. “Get what you can from Salazar’s office. Meet me down the street behind the dumpster in ten minutes. I’ll go stake it out.”

She nods, stowing her device in her pocket and scurrying away.

I launch into the air, going noncorporeal as I sail toward the ground. Pausing only to retrieve the remnants of the exploded poppers, I duck into the alley as constables rush about, searching for the source of the gunshots. Then I race up the street and into my father’s building, heart pounding.

As I reach the top floor, St. James is peering cautiously out his door. “Marlo?” he calls to the man standing guard at the end of the hall. “Did I hear a gun?”

Every part of me goes twitchy at the sight of him, and the memory of his hand clamping on mine skirts like a ghost in my peripheral vision. Holding my breath, I slip past him into the office. A massive latched black box sits on his desk.

“There she is,” I whisper. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure my father is still preoccupied, I let Enzo’s magic go long enough to grasp the box and render it noncorporeal. Dropping a piece of parchment on the desk in its place (Thank you.—N ), I scurry past my father once more, down the stairs, and out to where Estelle is idling in a motorcar two blocks north.

“I have to get back. Isla might be in trouble,” I say as I slide the box into the back seat. “You’ve got the caterers and entertainment all set up for tonight?”

She nods once. “You got the game all planned out? Voratium pieces where they need to be for the illusions?”

I scan quickly through my mental map of where I planted everything last night when Isla and Arden were asleep. “I think so. But I have to get back to the Brig, and I won’t be able to break free again until the game tonight.”

“Got it. Go!” Estelle waves me off, and I sprint back the way I came.

Gunfire splits the air as I come around the corner, and I gather in all the strength I have left in my bracelet to tear forward.

Isla pelts out the front door of Salazar’s building, pointing a gun over her shoulder, eyes frantic, and I let myself back into my physical form in time to grab her arm and drag her toward the sea. “Come on!” I shout.

“Lola?” she gasps. “Thank the gods, where were you?!”

“Got held up. I’ll explain later.”

I spend the rest of our trek back through the waves concocting a story I pray will hold out long enough to get us through this weekend.

Gods, I’m in over my head.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

NIC

I stay at the beach far longer than I should. Laurel scratches like dust in my eyes, checking on me, but thankfully she does not take over and force me home. As the hours pass, she dissipates from my vision, leaving me be once it’s clear I’m not going anywhere.

I walk up and down the shore, dress shoes and socks clenched tightly in my fists. My toes squelch into the sand. A salted breeze whips my hair back from my face.

I want to run. Want to disappear and never return to Laurel or the apartment that feels like a cage or the city that watches from every side. Want to dive into the water and swim until I reach the horizon.

But Laurel will find me, and if I show my hand, she’ll never let me loose again.

Still, I wrestle with it for hours. How to get rid of her, how to stop her, how to unravel her plans.

I cannot keep this up. Cannot acquiesce to something I disagree with so fundamentally. Cannot pretend any of this is okay.

But would it be wise to put my foot down? The feeling of her wrenching magic through me, making me wield it in a way I never have—never would—resonates in my bones. How much damage would she do if provoked?

There is no way out. Not that I can see, anyway.

Not yet.

I cannot give in. Not without trying. Not without pushing back, however much I can, even if it gets me nowhere.

So, as the sun dips orange toward the horizon, I take a deep breath, shove my feet into my sodden shoes, and trudge back to our apartment. I spend the following day preparing for Nocturne’s game.