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Ace of Shades (The Shadow Game Series) by Amanda Foody (31)

LEVI

“Don’t. Mucking. Move,” Levi shouted, pointing the gun around the room. The Phoenix Club watched him with wide, dead eyes and remained motionless. You couldn’t kill them with time, but you could kill anything with a bullet.

“Put the gun down,” Josephine Fenice said calmly. Too calmly. He’d just shot the Chancellor of the whole Republic right in front of her, and he would happily shoot her next. He certainly wasn’t calm.

“Let her go,” Levi ordered the man pinning Enne against the table. The man raised his arms, and Enne hurriedly straightened. Her eyes, once brown, were now blazingly violet. Her aura, too, had shifted from swirls of dark blue to a violent storm of purple and silver, deepening the original smells of coffee and bourbon with hints of gunpowder.

Auras weren’t supposed to change.

It was dark enough in the room that he doubted anyone else had noticed her eyes during the Game, but now...now the two of them held their full attention. He needed to get Enne out of here before anyone figured out who—and what—she was.

“Séance,” Levi said, even if the name sounded shatz, “go stand by the door.” Enne did as instructed, and Levi’s shoulder relaxed once she was safely tucked into the corner, far enough away that the Phoenix Club wouldn’t see her Mizer eyes.

Levi reached for the remaining black orbs and returned their energy to his body. He didn’t feel any different afterward than he had before: exhausted, the blood pumping so slowly inside him that his gears felt stuck together. Most of his life energy—whatever that was—was gone. He wondered how long it would take to regenerate.

If it ever did.

Levi backed toward the door. Every part of him ached, but muck—it felt good to move. He didn’t think he’d walk again.

“We’ll only find you again,” Josephine said matter-of-factly. “You can’t run from us.”

From the moment Levi left this room, he would be a real criminal. He’d always been a cheat, but he’d never caused enough trouble that he’d needed to hide. Starting tonight, he would be a wanted man. Wherever he ran, the Phoenix Club would follow.

Gabrielle Dondelair had lasted only a few hours.

Enne grabbed his arm reassuringly. “We’re leaving.”

She opened the door, pulled Levi into the stairwell and slammed it closed. They raced downstairs—a feat nearly impossible for Levi in his current state. Besides his multiple injuries, his body was three-quarters of the way to death. Enne had to prop his arm around her shoulder just to keep him upright.

“Enne,” he hissed frantically in her ear as she helped him down the steps. “If we see anyone at all, you need to close your eyes.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re purple.”

She tensed, but didn’t look as shocked as she should have. What had happened to her during the Game? “Did they see?”

“I don’t think so. We’ll talk about it when we’re alone.” Once they made it out of here.

This had been the room with the dancing girls, but now it was empty. Behind them, laughter and music echoed, coming from somewhere deeper in the house.

Enne pulled him through an archway. The next room smelled strongly of Mistress’s signature sweet smoke, and a few men slept on the floor. They didn’t stir as Levi and Enne dashed toward the exit.

This was too easy. They had simply let them escape. Did the Phoenix Club believe the House of Shadows to be that well protected? Or that they’d meet their fates by the end of tonight?

Enne swung open the front door, and Levi took a deep breath of fresh air and tried to push his anxieties away.

Then he tripped over the body.

He crashed down, knocking his head on the man’s shoulder with an agonizing whack. Enne landed face-first on Levi’s back. Her knee jammed painfully into his wounded leg, and he let out a long, stifled curse.

“Sorry. Sorry,” she said, scrambling up.

Levi stretched himself onto his knees, then nearly let out a scream. He was face-to-face with Shark, the man who had beaten him in the basement. Blood had pooled over the concrete step, trickling down from the bullet hole in his forehead.

“Muck.” He reached for Enne’s hand and nearly jumped to his feet. He’d accidentally laid his palm in the blood, and he hurriedly wiped away the red on his pants, feeling ill.

“I forgot he was here,” Enne murmured.

“How long has he been here?”

“Since I arrived.”

“Since you...you shot him?”

She nodded, her face grim. “Let’s go.”

Levi bent down and carefully removed his pistol from Shark’s pocket and shoved it into his own. If they were going to survive the rest of the night, they both needed protection. “Let’s go,” he breathed, reaching shakily for Enne’s arm to steady him.

Together, they raced across the front lawn and the woods adjacent to the estate’s long driveway, toward the glittering skyline of New Reynes. They could still faintly hear the ghostly music from the House of Shadows in the air.

Levi shivered. Tonight, they’d been the entertainment.

They made it to the main road and waited several moments, hoping for a carriage or motorcar to pass by so they could beg a ride. None did.

“It’s a long walk back to the city,” Enne said, her voice hitched. “They’ve probably already called the whiteboots. They’ll know we can’t have gone far.” He felt her trembling beneath him.

“We could take the Mole. No one takes the Mole,” Levi said, never so eager to ride the subway in his life. If they kept running, they’d find a station within a few minutes.

“The whiteboots will look there,” she answered. She placed a hand on her forehead, breathing deeply, trying to steady herself.

The cool nighttime wind, the agony of every step, the adrenaline of nearly dying—their reality crashed over him all at once, and Levi let out a manic laugh. “Maybe we should consult your guidebook. What does it say to do in this situation?”

Unamused, Enne grabbed his arm and yanked him down the street. He tried to keep up, but it was almost impossible to run. Standing up alone was a struggle, and the pain from his broken ribs and dislocated shoulder were enough to make him faint.

“It says we change our clothes and call Vianca,” she hissed.

“Good plan.”

They ran for a few more minutes before they reached the eastern edge of the Factory District, even beyond the realms of Scar Land. Levi couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so far from downtown. They crept down an alley between two apartment buildings. Enne pointed to a clothesline several floors above them and started toward a metal escape stairwell.

“Wait here,” she whispered, unwrapping his arm from around her shoulder.

Levi nodded, doubting he could make such a climb in his condition. He slumped onto the ground and leaned his head against the wall. The alley reeked of garbage and the odors of the Brint. Very faintly in the distance, he heard the calls of sirens. They were probably meant for them.

He was exhausted. He was beaten. He was light-headed. Even though he should’ve been focusing on their escape, his thoughts jumbled together, and he fixated on only one question.

Gabrielle Dondelair had only lasted hours. How much longer until the Phoenix Club found them?

Enne returned with several articles of clothing. She tossed him a shirt that was clearly several sizes too large. “Get dressed,” she commanded. “And turn around.”

He raised an eyebrow—they were in far too much of a rush for modesty. But still, he stood up painfully and faced the wall, hyperaware of the approaching sirens, hyperaware of Enne in some state of undress behind him. Both of these thoughts made his heart pound.

“Those look terrible,” Enne said from behind him. He realized she was looking at the swollen bruises on his back.

He shot her an annoyed look over his shoulder. Hurt as he was, he couldn’t change as fast as her. He was wearing very little. “I don’t remember giving you permission to peek.”

She flushed indignantly. “I thought you’d be done. Now hurry up. We need to find a pay phone.”

He grumbled and pulled up the too-big pants. Enne was dressed in trousers, a checkered men’s button-up and a pair of socks. Her dress and heels were discarded on the ground.

“I know that dress,” he said, managing a smirk. She’d obviously pulled it from his closet. “You wear New Reynes well.”

Her blush deepened, but after he finished dressing she propped his arm over her shoulder again. “Come on.”

They hurried out of the alley, away from the direction of the sirens. Enne pointed ahead, where a yellow phone booth stood below a streetlamp. They raced toward it.

“Do you have volts?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She rooted around her pocket, pulling out a tube of lipstick, the gun and the silk mask. All the girlie necessities, apparently.

Finally, she pulled out a small orb, bright with volts.

They slid into the phone booth. Enne held the orb up to the meter, and Levi stood behind her. There wasn’t much space, so his chest was pressed against her back. He coughed awkwardly and drummed his fingers against the metal counter, waiting for her to suggest he wait outside. She never did.

Outside, the distant sirens approached. They didn’t have much time.

“Is it safe to call the phone operator?” she asked hurriedly.

He reached over her to the number pad. “Vianca has a private line.”

After he dialed the numbers, Enne held the phone up to both their ears. He held his breath, listening to the ringing. Enne’s face was only inches from his. He stared at all the strands of hair that had fallen from her bun and now draped across the slopes of her neck and shoulders. She had goose bumps, he noticed.

“This is St. Morse Casino, Vianca Augustine’s office,” the secretary answered.

“We need a motorcar,” Enne said frantically. “At the...” She squinted at the Mole station outside. “At the Paidalle station.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s us,” Levi growled. “We need a car.”

“Oh. Oh. Yes. I’ll tell her—”

“And send another car to Luckluster Casino,” Enne told her. “There’ll be a girl there. Tall. Fair skin. Top hat. Black laced boots. She’ll be looking for us.”

“Yes. I’ll let her know.”

Enne hung up. “I hope Lola’s still there, but it’s been hours.”

“I’m sure she’s fine, even if she’s gone.” Levi held his breath. Bent over like he was, his mouth was awfully close to her neck. He cleared his throat. “We need to find somewhere to wait.” A place where there wasn’t negative space between them, and where they wouldn’t be so exposed.

Levi opened the glass door and stumbled out. They stood on a strip of sidewalk that cut down the middle of a street, forking it on either side. The shops around them were closed, metal security doors down and locked. With nowhere else to wait, they climbed down the steps of the adjacent Mole station and collapsed in a corner—close enough to the exit to still hear the sirens and faint noise of the city, but deep enough inside to remain out of sight.

Both of them panted.

“How long will we wait, do you think?” she asked.

“Maybe thirty minutes. We’re a long way from St. Morse.”

She cringed, and their eyes met. Anything could happen in thirty minutes. They could be dead in thirty minutes.

Swallowing down his panic, Levi stretched out his legs and winced at the burning in his muscles. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder, legs out. Enne, he realized, was barefoot except for the socks. Her hand was outstretched beside him.

We will survive this together, he thought, sliding his hand toward hers. But taking it would be as much for comfort as it was for desire. They were on a run for their lives—temptation never came at the proper time.

A rumbling filled the halls as a train sped through the tunnels below.

“My eyes,” she whispered. “How am I supposed to hide them?”

She locked her gaze with his, and, again, he was taken aback by how changed her face looked. How her aura had once smelled of a Gambler’s Ruin, but now also smelled of smoke.

How very difficult it was not to kiss her.

“You’re in luck,” he said, shifting nervously, knowing he should put more distance between them. He didn’t. “Because it so happens that I have the world’s most uncomfortable pair of blue contacts in my pocket this very moment. Perfect for concealing royal lineages and cheating during card games.”

“You’re mucking with me,” she said, eyes narrowed. “You’re doing that face.”

“What face?”

“That smirk of yours.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the case of contacts. “I can make you better ones, at some point. These will do for now.”

“Why do you have these?”

“A series of very poor decisions. Just put them on.”

She walked to the nearest advertisement on the wall and studied her reflection in the tarnished glass. “I don’t even look like me.” Her voice was a mix of both wonder and bitterness.

As Enne struggled to put on the contacts, Levi once again contemplated whether this was his last chance. The sirens outside echoed into the night, and when Levi closed his eyes, he still heard the sound of the gunfire that had ended the Shadow Game.

It would be easy. He would beckon her closer, grab her hands and close the distance between them. If not for her, he would’ve died tonight, and he would’ve died alone. If death was still their fate, then why shouldn’t he kiss her just like he wanted? Just like he knew she wanted, too? In Luckluster, he’d seen his desire reflected in her eyes. They might have survived the Game, but who was to say they would survive the night?

They had always been in this together.

But as she turned to him, her purple eyes now concealed with blue, a fear settled in Levi’s heart. She’d poisoned the most powerful don of the North Side. She recited street rules to herself. She was the daughter of a notorious arsonist, raised by a woman who’d lived a life within the shadows.

She was a Mizer. She was impossible.

They very well might die tonight, but the real danger stood only an arm’s length away. He could kiss Enne, in hopes of surviving the night—or he could let go of his desire, in hopes of surviving tomorrow.

“How do I look?” she asked.

He swallowed. “You look different. But the purple is gone.”

She took an unsteady breath and sat down beside him.

“Do you feel different?” he asked quietly.

“I feel...” She shook her head. “It sounds sort of shatz, honestly.”

“Try me.”

“I had the gun with me the whole Game, of course,” she explained. “But I couldn’t reach for it. Semper said something about the Game binding the players the moment we entered the House, so no cheating was allowed. But as soon as I touched the World card...everything changed.” Levi nodded. That was the moment he’d first noticed the new colors of Enne’s aura. “It was like I could see the magical threads of the Game, holding it all together, playing a song, and there were no more threads around me. And I could feel—can still feel—this presence in my head. Something that wasn’t there before.”

Levi’s skin prickled. Every word she said reminded him how much danger they were in, how dangerous she was. “You’re absolutely right,” he said, trying to sound teasing when really, he was terrified. “You sound shatz.”

She shoved him in the shoulder. “You should be nice to me. I can make volts now, or however Mizer powers work.”

“And you should stop hitting me. I’m more wounds than person.”

She reached out and brushed the bruise on his neck, gently enough that it didn’t hurt.

“These aren’t from Chez,” she said softly. “These are new.”

The memory of his last encounter with Chez returned to him, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. “I saw Chez tonight, too.”

Her eyes widened. “Did he try to challenge you again?”

“Not exactly. I started it. And...I also ended it.” Levi clenched his fist. He wished he could guess whether or not Chez was still alive, but he truly had no idea. He’d never meant to go that far.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she murmured.

But there was nothing else to tell. She understood, and he could already see the unease on her face.

It was the same unease he felt when looking at her.

“Tell me about what happened tonight. Everything before the Game. Like...” He reached into her pocket and pulled out the mask. “Where did you find this? Not really something ladies just carry around with them.”

Enne snatched the mask from his hands. “There was an incident, of sorts, at Scrap Market.” She told him the story. How Lola had changed her mind about Enne and about the oath. How she’d come up with the name Séance, taken from one of Lourdes’s older pseudonyms.

Then the story continued. How Vianca had called her into her office. How Enne had found Lola and stolen a car. How the blood gazer gave her the poison Enne brought with her to Luckluster.

At some point during her tale, she rested her head on Levi’s shoulder. He struggled to pay attention to anything other than the way her body felt pressed against his, and his attempt to forget his desire became a muddled afterthought. He wondered if she knew what she was doing to him.

“I woke up in Sedric’s motorcar outside of the House of Shadows,” she said.

The words gradually sank in. “He drugged you? Did he hurt you?”

“Only a little. I killed him before he had the chance to do more.”

Sedric Torren was dead.

“What?” he asked, even though he’d understood her perfectly. His mind spun. This changed...everything. The Torren family was without a don. The upcoming election was without a candidate. The North Side had one less monster on its streets.

“You already know I had to kill the guard, too. The one who opened the door,” Enne continued. “I keep waiting for everything to hit me, but I don’t feel bad. I don’t even feel like I should.”

“I killed the Chancellor,” Levi whispered, only just remembering now, as they confessed their sins in the dark. That would change everything, too.

Enne gave Levi’s shoulder a gentle but comforting squeeze. “He was a terrible man.”

Even so, Levi had never killed someone before. He’d never thought of himself as a killer. That was Ivory. That’d been Eight Fingers. But not him. He felt like he’d been stained in some uncleansable way, that the person he was before was somehow purer than the person he was now. He didn’t mourn the Chancellor, but he mourned himself.

The chorus of sirens outside grew louder. Several cars were speeding through the streets above, searching for them. The two held their breath as the sirens passed by the station. They had been lucky in their hiding spot for now...but soon their luck might run out.

“Vianca’s motorcar should be here soon,” he whispered, hoping to reassure himself as much as her.

Even in the dark, she looked pale. “What if the whiteboots come and we need to run? We told Vianca this is where we’d be.”

“I told you—no one takes the Mole. They’ll never find us here.”

She pressed her hand over her heart. “Don’t joke. I’m actually terrified.”

“So am I. That’s why I’m joking.”

There were footsteps on the stairs of the station.

Levi and Enne immediately stood up and backed into the corner. Enne pressed against him as they each pointed their guns at the mouth of the stairwell. Levi bit his lip to silence his breathing. He could feel Enne shaking. She reached for his hand, and he squeezed it.

“Together,” he whispered.

The woman who appeared, however, wasn’t a whiteboot. She also brandished a gun, but she relaxed once she saw them. “You’re here.” She was dressed like one of Vianca’s typical gangsters—a fedora hat and a tight, pin-striped dress. “We need to hurry. The whiteboots are already at St. Morse.”

Relief washed over him—they wouldn’t die, not here, not yet. Levi slid away from Enne and lowered his gun. He took a shaky step toward their savior.

“Then where do we go?” he asked.

“Oh, we’re going to the casino. We’re just not walking through the front doors.”