Ace of Shades (The Shadow Game #1)(30)

Enne had always been a good liar. She’d lied to Levi about the volts. She’d lied to her mother’s house staff about how she was spending her summer. She’d lied over and over to her classmates about where Lourdes always traveled. But there was no lie as disgusting as this one. Because the truth of it wasn’t that she’d been selfish, or that she’d run away to the City of Sin, but that, probably many times before, there’d been a real girl who sat where she sat, who smiled as she smiled. This game was a familiar one to Sedric.

She was suddenly grateful for the vial in her pocket. Before, she was going to poison Sedric Torren because she had no choice. Now, she was poisoning him for the girls who hadn’t known better. For all the girls fed to the wolves.

She was still scared—she was still terrified. Sedric wasn’t simply a predator; he was one of the most powerful people in the North Side. He was a beast wearing a man’s skin.

But she was also decided. There was no shame in poisoning him.

“Shall we go?” he asked, offering his arm.

She took it, her wine in her other hand. “We shall.”

In the lobby, three lines waited outside the theater. According to the posters on the wall, the dancing show was only one of the many varieties that St. Morse offered.

“Where do you take your dance lessons?” Sedric asked as they took a place in the back.

“I’m looking for a troupe, actually.”

“That’s awfully ambitious of you. Looking to dance here, maybe?” He took another sip of his wine. She’d better hurry, or soon his glass would be empty, and she would miss her chance. She didn’t know what the omerta would do to her if she failed, but she refused to die in this city.

“Yes, I’d love to dance here,” she responded, “but I don’t think Ms. Augustine wants to give me the job.”

“Why not? You’re an excellent dancer. Though I suppose she might want someone older—”

“My split talent has nothing to offer her, and Saltas are a volt a dozen in the casinos.” She spoke matter-of-factly, as if she’d been in this city for more than a day.

She must’ve sounded convincing, because he squeezed her hand comfortingly, and Enne felt weary with nausea. “She doesn’t know the talent she’s missing. But you wouldn’t want to work here, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because the Augustines are the cruelest family in the North Side,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. They were, after all, surrounded by Vianca’s patrons. “Their blood talent is omertas, an unbreakable oath. Like a swear of fealty and silence. Vianca is no better than a glorified street lord.”

Unbreakable? The word echoed in her mind, unraveling her, shattering her.

It couldn’t be true.

Before his words could fully sink in, she pushed them away. She had a job to finish.

She and Sedric reached the ticket booth. “Do you mind holding this for a moment, Emma?” Sedric handed her his drink and rummaged through his coat pockets, then turned to talk to the ticket salesman.

Enne hardly believed her luck. This was her chance. She turned around and quickly slipped the vial from her pocket.

She didn’t hesitate. She dumped the poison into Sedric’s glass.

It was so easy. She’d done it, just like that.

Returning the vial to where it was before, she waited for Sedric to finish purchasing the tickets. Her heart beat faster with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

When he finished, brandishing two blue Admit Ones, Sedric plucked his wineglass out of Enne’s hand. “To the show,” he said, leading her in with his arm around her waist.

The theater was dark. A blue curtain draped over the stage, and a single spotlight shone at its center. There must have been over five hundred audience members already present, not counting the few in balconies along the walls. They took their seats in one of the side rows by the front—the tickets, she realized, must have been quite expensive. The piano tapped out a light, staccato tune, and the audience quieted in anticipation. Gradually, the spotlight faded.

Sedric took a sip. When he didn’t gag or convulse or immediately vomit, Enne realized the poison might not take effect for a while. She also realized that she didn’t feel even a twinge of guilt. She didn’t care—he was a contemptible man.

The curtains rose.

Sedric Torren placed his hand on her knee and smiled triumphantly, but Enne had already won.





ENNE

When Enne returned to her apartment two hours after pouring the poison into Sedric’s glass, the first thing she did was take a shower. She smelled of Sedric’s vomit. However, more nauseating than that, she felt filthy with this city, with what she’d done and how little she cared.

Unbreakable, Sedric had called the omerta, but she refused to believe it. She couldn’t be trapped within Vianca’s grasp forever.

Enne turned the water temperature up to steaming, but she didn’t feel clean. She could still feel the heat of Sedric’s gaze and the touch of his hand against her thigh.

She had no other clothes to change into after bathing, so she put her slip back on, and over it, the robe she found in the bathroom closet, embroidered with St. Morse’s logo. Then she returned to the page she’d bookmarked in her guidebook.

What if Vianca died? Would the omerta break then? Enne intended to survive here, so she needed to learn more about Vianca, about New Reynes.