Ace of Shades (The Shadow Game #1)(31)

She continued reading the guidebook’s chapter about the city’s organized crime. The topic shifted from the Augustine and Torren casino Families to the street gangs. Although the Families had control of the narcotics trade, the street gangs managed everything else. They’d divided the North Side into territories and turned crimes into monopolies. She followed along, occasionally referring to her guidebook’s map.

Once upon a time, there had been dozens of gangs. But now there were three.

The Scarhands. They were the largest gang, run by the slimy Eight Fingers, Reymond Kitamura, who Enne—despite all of her guidebook’s warnings—had managed to meet during her first morning in the City of Sin. Not only did the Scarhands provide counterfeits and forgery services to the city, but they also operated the weapons trade. Their territory spanned throughout the Factory District. You could spot a member by the scars that crisscrossed their palms and wrists.

The Doves were the assassins, their territory known as the Deadman District. They dyed their hair white to match their lord, Ivory, who was credited with over sixty-three murders. No one had seen her face and lived. Perhaps she was so good that no one had ever seen her face at all.

Last were the Irons. The gang of gamblers and cheats who called themselves consultants, and who occupied Olde Town and the Casino District like an infestation. They dealt in cards, ambition and opportunity. Anything you could do, they could do better. They were the smallest gang, with the smallest paragraph in the guidebook. Levi wasn’t even mentioned at all.

Someone knocked on her door.

Enne’s stomach dropped, half expecting Vianca’s woman again. She walked to the door and cracked it open, only to find it was Levi.

“’Lo,” he said. He looked pale.

After all the night’s stress, she’d utterly forgotten he would come for his volts. “I’m not dressed properly.”

He held up a bag. “It’s fine. I brought you clothes. Figured you might need them.”

She sighed and opened the door fully, even though she’d rather be alone and not deal with Levi’s condescending smirks. He handed her the bag, and she rummaged through it. The fabrics were colorful and flashy—very unlike her typical style. “Are these from that collection of yours?” she asked suspiciously.

“Not this time. Jac swiped them from some clotheslines.”

She grimaced as she wrapped an oversize sweater around herself. They’d have to do for now. She could buy her own clothes once she got paid.

Beneath the clothes were food items, flour and eggs and other necessities. Her mood improved almost instantly—she was starving. She eagerly unloaded them onto the kitchen counter. To her delight, she now had all the right ingredients to make cookies. Dessert was such a simple comfort, but she nearly wanted to cry in appreciation. When she turned around to thank him, she realized he was no longer standing beside her.

She heard him rummaging around in the living room. “What are you doing?” she called.

“Where did you find this trash? I’m not even mentioned!” He appeared in the kitchen, waving her guidebook. “Look at all the places the author says not to visit. Hundreds! We’ll have to go on a tour, you and I. We only managed to hit up a few of them this morning.” He paused as she broke some eggs into a mixing bowl. “What are you making?”

“Cookies. Our cook used to make them with me.” Enne had spent a lot of her childhood keeping company with the staff, when Lourdes was traveling and she was lonely.

“It’s almost midnight.”

“I’m hungry.”

He shrugged and took a seat on the counter beside her. “You look flushed, missy. You go out on the town while I was working?”

“I stayed in,” she lied. As she mixed in the flour, she gathered up her nerve to tell him what happened. Levi was Vianca’s favorite, so he had to know about the omerta. She wasn’t allowed to speak its name or reveal the truth, but somehow, she’d need to find a way around that. She needed to tell someone and, tolerable or not, Levi was the only person she had in New Reynes. “I read about Vianca in the guidebook. It...it mentioned the family blood talent.” When she tried to form the word, no breath would come out. She couldn’t say it. Still, she persisted. “I forget what it’s called.”

Levi’s face darkened. “I’m surprised they printed that in a guidebook.”

“Oh, um...” Her chest tightened. The omerta knew she was feeling for its cracks, searching for loopholes. But she needed to find a way to tell Levi. He was the only one in this city helping her. Maybe he could even convince Vianca to let her go.

“Now that you’re hired, keep as far away from Vianca as you can,” he warned. “Believe it or not, she’s a woman you would rather have hate you than like you.”

And you’re her favorite, Enne thought, wondering what exactly that meant.

She returned to the cookies, while Levi, now in a foul mood, stormed off into the living room. Every now and then she heard him groan something, like “They mentioned Jonas mucking Maccabees but not me” or “Veil founded the first street gang. Not Havoc. Who wrote this shatz book, anyway?”

Then a few minutes passed in silence. Enne laid the cooling sugar cookies on the counter and walked into the living room, expecting to find him asleep.

Instead, he was sitting up on the couch, turning over the empty vial of poison in his hands. Enne froze.