Ace of Shades (The Shadow Game #1)(57)

“There’s a good chance you’ll never see me again,” Enne started. “But if I needed to find you, would I come here?”

“Yes.” When Enne opened her mouth to tell her she was staying at St. Morse, Lola said, “Don’t tell me. It’s better I don’t know where you are.”

Enne considered apologizing, but she wasn’t sorry that she was alive.

She needed to go home and think about what she’d learned, and about what these secrets meant for her relationship with Lourdes—or if she even believed them.

“I’d like my gun back before I go,” she said.

Before they could return to the basement, another door burst open, and Enne screamed in surprise. Levi and Jac charged inside, rain-soaked, pointing a new set of pistols wildly around the room. Jac flipped a light switch.

“What the muck?” Lola shouted, her arms raised, squinting in the light.

Levi’s eyes narrowed as he looked between them in confusion. “Why did you scream?” he was asking Enne, but his gaze—and Jac’s—was fixed on the white in Lola’s hair.

“Because you scared me,” Enne said flatly.

“Pup?” Lola said, shakily lowering her arms.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

“It’s your hair. Not many orb-makers on the North Side.”

Jac pocketed his gun. “What happened here?”

“The missy was just leaving. You should, too.” Lola rubbed her temples. “I don’t like guns or dogs in my office.”

“You’re both a little scruffed up,” Levi said, making no indication that he’d heard the jibe at his nickname. “Had a bit of an argument?”

Both Enne and Lola were covered in sweat, dirt and dried blood. Enne bit her lip. She hadn’t even had time to process Lola’s information for herself—she wasn’t sure she was ready to tell Levi. And she definitely wasn’t ready to tell Jac, whom she barely knew. If Lourdes’s connection to monarchists had been dangerous, then Enne’s very association was deadly, and she could trust no one.

“Forget it,” Enne said. “We’re leaving as soon as I get my gun.”

“Your gun?” Levi barked out madly. She squeezed Levi’s arm in response, so he couldn’t shrug her off. As Lola walked down the stairway to the cellar, the three of them lingered in the piano room.

“Are we keeping secrets now?” Levi hissed in her ear. His breath was hot against her neck.

She backed away from him. “I don’t want to talk about this here.”

“You know that girl is a Dove, right?” Jac asked. “The gang of assassins?”

“I know what the white hair means,” Enne snapped. “But she’s not a Dove. She—”

“Obviously not,” Levi said darkly, “or you’d be dead.” Enne shuddered. “I need to know what happened.”

“Why do you need to know, Levi?” she seethed.

“Because I’m helping you, remember?”

“I was doing fine on my own.” That was mostly true—she’d handled it, anyway.

“Were you?” He reached for her hand, but she quickly hugged her arms around herself. “You’d rather I leave?”

“I’d rather you stop being difficult.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue something else, then snapped it shut and shook his head. Behind him, Jac was peering out the window, as if he thought he’d find more Doves lurking on Lola’s front lawn.

Lola climbed back up the stairs and handed Enne the gun. Levi reached for it sourly, but Enne quickly shoved it in her pocket. He didn’t need two. She’d give it back to him later.

“Don’t follow us,” Jac warned Lola, his chest puffed out.

She picked her scalpel up off the ground and licked her lips. “Why? Worried what would happen once you split up, and it isn’t three against one?” Jac paled and kept one hand on his holster.

Despite her threat, Enne strongly doubted Lola would try anything. If Enne could overpower her, she was sure Jac could as well with his strength talent. Maybe Levi, too. She wasn’t a real Dove.

Enne walked to the door. “Let’s go.” To her surprise, the boys followed, and Lola slammed the door behind them.

No one spoke until they reached the safety of the crowds on Tropps Street.

“She wasn’t that scary,” Jac said. “For a Dove.”

“Right,” Levi said sarcastically. “You nearly mucked yourself when she picked up that knife.”

“I’m not afraid of knives. One time, I cracked a switchblade—”

“With your teeth, and it was very impressive. I was there, remember?” Levi’s voice sounded tired.

Jac elbowed Enne in the side. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Yes,” she said, bristling. “Your stitches look horrifying.”

“I told you,” Levi muttered.

“They make me look tough,” Jac said.

“No, they make you look ridiculous.”

Levi and Jac continued to exchange words about the next day and Jac sleeping on Levi’s couch. But no matter what Jac said, all of Levi’s answers were terse, letting the silence hang in the air. He was clearly waiting for Enne to explain herself, but he was going to be disappointed. She was tired. She had rehearsal tomorrow. And she needed to think.