Ace of Shades (The Shadow Game #1)(77)

She traced her finger over the guidebook’s map. Virtue Street was located in Olde Town, exactly where Lola thought the bank would be. The road ran parallel to Tropps Street, virtue and vice never intersecting.

Just as she’d begun to worry about the others, Lola strode in through the revolving doors, wearing her now-familiar top hat. She took one look around St. Morse’s gaudy interior and grimaced.

“You’re wearing lipstick,” Lola commented. She squinted at Enne’s face, as if examining an optical illusion. “It suits you.”

This was the first nice thing Lola had ever said to her. She beamed. “Thank you.” Enne felt it suited her, too.

“Where are the Iron boys?”

“I’m not sure. They should’ve been here a while ago.” She shouldn’t worry. What trouble could they have found by midmorning? Maybe they’d just slept in after a long night.

“Then it’s just us,” Lola said. Even though there was no threat in her voice, the words unnerved Enne. She was glad she’d brought Levi’s revolver—several days had passed since the night she’d stolen it, but he’d never asked for it back. Maybe she’d keep it.

Still, Lola was right. There was no point in wasting more of the day.

They ventured outside and headed to the bank. Olde Town was particularly quiet that morning, few people venturing outside due to the sudden heat. Enne, however, relished the weather; she’d felt as though she’d left summer behind her when she sailed away from Bellamy.

She pulled her guidebook out and followed the route on the map. Neither of them spoke for some time, which was just fine with Enne, as she was too lost in her own thoughts. Without even sharing Lourdes’s blood name, how would she gain access to the account? Would Lourdes have opened the account in her name or under another alias? And even if Enne gained access, what would she do with all those volts?

Lola’s voice interrupted Enne’s thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Enne said nervously. There was no bite or threat in Lola’s voice, but that was precisely why she was nervous.

“If Lourdes raised you as your mother, why do you call her by her first name?”

Enne shrugged. “She never wanted me to call her Mother.” She had wondered this herself when she was younger, but even though Lourdes never discussed her own family, Enne got the sense she’d had a complicated relationship with her own mother.

“Can I ask you a question now?” Enne asked.

Lola’s eyebrows furrowed, and she crossed her arms. “I guess.”

“If you’re not a Dove, why do you dye your hair white?”

It felt like a simple question, but clearly, it was one Lola didn’t want to answer.

“Don’t ask me that,” she growled, then brushed past Enne and walked several steps ahead of her for the rest of the trip.

The sign for Virtue Street was rusted over, and layers and layers of kiss marks covered it in all shades of lipstick.

“We’re here,” Lola said. “You can kiss the sign if you’d like. It’s a New Reynes tradition.”

Enne grimaced. “I’ll pass.”

They stopped another block down the street. According to a plaque outside, the building before them was indeed the bank, but Enne could just as easily have mistaken it for a penitentiary. Wrought iron gates encircled the grounds and guarded each of its windows. Larger-than-life obsidian statues lined the walkway to the front door, but dark sacks covered each of their heads, like the sort draped over a man as he approached the gallows.

“Mizer kings, probably,” Lola said cheerfully.

Enne shivered. “They could have just taken them down.”

“They’re reminders, not decorations.”

They walked inside and approached the main desk, entirely protected by bulletproof glass except for a sliver of space to exchange documents—a harsh contrast to the marble grandeur of its decor. The woman behind the desk was elderly, with one keen blue eye and a second wooden one.

Enne slid her token under the glass. The woman snatched it up and held it close to her good eye.

“These aren’t the standard engravings,” she remarked suspiciously. She rubbed her thumb over the cameo of the Mizer queen. “This is very outdated.”

“We’d like access to the vault that coin opens,” Enne said firmly.

“You can only enter the vault if your name is on the account.” The woman turned to a file cabinet and perused it for the correct number. “Hmm. There are several listed. Are you a Ms. Lourdes Orefla?”

Enne stilled and whispered to Lola, “Do you think that’s her real name?”

“That’s just Alfero backward, thickhead,” Lola hissed.

Enne reddened. “No,” she told the woman. “I’m not.”

The woman adjusted her bifocals. “A Ms. Erienne Salta?”

Excitement surged in Enne’s chest. Lourdes did put her name on the account. Maybe Enne had been meant to find this place after all.

She shoved her identification documents through the window. “Yes. That’s me.”

Several minutes later, a security guard led them to a rather haunting steel elevator and, from there, to the bottom-most level. The hallway had concrete walls, flickering fluorescent lighting and grated metal doors lining either side. They walked until reaching the hallway’s end, where the guard gestured to a vault on their right.