Ace of Shades (The Shadow Game #1)(98)

His mouth dry, Levi took another sip of his drink. “Then what do you want?”

Sedric laughed, a deep laugh that echoed in Levi’s ears like the clunks and thuds of gravediggers piling earth on his coffin.

“I’m delivering something to you, and in exchange, they’re doing me a favor.” Sedric grinned. “Whatever I ask. That’s power, Pup. Not volts. Not sex. Not anything this city is trying to sell.”

Sedric pulled out a gleaming silver card from his jacket.

Levi remained silent as he took it. Unlike the other cards, this one had no divination prophecies. It didn’t need to. Its very existence foretold death.

The Fool. His invitation to the Shadow Game. Just as in his vision, when Levi had seen the card on the tombstone, the Fool strode toward the edge of a cliff, a wicked smile on his face.

Sedric leaned forward, so close that Levi could smell the coffee liqueur on his breath, and Levi’s stomach twisted into knots. “You’ve got two hours.”

“What?” Levi rasped, even though he’d heard him perfectly.

“Here.” Sedric reached into Levi’s jacket pocket and pulled out his flask. Levi was so nervous, so frozen, he let him. Then Sedric dumped the tonic water out of Levi’s flask on the floor and replaced it with the remaining contents of Levi’s drink. “A little something to keep you going.” Sedric tucked it back into his pocket with a pat. Levi fought off a strong urge to vomit. “The party doesn’t start for two hours. So run along, little Pup. This is your chance. Run before we catch you.”

Two hours.

Two hours.

Then he was going to die.

Sedric finished off his own drink and winked. “I’ll see you at the party.”

Levi nearly knocked over a table on his way to the door. Out of the bar, out of the lobby, outside to where the crisp night air bit into his skin. Sedric’s laugh rang in his ears, and the farther Levi ran, the louder it grew.

He turned the corner, half expecting to see Sedric standing in front of him, latched on to his very shadow. But Levi was alone.

He slumped against a brick wall, letting the stone scrape against his bare back as his shirt rode up. Sedric had told him to run, but Levi wasn’t thick. He knew how these things worked. If he ran, it would make Sedric’s night only more fun. Instead, he sat there trembling for several minutes, sometimes crying, sometimes feeling nothing at all.

His first thoughts were of Jac. Jac would get by without him—eventually—but for so long, Levi had been the stable anchor in Jac’s otherwise directionless life. His friend might’ve found the Faith after his last bout with Lullaby, but would prayer alone save him from relapse? Levi and Jac had followed each other down every dark road, but Levi hated to think how his friend could so easily follow him down this one.

Then he thought of the Irons. After Levi died, Chez would be the undisputed Iron Lord, and Levi’s legacy would fade: another street lord, another rotten kid, another loser in the city’s game.

He thought about Reymond. You’re better than us, the Scar Lord had once told him, but he’d been wrong. Levi had never been much of anything, and now they both would face the same fate. Out of all his regrets, Reymond was his worst. The grief rushed over him all at once, an ache worse than any of his injuries. Reymond was the only one in the world who’d watched out for Levi, and now his brother was dead.

Fourth, he thought about Enne. Now that they’d discovered the truth about Lourdes, their story had ended. It didn’t matter what it could’ve been—it was over, and soon Levi would be gone. If she remembered him afterward, he would be the one who’d brought her to Vianca, the boy she would’ve been better off without.

Last, he thought about New Reynes, and that pain hurt the most. He’d left a depressing life behind to build something better in this city. He’d bet everything he had in the game, and he’d lost. But the city wouldn’t grieve for him.

The city would find some new con man, some new boy who called himself lord, and the city would play again.





LEVI

Levi spent the first thirty minutes of his last two hours wiping tears from his eyes, rooted to the same spot in the alley he’d fled to from Luckluster. If only the other gangsters could see him now. The Iron Lord. Crying when he was about to die.

Levi pictured his gravestone from the visions. If there was ever a time to cave in and pray to the Faith, as his mother always had, this was the moment. But beneath the Casion District’s skyline of smoke, crouched in an alley reeking of trash and piss, Levi couldn’t believe that any higher power cared about his fate.

A familiar voice drifted out of the shadows. “It’s you.”

Levi instinctively reached for the pistol in his pocket, tensing as Chez Phillips stepped into the moonlight. “What are you doing here?” Levi demanded. They were a long way from Iron Land.

Chez grinned slyly. “I’m making my way back to Olde Town. Never imagined I’d run into you.”

Levi couldn’t believe he’d have to spend the last hours of his life with Chez, of all people. Maybe he was already dead. Maybe this was hell.

“You should cross your heart when you see me,” Chez said. His forehead and neck peeled from an old sunburn, and he had an impressive black eye and walked with a limp in his step. Chez looked terrible, and this gave Levi a surge of pleasure, despite knowing that he looked no better himself.