LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

the voice on the other line.

      Enne sucked in her breath. “It’s you. Are you all right? Are you safe?” she asked.

      “Have you heard the news?” Levi asked.

      She pursed her lips. Yes, I’m fine. I suppose you must be, too. “No.”

      “We need to meet—now. Write down this address.” He read off the name of a place Enne didn’t recognize. “Leave as soon as possible.”

      “Is something wrong?” she asked, voice hitched.

      “Yes, it’s...we’ll talk about it there.” He paused, and the sound of voices bickering around him almost muffled Levi’s next words. “Please be careful.” He hung up.

      Enne set down the phone, worry knotting in her chest. She grabbed her tourist guidebook off the dining table and flipped to the map. “Lola,” she called. “Turn on the radio and get dressed. We’re going to the Deadman District.”

      * * *

      By the time they exited the Mole Station, the sun had set. The streetlights of the Deadman District shone through shattered glass, and the metallic mortar between the white stone of the buildings glinted in the darkness, so bright that Enne squinted and shaded her eyes as she walked. Everywhere she turned, she saw a chain, a gun barrel, a blade—her mind playing deadly tricks.

      While frantically getting dressed, she and Lola had managed to catch enough of the newscast to understand what had happened. Armed brutally with automatics, the whiteboots had executed an attack on the Orphan Guild, killing eight and injuring many others. Their meeting point was only a few blocks from the Orphan Guild’s now-abandoned hideout, and as they approached, Enne had the distinct sensation she was walking into a battleground. The silence around her could be felt, like its presence haunted these streets—like death itself lurked in every shadow.

      The last time she’d roamed the streets of New Reynes at night, she and Levi had been fleeing for their lives. Now, the reflection she passed in the dirt-crusted windows was no longer her own. Instead, she saw them. The sallow-skinned, lifeless faces of the Phoenix Club.

      She felt for the gun in her pocket, seeking reassurance, seeking the power that Lola had seen in her—that she couldn’t seem to find herself.

      At their destination, a long vertical gash stretched across the door, as though someone had dragged a knife down the wood. Lola and Enne exchanged a grim look before Lola knocked, and Jac swung the door open with a pistol pointed at eye level. Enne let out an unladylike curse and grabbed her second’s arm.

      Once he saw who they were, he lowered it. “’Lo, missies.”

      “Call me missy again,” Lola growled, “and you can be the new Eight Fingers.”

      Jac laughed, and despite his familiar dimples and easy demeanor, he looked different. Sleeker. His black hair, greased back and glossy, made his gray eyes look more like steel than dust. He might’ve been hesitant about Enne choosing his wardrobe, but, she noted smugly, he looked great. She clearly had excellent taste.

      They climbed the stairwell to the first landing. Behind the door, Levi sat stiffly in a leather office chair. His curls had been dyed black, and his shirt and jacket were colored to match. However, his new ensemble did nothing to hide how terrible he looked. Every time he shifted his posture, he winced in silent pain.

      Levi’s gaze moved from the window and met hers, and his breath hitched.

      Enne went to sleep last night reminding herself of all the reasons she couldn’t fall for Levi Glaisyer. But her heart still stuttered seeing him look at her like he was now—like he’d felt their separation every bit as acutely as she had.

      “Did anyone see you?” Levi asked.

      “I don’t think so,” Enne answered.

      The room was filled with desks and toppled chairs, each coated in a thick layer of grime. Enne grimaced as she sat down at the one beside him and tried her best not to touch anything. Jac perched on top of her desk without concern for his new clothes, and Lola resorted to standing. Everyone shared the same grim expression.

      “I assume you’ve spoken with Vianca,” Levi said to Enne.

      “I did this morning,” she replied. “I told her you’re the one who should be doing this, not me.”

      “Well...” His gaze flickered to Jac, who avoided his stare. In fact, Jac was faced away from Levi, like he had no intention of looking at him at all. “I convinced her that we should both be doing this, that we’d be better off as allies.”

      “I thought the Irons hated you,” Lola said.

      Levi pursed his lips. “They have mixed feelings.”

      “Your third tried to kill you.”

      “I said mixed.”

      Enne felt a pinch of resentment. Levi had argued against Vianca exactly as Enne had warned her he would, yet still Vianca had acquiesced to his requests and therefore left Enne without a consultant. It paid to be the donna’s favorite.

      “Were you able to catch the news?” Levi asked Lola.

      “Yes,” she answered darkly.

      “You know far more about the Orphan Guild than we do. What do you think of this?”

      “I...” Her voice was unusually high-pitched. Enne knew she must have recognized at least a few of the names on the list of casualties. “I’m shocked. Bryce keeps the location private, known only to Scavenger, Ivory, and the members of the Guild. There must have been a mole—someone who knew where it was and how to cause the most damage.”

      “But you know the location,” Levi said. “Has Bryce made any effort to contact you? He must suspect you.”

      Lola stiffened. “I doubt he suspects me.”

      “Why is that?” Levi asked.

      “Because he made it very clear that he’d kill me if I ever betrayed him.” Enne flinched at Lola’s coldness. Was that how the Guildmaster treated all his associates? “And he knows I’m not thick. Or a killer.”

      Levi’s forehead creased with worry. “I’m nervous about this. The Irons is the only gang that doesn’t hire from the Orphan Guild, but this attack was directly prompted by events Enne and I caused.”

      Enne shivered. “Which means the other lords might blame us.”

      The notion of becoming enemies with Ivory, Scavenger, and Bryce left Enne ill. Even if she needed to call herself a street lord, she wasn’t like them. They were...dangerous.

      You killed Sedric, she reminded herself. You wanted to. He was despicable. He was a predator.

      She remembered the sweetness of the drugged Lollipop Lick on her lips, the pity in the bartender’s eyes. How many girls had Sedric targeted? How many people around him had been complicit in the suffering he’d caused?

       You watched Semper die, and you were glad he did.

      Enne was just as dangerous.

       You killed the whiteboot. You didn’t even hesitate.

      She was just as deadly.

       You’re not like the other lords. You don’t want this.

      It was true that Enne didn’t have a cause to drive her, like Vianca. Or ambition to motivate her, like Levi. But she did have her anger, her grief, her frustration. She felt it all unfurling and writhing inside of her, like a snake rising from its slumber. You do have power, it whispered as it curled around the broken cavities of her heart.

      “Enne?” Levi asked, drawing her out of her thoughts. “Do you mind if we speak in private?”

      “Of course,”

Скачать книгу