Chapter Fourteen
NIC
By the time afternoon sets in, Laurel and I have returned to our apartment, and she’s leaning against my chest on the couch. Once upon a time, we sat like this, at sixteen years old. We held each other. We laughed together.
How different things are now.
Every time she kisses me, I force myself to think of Lola so I don’t pull away.
Every time she touches me, I pretend I’m alone with the thief girl in my cavern under the casino so I don’t twitch.
Every time she whispers, I try to use my own magic to make her voice sound like Lola’s in my ears so I can keep from grimacing.
But unfortunately, the only person I can’t lie to is myself.
“That Astra girl from last night,” Laurel says, as though reading my thoughts. She pulls back to meet my eye. “You never had feelings for her?”
I could lie, but she knows I can’t speak the truth about myself, so I have to find my way around what I want her to believe. “She was just a player at the casino.”
“Not even a passing fancy? She is quite lovely . . .” She plays with my collar, clearly trying to pretend she does not care, but her awareness skitters through me. While she hasn’t taken control of my body since Emmeline’s apartment, she’s there, sensing my every movement.
An image of that St. James goon in her secret turning blue as his heart stopped flashes across my mind.
I cannot give Laurel any more reason to be upset with Lola.
Determination sets my jaw as I reply, “She’s pretty, sure, but she pales in comparison to you.”
She smiles, then opens her mouth to say more.
“Laurel?” I interrupt. “Should we build on what we’ve found out?”
“Hmmm?” Her brow furrows. “What’s that?”
“It’s confirmed now that Ostena is St. James’s right hand.
She’s going to have a lot of information on his network.
Should we get started on your . . . list?
” I force a smile, using the brooch still in my sock to dust an edge of a glamour over my face to make it convincing despite the way my throat closes over the last word in my question.
Gods, let her drop her fixation on Lola.
“It’s doubtful Forsyth will keep what occurred last night to himself.
The longer we wait, the more St. James will build up his defenses. ”
She sighs. “What do you propose?”
“Well, if you’re tired, you could catch some rest. And while you do . . . Ostena’s home is not far from here. Perhaps she wouldn’t mind a visit from the Liar.”
I try to make it sound like I’m indifferent, but Laurel cocks her head. It’s clear she wants to believe me, but even with my supposed extermination of Emmeline confirming I’m as loyal as ever, she’s still wary.
“All right, Nic.”
“You’re going to let me go alone?”
She stands, straightening first her gown and then the gloves covering the moonshard fragments on her wrists and hands. “Why wouldn’t I?”
I wait for more of a reaction, but she simply strides toward the bedroom, unperturbed.
“I’m going to take a nap,” she says. “I’ll expect you back by nightfall.”
Is this another test? It cannot be this easy.
Steeling my nerves, I rise and retrieve my fedora from the back of the chair where I set it earlier.
As I reach for the door, an awareness prickles up the insides of my cheeks, hovering behind my eyes like the faint pressure of a sneeze.
They flick of their own accord ever so slightly to the right, and a stone drops in my gut.
I turn slowly. “Are you using my eyes again?”
“If you’ve got nothing to hide, then you won’t mind me watching, right?” She pulls a couple voratium dice from her pocket and tosses them to me. “I figure it’ll be entertaining.”
“Entertaining . . .” I keep my voice light and my expression smooth as every hair on my arms rises. “But not very restful.”
“Maybe not for you.” She blows me a kiss and disappears into the bedroom.
My fingers curl around the voratium, and I let the chill of the metal bite into my palm, grounding me for several long, slow breaths.
Is this what it’s like for Lola with her heart in my brother’s pendant?
Never alone, never fully able to make her own choices because she’s carrying him around with her everywhere she goes?
Trying to ignore the feeling of Laurel in my eyes, I slip out and take the stairs two at a time.
Ten minutes later, I rap my knuckles on Ostena’s door. Inside, footsteps shuffle over floorboards, and I move back, fastening one of the buttons on my tuxedo jacket and straightening the orchid in my lapel.
If Laurel is watching, I need to play the part. I cannot be anything but her devoted servant. She told me this afternoon to play up my role as the Liar, use my reputation to our advantage, so that is what I will do.
One day soon, she’ll trust me fully. She’ll let me loose. When that day comes, I need to know how to undermine her. Which means playing her game for now.
So I paste on the Liar’s charming, cocky smile. She wants a show? I’ll give her one.
The door opens, and Ostena pokes her head out. “Can I help—?” Her pale eyes fly wide. She slams the door, and the lock scrapes.
I chuckle. “Ostena, darling, is that any way to greet me?”
“I’m not your darling,” she snaps, her voice, though muffled by the wood, sharp as knives.
“Open the door.” I weave magic along my words so they ring like music. “Please.”
“Go away.”
I place my palm against the panel, my snake-eye ring winking in the light. “A secret was returned to you that shouldn’t have been. You’re going to give it back.”
“No, I’m not,” comes the barbed reply.
“Oh, trust me, you’ll want to return it.”
“Why on the gods’ green earth would I want to do that?”
“Because, unluckily for you, the memory of your secret lives on.”
There is a sharp intake of breath.
“What a shame it would be if I were to share that secret with the wrong people . . .” I go on, tracing my forefinger down the lines in the wood. “Like, say, the police, perhaps.”
A moment passes, then the lock scrapes again. Ostena steps out, her bare feet curling on the matted brown carpet. She tightens the knot on her dressing gown and glares at me. “If you remember my secret, why do you need it back?”
My hand, still poised midair where the door just was, is now barely a centimeter from Ostena’s sharp cheekbone. I draw my finger lightly across her flawless skin down to where the artery pulses in her throat, angry and terrified. “Firsthand accounts are always more powerful than secondhand ones.”
“Why would I want to give you more power?” She jerks away, eyes flashing.
I smirk, crossing my arms. “Your dear lover came home upset last night, didn’t he?” Her glare intensifies, and I cock my head deliberately to make my scar catch the light of the flickering bulb overhead. “Did Forsyth tell you what I did to him?”
Ostena’s lips thin.
“Do you think,” I say, leaning in and dropping my voice to a throaty whisper, “that’s all I’m capable of ?”
I wonder how Laurel is taking this—if she’s loving the performance, or if it’s making her worried for my soul. I pray it’s the former as I hold Ostena’s glare with a grin.
She finally backs into her apartment, and I follow. As soon as my gleaming shoes clack onto the curling linoleum, she slams the door behind me. “You know, people said you were better.”
“Better than whom?” I cross to the scratched table and snatch an apple from the basket at its center, taking a hearty bite.
“Than the gang lords who run the other casinos,” she retorts. “People said you were honorable. Kept your word. Didn’t resort to threats and violence.”
I salute her with the apple, swallowing the grainy bite. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
Distaste twists her mouth. “Clearly.”
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” I hand her the bitten fruit and pull out the empty voratium die Laurel gave me. “Hold still.”
Ostena glares daggers as I press it to her heart. My eyes drop closed, and I sink into her tapestry of secrets.
Quick as lightning, she bolts to the counter, seizing a knife and lunging toward me.
“Ah, ah, ah.” I catch her wrist, squeezing until the blade drops into my other palm. I toss it into the bowl of apples, skewering one with a sickening squelch. “Now. Where were we?”
She backs away. “What are you?”
“Does it matter?” I ask with the debonair grin I’ve perfected, the one that hides the shame burning through me.
“No, I suppose not,” she says as her back connects with the peeling wallpaper.
“About that secret.” I hold out the die again. “Will you cooperate, or am I going to have to be more persuasive?”
“You’re vile,” she spits, but she holds still.
“Thank you.” I press the die to her skin, drawing out the secret until the voratium glows like it did during the tournament. A shimmering garnet.
“Finished?” She shoves past me to yank open the apartment door. Her hands are shaking, but her glare does not falter and neither does her voice.
“Shame you couldn’t get your hands on that Unbreakable Lie. You could have used it to free yourself from the sort of man you’ve chosen to love.”
She scoffs. “Rich, coming from one like you.”
“Best wishes for your health. And Forsyth’s.” I stride past, pausing only when her hand encircles my arm.
“Forsyth will find you, and he will make sure you pay for what you did last night,” she sneers. “What you’ve done here.”
“Tell him I look forward to seeing him.” I tip my fedora and wink.
With a look of utter disgust, she releases me and slams the door.
Shuddering, I stride down the twelve flights of stairs, trying to shake away the burn in the pit of my stomach.
Laurel is still there, flitting behind my eyes, watching my every move.
I hope she is convinced.
I swing into the cool night air, nearly knocking into a mob of people clustered around a newsstand on the sidewalk. “Nocturne,” someone whispers, handing a newspaper to their friend.
My heart skitters. Did something happen to Lola? Is she all right?
I send out a sensation glamour of something pressing against the people in my way, and they all shuffle aside.
I pluck a newspaper off the top of the stack, frowning at yet another headline about Tomas Hildebard and Ignalus Price as a stiff bit of parchment drops out.
Retrieving it, I glimpse glittering golden text.
Dearest Aethera,
It seems a certain seasp awn has shu t down his casino, and I for one miss his games. Wha t do you say we throw a p arty of our own? Make our cit y a game board of magic and mayhem once more?
Meet me a t the down town public sq uare a t sunse t tomorrow night. I promise, you won’t wan t to miss the chance to compete for the prize of one magical favor. You won’t even need to barga in a secret.
Yours,
Noc turne
Laurel’s magic seizes my eyes and makes me read the invitation again, and a stone sinks in my gut. If Lola draws Laurel’s attention as Nocturne, there’s only so much I can do to keep them apart.
I mentally groan as I fold the parchment and tuck it into my jacket.
Laurel will want to discuss this. She’ll want to make a plan. And I’ll have to pretend I’m as enlivened by the idea of chasing down Nocturne as she is.
I’m not ready to go back to the apartment. At least not yet. I need to figure out what to do.
I cast my eyes down the street. A small stone church lurks on the corner, its steeple casting a long shadow down the road. I shuffle toward it, feet heavy.
I haven’t stepped foot in a church since the night the moonshard broke and split open my faith. It’s the last place I want to go—and yet it’s the only place Laurel won’t bat an eye at.
I can have a few more hours’ peace from her and strengthen my role as the pious, repentant servant while I figure out what to do next.
My whole body vibrates as I mount the steps. Sweat slicks my palm as I press it to the door. Gritting my teeth, I drag in a long, slow breath through my nose and push inside.
It smells like home. The particular leather of the Odelion, the specific incense burning at the windows, the exact plush of the cushions on the pews.
My stomach seizes. The world tunnels. I cannot breathe.
The priest’s brows rise when he glimpses me, and I force a curt nod as I stumble into the back pew on legs that feel like jelly.
I may be a prisoner on a leash, but for a moment, I pretend I do not know what I know, that I still believe what I once did, that I’m once again the hopeful boy I was before truth would turn me into a liar.
For years, I’ve imagined that the ringing I hear when I cast my magic is the screaming of stars, but sitting here in a place that once meant safety and now feels like a threat, I know I’ve been wrong.
The stars didn’t scream.
It was the innocent, believing boy inside me as the truth tore his world apart.