The water turned off, but Levi didn’t answer.
“How often do I need to see Lola to make the oath last? Can she tell someone that she’s sworn an oath to me, even if she doesn’t say anything about what I am? Should I be worried—”
The door swung open, and Enne nearly fell backward.
“What oath?” a male voice asked.
She turned around and gaped. Jac was standing in the bathroom, wearing nothing but a silver Creed necklace and a towel wrapped around his hips. His blond hair dripped down his neck and chest, and Enne saw that his sleeves of black tattoos continued up his shoulders, laced down his stomach, and even grazed his hip bones. On the underside of his elbows, there were several sets of scars—bumpy, but long faded.
Enne flushed multiple shades of scarlet and quickly averted her eyes, backing away from the door.
“I heard everything,” he said flatly. He held his hands up, as if Enne was a small animal he might scare off. “I don’t really know you, but whatever is going on, I want to help. Levi could use it right now.”
Enne hesitated. Not because she didn’t trust Jac—he was sworn to Levi after all—but because she suspected Levi would be upset with her if she involved him. Secrets were the deadliest sort of weapons, and Levi had already lost a friend yesterday.
“Tell me what’s really going on here,” Jac urged.
“I can’t,” she said.
“I already know your mother is Lourdes Alfero, and I haven’t told anyone,” he said with a sigh. “You might as well tell me everything—about Lola’s oath, what you are. And if you do, I’ll tell you all you want to know about oaths and street rules.”
He had a point. He already knew half the story.
“Fine,” Enne agreed, bracing herself for Levi’s fury later. “Just please put some clothes on.”
* * *
“Are you sulking about Jac, or are you sulking about riding the Mole?” Enne asked Levi. This far down the line, the Mole’s train car was empty except for Enne, Levi, Jac and a homeless man sleeping on a row of seats in the back.
Levi kept his hat low, covering his identifiable hair—he’d grumbled the entire ride about someone spotting him and ruining his reputation. The two of them stood, gripping a metal pole. “Both.”
“He was very insistent,” Enne said.
“I know how he can be,” he muttered. “You still shouldn’t have told him.”
Jac sat behind them, fingering his Creed necklace. A half hour ago, in Levi’s apartment, he’d been all jokes and eagerness, but since then, Enne had caught him stealing uneasy glances at her, like she was something dangerous and he shouldn’t get too close.
Happy to help, he’d said. Happy until he wasn’t.
She tried to convince herself that she was imagining it, but even now, she felt his gaze searing into her. She pushed her anxieties away.
Enne gestured around the train car, trying to change the subject. “The Mole isn’t so bad. It’s far cleaner than I expected.”
“No one rides the Mole.”
“It was crowded earlier, so apparently people do.”
Levi grumbled something unintelligible and kicked a copy ofThe Kiss and Tellunder a seat. Enne didn’t know why he was pouting. This was far more preferable than walking all the way to the Deadman District like she had before, and Jac wasn’t whining childishly about reputation like Levi was.
“I hope you’re thinking of something to say,” she said quietly, “because I’d just as rather never see her again.”
“Oh, I’m not doing the talking.” Levi shook his head. “You’re the lord. You think of a reason other than ‘I need to make the oath stronger so I know you won’t kill me.’”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a lord.”
“Maybe you weren’t two days ago, but that’s how oaths work. You’re Lola’s lord now.” He flicked her lightly on the forehead. Enne grimaced. Jac’s explanations earlier about her newfound title had confused her more than anything else.
Oaths are the opposite of omertas, he’d said.Omertas force you to do something, and oaths prevent it.Before Enne could counter that omertas also prevented her from openly discussing them, Jac was already launching on to new stories. The laws of the streets blended magical oaths, criminal legends and—as far as Enne could tell—utter nonsense. She’d left that conversation with nothing but confusion.
